NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 8
This marked the ninth summer I had experienced in this world—my fourth summer by personal count.
Summer for farming families is a period akin to a brief respite. The southern region of the Threefold Empire of Rain, with its cool climate, provides a pleasant atmosphere for living, and the rainfall is moderate. Thanks to the divine protection of the God of Fertility, extreme weather rarely strikes. Even if it does occur, there’s always an irrigation system from the rivers nearby. The only real fear is an unmanageable cold summer.
During this interim, the tasks at hand are things like battling pests and birds to protect the lush crops, maintaining the farm roads—activities that can be undertaken with a relaxed sense of time.
The men gather firewood in preparation for the winter, and some who find nearby work opportunities travel out to earn extra income. The women begin making preserved foods in the gaps between their daily chores, enjoying the dry, pleasant heat of summer. Unlike the humid warmth of temperate Japan, this region has a low humidity, and one could often see strips of meat, left to dry under the open air, swaying lazily with the breeze like fish swimming in the sky.
Private academies also see more gatherings during this period. The children who attend are kept busy with assignments such as composing poetry, practicing their handwriting, smiling as they ponder over various possible ways to approach their tasks.
Summer, to me, is a delightful time of year.
With longer days and less fieldwork, I can dedicate plenty of time to side jobs. Also, the self-defense militia’s training mainly happens during this season. There’s a refreshing sense in sweating while playing around with the kids for exercise, and afterwards, savoring cold fruits chilled with well water feels absolutely perfect.
Ah, there’s also the ice confections made with magic that traveling merchants sometimes bring. Expensive as they are, I can’t have my fill, but it’s something I look forward to at least once a summer.
The summer vacations of my childhood spent in the countryside of Kyushu come to mind. There were only two TV channels available, and there wasn’t a store close by that sold batteries, so gaming consoles—ones that old-timers will remember ran on AA or AAA batteries—were practically useless there. Invited by neighboring children, I truly enjoyed this kind of lifestyle.
However, the highlight of the summer season for me is… that the bathing facilities at the manor are opened on days of rest.
Surprisingly, the people of the empire are renowned for being bath enthusiasts. Every manor has a bathing facility, and there isn’t a single city of a few thousand inhabitants that lacks public baths, such is the extent of our familiarity with bathing.
Honestly, my imagined version of the medieval era consisted of two extremes—either a fantasy-like setting where baths and plumbing were common or a dark age where educated people, fearing the plague, didn’t even wash their faces. Growing up in clean Japan, I truly believe the former is much better.
Interestingly, the reason baths are so popular traces back to one of the small kingdoms significant in the founding of the empire, which is now one of the princely houses, whose people were passionate about bathing. Allegedly, they fervently argued that boiled water doesn’t spread disease and that illnesses aren’t transmitted just from bathing together—though bloodborne transmission is still dangerous—and demonstrated the safety of baths by immersing themselves in them while simultaneously pushing the importance of cleanliness, which has persisted to this day.
Taking this a step further, could this person have been from my hometown? That was the thought that struck me when Margit gave me a historical lecture, given the sheer level of bath-enthusiasm displayed in that nation.
With this somewhat relatable history behind it, the bathhouse located near a small river at the edge of the village was indeed something special.
“Alright, it’s the children’s turn now. Let’s go in together!”
As we waited quietly with preparations for the bath, the men emerged one by one from the bath, carrying a cloud of steam and warmth. Though they’re referred to as adults, generally anyone over ten years old bathes with the men.
Me? I…
“Shall we go in, Erich?”
Her hand held mine gently, but for some reason I couldn’t shake off the feeling that it was impossible to let go. Looking down, I saw Margit holding her clothes with a bright smile directed up at me.
Yes, it seems I’m still here. At nine years old, I’m on the edge of being included with the kids, though if I were older, around twelve, I’d likely already be bathed with the adults.
