"Don't forget to stay hydrated, okay?"
"Okay—!"
We waved off the kind inn staff who had tended to us so gently, but since I still felt a bit sluggish, I flopped back down.
This changing room, where all of us women—including myself—have been lying around for a while now, has floor heating. Not too hot, not too cold. The post-bath sweat has dried up nicely, and the comfort level is honestly amazing. Still, we can't exactly stay sprawled out here forever.
"That was… something else."
Despite myself, I murmured dreamily. Seeing him naked, being held by him, the feel of those gentle hands…
We were both bare, so I could feel everything: the rhythm of his heartbeat echoing with mine, the surprisingly toned muscles, the body heat that felt like it could melt me.
And that thing—hard as steel and standing tall like it could pierce the heavens.
It ended up pressed against my stomach.
For a moment, I thought—or maybe even hoped—it might go in just like that. No, not just hoped—I genuinely felt like I should've welcomed it in.
But it didn't go that far.
Even so, just that experience alone was worth it. I'm more than satisfied. Right now, I just want to savor the afterglow.
Some of the others got dressed quickly and left, but I'm sure they've got… a few things they'll be doing with those memories.
Just to emphasize—it might sound repetitive, but yes, all of us in this room are completely naked. The sheer amount of exposed skin in our field of vision is absurd.
That said, we're not into girls, so there's no touching or anything.
We do size each other up internally, though. If someone's really cute or cool, yeah, maybe a bit of curiosity, but mostly we're just looking.
"By the way, do you think we could ever actually get in between those two?"
I slowly propped myself up and murmured the thought aloud, not directed at anyone in particular.
"She's basically his third official wife. I mean, they're clearly a lovey-dovey couple."
That came from the girl who works as a journalist.
"That little one is number three, huh…"
We didn't get a chance to confirm it directly earlier, so that info was appreciated.
"What about the tall one?"
"She's his bodyguard and the second wife. They're practically always together, as you saw."
"So trying to butt in would just be rude, huh?"
Kinda goes without saying.
"You'd get kicked by a horse or something."
Someone else joined in from somewhere nearby.
"But flirting isn't technically off-limits, right?"
Another voice chimed in.
"So… the idea is to casually make our presence known, and if there's an opening—make a move?"
"Isn't that… really hard?"
"Honestly, this is uncharted territory for us."
It's not like we've ever had the chance to flirt with anyone before.
"But hey, just having someone you want to flirt with is already a blessing, right?"
"Totally."
There are so few boys around to begin with, and even fewer that are actually worth falling for—or who you're even allowed to fall for.
"Guys are practically mythical creatures to us."
In the city, if you suddenly stumbled across one and stared too long in surprise, you might even get labeled a perv and sued. That's not even a joke.
There've been stories of girls being publicly shamed on national news.
"Guys might as well be urban legends."
With every sentence, the responses kept coming. As expected from former forum dwellers—we all think fast and speak even faster.
Whether it's productive or not is another matter…
"Also, didn't we hear that he's got a fan club and gets money sent to him like a kept man?"
That casual comment shifted the atmosphere in the room.
I think I heard a whisper about him possibly having connections with some employees, too, but that bit was probably being kept hush-hush.
It suddenly felt like we were stepping into the world of high-stakes intel warfare.
"I mean, we wouldn't know the full picture unless we knew the exact amount of money he's getting."
As wives, our role is to support our husband—that's the standard.
"But asking that stuff directly feels like a major faux pas, doesn't it?"
Everyone nodded reluctantly, their expressions a mix of acceptance and frustration.
From a romantic standpoint, we all want to be connected through feelings—love, affection, something intangible.
Money should come second… ideally.
That's the innocent maiden part of us talking, but the reality is we're working adults who paid our own way here.
We can't just pretend money doesn't matter.
"But the information…"
"We were told not to talk about it, remember?"
"We can't exactly ask on the internet either."
"All we can say is, 'good for her.'"
Let's face it—a guy like him, who's genuinely kind to women, is practically a cryptid. An internet rumor at best. You're not gonna get real answers online.
"What about the previous generation's Lord Kohaku?"
"He was kind. A true gentleman. Basically justice incarnate."
He was a legend from a long time ago. Stories from over twenty years back are already hazy—nobody knows what's real or exaggerated.
They say he didn't talk much, always greeted you with a smile, gave warm hugs, even washed your back in the bath.
Women flocked to him, and when he died, it turned into a national mourning event. VIPs from other countries came, too.
They did TV specials, but of course, never mentioned anything like financial figures.
Money talk is like a monk's inner thoughts—totally unknowable.
"Still… if we could, we'd want his baby, right?"
Someone said what we were all really thinking.
"Honestly, who else would we want it from?"
"Some mystery turkey baster?"
That one sentence hit hard with cold reality. Just hearing it was depressing.
That's the cheapest and most efficient subsidized option—pick a day and get inseminated.
Less physical strain than artificial insemination, sure, but obviously lower success rates.
"It's not even a real option, honestly."
There's zero romance.
"Exactly."
Everyone nodded in agreement.
We all felt the same.
If possible, we wanted to be acknowledged, even just as part-time wives, and live happily with him and our child.
Artificial insemination kids don't have fathers.
That's why we long for something more.
Something better.
Surely, he is different from all the rest we've seen.
So yeah—I've made up my mind. If I'm going down, I'll go down like the first penguin off the cliff.
You don't find a place to die—you choose it.
That's what I've decided.