"It seems... a bit sweet?"
Hearing the boy's voice, Airmid couldn't even begin to describe what she felt. Her embarrassment and desire to flee were instantly drowned out by a surge of anger—most of it directed at Naaza.
Not only had she tricked her into coming here, she'd even gone so far as to fill the boy's head with ridiculous lies.
"Erisuis!" Airmid appeared from behind the statue, fury burning in her violet eyes. "You're deceiving him again!"
When she'd first learned about the low-quality potion, Airmid had known Naaza's intentions weren't malicious—she simply wanted to keep the boy away from danger. But in the end, Bell had still bought healing potions diluted with plain water.
That minor grievance, buried deep in her heart, finally erupted now.
"..."
Her anger, however, hit nothing but air. The Chienthrope was already gone, her figure vanished from beside the bath.
"Airmid-san?" Bell's confused voice broke the silence.
A thin layer of steam drifted lazily through the air. Unlike the narrow corridor outside, the spacious bath offered no cover at all—the mist was far too thin to hide anything.
Only then did Airmid realize her situation.
In her outburst, her towel had snagged on a protrusion of the statue.
Now, the faint white mist was the only thing left that could be called clothing.
Her radiant figure, soft curves, and fair, cherry-blossom skin were completely exposed.
For a brief moment, the Dea Saint froze in place. Her silver-white hair shimmered faintly, as if glowing with divine light.
"E-excuse me!"
With a loud splash, Airmid dove straight into the water. Ripples spread across the surface, breaking the silence.
"I should be the one apologizing," Bell said with a sheepish smile, stepping into the bath and settling in the corner. "Seems like we both got played by Naaza-san."
Clever as he was, he had already pieced together what had happened. From now on, he'd have to be wary of that Chienthrope girl.
Airmid peeked her head above the water, her cheeks and ears flushed bright red from heat and mortification alike.
The boy's calm, straightforward demeanor left her completely unsure of what to do.
Normally, he should have turned away, flustered, insisting he hadn't seen anything.
Could it be... he didn't find her attractive?
"..."
Startled by her own outrageous thought, Airmid's face grew even redder.
What on earth am I thinking? I'm the Dea Saint!
She hastily grabbed the towel caught on the statue and wrapped it around herself. The movement sent the water rippling, each gentle motion amplified by the sway of her body.
Airmid exhaled softly, regaining a measure of composure.
"Cranel-san, thank you for saving me today. Without you, I never would have felt this warmth."
Bell looked at her gentle, flower-like face and replied quietly,
"Thinking about it now, I'm sure those Goblins were after me. If I hadn't met you, Airmid-san, I probably wouldn't have survived the monster wave on the fifth floor."
He smiled faintly. "I should be the one thanking you—for your healing."
Steam drifted upward with his words, as if carrying away the memories of that nightmare.
Airmid understood what he meant. Bell was thanking her from the heart. He had risked his life, not for glory or reward, but simply because it was right. Because that was who he was.
Bathed in the radiance of that pure soul, Airmid could no longer contain the emotion swelling within her chest. Her heart pounded as she stared at the boy before her.
After her talk with the human girl at the tavern, she had already faced the truth of her feelings. This wasn't an illusion. She wanted to walk beside him. She wanted to share her life with him. She wanted to witness him becoming a hero sung by all.
And, above all else—she wanted that dazzling light to belong to her alone.
...
Countless emotions burned within the haze of steam, merging into a single, reckless courage. Even she was astonished by the impulse that seized her.
It was as if she had fallen into a vat of honeyed wine—sweet, intoxicating, and burning hot.
She had to say it now. If not now, when?
In the vast, empty bathhouse, Airmid clutched her towel tightly, took a deep breath, and spoke softly—
"Bell Cranel, please... go out with—"
?!
Splash!
A sudden crash interrupted her words as a girl fell straight into the bath.
"Syr! Cough—cough—I wasn't ready yet, nya! Glug—why did you push me in, nya!"
Anya sputtered, coughing and mewling between gulps of warm water.
"..."
Airmid looked up in disbelief. The tavern girls she'd seen before were all there.
Syr, wrapped in a towel, stood with wet gray hair clinging to her face—her beauty so radiant it could rival even the goddesses themselves.
"I didn't push you," she said evenly. "You slipped."
"I'm not stupid! I don't just fall for no reason, nya!" Anya protested.
"Alright, alright, both of you hush," Lunoire sighed, sinking into the bath with an expression of pure bliss. "It's our rare day off. Let's not ruin it with arguing."
"...Where are Ryuu and Chloe?" Syr asked, glancing around.
"Ryuu bolted the moment she saw that boy," Lunoire answered languidly. "And Syr, didn't you say there'd be no men here? Well, not that it bothers me much."
Her tone had gone slow and lazy, as though all her fatigue was melting away in the water.
"I'm here, nya!" Chloe shouted proudly.
...
Everyone turned toward the voice—only to find the black cat herself lounging right next to Bell. Her tail swayed lazily, brushing against his arm as she leaned in close.
?
When did she—? Even Bell hadn't noticed her approach.
He'd always thought of Chloe, the poison-loving Cat Person, as a skilled assassin—probably a high-level one. But from the way she moved, she was clearly far beyond Level 3.
"What do you think you're doing?!" Syr's cheeks flushed red as she rushed over and pulled Chloe away from Bell.
"It's a mixed bath anyway, so it's fine, nya!" Chloe protested, her tail flicking in annoyance.
"No, it's not fine! You're making Cranel-san uncomfortable!" Syr scolded sternly.
"I told you all to be quiet," Lunoire muttered with a frown. "Can't you just relax for once?"
"What a bunch of idiots, nya," Anya teased, imitating her boss's tone as she smacked the water with her tail, sending ripples across the bath.
"That means you too, stupid cat," Syr shot back.
Airmid could only stare, speechless. The courage she'd painstakingly gathered moments ago was completely swept away by the tavern girls' noisy arrival.
Was it just a coincidence? Or... something else?
The Dea Saint couldn't tell. She could only hide beneath the surface, her cheeks flushed, quietly replaying in her mind the fleeting moment she'd shared alone with the boy.
The scene unfolding before Bell's eyes could only be described in one way—
A paradise on earth.
The girls, wrapped loosely in towels, moved through the mist, water gliding over their shoulders and necks. Sometimes they whispered softly, sometimes they laughed and splashed at each other. Every time one of them rose from the water, droplets slid down their skin, sending gentle waves rippling outward.
Any ordinary adventurer who saw this would probably faint—or flee with a nosebleed.
But Bell was different.
He was a man whose dream was to reach the harem at the end of the path.
If he lost his composure here, how could he ever hope to achieve that dream?
Bell Cranel would not falter.
He sat quietly in the water, calm and collected, appreciating the beauty before him without pretense.
He recalled Airmid's unfinished words. He'd remembered them, but hadn't thought too deeply about their meaning.
Glancing toward her, he saw the Dea Saint alone at the far end of the bath.
Airmid averted her eyes and sank lower into the water.
Neither of them realized... a gray-haired girl was watching.
She had seen it all.