Chapter 114 The Imperial Guard School Graduation Exam
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Having completed the bulk of my itinerary, I’m slated to depart for the Imperial Capital tomorrow. It’s time to bid farewell to Kujukuri Town for a while. A peculiar mystery¹ of a sensation swirled within me—partly a trace of loneliness, yet accompanied by an inexplicable sense of relief deep in my soul.
* * *
Today’s agenda was purely for spectating. A minor torture convention was being staged in the local district, known by the moniker ‘Katsui².’ The term denotes a state of absolute desperation, where no quarter is given.
Katsui serves as the graduation exam³ for the Imperial Guard School in Kujukuri Town. The regulations are straightforward: nearly a hundred young maidens are marooned on the third level of an extraterrestrial vessel, completely devoid of equipment. They must navigate their way back to the designated safe zone entirely by their own merits. Over the course of three sleepless days, they must evade swarming aliens and dismantle lethal traps to reach the southern tip of the first level.
Their only armaments are the physical forms they have honed through grueling exploration training and a wealth of practical knowledge. Even under the watchful eyes of their instructors, it remains a ruthless ordeal; should they perish, that is the end.
Upon reaching the threshold of total exhaustion, the candidates are finally presented with water and sustenance. However, they are forbidden from consuming it. They must withstand the pangs of thirst and hunger, secreting the rations away as they embark on a sixty-kilometer marathon to the town’s northernmost finish line. In essence, they treat these supplies as a mystical object⁴ dedicated to their lord. They are tasked with conquering self-interest and the lure of embezzlement, delivering the goods intact. Their core devotion is being put to the ultimate test. Succumbing to thirst halfway results in immediate disqualification. Appropriately, ‘Katsui’ also translates to ‘Thirst.’
Naturally, the order of arrival heavily dictates their graduation grades. Securing a spot on the initial pages of the personnel registry significantly bolsters one’s prospects for formal recruitment.
A cohort of young girls was currently locked in a desperate struggle to fill the vacancies left by Imperial Guards who fell during the recent conflict.
”Move it! Stop lollygagging!” an instructor barked.
”Tuck your chins! Keep your eyes on the path!” another shouted.
”You bottom-feeders, put some wind in your sails!” a voice roared.
”What was all that training for? You’re almost there! Dig deep!” an officer encouraged.
Given that it was a race, a crowd of degenerate senior Imperial Guards had assembled to gamble on their juniors. Beyond them, nearly the entire town population currently on rear-support duty had flocked to the sidelines.
A girl wearing a runner’s sash lunged at the candidate flanking her. The girl who lost her footing careened into a roadside stall, suffering the misfortune of being scalded from head to toe by boiling water. Without so much as a backward glance at the writhing victim, the assailant sprinted ahead. The casualty, unable to stand, was splashed with cooling water and hauled away on a shutter.
It was a hellish contest of attrition where one had to trample others to succeed. In this final assessment for the Exploration Squad, a handful of lives are lost every single year.
Right before me, a girl with vacant eyes stumbled by, muttering incoherent deliriums. At her feet, a half-dead soul crawled at a snail’s pace, leaving a trail of blood. One girl, seemingly a close friend, tried to hoist the fallen runner up, only to be threatened with being crushed by the oncoming pack. Elsewhere, a child finally broke—reaching for her canteen in a fit of sobbing despair.
”Oh, how tragic. Her path as an Imperial Guard ends right here,” a spectator remarked.
”This spectacle is far too savage. That little one over there is making incredible time, though. She’s replaced a leg with a wheel—is that even permitted?” I asked.
”They must have utilized the surgical theater on the third level desuno. How pitiful. While participants are free to exploit artifacts or facilities discovered within the dungeon, one wonders if a male would ever truly select such a creature desuno,” Cum Bucket said, after a pause.
A grim survival race, indeed. A cybernetically modified girl with a wheel attachment tore past the frontrunners.
That was a form of physical augmentation achieved via mystical objects. It shared no lineage with Psionic Power. Such methods were double-edged swords. A female who replaces too much of her organic self with machinery is often reviled by men. Even if she achieves the status of top graduate, it would be an exercise in futility if her appearance prevents her from being chosen as an Imperial Guard.
A cluster of five candidates formed a tight scrum.
”Terrifying. They’re literally punching their way through the competition,” I noted.
”Likely childhood friends from the same district desuno. It’s a tactical maneuver to safeguard one another through cooperation desuno,” Cum Bucket replied.
”Is that girl on the other one’s back being carried because of an injury?” I asked.
”That… hee-hee, she hired those legs. It’s quite astute to bind one’s peers with debt during their school days. By using IOUs as leverage, she’s having herself ferried to conserve her own vitality. She appears to be a candidate with quite the head for finances desuno,” Cum Bucket said.
The beauty beside me had taken it upon herself to act as my personal commentator.
My vantage point was elevated above the rest. From the aristocratic gallery, I observed the race—a spectacle as malicious and fervid as an academy sports festival turned bloodsport.
”The atmosphere is electric,” I said.
”It is the hallmark festival of the year desuno. Moreover, it represents a trial they have all endured themselves. There is a profound emotional investment in these juniors desuno,” Cum Bucket replied.
”By the way, which ‘older sister’ are you?” I asked.
”…Eh?” she muttered.
