Chapter 18: The relationship between bitches, ladies and underwear.

Since it’s a bit early for Kussera’s recommended cinnamon roll shop, we decide to kill time shopping in Mou Viviana.

“Let’s start with the lumber shop…” Mujihidane says.

Not exactly glamorous, but no one objects—not out of fear of [Violence Duke], but because it’s useful for us.
For training or competitions within the academy, weapons, armor, and artifacts must use wood, leather, or cloth, so most students use wooden weapons.
The lumber shop is essentially a materials store for weapons.
While it lacks monster-domain magic wood, regular timber is much cheaper than the academy’s store.
The academy’s wood is well-dried and top-quality but pricey.
Cutting our own wood is an option, but drying it makes buying here more practical.
I buy affordable oak to replace my broken artifact, likely for a weapon.
Hernest and Mujihidane are engrossed in pricier ash, while Kussera, who uses wooden golem arms for training, eyes materials seriously.

“For your arm, walnut’s best,” Tarte tells Kussera.
“Huh? Why walnut?”
“It’s deeply tied to you, so it’ll treat you well.”

Kussera, torn between yew and ash, looks puzzled by Tarte’s sudden advice.
I’d love to say, “Try it, you’ll see,” but as someone duped into minionhood, I can’t.
Tarte’s advice usually means something, though.

“Karyua’s crest is a walnut…” Kussera muses.
“That bond is why it’s in your crest,” Tarte says.
“—!”

Kussera, struck by something, buys walnut.
Mujihidane gets ash, but Hernest settles for cheaper maple.

“Next, let’s look at cloth…” Mujihidane suggests.

We follow her lead, moving to—

“This isn’t a cloth shop, it’s a panty store!” I exclaim.

Mujihidane’s brought us to a women’s lingerie shop, like a past-life lingerie boutique.

“I said cloth…” she says coolly.
“Well… technically, yeah…”

Peering through the glass, I see all sorts of underwear packed inside, including some sheer, risqué ones.
Academy-uniformed girls are shopping too.
This is awkward… I can’t go in!

“What, scared of women’s panties? That’s why ‘first-timers’—” Hernest starts, only to scream, “Gah!”

Before he can flex his engaged status, Mujihidane zips behind him, trips him with her leg, and twists his right arm up.

“Did you lose it behind my back? Who’s the girl? Confess, and I’ll kill you painlessly…”
“Wait! It’s a misunderstanding!” Hernest yelps, groaning in pain.

Whoa… [Violence Duke]’s in full Executioner mode, radiating killing intent that’d make the timid wet themselves.

“You betrayed me… I’ll kill her… and you…”
“No! I didn’t mean I ‘graduated’—argh!”

Hernest slaps the ground with his left hand, but expecting mercy from [Violence Duke] is futile.
His arm twists slowly to an impossible angle.

“No excuses… Was it Dokurobaru? I knew you were into her chest…”
“Just showing off! I’m still a virgin! Be gentle!”

What a careless guy…
Bragging like he’s experienced in front of his fiancée?
Vanity’s a trap.

“You know the Mujihidane code, right?”
“Y-Yeah… Traitors face living hell, hunted to the ends of the earth for punishment…”
“Good.”

Finally released, Hernest lies panting on the ground.
What a brutal code—some ninja clan nonsense?

“Phew… thought my arm was coming off…”
“I’d attach a golem arm, no worries,” Kussera says.
“Your arms use too much magic. Not everyone can handle them,” Hernest retorts.

Kussera’s golem arms are high-performance, moving more deftly than human arms, with precise tension control.
But they’re inefficient, relying on brute magic and packed with sketchy gimmicks or artifacts.
Only Kussera, with top-class magic reserves, can wield them all day—Hernest, a repeater, couldn’t.

“What kind does the Earl like? Which is cuter?” Kussera asks, dragging me into the shop and holding up pink striped panties and white frilly ones.

They look small for her, but I’m not reckless enough to say that, so I give a safe answer.
“Both are cute, right?”
“Ugh, I want to know what boys think is cute. Pick one!”

