When Areth found himself standing in front of the home of the scroll master Zhara, he let out a quiet sigh. After what he had seen yesterday, the servants gathered outside the arena and what Alya had said, he was now certain of one thing. He needed to master spellcasting urgently, and without delay.
He could cast magic now, but it was limited to nothing more than a fireball. Before venturing out to explore this new world, he had to reach a certain level of strength. That was why he stepped into the scroll master's house, a small yet elegant structure built in an oval shape.
The moment he entered, he heard a strange but soothing melody. It carried the feeling of an old folk tale, genuinely pleasant to the ear. After taking a few steps inside, Areth noticed that the door closed on its own behind him, with a silence so gentle it almost felt deliberate. The melody was not coming from the walls. It was as if the house itself was humming. Fine runes carved into the wooden surfaces pulsed with a faint light, in rhythm with the tune.
The interior was more spacious than he had expected. At the center of the oval structure stood a low table, covered with half-unrolled scrolls, crystal-tipped pens, and stone bowls stained with dried ink. The air was thick with the scent of old paper, resin, and a faint trace of ozone. It did not smell like fresh magic, but rather like something deeply rooted and long established.
He found the person he was looking for near the window.
Scroll master Zhara, with her dark skin and four arms.
But there was a problem.
Her entire back was facing him, and at first Areth could not tell whether she was clothed or not because of her skin tone. A moment later, however, he realized that Zhara's upper body was completely bare.
He had informed her through the servants that he would visit today, but only now did he realize that he had never specified the time. Unsure of what to do, he stood there frozen for several seconds.
Zhara continued humming her melody while working on a scroll with her lower two arms. From behind, Areth could not tell what kind of scroll it was. Her upper two hands were occupied combing her black hair.
What caught Areth's attention, however, were the yellow patterns glowing faintly across her back.
His gaze locked onto them involuntarily.
Lines ran from her shoulders down toward her waist. They were not random. What looked like irregular curves transformed into interconnected symbols when viewed closely. Some of them glowed faintly, as if beneath her skin. Others were dull, like old scars.
This was not a tattoo.
Areth understood that instinctively.
The melody shifted slightly. It was the same tune, but in a deeper, heavier tone. When Zhara tossed her combed hair back over her shoulder, parts of the patterns on her back moved, flaring and dimming with her motion.
Zhara slowly set aside the scroll she had been working on and placed the comb down. She stood up. Thankfully, the lower part of her body wasn't exposed, but she still didn't think about covering her upper body. As Areth was considering how a Lord was supposed to behave in such a situation, Zhara turned around.
Her massive breasts, proportionate to her imposing body, swayed due to the sudden stop, obeying the laws of physics.
She froze.
The moment all four of Zhara's eyes locked onto Areth, time seemed to compress into a single breath. The melody stopped completely. Even the house's quiet murmur fell silent.
One heartbeat.
Then another.
Her dark skin, so dark it was difficult to notice at first glance, began to redden visibly from behind her ears down to her shoulders. The blush rose between the yellow patterns, spreading in waves, as if the runes beneath her skin had learned what embarrassment was.
"L-Lo… M-my Lord…?"
That voice was not Zhara's usual one.
The words collided with each other, their edges dulled as they left her lips. The shoulders of the four-armed woman, who had once advanced across battlefields without hesitation, sank ever so slightly.
Her upper two arms hovered uselessly in the air for a moment. In a confused reflex, one tried to cover her chest while the other froze halfway. One of her lower arms grabbed the edge of the table, fingers digging into the wood as if they might tear through it. The other snatched at the shawl resting by the window.
The shawl fell to the floor.
Zhara froze.
Two of her eyes dropped downward in shame, while the other two could not tear themselves away from Areth. As if looking would burn her, and not looking would make her disappear.
"I-I… I w was w-wai…"
She stopped and swallowed.
"I-I'm s-sorry," she finally said.
"Calm down, Zhara. There is nothing to be ashamed of. I must admit, you have a better body than I expected. So do not be embarrassed," Areth said in a calm tone.
He had genuinely meant to reassure her, but the compliment only made things worse.
This time, the yellow patterns did not flare uncontrollably. Instead, they dimmed, as if shutting themselves down in embarrassment. It was as though even the runes did not want to hear those words. All four of Zhara's eyes widened at once, two in shock, two in panic.
"L-L-Lo!"
Her voice completely fell apart.
Two of her upper arms collided with each other as she tried to cover her chest. The clumsiness did not suit a body that was flawless on the battlefield. One of her lower arms was still holding onto the table, but no longer for support. It was to keep herself standing.
"Y-y-you c... c-can't s-say s-something like t-that…!"
She tried to breathe. Failed.
"I-I… I mean… A-Areth… Lord"
The first time she said his name, her voice dropped almost to a whisper.
She lowered her head. Two of her eyes closed completely, while the other two fixed themselves on the floor. Her shoulders tensed, then slumped. For a moment, that massive body felt too big, too visible.
"All right. I am going to step outside now. Put something on. Call me when you have calmed down," Areth said, turning toward the door.
When he stepped outside, he let out a relieved breath. Then he noticed that the extremely noisy and demanding organ below was attempting to tear through his clothes. To deal with this deeply inappropriate situation, he sat down on a chair in the garden.
Now that he thought about it, since arriving in this world he had neither slept with anyone nor even masturbated. Normally, he was someone who kept his sexual urges firmly under control.
For some reason, however, seeing Zhara's bare breasts had awakened the voice of a powerful presence inside him, shouting insistently. Lately, that voice had been growing louder, and when he thought about it, he realized it had become especially unruly after merging with the dragon spirit.
"I suppose I will need to get these urges under control at some point…"
As this thought passed through his mind, he looked around. He remembered that almost every woman on this massive island was either in love with him or, at the very least, admired him. There were many women who would have wanted to be with him if he had wanted them to. On top of that, in the game's original story, there were already women he was involved with, women who were essentially his partners.
He was, quite literally, the owner of a harem.
"Honestly… why am I even limiting myself?"
Just then, the door opened, and Zhara stepped outside. She looked calmer now, though still embarrassed. She had put on a dress. Seeing this, Areth stood up. For now, he set those indecent thoughts aside, though he knew he would reflect on them later.
For now, it was time to learn magic.
"You may come in, my Lord…"