A Mad Night Walk (2)

If anyone wanted to know what had made House Deharem prosperous, I could point them to the statue standing in the center of our courtyard.

It depicted my father, the previous Viscount Deharem. He had been a capable man and a fine leader, respected throughout the county.

If, on the other hand, someone wanted to witness the beginning of our family's downfall, they wouldn't have to look far.

They could simply look down at my feet.

“Mmm… Ah…”

The elf was licking the sole of my shoe.

And she wasn't just going through the motions. She was doing it with an enthusiasm I could scarcely bear to watch. She even swallowed the dirt clinging to the leather before putting her tongue to work on the next patch. Bit by bit, the dust disappeared, replaced by a wet sheen.

I'd never done anything like this in my life. I'd never even wanted to. My facial muscles twitched in spite of my efforts to control them.

In truth, I was mortified.

I wish I could just turn around.

The elves in the storybooks I'd read as a child were gentle and kind. They welcomed lost adventurers, cared for wounded soldiers who stumbled into the forest, and offered help without asking for anything in return.

That was what an elf was supposed to be.

So what in the world was this deranged woman doing at my feet, eagerly licking my shoe?

I don't understand her. That's what makes her so frightening.

“Hah…”

At last, she drew back. A thin strand of saliva stretched from her lips before breaking.

She caught her breath and opened her mouth.

“Woof, woof.”

Was she barking because I'd forbidden her to use human speech while she wore the leash?

The sight of her looking up at me with a flushed face sent a shiver through my body. For a moment, words failed me. I slowly moved my foot away.

There was a clear print from my shoe on her chest, where I'd held it against her for so long.

“Good. Perhaps you've finally learned just how lowly you are. That should be enough punishment for tonight—”

Her expression turned cold.

“—Or so you'd like to think! Insolent wretch!”

I raised my voice and put my foot against her face.

I didn't actually stomp on her. I was careful to use barely any force.

“Khh…!”

She didn't seem to care about the difference. In fact, she looked as though she was enjoying every second of it.

“N-No… Please stop, Master…!”

“It hurts so much…!”

She reached up and grabbed my ankle.

For one terrible instant I thought she was going to snap it. My heart lurched—but the disaster never came.

Instead, she pulled my foot toward her, urging me to press harder.

You have got to be kidding me.

Goose bumps prickled along my arms. I wanted nothing more than to stop, but my survival depended on keeping up the performance.

“You're speaking like a human again! You insolent—!”

“Kyaah!”

I drove her cheek toward the grass with my foot and pressed down more firmly than before.

Why are you doing this to me?

I wanted to cry. I wasn't this kind of person.

I kept the pressure on until another shoeprint marked her cheek, then drew a breath and lifted my foot.

“If I hear another human word from you tonight, you'll be punished far more severely. Remember that.”

The moment the threat left my mouth, I nearly gasped.

What if she took that as an invitation? What if she behaved like the contrary tree frog from the old stories, deliberately disobeying because I'd promised to punish her more?

The possibilities were horrifying.

I looked down at her, drenched in cold sweat.

She closed her tearful eyes, then opened her mouth just a little.

“Mmm…”

Thank goodness.

For the moment, at least, she seemed satisfied.

I could finally take her back inside. Surely she'd had enough for one evening.

“If you understand, turn around and get up.”

“Whine…”

I pulled on the leash, but she didn't rise.

She looked troubled. After hesitating, she touched herself between the legs and crossed her thighs tightly, shifting with impatience.

Does she want to have sex now?

That was a problem. I could barely manage this humiliating charade as it was. What if I made a fool of myself in bed and she killed me for failing to satisfy her? Desire couldn't compete with that sort of terror. I couldn't imagine taking her to bed when even looking at her made me fear for my life.

Still, I needed to find out what she wanted.

I made myself speak in a cold, imperious tone.

“You want me to take you? Me? With a creature like you? Hah! You haven't learned a thing. I decide when to use you. You don't get to decide for me!”

I'd hoped that would make her abandon the idea.

Instead, she rubbed her lower abdomen and began to cry.

“Whine… Whimper…”

Wait. That doesn't look like desire.

Was there something else she needed?

I lifted my chin and tried to look magnanimous.

“Just this once, I'll allow you to speak. Tell me what you want.”

“Y-Yes…! M-My bladder is about to burst…!”

