Artificial Female Body 1-9

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Artificial Female Body
Word Count: 31,000
Published: 2013/10/19 on: Spring in the Courtyard
****************************************************************************************** First of all, thank you for reading this article, and thank you to all the authors on the Courtyard website.
The words you all wrote have conjured up erotic scenes in my mind, accompanying me through lonely nights. I started writing this novel partly because of the guidance of my seniors, and partly because of my personal interests. I prefer stories with contrasting elements, such as:
a pampered noblewoman being pushed down by a servant; a powerful woman submitting to a man; these conflicting settings are very attractive, but also difficult to justify.
In order to come up with a story that allows for such conflict while remaining logically sound, and to deceive my own brain that likes to find inconsistencies, this story gradually took shape.
Initially, it was simply to prevent women from aging, since youthful appearance is more attractive. However, women who maintain their youthful looks would still be subservient to men, so it was necessary to make them artificial to make sense. This is how a futuristic alternate world was gradually created. As I wrote, I discovered that this world was very interesting and could logically develop many stories with contrasting elements. To allow the heroines in my story, who were participating in this world in my place, to develop more erotic events,
I added various plot elements, which I found very interesting—so interesting that I wanted to share them online.
The entire story is about 20 chapters. I've already written the outline; the later parts are written in a more disjointed manner. I will release the missing chapters later.
Since this is my first time writing something this lengthy, please forgive any shortcomings in my writing. Also, due to personal preference, I've spent a lot of time building the world-building, saving the most thrilling scenes for later. If you enjoy
this, please be patient and read on.
**********
...

As I dragged my head away, I pulled off my lace nightgown. As the ties loosened, the dress slipped down
, blooming like flower petals at my feet. Reflected in the mirror was a perfect body. I carefully examined my naked body. The wounds from yesterday's prolonged immobilization of my hands and feet had healed, and the other injuries seemed to have never existed.
This "industrial product" body, modified by "immortal cells," is truly convenient; it seems to exist solely for my mission. Of
course, I don't hate my body. Regardless of my mission, this body is my only support. Yesterday's ordeal was merely part of my duty; my beautiful body has done nothing wrong. I've even narcissistically compared this body to rare old Earth data. Every part is flawless:
slender calves, firm thighs without any excess fat, rounded buttocks, a slim waist, breasts larger than those of ordinary women her age, delicate facial features, and even details like teeth that are exquisite, each one like a white pearl.
This is a 17-year-old body in its perfect state, fully displaying all the youthful vitality. If I could really go back to Japan on Earth, I would definitely be a gentle and skilled Yamato Nadeshiko without a doubt. My confidence stems from the publication of "Redemption," a record of the goddess's deeds, by this Holy See. It's probably the most widely published book in the world; churches naturally have various versions, and it's practically a household staple. Evening prayers originate from it.
The first chapter, "Genesis," reads: "
Lost sheep, you came from distant Earth. Your long journey destroyed your genetic material, leaving no new offspring. Your greed for eternal life corrupted your souls.
Your ancestors were a group of souls awaiting death in Hell.
The merciful goddess pieced together your damaged seeds,
recasting your sinful bodies in Valhalla,
allowing you to be reborn in the church.
You should offer your possessions to the goddess; offer the
fruits of your labor; fight for the goddess;
your noble souls will be redeemed by the goddess,
and your redeemed bodies will return to Valhalla
as seeds of life. In the church, there will be descendants containing your blood."
The omnipotent and infinitely merciful goddess created everything in the world for you.
On Monday, she created your bodies;
on Tuesday, she provided animals and plants for your sustenance;
on Wednesday, she created houses and buildings to shelter you from the wind and rain;
on Thursday, she brought you magic to drive away darkness and power machines;
on Friday, she established laws to end barbaric conflicts; and
on Saturday, feeling you were too lonely, she gave you the most beautiful spirits, "women."
They are replicas of the goddess, allowing you to glimpse her beauty. They are immortal like the goddess, can accompany you for life, and guarantee absolute obedience and loyalty. On the seventh day, seeing everything perfect, the goddess peacefully slept.
Therefore, my confidence stems less from every girl's narcissism when looking at her reflection in the mirror, and more from confidence in the goddess's creation. How could the perfect replicas created by the goddess possibly be inferior to the ancestors of the earth? The soft sound of the door opening interrupted my reverie. Being naked, I instinctively covered myself with my hands
, but upon seeing the person's face, I guiltily released them. This naked body had been stared at by that face for who knows how long yesterday, and his protection had even lessened my pain.