”I don’t believe we’ve met,” I said.
”Um… I am Cum Bucket desuno,” she replied quietly.
Cum Bucket… What a peculiar name. It hardly sounded like a proper human appellation.
She had been assigned to me by my two regular guards as a temporary conversationalist. They didn’t seem particularly wary of her, so I assumed she was a colleague.
”Cum Bucket, I see… Are you someone’s Imperial Guard, or perhaps a town official?” I asked.
”S-Surely you haven’t forgotten? I am one of Sir Lordship’s own Imperial Guards desuno!” she said, her voice trembling as if she were on the verge of tears.
”Hmm?” I hummed.
I racked my brain, trying to recall.
As the candidates sprinted past the tearful beauty, she hesitantly brushed back her hair with a slender finger, revealing her striking features. A memory snagged in the recesses of my mind. There was something remarkably alluring about her.
”…Ah!”
It was Cum Bucket-san, my personal favorite among the Imperial Guards. Because she hadn’t been involved in any high-profile incidents lately, my impression of her had faded, but she was definitely mine. It wasn’t that I had forgotten her entirely; she had always been by my side. It was simply that the other members were so overwhelmingly eccentric that her name had slipped my mind for a moment. There are always people who suffer from poor timing or lack of luck, even in their ties with men. She fit that mold perfectly. …Then again, I suppose I really had half-forgotten her.
Regardless, she was a high-caliber beauty. In terms of physical proportions alone, she was the most exquisite among my guards—an ‘older sister’ who resembled a classical Roman sculpture brought to life. She didn’t cater to any niche fetishes, but by any objective standard, she was a ninety-point woman. A sophisticated hostess whom any man would be proud to have on his arm. That was Cum Bucket-san.
”Ah, right! I remember you perfectly. I was just teasing!” I said.
”That was a cruel jest. I was genuinely startled desuno…” Cum Bucket replied.
”Look, here comes the next group. Go for it! Keep fighting!” I shouted.
I clumsily covered my tracks.
”Um… while I’m sure your support is appreciated, I fear the candidates might actually break under the pressure desuno,” she noted.
”Why is that?” I asked.
”They’ll become far too overzealous. The Katsui is a long ordeal desuno… Just look over there,” she replied.
The two girls I had cheered were now shoving each other. Quarreling over which one of them I had addressed, the fourteen or fifteen-year-old girls began clawing at each other’s hair. They soon tumbled over in a heap and started a full-blown scuffle. I decided it was best to keep my mouth shut.
At the sudden brawl, the townspeople lining the course erupted in jeers. I felt a bit guilty, but the crowd was enthralled by a race that determined the trajectory of these girls’ entire lives.
”That girl in the back has an arm that’s been turned into a fan. But the blades are angled in opposite directions; spinning it wouldn’t even generate a breeze. What’s the point?” I asked.
”Oh… tee-hee, how tragic desuno. The surgery was a failure. The monsters inhabiting the surgical theater are truly senile. Poor ‘Old Grandma’…” Cum Bucket muttered.
Cum Bucket-san swept back her wavy locks—a gesture teeming with confidence in her own allure.
Even as she spoke of such grim matters, more candidates continued to stream past, reminiscent of a relay marathon. Children ran alongside the track, shouting encouragement, and the girls who drew strength from their voices managed to forge weary smiles.
By this point, the finish line was within reach—the culmination of two years of training. Candidates with kin in the local district were met with boisterous cheers. Whenever the instructors looked away, relatives would hurl buckets of water onto the track. The cold water sapped the heat from the girls’ skin and provided much-needed hydration. The participants who noticed the clandestine aid waved back with a laugh.
A moment of negligence. One girl was slashed by the laser blade of the runner beside her. She retired instantly, her body racked by total paralysis.
As the race entered its twilight hours, the lethality of the contest only intensified.
* * *
I eventually ceased my spectating and went out to handle some shopping. My presence was causing too many candidates to crash while trying to get a glimpse of me.
Since it was a festival day, the coastline outside the town had transformed into a bustling, chaotic market. Merchants who wagered their lives on their trade had brought supplies from distant settlements. Local vendors, traveling merchants with massive cargo fleets, and even individuals who looked suspiciously like swindlers had set up shop. Due to the ongoing war, the crowd was rougher than usual. Such peddling was a popular venture, and preying on those merchants was an equally lucrative trade for bandits. Occasionally, bandits would simply sell their spoils in a different town, effectively becoming merchants themselves.
Thanks to the dungeon’s influence, many of these rogues had transcended human limits. In response, the transport caravans hired bodyguards armed with mystical objects or traveled in large convoys. It felt very much like an ‘adventurer bodyguard quest,’ though the threats were human rather than monstrous.
The people who had endured such hardships were now standing before me. I was the noble patron whom the merchant would visit once the general adventurers had completed their escort duty.
When I expressed a desire to browse the market’s mystical objects, the representative of a major caravan came to see me personally. I truly appreciated the effort.
”I am deeply honored to be received by you today,” the merchant said.
”Glad to have you. You may raise your head,” I replied.
A middle-aged woman in traditional Japanese attire, her hair pulled tight, looked up. It was a private demonstration—I couldn’t exactly wander the market myself. Instead, the ‘purveyor merchant’ system brought the goods directly to my quarters. The merchant promptly produced a small casket. Since I hadn’t specified any particular needs, she began a general showcase.
