Chapter 16: The Traitorous Pig.

The dorm’s bath isn’t private—it’s a communal bathhouse.
Tarte, unbothered, hums while pulling out a bath kit from nowhere: a cypress bucket, soap, a glass bottle of what looks like shampoo, a scrubber, a rubber duck, and… a shampoo hat?
It’s my first time seeing one here.
The hat looks like smooth, bluish glass but is light, elastic, and springs back when stretched—a bizarre material.

“What’s this made of?” I ask.
“From the webbing of a sea-dwelling great dragon,” Tarte replies.

I shouldn’t have asked…
Great dragons are massive, called giant dragons, and sea-dwelling ones are unconfirmed creatures—no one’s seen one and lived.
A shampoo hat made from a mythical super-rare material?

“Want to use the hair-washing hat? I’ll lend it when you wash your hair,” Tarte offers.
“No, I can wash my hair without it…”

That’s not the issue!
Between hydra poison and this, she treats ultra-rare materials like 100-yen shop trinkets.
Do something about that!

“After washing, tie your hair with this,” Tarte says, handing Silhime a ring made of the same material.
Great dragon webbing as a hair tie?
Wait—

“Tarte! You’re not bringing Silhime too, are you?”
“Obviously. Why the surprise?”
“No way! A naked Silky is too much for pure boys!”
“Let those perverts drown in a sea of blood for all I care.”

Tarte’s unfazed, caring little for the boys’ fragile hearts.
Kids aside, Silhime’s dangerous—I might bleed out myself!
My heart’s racing…
No choice…
I can’t stop Tarte.
If I end up in the bath with Silhime, see something, or accidentally touch, it’s all unavoidable… guhehehe!

“Stop that creepy laugh and take us to the bath. You’ll wash my feet,” Tarte orders.

Reluctantly—truly reluctantly—I lead the giddy toddler, holding her bath kit overhead, and Silhime, carrying towels, to the bathhouse.
Bath time is fixed, with hot water only available then, so it’s crowded with dorm mates.

“Whoa!”
“What the—?”
“Aray, you’re not serious!”
“It’s not just me who brings familiars to the bath, right?”

Amid the commotion, I use my prepared excuse.
Hernest, about to enter, is stark naked, modestly covering himself with Sakurahime.
She’s female, so Tarte and Silhime shouldn’t be an issue… right?

“I’ll wash this basilisk!” Tarte declares, trying to snatch Sakurahime from Hernest.
“Wait, I’ll wash her, kid!” he protests.

“Tarte, Sakurahime won’t run. Let’s go in,” I say.
“—”

Silhime calls Tarte from the changing room shelves, and I use the one beside her.
As Silhime deftly undresses Tarte, who scampers over, I can’t help but glance, expecting cute kid panties.
Instead, I nearly burst out laughing.

—Diapers!?

Tarte’s wearing white diapers with pink pig faces.
She loves pigs, huh?
Diapers on a three-year-old spirit aren’t odd, but does she need a toilet?
She hasn’t gone once since yesterday.

“Tarte, maybe use the restroom first…”
“What nonsense. I’m not some earthly creature,” she snaps.

I was just worried she’d have an accident, and she calls me stupid?
Then why wear diapers?
Pointless!
As Silhime starts undressing her maid outfit, I notice guys behind the shelves, breathing heavily, peeking.

“No need to hide…” I mutter.

The changing room has low, two-tiered shelves.
Some guys poke heads over, others sneak side-glances, pretending not to care.
Cowardly boys…

“We’re not hiding!”
“Just curious about spirits. Don’t accuse us!”
“Hah… little girls… the best…”

The pure boys blush and deny it.
Cute—they’re at that age where girls fascinate them.
No need to be shy or act tough; that’ll get you labeled as gay.
The one unforgivable guy mixed in?
Turn him into a toad for Sakurahime’s stomach—no evidence left.

Thanks to Sukumi Tanishi’s memories, I’m used to bathing with adult women—I bathed with my mom and helped younger siblings.
Let the boys skulk.
I’ll enjoy this fully.

Silhime’s underwear is all white, elegant with lavish lace, but not seductive—her bra fully covers her chest, and her panties reach her navel.
As a Silky, it’s probably silk.
I want to sniff and confirm.