Although the visitor was a male subordinate, in this vast ducal mansion, everyone except my mother and sister was male, so my only choice was a male servant.
The person who entered was my personal servant, "Seth." He had black hair but blue eyes, a straight nose, and thin lips typical of Mongoloids. Although his mixed-race genes wouldn't be welcomed by nobles, these features combined to create a strikingly handsome appearance.
His face still showed signs of youth, untouched by time, yet his serious and unsmiling demeanor made it hard to believe he was only 26. Though taciturn, he was extremely diligent and, it was said, highly valued the reputation of a knight—a trustworthy person.
His tall, slender body, standing at 1.76 meters, was also strong and well-proportioned. Being half a head shorter than me made it very convenient for him to take care of me, which explains why my mother personally chose him to be my personal attendant.
"Miss Erika, excuse me. Your body is still incredibly beautiful."
"As is customary, I will be responsible for your dressing, grooming, and physical care today. If you agree, we can begin immediately."
A steady voice came from Seth, who was performing a knightly salute on one knee.
"Thank you for your hard work," I replied to the waiting attendant in a relaxed voice.

"Please forgive my rudeness," Seth said as he began to examine my body.
"Thank you for the goddess's blessing. Your body has recovered. I am deeply sorry for my inadequate care yesterday."
Of course, I knew that the goddess had not restored my body, and yesterday's events had nothing to do with Seth.
"Please don't mind. This is simply my duty. Mr. Seth has actually helped me a lot. Please don't blame yourself."
Although it was just a formality, his words, as always, reassured me. I could see that his respect for me had not changed, even if it was only superficial. Coupled with his actions in protecting me yesterday, I trusted this taciturn personal knight even more than before. We've developed a pretty good rapport, and many of our actions no longer require verbal communication. Seth helped me style my hair. My unusual shoulder-length bob, instead of the usual long or curly hair, greatly sped up the process. While it might have diminished my feminine charm, it was probably a blessing in disguise for Seth. With his skillful touch, my hair was transformed back into its
usual style—bangs reaching my eyebrows in the front, and the back reaching my shoulders—black, shiny, and lustrous. The ends swayed smoothly with my body; it must have been what was called a "sister bob" on Earth back in the day. When Seth first saw my unusual short hair, he showed a slight look of surprise, but given his adherence to waiter etiquette, he wouldn't pry. I'd like to tell him the secret behind this hairstyle sometime; I don't want to betray Seth's respect for me.
Next, Seth cleansed my face and then applied suitable cosmetics at my request. Aside from a peach-colored lip gloss, they were all regular skincare products. After a thorough body massage, he applied essential oils extracted from plants and flowers. Actually, my body doesn't need these to stay healthy, but they would only enhance it, and according to social etiquette, it's impolite for a woman to go without makeup.
Seth's technique was incredibly skilled. If the task of an ancient attendant was to maintain a knight's armor and prepare his horse, this attendant beside me was clearly treating my body as armor, meticulously maintaining it.
At first, I was resistant to having a man apply makeup to my body, clean my body, and even massage my breasts—things I used to do myself every day. However, Seth's technique perfectly surpassed that of the body's owner. Although I'm still a little shy, my body has already gotten used to this routine.
After tidying my hair, Seth's calm voice rang out again, "Madam just instructed that Miss go to the City Hall to watch Madam's billiards match with other marquises of the Duchy. Please choose appropriate clothing."
"Understood. There's no rush now, is there?"
Although that kind of thing happened yesterday, I really didn't want to go outside and be seen by others. However, my mother's orders were absolute, and I didn't even have the thought of objecting.
I opened my wardrobe. Although I had many clothes, most of them were too sexy. Some of them made me feel ashamed just imagining myself wearing them. I really didn't want to expose my body anymore, so I chose a sailor uniform similar to a school uniform as my upper body covering. Because it was custom-made, the uniform clung to my body's curves, showcasing the triangular area formed by the covering of my breasts. Choosing a skirt was more complicated. The only skirt I could match was also similar to a sailor uniform pleated skirt, but the fabric was ice silk, so transparent that you could clearly see the embarrassing gap between my legs from several meters away. However, this was already the most cover-up I could get. I was sitting in the audience at the event, so I figured I wouldn't attract attention if I was careful. That was the only way I could comfort myself.