”Throughout history, Japan has known many masters of deception, and this item is a tribute to that legacy. Recovered from Kitagaito in Ise Province and brought through the port of Toba, this is a mother-of-pearl lacquer box. I assure you, its value is no lie,” the merchant explained.
”What sort of mystical object is it?” I asked.
”Allow me to demonstrate. Pray, place something inside,” she replied.
”Then, let’s go with this glass bead,” I said.
The merchant placed the bead into the small box—which featured a fox with a leaf atop its head—and gave it a shake. A sharp ‘Kon!’ emanated from within.
”Allow me to open it. Behold,” the merchant said.
”Oh! The glass bead turned into a pearl?” I noted. It was a massive, flawless pearl of the highest caliber.
”Please, observe further,” she said.
The box was closed and shaken again. Once more, the fox gave its characteristic ‘Kon!’
”Now it’s a large gold nugget!” I exclaimed.
”Heh-heh. One more time, if you please,” she said.
After a third shake and a third bark, a red coral bead emerged.
”How does it work?” I asked.
”It is a plaything of wit. When a small item is placed inside and shaken, the fox within ‘bewitches’ it into a high-value object. It makes for a fine diversion, does it not?” she suggested.
”I see. Fascinating. It actually alters the material composition of the item inside,” I replied.
”Your kind words are appreciated. Should you let it hear a dog’s bark, the fox will panic and return the item to its original state. You might enjoy altering the appearance of your combs or chopsticks at your leisure… if I may be so bold,” the merchant said.
The merchant gave a sharp, threatening “Woof!” and the coral bead instantly reverted to common glass.
Mie Prefecture contains a dungeon known as the ‘Town of Liars,’ which yields many mystical objects centered around harmless deception. This fox box required occasional offerings of fried tofu. It was a charming toy for a child.
The large hall was soon filled with mystical objects from across various regions.
”Perhaps this might pique your interest? Given the whispers of your valor in the war…” she continued.
Next, she presented a crystal ball on a pedestal. I had an Imperial Guard take it and bring it closer. When I hovered my hand over it, the contents began to shift and churn. Gradually, it rendered a realistic miniature of a dark forest, a jungle, and a townscape choked with blood-like refuse. I caught a brief, beautiful glimpse of a beach in the evening calm.
It was apparently a memento from conquering a famous tourist dungeon. While the scenes rendered varied based on the user’s memories, it could construct miniatures of any dungeon one had traversed. In essence, it was a living photo album or a snow globe.
A few moments after I withdrew my hand, the tiny birds and the lamenting aberration girls within the sphere vanished.
”Could you show me something with more utility? My dungeon exploits aren’t exactly something I wish to reminisce about. Sell this to someone who’s had a more picturesque journey,” I said.
”My profound apologies. Then perhaps this?” the merchant asked.
”A weapon? It’s a very small blade. But I’m no warrior. I’ve never handled anything more dangerous than a kitchen knife,” I said.
The dagger she pulled from the shelf had a sinister aura. While weaponry was popular among the Exploration Squad, it held no appeal for me.
”Fear not. This is no battlefield armament, but a tool for discipline. Sourced from the Hound Group in Kai Province, this is an exquisite piece known as the ‘Dagger of Embers,’” the merchant explained.
I had her unseal the dagger, which radiated a heavy, oppressive air. The blade, engraved with the likeness of a black, diseased dog, shimmered with a dull light. A single glance told me this was something foul. According to the merchant, wounds inflicted by this ‘Dog’s Curse’ would never heal. Even if the scar tissue were excised, it would simply reappear as the flesh regenerated.
I had no idea why she was showing me such a cursed artifact.
”What do you think? It is perfect for dealing with a woman who displeases you. A single strike will leave an indelible stigma upon her,” the merchant suggested.
”N-No! I don’t want that!” I shouted.
”Is that so? It is ideal for ‘educating’ a rude servant or venting frustration on a maid. It is quite versatile. You could even make her suffer for a lifetime. There is a flaw where the wound might transfer to her offspring, but…” she said.
”That’s a hideous feature. I want it even less now,” I replied.
”The curse persists for seven generations,” the merchant added with a beaming smile.
When I firmly declined, she retreated with a disappointed air. Apparently, such items were popular among men for stress relief, as women would cower at the mere sight of them. What a warped sense of ethics. As usual, the men of this world didn’t view ordinary women as fellow human beings. However, by the standards of high society, a noble inflicting punishment on a lazy servant to maintain social order was considered a virtuous act. Carrying ‘punishment tools’ was actually a matter of etiquette.
Since she had made the recommendation with genuine goodwill, I couldn’t bring myself to be angry—only deeply troubled.
”Oh, this looks fun,” I said.
”Footwear that allows one to leap again while in mid-air,” the merchant explained.
”A double-jump? Now that’s useful. Fine, I’ll take them,” I decided.
My shopping concluded within an hour. I also purchased external gills for underwater breathing, a hot spring sign that made a hidden spring erupt wherever it was planted, a surrogate bladder that would handle my middle-of-the-night bathroom trips for me, an infinite-use calligraphy pen, and bread that never ran out.
