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“Lady Jill, you truly are beautiful, frighteningly beautiful, even…”

Who was it that murmured so wistfully while brushing my hair?

I think it might have been Eren—but if I think about it carefully, the one who usually tended my hair was Monika, the head maid. That would make it more likely to have been Monika. But somehow the line doesn’t quite fit her character. So perhaps my memory is muddled, and it was actually Coppelia, who in this era was serving as my exclusive maid, or maybe one of the novice priestesses of Saint Raviel Church, who took turns tending to the High Priestess’s daily needs. Maybe they called me “Lady Clara,” and in my memory, it got confused as “Lady Jill.”

Or perhaps there was no such incident at all, and it’s nothing more than a trick of my imagination (which seems the most likely). Still, I feel as though something like that happened…

The haziness of this memory is no doubt because I—Syltianna Edith Agnes Julia Fortuna Adelheid Clara Brandmüller Aulanthia Gravis—bear a name as long and patched-together as the comic “Jugemu,” with a history equally stitched and disorderly. My life has been stormy, spanning eras and transcending time, and so there are many parts even I can’t properly grasp.

Well, be that as it may, I think I responded lightly at the time with, “Am I?”

“Yes! Ah, if only I’d been born even half as beautiful as Lady Jill. Then I would have been a winner in life…”

Watching her squirm in envious anguish through the reflection of the looking-glass, I remember vaguely wondering, “Why just half?” as I sat and let her finish arranging my hair… or at least, I think that’s how it was.

“Ah, you just wondered why I’d be satisfied with only half, didn’t you?”
“…Well, yes.”

I admitted it honestly, thinking my face must have betrayed me.

“Well, you know the saying—‘too much is as bad as too little.’ Someone who’s too beautiful is nice enough to admire from afar, but I wouldn’t actually want to be that myself. And besides, if you’re too pretty, people find you unapproachable… Ah, but you’re different, Lady Jill! You have this… warmth, this gentle aura that seeps out from within. Oh, I know—the word is grace. Even when you’re silent, people can tell at a glance that you’re a good person. So, no, there’s absolutely no problem in your case.”
“…Is that so? Mentor used to yell at me all the time for having a ‘dull, idiotic expression.’”
“Whaaat? That’s not true at all! Anyway, that’s why—half. Or at the very least, I’d like to borrow just the tip of your fingernail’s worth of beauty, Lady Jill.”
“Is that how it is?”
“That’s exactly how it is. If some woman actually wanted to be the exact same as Lady Jill, she’d have to be either incredibly self-confident or incredibly stupid.”

She said it with such heartfelt conviction—but wasn’t that, in a roundabout way, insulting me directly…?

“—Nnghhhhh… cough!”

As that memory resurfaced, I had Eliza—wearing my own face—locked in a naked stranglehold, a full-on choke sleeper from behind.

Because both of us could heal with magic, the slugfest of punches and kicks was going nowhere, threatening to drag on in a stalemate for eternity. So I shifted tactics, deciding to strangle her out and force her into unconsciousness instead.

Unlike a contest of raw strength and reflexes, in grappling techniques, I clearly held the advantage. Slipping behind her and transitioning into a chokehold had been relatively easy.

“—Ghhhhh!! Like this would stop meeeeeee!!”

I’d had Eliza locked in a rear-naked choke—the simplest yet most powerful of all strangling holds—for over ten minutes now. So why in the world was she still brimming with energy? Under normal circumstances, the brain would be starved of oxygen, and the victim would be well on their way to brain death by this point. Yet here she was, her beautiful face twisted into a fearsome snarl, straining with all her might to break free. …Is she really human? I mean, she is beautiful enough to be called frightening, I’ll give them that, but to be thrashing around with full strength after holding her breath for over ten minutes?

And then—

“Quit shoving those massive breasts in my face, you vixen! These-, these damned jugs!!”
“O-ow, ow! That hurts!!”

From her awkward position, Eliza suddenly clamped her hands onto my chest, squeezing with such force it felt like she meant to rip them right off.

Owwww! Owwww, owwww!! This isn’t funny anymore, it really hurts!!

Would she pass out first, or would my chest reach its limit first—?

“What on earth are those two doing…?”
“Say, don’t you think Lady Clara’s chest has gotten even bigger again?”

Cestlavie and Coppelia were making casual comments as they glanced our way mid-battle, but honestly, if they had the energy to make remarks, I’d much prefer they come and help!

Ow ow ow ow ow!! Eliza was twisting violently now, thrashing like a crocodile doing a death roll with its prey—and the pain was absolutely excruciating!!

“—That’s enough, you two!!”

At that very moment, a third voice suddenly boomed through the vast cavern.

Enemies and allies alike—even the hulking Stone Golems and the wastebeasts—turned their gazes toward the source of the shout. From the tunnel we had entered through shuffled forth… an absurdly scrawny old man.

““““““…………””””””
“…TRANSAM!”

The silence lasted only a moment. With so little impact, everyone promptly lost interest and returned to their fights. Meanwhile, Coppelia perked up cheerfully, activating some mysterious feature with a shout of “Transaam!” before barehandedly pulverizing Stone Golems—and then even the Iron Golems that followed.

“…Uh, excuse me, I am the Pope, you know? I’m basically equivalent to emperors. A very important man. I think it wouldn’t kill you all to show me a bit more respect and attention…”

The old man who appeared out of nowhere was muttering something, but everyone treated him with the same energy as, ‘yes, yes, Grandpa, dinner isn’t ready yet’, and ignored him completely.

“Enough already, you lot!!”

This time, however, came a woman’s voice—far louder and more powerful than the old man’s, reverberating throughout the cavernous underground cavern, reverberating all the way down to the bone.

“““““!?!?!”””””

At once, every single one of us froze in place as if struck by lightning.
…Everyone except Coppelia, who shouted, “Transaam!!” with perfect timing.

“I’ve heard enough of what’s been going on here. Honestly—what foolishness are the Shrine Maiden Princess and the Senior Shrine Maiden indulging in, brawling beneath the very foundations of the Sant’Angelo Sanctorum? Think about your positions!”

Brushing the feeble old man aside as if he weren’t even there, my guardian—Baroness Lady Teressa, the High Priestess—strode into view.