There was nothing else under the skirt. I had only worn shorts when I was a child, when my mother suggested I cut my hair short to
pretend to be a boy. As far as I knew, no woman had ever worn anything under a skirt. My sister still teases me about that time I wore shorts, calling me a "cute boy."
After helping me straighten my clothes and my almost transparent skirt, Seth helped me put on my jewelry. Besides the usual earrings, necklace, and bracelet, he also carefully covered the tag with the "Female Body Service" number hanging on my collar with a cover depicting the "mountain" crest of the Duke of Fuzawa.
Looking at myself in the mirror, no one except acquaintances would know that this well-dressed duke's daughter was still serving her military service.
After getting ready, I went down to the dining room on the first floor with Seth to enjoy a belated breakfast. Seth, worried that my skirt was too thin and the hard wooden chair was making my lower body uncomfortable, even laid a white blanket on the chair before leaving to prepare transportation.
Although I understood that these were normal courtesies for waiters to nobles, such attentive service still put me at ease. After the usual greetings, the other servants in the restaurant prepared a luxurious breakfast for me, and to avoid reminding me of yesterday's ordeal, they didn't prepare any mushy food. Their attitude was so respectful that I even wondered if yesterday was just a nightmare.
Of course, this attitude from the servants and retainers wasn't always like this. When my mother was first bought by the owner of this house, "Duke Fukuzawa," the other retainers unanimously opposed the lord's decision to make a woman still in her "service period" his heir, granting her noble status and the potential to inherit the entire duchy. They argued that buying a woman as a wife was normal, a reflection of social status, but choosing a woman as heir risked damage to the family's reputation if she was forced to serve, potentially leading to the signing of unreasonable contracts.
"Duke Fukuzawa" simply laughed it off. After all, the Duke's attitude towards his heir was always strange. For wealthy nobles, the matter of an heir was a top priority, with constant offerings to the church to cultivate good relations and ensure that the chosen descendants would carry more of their bloodline, preventing the loss of their inheritance due to inferior heirs.
In contrast, Duke Fukuzawa hadn't applied for an heir at the church for years, and now he had suddenly done the unheard-of thing of making a woman his heir. However, after entering the Duke's household, my mother often managed the Duke's
assets in the name of the Duchess, keeping the Duke's total assets in a surplus. This approach and ability, completely different from other duchesses
, along with her regular "equipment maintenance days" with my sister "Aya" and the servants, meant that
even if the retainers still didn't approve of the heir's status, they could only accept the status quo.
After breakfast, I sipped my black tea while thinking about how to prepare for the trip to the city hall. I thought that since I was wearing clothes, my status as the Duchess's daughter was real. Even as a woman in "service period," she was legally entitled to the same treatment as other citizens. Her inheritance rights were legally based and recognized by the Holy See. The only difference was that, as a woman created for men, she had to serve men. The specific content of her service was not specified in the constitution. The "Service Law" formulated for "women" only stipulated that
"service must not cause bodily harm, and under the premise of not causing bodily harm, one must not disobey the orders of the service recipient. Under the premise of satisfying the first two conditions, one must not accept orders to harm others."
At the city hall I'm about to visit, if ordinary citizens request services, I can easily refuse by saying someone is already providing them. Ordinary people have no right to question who I, a nobleman, am serving. If they dare to force me, I can simply accuse them of harassing a nobleman and send them to the "Behavioral Correction Room" under the jurisdiction of the Holy See for a trial. Another issue is the "Service Period." According to the "Female Body Service Law," all women on "Service Period" must wear a "Saintess Jacket" made according to the Holy See's standards for eight hours a day. This jacket must contain a monitoring chip, which works in conjunction with an implanted chip, and is monitored by the Holy See. During this time, except for a 10-minute rest period every hour, they cannot refuse service requests.
The solution is to use this as a rest period outside of the eight-hour workday, then return to the Duke's residence and complete the required daily service time. Commoners can't possibly follow me back to the residence to make demands, and with the help of my attendant Seth, I can even handle any disruptive nobles.