They were items that balanced hobby and utility. As they had been curated for a high-born young master, there were no dangerous goods aside from that cursed dagger. I felt it would be unseemly to have her bring all this only to buy nothing—and since it was customary for nobles to simply buy out everything presented—I took the lot without much haggling. Whether I’d actually use them was another matter entirely. The wealthy buy in bulk: ‘I’ll take everything on this shelf, thanks.’
The merchant was visibly relieved to have successfully concluded such a massive transaction. It was quite different from my usual idea of shopping; in a single day, I had spent twenty years’ worth of a commoner’s salary. Personal assets used daily by a male are legally protected from creditors even if his Imperial Guards go bankrupt, so it was also a way to secure property. It was a custom born from men complaining, ‘Why do you want the things I’ve touched?! That’s disgusting!’ I was more than happy to take advantage of it.
Afterward, I summoned other merchants to buy a hoard of smaller personal items like cosmetics. For the Imperial Guards, this seemed to be the real highlight of the day.
* * *
”Are they still at it? They look half-dead,” I said.
After tinkering with my new mystical objects, I left the hall and headed to the northern end of the white corridor. As night fell, the grueling marathon was still ongoing. I noticed candidates sprawled on the ground, motionless, and others who had been driven mad by thirst and were running in the wrong direction.
The groups that were still holding together were humming songs to bolster their spirits. They were horribly out of tune, but the sheer intensity was haunting.
Unless a candidate officially resigned, the Katsui would not disqualify them halfway through. If they were too injured, they could simply train for another year and try again. Their scholarship debt would increase, but that was better than a career-ending injury. Yet, not a single girl withdrew.
”Had enough? You were a disappointment from the start. Go back to the farm!” an instructor jeered at a girl who had slowed down.
”No… I won’t… quit!” the girl panted.
”You loser from the South District! You always overestimated yourself. Stop now and save yourself the trouble!” the officer barked.
”I refuse… I’m going… to finish!” the candidate replied.
The instructors ran alongside the lagging girls, hurling vitriol. The candidates, who had been high-spirited and aggressive earlier, were now just a procession of pale, walking corpses.
”Please… huff… a man… my… my own master… waiting…” one whispered.
”Become a Guard… for Mother… our family…” another gasped.
The two girls were at the end of their tether. One of them collapsed onto the white corridor. When the townspeople rushed to check on her, she had already stopped breathing. An instructor attempted resuscitation but soon gave up and called for assistance. The girl, now a still form, was carried away on a shutter.
Sow-san, Vocal Slut-san, and even Cum Bucket-san—who had become surprisingly talkative lately—watched with grim expressions. It was the gaze of veterans who knew that withholding a helping hand was the only ‘correct’ answer.
”Hey, this is getting out of hand. That girl just died, didn’t she?” I asked.
”You must not interfere. If Young Master offers a kind word now, all their efforts go to waste desuno. You might rob them of the chance to forge the strength to overcome their own limits desuno,” Cum Bucket noted.
”It looked to me like her chance was permanently extinguished!” I shouted.
”If they are to serve a man, this much is expected. Perishing simply proves a lack of resolve. They die because they are pathetic,” Sow-san rebuked me with her characteristically harsh logic.
Even the typically moderate Vocal Slut-san and the understated Cum Bucket-san seemed to find this spectacle perfectly normal.
”The burning passion of exceeding one’s limits! How nostalgic. It almost makes me want to join in!” Vocal Slut-san exclaimed.
”Oh? You were a bodyguard, so you never experienced the Katsui, did you desuno? Your training focused on combat and etiquette, wasn’t it? We used to be so envious that the star pupils had such a safe exam desuno,” Cum Bucket said.
”It was just a personal challenge. I asked the Exploration Squad instructor to let me participate,” Vocal Slut-san replied.
”My, you always were a diligent one, Vocal Slut desuno,” Cum Bucket remarked.
They remained remarkably composed despite the potential loss of life. These gasping candidates were blissfully unaware of the future hardships awaiting them. Many Imperial Guards find themselves subjected to a level of physiological revulsion from the opposite sex that far exceeds their expectations. They might be loathed for decades, eventually assigned to suicidal missions like discarded old hounds. Hard work does not guarantee a reward. But even if I told them that, they wouldn’t stop.
Just then, a palanquin arrived at the edge of the corridor, stopping before the course where the central government was stationed. The door of the opulent box slid open, and a man in his sixties peered out.
”Is this circus still not over? It’s a nuisance. Put an end to it at once,” the man said with an air of bored arrogance.
An instructor immediately rushed over to placate him, kneeling and bowing low.
”You, end this nonsense. I cannot pass through this road,” the noble ordered.
”A thousand apologies. This exam is a legitimate right afforded to the candidates. Until the final participant has finished, I cannot halt the Katsui. I shall guide you through a side path,” the instructor explained.
”Then simply disqualify all those who haven’t finished. I declare this so-called exam over,” the man said.
”B-But why would you…” the instructor stammered.
”You have inconvenienced me. Therefore, these creatures are unfit to serve a noble man. I shall make sure to mention this at the tea party,” the man threatened.
”Please, anything but that! I beg for your mercy!” the instructor pleaded.
The instructor continued to grovel, desperately trying to de-escalate the man’s anger.
”Can you not grasp such basic logic? As I suspected, women are nothing more than brainless beasts,” the man said.