Probably, it’s more practical to group smaller children together for efficiency. In Japan, too, the awareness of gender differences among children tends to remain muted until they’re a little older—like how in elementary school, younger students used to change together in the same classroom. There’s nothing logically odd about the current arrangement.
One minor detail though: the fact that my mindset is already edging into early forties. Despite that, my occasionally youthful thoughts and the ability to enjoy playful activities seem to stem from the physical body guiding me.
Even while contemplating all this to avoid reality, the hand pulling me forward didn’t stop. Truly, she knows I feel a bit shy, and yet, she shows no mercy at all.
The bathhouse doesn’t have a luxurious undressing area; instead, the moment you step inside, you’re already in the bathing area. During winter preparation, there’s a space to place clothes, sure, but generally, as soon as you open the door, it’s straight into the bath under an open sky.
Upon entering mindfully, you’re greeted by the residual heat from earlier guests.
That’s the defining characteristic of a steambath used by the lower classes of the Threefold Empire.
There’s a reason for this. Though this era has access to water from rivers, fuel costs are significantly higher than modern times. Unlike today where heating up a bath costs around 100 yen in gas and water utility fees, heating hundreds of liters of water in a massive tub would require an enormous amount of firewood, even with a Roman-style boiler.
Compared to this, steambaths are incredibly economical. In the middle of the room is a dedicated wood stove, its upper two-tier structure containing intensely heated stones. Simply pouring water over the stones releases copious amounts of steam.
Next, you scrub your sweat-soaked body with birch branches bundled into brushes, or use a towel dampened with water borrowed from the stove. Sweating profusely for thirty minutes, you either jump into the river or rinse your head with water from a drainage area to clean up. Some women prefer to use soap to care for their hair.
“So, Erich, would you wash my hair again today?”
“Uh… sure…”
It’s exactly moments like these.
After basking comfortably for about half an hour, Margit took my hand and led me to the washing area. For some reason, it felt eerily similar to adult playtime from my previous life.
With her two-tied hair undone, despite how young she should be, she radiates a seductive air. It’s fortunate to possess adult restraint and recognize that her body is still developing—reacting inappropriately would provide lifelong teasing material.
“Could you be gentle, please?”
Sitting behind her, Margit turned around and handed me the soap with a smile.
Made with animal fat, soap is a common item in the Threefold Empire, but this one, handmade according to Margit, is crafted with the fat of hunted beasts and fragrances extracted from herbs, offering a fresh and sweet scent.
I dampened the bar soap in warm water, lathered it up, and gently spread it through her hair.
“Hmm…”
I started to feel it was less “pleasant” and more “tormenting,” and began to question whether I really shouldn’t have died already. This feeling is strange, as I was certain I didn’t have a thing for youthful types.
Without thought but with mindful gentleness, I continued washing her hair carefully. The hair softened with steam and was washed with a smoothing motion along the cuticle, and surprisingly, no unpleasant squeaking sensation followed despite using soap. Maybe it’s the quality of the hair due to spider people’s makeup?
After washing her hair, I gently massaged her scalp. Removing excess oil from the hair is important, but the most delicate operation is here. Trapping extra sebum would cause hair loss or deterioration, as my regular hairstylist had taught me.
…Why do I remember this? Despite having a vague recollection of my parents’ voices and faces, why does this trivia from casual salon chit-chat remain so vivid?
Recently, I couldn’t recall my niece’s name for nearly an hour, yet here I am with a detailed memory.
What’s happening to my memory? It seems some technical knowledge lingers, but episodic memories fade relatively quickly. Oh, right, I can no longer bring to mind the titles of the novels and manga I eagerly followed and died before finishing.
What could this mean…?
“Erichii?”
“Ahh, sorry… I’ll rinse it now.”
Caught up in my thoughts, I had neglected Margit. Leaving the soap to dry would be problematic, so I carefully checked that the water wasn’t too hot before pouring it over her head little by little to rinse out the soap.
“Phew, that was refreshing.”
“Yeah, you’re welcome.”