Just in case, I also checked my small purse. Women of any era have the right to carry a small purse, since women's clothing isn't convenient for storing items, especially for someone like me in my "service period" who might be naked at any time. A small purse is definitely necessary. Besides common feminine hygiene products and skincare items, my purse contained a black cube that took up most of the space. This was a gift I received when I was first summoned by the Duke after my mother became Duchess. I should say that my becoming the Duke's heir is largely due to this; you could even say it saved my life yesterday. I now know that this thing is a portable communication system with computing capabilities. Ordinary communicators aren't uncommon on the market. As the most basic "miracle machines" produced by the church, anyone who offered the church the right items could obtain one. Nobles and merchants probably all had one. However, ordinary communicators all have a screen with number keys below, and some even have what looks like an antenna.
What I received from the Duke was a square, rectangular metal box. The front was entirely glass, but it was dark and without any patterns. This was presumably the screen, but there was no typical mobile phone keypad; only a single gold button near the shorter side of the rectangle. While described as gold, upon closer inspection, the gold color was actually composed of a dense mesh of tiny gold copper wires, appearing as a single sheet of gold. There were also small holes around the screen, suggesting that, like other communicators, the earpiece and microphone were located below. On the earpiece side, at the very top of the communicator was a 5-centimeter diameter glass hemisphere, meticulously secured and encased in the metal casing. The entire hemisphere was partially embedded in the top of the communicator, protected by the casing on all sides.
The glass hemisphere was incredibly fine, its surface reflecting a bluish-purple light, seemingly a lens coating. Behind this coating, transparent crystals were visible, surrounded by a ring of tiny, shimmering components—I couldn't tell if they were mechanical or made of some other material.
I now realized that this was definitely not just decorative; it was the most important part of the communicator's "law s" system. The rest of the phone was a metal casing, but in a beautiful cherry blossom pink. Although it was thick, the overall size was just right for my hand; it seemed designed specifically for women. At the Duke's command, I touched the gold button on the front. The moment my finger touched it, the screen suddenly lit
up, displaying a photo of a woman with a very familiar face. Below it was the text "Biometric information unlocked."
My first impression was utterly astonishing. The face in the photo wasn't just familiar; it was practically me! When had I
taken this photo? And how could it appear inside the mysterious little machine the Duke had given me the first time I saw it? It was unbelievable!
However, upon closer observation, I realized that although the person resembled me, it wasn't me. The hairstyle was different, and the age seemed different as well (
unlike men who age, women's ages are hard to judge; after puberty, a woman's appearance remains the same
until death).
My basis for judging the age difference was that the face in the photo, while possessing the same smooth skin and
delicate features as mine, had eyes that held a wise, profound, and world-weary look, an expression that seemed to see through everything. The entire expression on her face exuded an aura of supreme authority, a domineering presence— 　an expression
I had never seen on any other woman's face before . 　　His Highness the Duke was unexpectedly pleased to see that I could successfully control the communicator. After I repeatedly activated it several times until he 　was satisfied, he immediately gave me the communicator and its accessories. The charger inside 　deserves special mention; it was huge and heavy, almost the size of a pot, and 　the cable connecting it to the phone was thick and stiff, completely unlike any charger I knew. Fortunately, a single charge lasted for several weeks, so I didn't have to carry that nearly 20kg charger with me. 　　A few days after receiving the communicator, I received a notification that I had become the heir to the "Duke of Fuzawa." Suddenly, I went 　　from being a sex toy for men to the Duke's daughter. Later , 　I heard from my mother that my older sister had also been asked to handle the communicator and had managed to light up the screen, though she hadn't been able to unlock it successfully. Even so, she was also granted a noble title and became an heir to the Duke as well. This made me almost certain that the communicator in my hands held a great secret. In the time that followed, I spent my spare time studying this communicator. I quickly discovered that its function was the same as a regular communicator, except that the number keys were replaced by a screen. Touching the virtual keys on the screen allowed me to perform the same functions. 　　Later, I realized that this communicator was actually more similar to the computers I'd seen in school; it could use software, manage documents, and connect to the internet, except for some differences in operating habits. Once I got used to touching it once and holding it down, or dragging it with two fingers, it felt even better than those large desktop computers.　　　Although it could connect to the internet, the network seemed to be reserved for the goddesses, used to manage various miraculous mechanical devices and monitor women in service, receiving the chips implanted in my body, like the identification tags on my collar. There was internet access, but no information to be accessed; perhaps there were some secret websites, but I didn't know that at the time. 　　The software contained many utility programs, but many required root access when opened. When I touched the gold button to unlock it, it displayed "Unlock failed, biomolecular information missing, progesterone test failed," and the software also displayed "Permission acquisition failed, cannot run." 　　What truly captivated me were the numerous old Earth books and materials I'd never seen before. The books included many on topics like "Electrical Principles," "Introduction to Analog Circuits," and "Signals and Processing," which, while not particularly interesting, I'd glance at them when bored. 　　The materials also contained a remarkably complete collection of Japanese animation from the early 21st century Earth era to the Space Age. The entire folder was 4.5 terabytes in size, almost half the storage space of my communicator. Although animations from the 2030s onwards displayed 　　"Rendering failed, unsupported hardware" errors, there were still animations from the first 20 years or so available, many of which I'd never seen before. Now, I watch these animations on my phone in my spare time as 　a reward for passing the day. Chapter Two: Social Etiquette and My Friends

About 10 minutes later, Seth arrived in a motorized car. Considering the distance from the Duke's residence to the garage, this time was normal. Two more people accompanied him.