A plume of purple smoke drifted from the palanquin—a long, bored sigh. The sight of young girls pushing themselves to the brink for their own sake meant nothing to a noble. The fate of a commoner’s life was a triviality. He waved his folding fan as if brushing away maggots from the hallway. At the gesture, the last vestiges of strength left the candidates’ legs. But no one spoke up against this tyranny. No one here outranked a male, and even if they did, the most they could do was politely persuade him. The only person who could truly challenge a man was another man.
I stepped forward and snatched the fan from in front of the palanquin.
”Good evening. It’s a lovely night, isn’t it?” I said.
”H-Hieee!” the man squealed.
I crushed the fan in my palm. Splinters of wood rained down. Perhaps the experience from that ‘Blue Maggot’ boss had been substantial, as my physical capabilities already far surpassed those of an adult woman.
”I’m not in a particularly pleasant mood tonight,” I said.
”Y-You boy! How dare you commit such an outrage! What insolence!” he barked.
”That’s a fine ivory pipe. But it seems quite brittle. It cracked just from me touching it,” I noted.
”Gah! Who is this child? He’s insane! That’s enough! We’re leaving!” the noble shouted.
Tossing aside his broken pipe, the noble fled with his Imperial Guards. I turned to find Sow-san pinching the bridge of her nose.
”Young Master… that was truly uncalled for…” Sow-san sighed.
”Young Master, you were so cool! Even if that old man was a bit pathetic!” Vocal Slut-san cheered.
”My, what a rebellious phase you’re in desuno,” Cum Bucket added.
Their reactions were as varied as they were.
”Now I’ll be the one getting bad-mouthed at the tea party. Is there a problem?” I asked.
”No, none at all,” Sow-san replied.
”Then let’s head to the finish line and wait for them,” I suggested.
In my experience, this kind of fallout was manageable. If he complained again, I’d just break his fingers next time.
* * *
The finish line was littered with bodies… or rather, high school girls scattered across the ground like dried whitebait spilled on the floor. Finally getting to drink, their faces—etched with deathly fatigue—were nonetheless radiant with a sense of achievement.
At this moment, the Exploration Squad curriculum for the Imperial Guard School was officially complete. Friends and family of the candidates were waiting at the goal, sharing in the joy. The successful graduates would now be placed on a registry for five years. Even if they aren’t recruited by a man, the status of being a graduate carries significant weight, often leading to tax-exempt business ventures. In truth, only about one in fifteen actually becomes an Imperial Guard. It’s a narrow gate, but the path was now open to them.
That said, since this recruitment was largely to replace wartime casualties, many would likely be appointed quickly. War is a social catalyst that vacates old positions. In fact, a few candidates had already received provisional offers from men.
”I did it! I’m finally an Imperial Guard…” one girl sobbed.
”I can’t believe it. Heh… I can’t even stand. Ehehehe…” another giggled.
Several girls were presented with the white uniform—the symbol of an Imperial Guard—by their instructors and left the grounds in tears. They would soon meet with men who met their criteria. Afterward, they would be deployed for resource recovery in the dungeons or sent to the front lines as commanders, where they’d be forged into proper soldiers by the veteran townspeople.
I watched the scene from the gallery, making sure not to stand out. Today, they were the stars. Outside the dungeon, the moonlight began to carve a path across the sea. The final candidate crossed the line to a chorus of warm applause. Today’s exam was officially over. I could only hope that the masters who eventually found them would be kind people.
* * *
Of course, glory always casts a shadow of defeat. While many had secured their future, there were those who fell short. On the walk back, I passed several girls who remained seated on the ground, seemingly unable to move. The air around them was heavy.
”Sow-san, what happens to them?” I asked.
”Leave them. Their dark future is their own doing. They are weaklings who sought easy power only to be forsaken by luck. They won’t show their faces in public again. Soon they’ll be beggars, or perhaps sold to a freak show,” Sow-san said, her eyes cold with anger.
”You really have a distaste for gambling, don’t you?” I noted.
”And that is the result of such weakness. How could I ever respect it? …My apologies. Young Master, you must never spare them a glance,” she warned.
Sow-san looked down at the huddling girls with visible contempt. These were the ones whose cybernetic modifications had failed. For graduates, if they simply fail to find a master, they can still pursue a career as a dungeon explorer and eventually find a husband. The most tragic fate belongs to those expelled due to injury or disability.
In the surgical theater on the third level of the alien ship, there is a ten-armed machine monster integrated into the wall, affectionately known as ‘Old Grandma.’ While she is the level boss, she isn’t an enemy. In fact, if requested, she will transplant cutting-edge extraterrestrial mystical objects into one’s body. In Kujukuri, body modification follows two paths: the mutation associated with becoming a Psionic Power user, or simple artificial transplantation. This was the latter. A successful cyber-human is powerful—even without Psionic Power, they can stand toe-to-toe with monsters. They excel at manual labor, and many ordinary women find steady employment after a successful surgery.
However, due to eons of interstellar travel, Old Grandma’s processors have become senile. Beyond simply adding redundant joints, she often commits catastrophic medical errors—replacing limbs with iron bars or swapping internal organs for household appliances. Death is a frequent outcome. Appealing to Old Grandma is the ultimate gamble for a townsperson—a high-stakes dungeon event where one wagers their very life.