My vague answer didn’t cut it—she demands a choice.
I can’t admit I like sheer, sexy ones.
Stripes suit active Kussera, but frilly ones have a charming contrast, especially if glimpsed accidentally…
Wait, what am I thinking? She’s 11!

“The frilly ones are nice,” I say, giving in to my desires.

Kussera smiles, holding the frilly panties to my waist to check the size.
Sweat beads at my crotch.
What’s she thinking?
Measuring me?
Is she planning to make me wear them?

“No, these are for Kusurina!”
“Kusurina… your sprouting spirit?”
“Hehe, did the Earl want to try them? Want to test-fit?”
“Spare me…”

Kussera, noticing my misunderstanding, grins and points to the fitting room.
She used me as a size gauge for her spirit, similar in build to me.
If she’d told me, I’d have picked the stripes…

“You wear panties?” Tarte asks, sneaking up behind Kussera and yanking her skirt up without hesitation.

“Kyaaa!”

Kussera, squealing uncharacteristically, crouches to cover herself, but Tarte doesn’t let go, exposing her white panties with red star patterns.

“Why be shy about wearing panties?” Tarte asks.
“No, Earl, don’t look!”

Kussera, red-faced, glares at Tarte, who stares back, puzzled.
Does a three-year-old understand embarrassment?

“Panties are a maiden’s secret! You don’t show them!” Kussera explains, teary-eyed, to the toddler.

“Only a trained bitch wearing panties talks of chastity,” Tarte retorts, reaching for Kussera’s skirt again.

“Bitch!? That’s not a word for you!”

Undeterred, Tarte tries to lift the skirt again.

“Stop!”
“Remember, minion, girls in panties are bitches. Acting shy is just a well-trained act,” Tarte says.

“Nooo!”

Tarte, chanting “Isn’t it fine, isn’t it fine,” tugs at Kussera’s skirt as she desperately holds it down.
[Golem Viscount] has maidenly pride after all.
What a sight…

“Don’t you wear panties, Tarte? That’s perverted!”
“A lady like me wears diapers,” Tarte declares smugly.

Diapers, huh?
She claims they’re secure, soft, warm, and cushioned, while panties are just for flashing guys—a harsh bias.

“No one my age wears diapers! That’s unmaidenly!”
“Then you’re a certified bitch,” Tarte insists, tugging Kussera’s star panties.

Is she stripping her here?
My excitement grows—Tarte fearlessly does what’d land me in jail.

“Kyaaa! Earl, don’t look!”

Kussera, screaming unmaidenly, aims her golem arm at me.
The wrist detaches, revealing a reinforced [Air Burst] barrel, not a Psycho Gun.
Danger!
I’d die if hit—its magic-accelerated projectile doubles a pro pitcher’s speed.
Her tearful, murderous eyes mean business.

I bolt from the shop.
No courage to face death.
Soon, everyone emerges.
Kussera, soulless, mutters, “I’m saved…”
Tarte, fuming, complains, “No diapers in an underwear shop? Poor selection.”

Of course—diapers are in baby stores…

With noon approaching, we head to the cinnamon roll shop.
The new café is bright and stylish, with a sweet aroma wafting out.
Tarte, sniffing it, gets hyper, smacking my butt to hurry me as I tie Illegal Pitch.

“Good thing Dokurobaru didn’t come,” Mujihidane says.

The famed cinnamon rolls are massive, drenched in syrup, screaming high calories.
Dokurobaru, diet-conscious yet weak to sweets, might’ve faced her two-week hell training if she ate one.

A roll-and-tea set costs 6 large copper coins.
To apologize for Tarte’s antics, I pay for Kussera’s; Hernest covers Mujihidane’s.
The roll’s huge, so Tarte and I split one.
I cut the steaming roll into bite-sized pieces, and Tarte opens her mouth wide for an “ahh.”

“Yum, yum… quite delicious,” she says, pleased.

She offers me a piece on her fork.
Like my little sister, her kindness is best accepted—it makes her happiest.
It’s super sweet and delicious—no wonder it’s popular.

“Hern-kun… us too…”

Hernest is feeding Mujihidane.
Ugh, this couple—mind the place!

“Away game… total away game. This roll’s kinda salty…” Kussera mutters sadly.

What’s wrong? Didn’t like it?