These two weren't chosen randomly; Seth selected two assistants who were colleagues I knew well. I should mention that the other servants in the residence had only a master-servant relationship with me. At least outwardly, they treated me with the respect due to a subject.
Apart from that, we didn't have any interaction in our daily lives or personal interests. The two I'm introducing, however, became friends because of shared interests.
One was Sid, who worked as a gardener at the Duke's residence, and the other was Balot, who worked as a kitchen helper. Both were only 16 years old, new employees who had just graduated from school and started working at the Duke's residence. Both of them had mixed ethnic genes. Generally speaking, Sid was probably a Jew among Mediterranean Caucasians. He was short, seemed very shrewd, was shorter than me, and was very talkative and extroverted.
Balot, on the other hand, resembled a Germanic person from the past Earth—a robust, muscular man, the result of working as a kitchen helper. To the untrained eye, he might seem honest and reserved, even a bit dull and unassuming. However, he was surprisingly earnest about things that interested him, only becoming talkative when truly engrossed in something.
I met both of them by chance while working at the mansion.
Sid was the gardener of the Duke's mansion, tending to the garden plants. His duties also included repairing furniture within the buildings. The entire 4000-square-meter Duke's mansion functioned properly using "Goddess Church" technology—including lighting, artificial lights, an automatic clean water system, and an air conditioning system.
In fact, all the buildings in this world were constructed by the "Goddess Church," and in principle, their maintenance was handled by the technicians under the goddesses' command. However, getting the goddesses' subordinates on hand was extremely difficult; usually, one had to book an appointment and wait 2-3
weeks.
Therefore, maintenance was typically handled by hired servants, and Sid performed these tasks at this mansion.
I first met West in my room. The room's cooling system had broken down, and West was sent to repair it.
After greeting me, West began checking the machine. Soon after, he told me that the instrument's message, "Magic Core Broken, Cannot Operate," indicated
a problem that could only be addressed by the Vatican's repair personnel. However, while the Duke's residence wasn't cold in winter, it was very hot in summer, and the cooling system was essential. I didn't want the hassle of changing rooms, so I decided to take a risk and try what I'd learned from the communicator.
I checked the cooling system; next to the white casing was a cylinder about the thickness of a wrist. This must be the starting capacitor mentioned in the information. If this component was faulty, even if the cooling motor was working properly, it wouldn't start; the instrument's message was understandable.
I cautiously asked West if it was possible to exchange it for an identical capacitor from an unused room. Sid was surprised to hear my order, but he didn't object, after all, it was the Duchess's order. Besides, he seemed quite excited to be in my room. Soon after, he found the same capacitor from the cooler in another room, replaced it, and it started working normally.
I was quite surprised too; I hadn't expected the information in the communicator to be so useful. Sid, seeing the result, was utterly shocked and adored. Afterwards, he repeatedly approached me under various pretexts, asking about the reasons behind it all. After learning the truth, he often brought up components to ask me about their working principles.
I didn't mind someone talking to me, and Sid was quite talkative, often bringing up interesting topics that made the originally dry discussions more engaging.
My ability to guide Sid didn't mean I was better than him. In fact, Sid was very dexterous, had a passionate love for mechanics and electrical appliances, and was a professional repairman. What I was better at was that what he learned at the church school was simply how to wire according to instructions and how to replace parts; he never explained the underlying principles of circuits, only using simple explanations like magic.
In fact, after reviewing some of the information I had taught him about the communicator, he even learned how to solder electronic components and assemble them into usable circuit boards—his skills far surpassed mine.