There are always unlucky souls. Those with no ties to men. Even when they wagered everything on their graduation exam, fate was cruel. These girls had pulled the losing ticket. Behind the celebrating graduates, the lamentations of those who barely escaped with their lives echoed in the streets.
”What am I going to do? With a body like this, how am I supposed to survive?” a girl sobbed.
The atmosphere was stifling. The girls were weeping so hard they didn’t even notice us stopping.
”It’ll be okay. Surely someone will help you. If you keep despairing, things will only get worse!” a companion tried to comfort one of them.
”Then you tell me how! Look me in the eye and say it! What is this weird light?! If I go home, the whole neighborhood will treat me like a monster!” the first girl barked.
”But if you work hard and persevere, a better day will come! Maybe a man will appear who doesn’t mind our condition!” the friend encouraged.
”Who would ever want a woman who looks like a twisted jack-in-the-box?!” the girl asked.
”That’s… well… Anyway, stop crying,” the friend said.
”Ugh… h-hic… the body my mother gave me… it’s ruined…” she wept.
She stared in despair at her own body—one arm had been replaced by an airplane wing. Her eyes had lost their natural luster, replaced by cheap, glowing filaments. The girl comforting her was equally afflicted; her lower abdomen was transparent, revealing her internal organs through fragile glass. No passersby offered a kind word, and even I couldn’t save them all. In truth, they would likely never find proper work with such crippled bodies.
”Oh, perfect! What a fascinating shape! Wow, this is so interesting! It’s wonderful!” a voice chirped.
A woman appeared, sounding jarringly cheerful.
”What’s your problem?! You looking for a fight?!” the girl snapped.
”Oh, no! My apologies. I just thought you were all so incredibly charming,” the woman replied.
She was staring intently at the huddling former candidates. She seemed genuinely thrilled—an incredibly insensitive person. It was Natsume-san, sporting a freshly shaved head. I instinctively stepped closer and called out to her. The girls nearby finally noticed a male was present and looked on in shock.
”Why, look at that! Good evening to you!” Natsume-san said.
”Uh, yeah. Evening, Natsume-san. What’s the story with your hair?” I asked. Natsume-san knelt before me in a flurry of surprise. Her scalp had a bluish tint from the close shave, making her look like a little baseball boy. I was worried—did Ichimatsu bully her again? Or was it harassment from a peer?
She finished her greeting, stood up, and beamed. “I shaved it! Ichimatsu-sama was so pleased—he said it makes me look like a boy!” she explained.
She looked exactly like Ikkyu-san.
”He actually asked you to do that?” I asked.
”I volunteered! I’m planning to have my breasts removed next. Fortunately, I’m not a powerful Psionic Power user, so the town doctor said they likely won’t grow back as much as before…” she replied.
”O-Oh. I see. Well, as long as you’re happy,” I said.
She was grinning ear-to-ear. I felt a conflict of emotions. Those voluptuous, attractive curves were going to vanish from her petite frame. The disconnect between her heartwarming smile and her self-destructive devotion was staggering.
”I mean, if you’re happy, Natsume-san, then I guess it’s fine. You really do love doing things for your master, don’t you?” I said.
”I do! Ever since Ichimatsu-sama opened his heart to me, every day has been a joy. It’s been decades since I felt this way. When I go to bed, the thought that morning is coming…” she began.
”You are most welcome. I suppose this means it’s my last chance to see them. Say, Natsume-san, may I touch your breasts?” I asked.
”My bosom? Well, certainly, but…” she trailed off.
She gave me a look that questioned why I would even want such a thing.
Without hesitation, I reached out and kneaded the two curves. The soft feeling was so ample it nearly spilled from my palms. As I firmly grasped the chest of this shaven-headed female who wore a look of mystery, a strange sensation washed over me—though not in a sexual sense.
Still, it was a tragedy to lose such fine assets.
”That is a bit ticklish,” she noted.
”Farewell. Ah, what a terrible waste,” I lamented.
I also gave her freshly shaven scalp a little ‘shori-shori’ touch. That had its own unique appeal.
Since standing around chatting in a public area was difficult, I briefly caught up on her recent affairs. She had been busy lately, visiting the graves of fallen Exploration Squad members and exerting herself in explorations within relatively safe zones.
As a memento, I had her promise to distribute some of the organized personal effects. In Kaede-san’s room, many children’s toys like lead tops and marbles had been left behind. Perhaps she had vaguely begun to sense Ichimatsu’s true desires.
Incidentally, regarding Ichimatsu’s Imperial Guards whose brains had been adjusted: while Kaede-san felt no pain but her body was prone to arousal, Natsume-san was the opposite. She retained her senses, but her body’s ‘switch’ wouldn’t engage. Even as I kneaded her breasts, there was no typical female physiological response.
Personally, I wouldn’t have minded a ‘dead fish’ response at all; I still wanted to do it.
”What brings you here today? Did you come to watch the graduation exam as well, Natsume-san?” I asked.
”Well, that is… ah!” she exclaimed.
And then, I witnessed the current state of her relationship with Ichimatsu…
”Master Ichimatsu!” she cried out.
Mid-sentence, Natsume-san suddenly spun around, her feminine intuition for the opposite sex alerting her to a presence behind us.