“Your bladder?”

She needed to urinate?

There were plenty of toilets in the mansion. The workers had more than five at their disposal, and there were even two specifically for slaves. They were cleaned once a week, so none of them smelled particularly foul. There was no reason she couldn't use one.

So why was she asking for permission as though her life depended on it?

Ah.

I remembered something.

A game involving urine.

In my father's study, I'd once come across a limited-edition hardcover novel called The Obscene Hobgoblin Maid. It contained a scene very much like this. At the time, I'd dismissed the entire book as ridiculous fantasy.

Now, with this elf in front of me, I wasn't quite so sure.

Wait. Does that mean the author actually did those things with a hobgoblin?

And why on earth had my father owned that book?

The thought turned my stomach.

Enough. Don't think about that. Focus.

“If you need to relieve yourself, do it here.”

“M-Master… Please have mercy. Please let a filthy thing like me use the toilet…”

Her protest convinced me I was on the right track. I twisted my mouth into another cruel sneer.

“Since when does a dog need a toilet? Have you ever seen a stray mutt go looking for one?”

“Th-That's too cruel…!”

“What's cruel is how little you've learned about your place. Now get up and relieve yourself before I lose my patience.”

She turned and put her hands against the ground.

I expected her to pick a patch of grass. Instead, she stayed where she was, waiting.

And she kept stealing glances toward my father's statue.

Did I imagine that?

I watched carefully.

No. There was no mistaking it.

She was glancing at the statue.

Surely she doesn't want to do it there.

Perhaps what she really wanted was to find out whether I was human refuse vile enough to make my own slave urinate on my father's memorial. What sort of scoundrel would do that? The kind who deserved a place at the very bottom of hell?

No. Absolutely not.

I respected my father. I loved him. How could I possibly order her to foul his statue?

Not even with a knife at my throat—

“M-Master… Where should I go…?”

The knife is at my throat.

Her question left little doubt about what she wanted.

“Where…”

My hands trembled. I loosened the brooch at my throat again. Though the night was cool, sweat gathered on my forehead.

I had to choose. I could direct her toward the bushes and risk disappointing her, or I could order her to use the statue and give up the last shred of my dignity.

Think of the whole forest, not just the trees. Think of everyone depending on you.

The bushes would have been the obvious choice if only my own pride were at stake. But if I guessed wrong, everyone in the mansion might die.

Besides, I would be the only one who knew what had happened to Father's statue. As long as no one found out, the family's public honor would remain intact.

Pride won't do me much good when I'm dead. I have to survive this before I can worry about anything else.

Forgive me, Father.

I swallowed my anger and forced the words out.

“Go over to that statue. You can relieve yourself there. That should be amusing.”

Her eyes widened.

“M-Master? B-But… That's your father…”

I know it's my father! You're the one who kept looking at him!

“And what of it? He's dead. Now he's nothing but a corpse. Or do you mean to disobey me?”

“N-No, Master…”

“Then come.”

I pulled on her leash and led her to the statue. She crawled after me through the grass, then lifted her face toward me, waiting for another order.

“Go on, you filthy wretch. Hurry up.”

“Ah… Y-Yes…!”

She lifted one leg like a dog.

A yellow stream struck the toes of my father's statue. It arced through the air, gradually weakened, then dwindled to a few last drops. Moisture trickled down her thighs. In the cool air, steam rose faintly from the stone, making the sight even more unbearable.

When she finished, I gazed down at the wet marks and made myself speak as though I felt nothing.

“Now lick up the urine you've left there.”

“B-But…”

“Now.”

Her shoulders trembled as she bowed her head. The tips of her silver hair sank into the still-wet stone at the statue's feet, becoming soaked. Her small tongue emerged, and she began licking the urine she'd left there.

Is this really what she wanted?

I closed my eyes and silently let out a long breath.

I'm sorry, Father. You've raised an unfilial son. I'm so sorry.

I couldn't bear to look at my father's statue anymore, so I lifted my gaze toward the night sky.

But the countless stars above looked like the judging eyes of all my ancestors. My guilt only deepened.

My life is ruined. No… perhaps my whole family is.

I'd pay for this in hell. I wouldn't even try to buy an indulgence.

“The smell…! Oh, please forgive me, Master…”

No.

Maybe this is hell already.