Another seemingly dull and honest guy was Baroque.
I met him when I was watching an Old Earth animation on a communicator in a restaurant. He was working there at the time and watched with great interest from behind. Seeing a rare shared interest, I invited him to watch the animation with me after work, calling myself "Duke's Daughter."
After getting to know him, I discovered that despite his seemingly dull and honest exterior, he actually loved Old Earth things. He said he was a member of the "Old Earth Truth Seekers' Society," and possessed an interesting stubbornness. If his understanding of something differed from yours, he would stubbornly try to convince you that he was right; but once you presented evidence that he could accept, he would immediately switch sides and support you. We had many such debates, which I will describe in more detail in later chapters.
As mentioned earlier regarding animations of the old Earth, animations, CG games, and other non-real-world filming materials are the most accessible sources of information about Earth's past to the average person. Technical books and historical documentaries are largely unknown, considered lost, and irrelevant to daily life—after all, they depict events from six centuries ago in a distant land, serving only as casual conversation.
For most people, Earth is simply a planet inhabited by humans in the past, with inhabitants resembling themselves, various chaotic rituals, and creatures of uncertain origin, like something out of mythology.
Through Baroque's mention of the "Old Earth Truth Seekers," I understand that some people still harbor doubts about the present. They suspect the Church is hiding something, perhaps issuing a ban, and formed the "Old Earth Truth Seekers" to pursue the truth.
They aimed to recreate life on the old Earth through various relics, but unfortunately, such materials were scarce, and the members were mostly young, soon degenerating into animation appreciation events or game competitions.
After they became familiar with each other, they would often come to see me during their breaks from work, providing me with rare conversation partners when I was bored.
Because they were slightly younger than me, they would sometimes jokingly call me "sister" when no one else was around.
According to etiquette, women must ablute themselves before boarding a motorbike.
It is said that a woman's excrement would damage the motorbike created by goddesses, and the vibrations of the vehicle would cause a woman's body to involuntarily defecate.
I had no objection to this etiquette, or rather, I was used to it, because from a young age, women would urinate before boarding any vehicle.
Even my mother, now a duchess, still does this. If my mother and my two sisters were traveling together, she would squat down before boarding and wait for her attendant to use a urinal to help her urinate. As a child, I felt ashamed to urinate in front of others.
However, my mother said, "It's like washing your hands; ablution before boarding, removing unclean excrement, is a symbol of civilization." This made me feel strange for thinking I was ashamed. Moreover, when the road is bumpy, the friction between the exposed lower body and the car seat does indeed create a
feeling of needing to urinate, making one believe in the necessity of this etiquette.
As usual, I should have crouched down, lifted my skirt with both hands, and waited gracefully for the waiter to arrive. However, having been stared at naked for so long yesterday, I really didn't want to be seen again today, even though it was a routine ritual, I felt a bit resistant.
Mr. Seth seemed to understand my meaning as if he could read my mind, and considerately took my hand and led me to a grove of trees not far away.
I lifted the transparent skirt with both hands, and the gap between my legs was no longer covered by the veil, directly exposed to the sunlight.
Mr. Seth, standing beside me, drew one of the two swords at his waist, ready. The "sword" I drew was about the same length as an ordinary sword, but it wasn't sharp, nor was the tip sharp; instead, it felt very rounded and smooth. Except for two dark dots at the tip, the whole thing was shiny, and you could even see the surrounding reflections. The handle was much more complicated than an ordinary sword, with various dials and wheels; it was obviously a miraculous item made by the Goddess Church (Mr. Seth always liked to call things that only goddesses could make).
I squatted down, lifting my skirt, but before my legs were even fully down, Seth used the shiny object he'd been holding to stab my genitals. I didn't even feel any discomfort in my lower body before the ground beneath my feet was already wet. Although I'd urinated under Seth's control many times before, I was still impressed by how clean and efficient, almost swordsmanship-like, he used the "urine device."
Actually, Seth was quite gentle when controlling my urination; his speed was purely due to his deep familiarity with my body. Operating this device wasn't as easy as it seemed.
The simplest method was to place the electrode on the urethra and use different frequencies of current to cause muscle contractions, involuntarily gushing urine from the urethra. While the principle was simple, achieving the effect of Mr. Seth, where the controlled person didn't even feel the current before the body started urinating, was quite difficult.