”You came all the way out here!” she said.
”Natsume! You were late in returning, so I came to see what was the matter. I presumed you were not such a fool as to get lost in your own hometown, yet it seems I was the fool for thinking so,” Ichimatsu barked.
”I was doing some exploration along the way. I managed to gather many rations!” she explained.
”I see. Then it cannot be helped,” he replied.
Natsume-san hurried toward the middle-aged male who was approaching with the help of a cane.
”…Who is that?” I wondered.
The man, his face etched with wrinkles like an elder and wearing a faint smile, was indeed Ichimatsu. However, he looked younger than before.
And then, Natsume-san did something shocking: she took his hand. Usually, if a woman did that to a man without warning, she would be shoved away.
”I know, let’s go for a walk on the beach. The moonlight is exceptionally beautiful tonight. It is boring to only bask in artificial light. It is not good for your health, either,” she suggested.
”Stop that! My legs are weak. They are not as sturdy as your blood circulation!” he complained.
”Don’t say such cowardly things. I’m sure they will get better soon,” she encouraged.
”Good grief, thanks to someone, you remain eternally youthful. It feels as though my own legs might start dancing just to keep up with you,” he said.
”Really? Yay! Then let’s dance together!” she cheered.
”What I mean is, your youth is thanks to my… Ugh. You are still just a child who understands neither sarcasm nor irony. Someone, save me!” Ichimatsu cried out for help half-jokingly.
Even when they touched, there was no sign of Natsume-san becoming aroused. They hadn’t even known such a dynamic was possible until now.
A group of white-haired female bodyguards and attendants stood by, gently separating the two. Their gaze was serene.
Both my Imperial Guards and I were stunned. A relationship where a man and woman can show unreserved goodwill toward each other is an incredibly precious rarity in this world. Simply saving a male’s life once or twice doesn’t lead to this. Everything must align fatefully to overcome that inherent physiological revulsion.
To me, it just looked like an old guy frolicking with a young girl like children… but I’ll stop there. That thought deals damage to me, too.
Ichimatsu’s temperament had settled. To the females now, he was a fine gentleman who possessed perfect etiquette and manners while retaining a playful heart. He had gained a certain level of understanding regarding female desires.
While his own sex might dislike him, he held no prejudice that would alienate the opposite sex. If anything, his loneliness and frail body transformed into a decadent, aesthetic charm.
In my own interpretation: it’s like a lonely, unlucky, beautiful woman who hates sex and is looked down upon by those around her, who sighs with a bit of resignation—”Men are just like that, I suppose…”—and with a touch of understanding and affection, she lets me do it with her. That is dangerous.
Frankly, if Ichimatsu competed with me in the ‘Most Desirable Man in the Neighborhood’ rankings, it would be a close… well, I don’t know. I would win in pure friendliness, but a male filled with sorrow and a pained heart has his own demand. Choosing him is a sophisticated taste. I would be popular with the townspeople who don’t care for etiquette, while Ichimatsu would be the type to attract noblewomen.
”I should stop. What am I even fighting against?” I muttered.
In the first place, they love me just for being a male. Reaching out for some mysterious luxury and feeling a self-inflicted complex is the height of futility.
Regardless, Natsume-san felt like an admired senior. After decades of hardship, she had finally won her master’s complete trust. Plus, she was on good terms with me. To a noblewoman, she must be an incomprehensible existence—a target of jealousy: “Why her?”
The failed candidates still sprawled on the ground were equally shocked by this abnormal scene. They didn’t know the history. They looked up at this sight in a daze, filled with envy. In fact, due to the continuous shock of these male-female interactions, they couldn’t even stand up.
Well, since they were doing this on the roadside, he eventually barked at Natsume-san to cut it out, but it wasn’t the insidious anger from before.
”Oh, Natsume. The one over there is… I see. You were meeting with the boy,” Ichimatsu noted.
Ichimatsu met my eyes. There was no longer a shadow of unrest in his pupils.
After we exchanged greetings, our eyes naturally drifted toward the former candidates with their bizarre physiques. They were poor children being forced to witness a sight they could never obtain.
”You came as well? Are these creatures of ill omen some kind of vagrants? Why are they in the neighborhood? It is a hideousness unbearable to look upon,” Ichimatsu said.
”They can’t get jobs, and that’s what they’re slated to become. They’re candidates who pulled a ‘miss’ in surgery and failed the exam. It seems they failed to transplant a mystical object into their bodies,” I explained.
The girls were terrifyingly bewildered by the gaze of the two males who had appeared out of nowhere. They tried to hide their bodies from view.
Ichimatsu spoke to Natsume-san.
”It seems you have gathered nothing but exceptional beauties. Is there anyone who catches your eye?” he asked.
”Since the Exploration Squad has four vacancies, I intend to ask all of them,” she replied.
”Very well. If that is what you have decided,” he said.
The former candidates looked up at Ichimatsu, trembling. However, the words that followed were harsh.
”If you think that wearing such a miserable face will earn you sympathy, it is a hideous arrogance. You likely still do not know how much your filthy gaze rubs a man’s heart the wrong way,” he barked.
His withered, hoarse voice was tinged with contempt.
After delivering a round of verbal abuse, Ichimatsu made the girls stand up. They squirmed to avoid his gaze, but they couldn’t escape his spiteful eyes.