Carefully rinsing her hair multiple times to fully remove the soap, the light from the skylight highlighted her hair in a halo, making her look incredibly beautiful. Her wet, disheveled hair, clinging and forming a tender smile, seemed overwhelmingly beautiful.
This beauty wasn’t overwhelming in the usual sense but rather in a horrifyingly beautiful way.
The mismatch of her lower body, an arachnid’s, and her upper body, a maiden’s, tickles some instinctual sense. It felt like a tingling sensation running from the tailbone straight to the core of the head.
“Then, could you scrub my back, please?”
With a smile both terrifying and delightful, she held the soap and made an ambiguous yet enchanting proposal.
Well, as I scrub her back carefully with a towel dampened in warm water, I’ve begun to realize that this act might not be strictly necessary.
While the spider people have a humanoid appearance, the internal skeletal structure is quite different. Their joints have a wider range of motion compared to humans, allowing them to reach their entire lower legs comfortably. Thus, they can naturally bathe their back more easily than we do.
In other words, this is more of a… special act…
When my fingers graze her shoulders and waist during the wash, it induces a rather peculiar feeling. As I have yet to undergo the first stages of puberty and remain in a prepubescent stage, I can stay calm, but if my spirit becomes too influenced by the body, I fear self-control might become difficult in the future.
Somehow, she seems exceptionally skilled at evoking male vulnerability. An inexperienced man would be completely charmed in just two seconds.
“Alright, that concludes it.”
“Thank you. I feel refreshed.”
After banishing the distracting thoughts and finishing the cleaning, she graciously thanked me with a turn of her head. Naturally, she wasn’t covering her front—neither were the children who usually played nearby, and while I had a towel wrapped around my waist, there wasn’t anything particularly unusual about this either.
“Alright, let’s do a switch.”
And as usual, her whispery tone brought a shiver down my spine…
—
In front of the slender, closing-eyed boy sat the maiden of the arachnid race, her subtle smile akin to a carefully prepared banquet.
This body, which looked two years younger than her own, had begun to show a faint maturity. This was surely due to his continued participation in the militia training, unique among his peers.
While other children lost heart after being slapped once during their initial training, he rose seven times after being struck, eventually even deflecting the blade with a rock he found. No wonder Mr. Lambert favors him.
A few painful bruises remained on the boy’s body, the once-child-like roundness he used to treasure gradually fading away. The soft flesh had begun tightening, and the once full belly was now smoothly flattening out.
Might he soon mature into the robust build of the adults at the manor, forged by hard labor in the fields? At the thought, maiden Margit could feel her heart race.
With each rise of her heartbeat, she tenderly touched the bruise as if playing, the dull bluish hue indicating the blow from a sharpened sword. Although relatively mild for the damage, it delivered sufficient pain to surprise the boy, who had been wondering why his delayed hair washing hadn’t started yet.
“It hurts! Wait, what!?”
This was it. This reaction was perfect. Her instincts as a hunter were thoroughly piqued by his innocent surprise.
However, this was no ordinary prey. Not a timid rabbit that bolts, but the young of a monstrous beast boasting sharp tusks and the agility of a fox. Considering what this boy might become if his body matured like ‘hers,’ her heart shook with an expectation akin to excitement.
The stronger the prey, the more it stirs the hunter’s blood.
“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist thinking about it…”
“Thinking about it and still touching it doesn’t make sense!”
His ever-changing sky-blue eyes still possessed an unchanged innocence. Even when criticizing her with an almost chiding gaze, his adorable eyes only further awakened something within her.
That’s why she followed her instincts.
“Really, I’m sorry? But…”
“Wait, Margit!?”
She positioned herself atop his crossed legs as he sat. This way, their eye levels aligned, despite the height difference that had always existed between them. Knowing that this disparity would soon change, she cherished this instant even more tenderly.
“I’ll clean you very carefully…”
Like a spider capturing its panicked prey, she leaned her hand around his neck and smiled alluringly…