I can't even control my own body well. First, it's hard for me to aim at my tiny urethra, and second, it's hard for me to control the current. In the beginning, when the voltage is high, the urine will gush out and splash all over my feet. When the voltage is low, the pressure in the bladder decreases and the muscles at the urethral opening don't expand enough, so I feel like I haven't finished urinating and need several electric shocks. Often, after urinating once, my lower body is already numb and unbearable from the current.
Therefore, I was quite resistant to this thing when I was a child. In fact, I had the impression that I could urinate naturally without a "urinal." However, my mother scolded me, saying that "only animals urinate anywhere. Urinating without an electric shock device is like eating without utensils, a symbol of a wild child." This made me feel inferior to girls who couldn't urinate naturally from a young age. Until I entered the Duke's house, I had no good impression of this "urinal." It wasn't until Mr. Seth used the "urinal" to control my urination a few times that I understood how important the technique was. The "urinal" was
also very comfortable to use. As long as I squatted down, the urine would come out automatically. I didn't even need to exert any force. It felt very magical.
Without my brain giving any command, water would suddenly gush out between my thighs, as if my lower body had suddenly broken free of my control. After getting used to it, I no longer remembered which muscles I used to urinate.
Of course, Seth's current skill in operating the "urine dispenser" is the result of constant practice. He practiced like a knight practicing with a sword, striving for speed and accuracy. To avoid startling me with a sudden electric current, he delayed the power-on time, letting the unpowered "urine dispenser" touch my body first to prepare me before officially powering it on.
He even tested all of these things. To demonstrate his determination, besides engraving my name "Erika" on the sword he was proud of and received upon his investiture, he also engraved my name on the "urine dispenser" he carried with it, always ready when I needed to relieve myself.
Sometimes I feel strange myself; things that other women consider normal, I feel ashamed of, just like the situation I'm in now.
I squatted on the ground, holding up my skirt with both hands, urine gushing from my lower body. Mr. Seth, standing before me, held up a long sword-like "urine dispenser" pressed against my urethra. To others, this was a servant purifying his superior, even a ritual of loyalty. But deep down, I felt an inescapable shame, as if being forced to urinate by a subordinate of the opposite sex was a form of execution.
My feelings for Mr. Seth were also conflicted. As the person closest to me, accompanying me day and night, I didn't consider him a friend. It wasn't that I disliked or rejected him; rather, he felt more like someone beyond a friend, like a senior or teacher.
He was a devout follower of the Cult of Goddess, upholding the honor of chivalry and valuing promises. His greatest hope was to be enshrined in Valhalla after his death. My mother, the Countess, was the one he truly swore allegiance to; to me, I was merely a junior master. However, this didn't diminish his wholehearted service to me. It's said that when my mother exceptionally knighted him, she also granted him a small plot of private land, but he rented it out and never lived there, always staying by my side in the Duke's mansion. His care for me was meticulous; often, I felt he knew my body better than I did. He devoted all his energy to caring for me, his attention to detail bordering on excessive. Sometimes I wondered if his only interest was being by my side.
Thinking about it carefully, our relationship wasn't one of unbreakable friendship. He wasn't interested in my discussions with Baroque and West German artists about ancient animation, games, or science and technology; although he was by my side, he never participated.
If my two friends had raised any arguments that contradicted the goddess's teachings, they would have been accused of blasphemy. Fortunately, he considered that we were not too far apart in age and not as pedantic as the older generation; it was just talk, and he didn't actually punish them for heresy.
Regarding my doubts about the goddess's teachings, he believed that my beautiful young mistress hadn't yet grasped the greatness of God. Even if I could provide evidence to prove that my views differed from those of the goddess and the papacy, he simply considered it a miracle, feeling that our worldviews were completely incompatible.
Although our understandings of the world differed, his loyalty to me, based on this period of time, seemed absolutely trustworthy. Therefore, Mr. Seth felt more like a family member I could wholeheartedly trust.
Chapter Three: Introduction to the Grand Duchy
Starting from the four-story mansion where I lived, with an interior area of nearly 4000 square meters, the motor vehicle traveled almost 3 kilometers before leaving the garden attached to the duke's residence. The area outside was also part of the Grand Duchy under the duke's jurisdiction; theoretically, the entire 560-square-kilometer Grand Duchy was the duke's territory.