”Ichimatsu, are you making those girls your Imperial Guards?” I asked.
”Hmph, life is but a diversion. It is more entertaining to have interesting creatures serve me. What about you lot? Will you accept this offer? Or is serving me beneath you?” he asked.
At his words, a frantic cry erupted in response.
”We accept!!”
”Will you become the canes that support me?” he asked.
”…Y-Yes!”
”Then I shall send the proof of your accepted loyalty,” he said.
Ichimatsu took a Paulownia box from his attendant, and with his weakened arms, he firmly handed the box containing the white uniform to each girl. His gestures held a sense of respect for those who would serve him.
In the hearts of those with such mismatched forms, an equal pride began to swell. The shattered self-esteem of these awkward young girls began to take shape and solidify once more.
The middle-aged attendant scolded those who continued to weep pathetically.
”Straighten your hems. You are in the presence of a male now!” she barked.
”Y-Yes… Yes!” they replied.
I felt the group, now clad in fine kimonos and the white uniforms that served as proof of an Imperial Guard, becoming one.
Once everyone had finished their preparations, the attendant made a proposal to Ichimatsu.
”There must be others in the same situation among the graduates. I (archaic) shall educate them. Those who cannot move shall be used as housemaids,” she said.
”Very well. I leave it to you,” he agreed.
As if his business were concluded, Ichimatsu quickly departed, leading his Imperial Guards and the young girls away.
* * *
I stood there for a moment, dazed by that storm of a recruitment drive.
”He really took them all. I didn’t know you could hire people like that… I guess all’s well that ends well?” I wondered.
My three Imperial Guards also seemed unable to find the words.
The only yardstick for hiring was ‘interest.’ It must have been a bolt from the blue for those being recruited. Not just the failures, but even those who wouldn’t have been called upon after graduation were taken in together. Ichimatsu had regained his will to live and begun reorganizing his Guards, and I happened to witness it. It was an event like the pipe dreams a child aspiring to be a Guard might have.
They were going to start over. With new guards added, they were trying to build the master-servant relationship from scratch.
This time, I’m sure it will work out. The current Ichimatsu knows the suffering of females. And he knows how to deal with his own revulsion toward their desires. His Imperial Guards surely have the know-how to soothe the tantrums of a difficult male.
I wished Kaede-san and Kiri-san could have been in that scene. So, I added their figures there in my imagination and left the place with a sense of peace.
Happiness will eventually erase the shadows cast by sorrow. Newcomers who never knew they existed will weave new bonds of loyalty. But I will always remember. The small miracle for females I just witnessed was something created by two people who never knew they had been rewarded.
—
Summary:
The protagonist observes the brutal ‘Katsui’ graduation marathon in Kujukuri Town, where young girls face lethal trials to qualify as Imperial Guards. Amidst the chaos, he meets an arrogant noble who attempts to shut down the exam, prompting the protagonist to physically intervene and humiliate him. While many celebrate their success, several girls suffer horrific disabilities from failed dungeon surgeries, only to be met by a jarringly cheerful Natsume. Natsume reveals her extreme devotion to Ichimatsu, including her plans for radical body modification to please him.
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Character Insight:
The protagonist continues to show a protective, empathetic side that clashes with the cruel social norms of this world, standing up for commoners against higher-ranking males. Sow-san’s disdain for the ‘losers’ of the exam highlights the survival-of-the-fittest mindset prevalent among the Imperial Guards. Meanwhile, Natsume’s willingness to mutilate her own body for Ichimatsu’s approval serves as a stark reminder of the fanatical devotion—and perhaps warped mental state—required to navigate this dystopian society.
—
Behind the Scene:
The ‘Old Grandma’ monster on the third level represents a classic sci-fi/fantasy blend where advanced technology (stelar flight/cybernetics) is managed by an aging, senile AI, leading to ‘magical’ but flawed body modifications. The ‘Town of Liars’ dungeon in Mie Prefecture is a nod to Japanese folklore involving kitsune (fox) trickery. The ‘Katsui’ exam serves as both a literal physical test and a psychological vetting process for total submission.
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T/L:
Notes:
• Psionic Power – Mental energy concept in Chapter 35’s lecture. Trash-san teaches it to strengthen the protagonist’s mind after dungeon ordeals.
• Natsume – A female companion and younger sister of Kaede-san, cared for by Kaede-san during their journey through the dangerous valley, at risk of infection from the parasitic creatures. A woman who has completely shaved her head to look like a boy to please her master, Ichimatsu. She has a petite figure but previously had ample curves which she intends to surgically remove. She finds beauty in the ‘failed’ cyborg girls.
• Ichimatsu – A high-ranking figure associated with the Imperial Guard, mentioned as having spineless guards around him, with no further details provided.
• Kaede – A female psionic explorer known as Necksplitter, is a veteran assassin and messenger of Lord Ichimatsu. Her appearance is both young and old, with gray hair streaked through black and vibrant, unlined skin. She is graceful yet carries the fatigue of a long life in war, resembling an old hunting dog. Her psionic ability is mysterious and potentially dangerous.
• Kiri – A female sniper and member of Kaede-san’s team, white-haired with sleepy eyes, wielding a disguised sniper rifle, known for her quick hands and slow speech, often joking in dire situations.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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