Silhime slips off her bra straps before my eyes.
The boys behind me hold their breath.
Unfazed by our stares, she removes her bra, revealing those captivating—wait, what?

Something’s wrong.
An illusion?
I rub my eyes, but it’s the same.
Where her chest should be, a dancing pig blocks my view.

“My eyes are broken…”
“A pig? Why a pig?”
“You see it too?”

Not just me—the boys see the pig too.
Who’s responsible?
Think you can pull this prank and get away with it?

“Your worry made me ask a light spirit to show something else,” Tarte says.

You little—!
I slam my fist on the floor in rage.
Tarte’s the cruel master after all.
Building our hopes, acting unbothered, only to betray us!
Apologize to the boys whose pure desires you crushed!

“Shaman, bei!”

Tarte and Silhime, somehow knowing “W Naked Oshamanbe,” taunt the baffled boys, mispronouncing it.
The pig blocks everything vital.

“Damn it, get out of the way!”
“Move, you pig!”
“Loli!”

The boys flail like drowning men, trying to shoo the nonexistent pig.
Tarte smirks at their absurdity.
Cold sweat runs down my back in the warm changing room.
She’s a demon, crushing pure boys’ hopes like this.

“Stop dawdling and get in the bath,” Tarte says.

Leaving the boys glaring at the pig, Tarte and Silhime head to the bath.
I follow, trusting the boys will recover—their bed-hidden drawings will support them.

The bath is Japanese-style with a large soaking tub and long, trough-like faucets.
The floor, a single magically carved stone slab with non-slip grooves, isn’t tiled.
I grab a wooden chair and bucket from the stack and join Tarte and Silhime.

“Chairs are over there. Return them after,” I tell Tarte.
“I have my own,” she says, pulling out an odd-shaped chair.

I snatch it instantly.

“Out! This is a no-go!”
“Why? It’s a historic bath chair from the [Love Goddess]’s bathhouse.”
“No! Use the ones over there!”

Tarte insists it’s a superior chair with drainage grooves, but its glossy, gold, split-seat design isn’t for a public bath.
While Silhime grabs a proper chair, drawing eyes, I hide it.
Who’s teaching spirits Oshamanbe and pervy chairs?
Some idiot reincarnator?

While Silhime washes Tarte’s hair with the shampoo hat, I wash Tarte’s feet as ordered.
Her soap and shampoo outshine the academy’s high-end supplies, lathering well with a fine scent.

“Use it freely,” Tarte says, as if reading my mind, while Silhime rinses her hair.

I lather up, washing vigorously, feeling squeaky clean.
Tarte snatches Sakurahime from Hernest nearby and washes her with her fancy soap.
Sakurahime, used to it, stays calm.
Silhime lifts her to wash her underside.

“Uho… ho… fwee…”

Gross panting comes from nearby.
Stop it, creep!
It’s Hernest, shuddering, knees buckling, body twitching.
What’s this pervert doing?
Averting my eyes, I see Sakurahime, held by Silhime, her head between Silhime’s chest, as Tarte washes her belly.
That’s it—Hernest’s feeling Silhime’s chest through their shared senses!

That jerk, enjoying it before me!
Take this, creep!
I fill a bucket with bathhouse soap water and splash it on Hernest’s face as he looks up.

“Gah! My eyes! My nose!”

No sage-class change in a public bath!
Soap water in his eyes and nose, Hernest writhes.
Divine punishment served.

“What the hell, man!”
“My line! What are you doing in a public bath?”
“You don’t need your life, huh?”
“I could tell [Violence Duke] you used your fiancée’s gift to perv on Silhime.”
“Moronidas… we’re best friends, right?”

Smooth talker… I’ll keep quiet, though.
If Mujihidane knew, she’d go full Executioner mode.
Bathing together is risky enough, but with the pig blocking everything, maybe she’d settle for Tormentor mode.

Soaking in the tub, the day’s fatigue hits.
Tarte, twintailed with great dragon webbing hair ties, sits on my lap, playing with her rubber duck.
I glance at Silhime, hoping the water negates the light spirit, but the pig appears underwater too.

“Moronidas, meet after breakfast tomorrow. I’ll get a cart; you bring the Koketris,” Hernest says as we leave the bath.

I hope tomorrow’s less exhausting…