CHAPTER 36: CH:36 THE PRIESTESS, THE ELF, AND THE BUSH KNIGHT

As Dila leaned back, letting out a rare, relaxed sigh, her eyes still gently closed—finally embracing the warmth of the bath...

But peace is a fragile thing.

"Hehehe~"

A suspicious giggle slithered too close to her ear.

Dila’s eyes snapped open.

"Oy—oy—Stella. What are you doing?"

Her voice cracked like a snapped twig.

Stella was now way too close, her cheeks puffed up with mischief, eyes sparkling like she just unlocked a new kind of chaos.

Her eyebrows danced up and down like they were possessed.

"Since you won’t share that Avatar food skin for now..."

Stella whispered with a wicked grin, slowly leaning in toward Dila’s side.

"...I might as well savor the original!"

Dila jolted upright like she’d been struck by lightning.

"H-H-Huh?! What do you mean ’savor’?! Oi! Stella! Have you turned into a demon priestess?!"

She splashed backward, arms shielding herself while scooting across the bath like a cornered raccoon.

Stella burst out laughing, holding her stomach.

"Pfft—Hahahaha! Your face! Oh goddess, I can’t! You looked like I summoned a cursed chicken!"

Dila scowled, cheeks blazing red.

"That’s not funny! I thought you were gonna start a skin-theft ritual!"

Stella wiped a tear, still snickering.

"Relax, Princess Scrambled-Egg. I just wanted to see you panic a little!"

Dila grumbled, sinking deeper into the water until only her silver hair floated like a ghostly seaweed.

"I’m never trusting a priestess again..."

From across the steam, Stella whispered again with a grin—

"Say that again or I steal your skin."

"Wha—YOU WHAT?!"

More splashes.

More chaos.

More steam rising into the night air of the temple bath...

And so continued the sacred tradition of one poor elf’s suffering at the hands of an overly affectionate, happy priestess.

As steam curled around the bath like lazy clouds, Stella slowly leaned over again, her smile dreamy and dramatic.

"Honestly... I still can’t stop envying your skin, Princess."

Her arm gently flopped over Dila’s shoulder like she was claiming a prized pillow, her fingers softly tracing a circle on her upper arm.

Dila’s whole face went red like a tomato dropped in boiling soup.

She stared forward, frozen like a statue—one twitch away from panicking.

Stella leaned in even closer, eyes twinkling with wicked glee.

"So smooth... So flawless... Are you sure you’re not secretly made of marshmallows?"

Dila blinked.

Twitched.

Then snapped like a twig.

"N-Nay! NAY! PERVERT!" she squeaked, recoiling like she’d been zapped.

Stella burst into a musical giggle, completely unfazed.

"Aww, come on! You mean to tell me... you’ve never touched your own skin before?"

"O-Of course not!!" Dila stammered, hiding behind her imaginary towel like it was sacred armor.

"This is my first time being touched like that—nooooo!"

Before she could escape, Stella pounced, wrapping her arms around Dila in a full-body hug like a clingy golden retriever in human form.

"Squee~! You’re too preciousss~!" Stella squealed, snuggling her tightly, soap bubbles popping between them.

Dila’s soul visibly left her body for a second.

"I-I’m being snuggled to death by a fluffy priestess... This is how I go..."

From the other side of the bath, a lonely bath duck floated past like a solemn witness to the chaos.

Stella just laughed harder, squishing her cheek to Dila’s, bubbles puffing in every direction.

"You’re my soap princess now! Accept your destiny!"

Dila, defeated, could only mutter in despair,

"...Nari... help..."

☆ Nope. I’m not here heheee~~. ☆

Meanwhile, outside the bathhouse entrance...

Sarios stood like a noble statue—back straight, sword sheathed, face serious.

At least, he was serious.

Until he heard a suspiciously high-pitched yelp echo through the thick steam door.

"—NAY NAY PERVERT!"

Followed by wild splashing. And giggles. And more splashing.

And then something that sounded like a soap bubble explosion followed by the phrase:

"YOU’RE MY SOAP PRINCESS NOW!"

Sarios flinched.

"...W-What the heck are they doing in there..." he mumbled, his face slowly shifting from heroic calm to catastrophic confusion.

Another sound came through—a snuggle squish and then a faint voice that whispered:

"Nari... help..."

Sarios took one step back from the door, eyes wide, cheeks now the color of boiled beets.

"I... I think I just heard Dila’s soul trying to escape."

He covered his ears... then peeked down at his hands... and then immediately slapped his cheeks.

"Get it together, Sarios! You’re a blade hero, not some creepy eavesdropping bath pervert!"

But just as he turned around, he heard something else.

"YOU’RE TOO SOFTTT~!! LIKE A BUTTERED MARSHMALLOW!!"

"NOOOOOOO—"

Sarios froze.

Then, without a word, he pulled out a tiny flask from his belt pouch—labelled "Emergency Priestess-Grade Holy Water"—

Popped the cork—

"Bless my ears, bless my soul, I need a spiritual firewall."

—and poured the holy water directly into his ears with the calm despair of a man trying to cleanse sin with saline.

He stood there, water dripping from his ears, whispering like a broken paladin:

"Clean thoughts. Clean mind. I am the sword. I am the blade. I am deaf. I HEARD NOTHING—"

The door rattled again.

"DILA DON’T CLOSE YOUR EYES—LOOK INTO MY HEART!!"

"I’D RATHER LOOK INTO A VOLCANO!!"

"...I’m going to pass out," Sarios muttered, eyes spinning.

Outside the bathhouse...

Sarios stood vigil like a proud statue of knightly virtue—until he heard something that cracked his soul like a dropped teacup.

"NyaaAA~! Nyo~! Stopp~~!! Uwaa wa waaaa~!!" Dila shouted.

"AHAHAHAHAHA!!" Stella’s laughter echoed like the cackle of a mischievous goddess.

Sarios froze.

His eyes twitched.

His grip on his sword loosened.

His brain blue-screened.

"...What. In the name of all that is holy... was that?"

He leaned toward the door just slightly, hand hovering near the handle like he was about to enter a crime scene. But then—

"KYAAAH STOP TICKLING ME WITH THAT LOOFAH!!"

"YOU’RE TOO CUTE WHEN YOU PANIC!!"

Sarios backed away in horror, dragging his feet like a malfunctioning toy soldier.

"...Stella... she... she’s not a priestess anymore. She’s become... she’s become a demon boss."

He looked up at the stary night with a thousand-yard stare.

"I’ve trained in dungeons sometimes. I’ve occasionally provoke powerful enemy. But nothing prepared me... for this."

More splashing. More giggling. A wild, shrieked "NOOOO MY SOAP!" like it was some sacred relic.

Sarios spun around like a man possessed, pulling out his emergency holy flask again.

"Nope. I’m baptizing my brain. Right now."

He tilted it back. Drank half. Poured the other half on his head.

He staggered a few steps forward like a drunk knight in a wedding dress.

"I need... to distance myself... before I succumb to temptation and lose my class ranking..."

His boots stumbled across the stone walkway as he muttered:

"Must not imagine... steam silhouettes... NO! No mental images! I am the blade... I am the blade..."

He passed by a potted plant and saluted it like a fellow warrior.

"Stay strong, soldier. Don’t listen to the noises."

The door behind him rattled again.

"YOUR SKIN FEELS LIKE FLUFFY PANCAKE!!"

"STELLA I’M GOING TO PASS OUT—!!"

Dila screamed in pleasures.

Sarios burst into a full sprint, helmet falling off behind him.

"I’M DONE. I’M GONE. I’M TRANSFERRING TEMPLES—"

A squirrel blinked from a nearby bush as Sarios tripped over his own cape and rolled like a fried dumpling into a bush.

He lay there upside-down, defeated, whispering to the sky:

"...I just wanted a quiet night guard duty..."

Sarios lay there in the bushes, legs dangling over a flowerpot, arms sprawled like a poorly placed scarecrow.

He muttered to the sky, dazed.

"All I wanted... was peace. Maybe a nap. Maybe a sandwich. Not psychological warfare through steam and splash."

The squirrel next to him offered a single acorn out of sympathy.

He patted the squirrel on the head. "You understand me. You’re the only one who gets it."

Then the bathhouse door creaked open.

Sarios flinched so hard, he nearly merged with the bush.

Dila stepped out casually, wrapped in a towel, her hair still wet and clinging to her shoulders. She had the blankest, most deadpan face anyone had ever worn after bath chaos.

She blinked at the sky, then down at the ground, spotting a pair of boots sticking out from the greenery like a grave marker.

"...Sarios?"

Silence.

"...Why are you in the bush?"

From inside the bush, a hoarse voice replied:

"This is where I live now. The world is too loud."

Dila tilted her head. "Did you eat something weird again?"

Sarios slowly rose from the foliage, leaves in his hair, a single daisy stuck to his cheek like a pity sticker.

"No. I heard something weird. Multiple weirds. All overlapping. It was like listening to a comedy horror show performed by two giggling gremlins."

Dila looked at him, unamused with another deadpan face. "That was just Stella troling me."

Sarios blinked. "...Is that what that was?"

"What did you think it was?"

He didn’t answer. Just stared into the void with the face of a man who’d witnessed a battle of mythic.

Dila sighed, adjusting her towel. "You’re too dramatic. Go take a bath, you look like you wrestled a tree."

"I did wrestle a tree. The tree won."

She rolled her eyes and walked past him.

Sarios stood up shakily, clutching his sword like it was the last piece of his sanity.

"I swear... when I get back, I’m filing a formal complaint about steam-based trauma."

And behind him, the squirrel solemnly raised its acorn, as if in salute.