Of course, in reality, land was also allocated to other nobles below the duke. For example, Duke Fukuzawa Eiji's two brothers, Fukuzawa Hideki and Eiji Eita, were marquises. Although they did not inherit the dukedom and possessed the grand duchy, as marquises they still enjoyed considerable territory. In addition, there were other nobles of various ranks under each other, and even meritorious knights needed fiefs. Therefore, although the grand duchy's total population was less than 60,000, land was still a highly sought-after resource.
On this planet called Gaia, which we live on, this duchy was relatively small among the many duchies, its size similar to a town on Old Earth.
For a duke, most of his land needs to be rented out or used to build factories to generate profit. The only land he truly owns is the 60-plus acres of his official residence, which we just left behind. However, considering the entire residence, including its staff and their families, there are only about 200 people in total, the area is more than enough. There are even many places inside that no one has ever been to. There are rumors that the founder of the entire duchy, the first Grand Duke "Fozerenghi," was seen in the woods near the old ducal residence.
These are probably just urban legends for children. If he were truly the first Grand Duke, he would have been an astronaut from Earth who acquired the land and founded the duchy. That would mean he's lived for almost 5 centuries. A lifespan of over 500 years not only exceeds the average lifespan of a man (around 60 years) but also exceeds the lifespan of a woman (around 200 years). This lifespan is even longer than the rumored lifespan of a goddess priestess—he's practically an immortal monster.
Leaving the ducal residence, we walked onto the main road of the duchy, surrounded by fields and occasionally factories with smoke rising from them, the property of some nobleman.
Traveling another 20 kilometers or so, you'll reach the center of the entire principality. Several main streets are lined with markets (mainly where farmers from nearby rented land sell surplus agricultural products and various processed foods).
There are also shopping streets (primarily selling agricultural tools and simple chemical products manufactured in human factories—things the goddess either doesn't own or disdains to make, most notably hand tools; although the church has magical tools that can work on their own, hand tools are still popular among some of the poor; there are also pipes, as the goddess clearly doesn't want the Gaia people to pick up bad habits; it's said that highly skilled Gaia craftsmen can even make clocks that can keep themselves precise, although their accuracy and size can't compare to the goddess's counterparts, but their advantage is their low price).
Besides these regular shops, there are also many shops selling musical instruments, antiques (from Earth's ruins), and luxury goods like tobacco and alcohol, mainly catering to nobles.
In addition, there's the city hall managing the citizens, as well as the tax office, the tobacco and firearms administration bureau, and the headquarters of the "City Knights," which I heard Seth used to serve in.
There are also cinemas, which are very popular with ordinary people. It seems the lives of ordinary citizens are much better than I imagined. When I came from the city, I thought that commoners in this duchy would be forced to work every day, with no free time.
In reality, it's much better than I thought. Take the hired workers at the Duke's mansion, which I'm most familiar with, for example. Although they are not equal to nobles in status—for example, they cannot eat the same food as nobles, cannot approach nobles freely, and must bow when they meet—
their labor is not forced. The Duke pays them wages, and they have rest time every day, so their lives are quite leisurely.
This is certainly not because my Duke father is a philanthropist; he is actually the most shrewd businessman I've ever met, calculating his wealth almost daily. His friendliness towards the workers is largely due to the rules of the Holy See. Abusing or even killing workers is not just a matter of paying compensation or going to jail. If they are criticized by the priests, their relationship with the Holy See deteriorates, and many of the nobles' privileges disappear, such as buying women, having children with their own blood, and obtaining various high-end goods made by the goddess. This is definitely not something nobles want to see.
By the way, I just listed many streets and shops in the city center. Don't assume these are also the Duke's property; they actually belong to the Holy See, including the government. All officials are appointed by the Holy See. Although "Duke Fuze" is nominally the owner of the entire duchy, he is actually more like a land administrator. The Duke has to bribe officials in some government departments, such as the tax office, to lower taxes. Tax officials are definitely the Duke's most valued guests.
Seth introduced all this to me after I arrived here. He felt it was necessary for me to know, as I would be the future ruler of the duchy.
Although I can't imagine actually inheriting this duchy, this is indeed the first time I've learned this, because the cities I've lived in are very different from duchies like this. These cities are basically entirely managed by the Holy See and the government.
The most prominent building in the entire city is undoubtedly the Holy See's church. I didn't mention it earlier because it's the same in every city I've been to; it's become commonplace. Because this is a small duchy, the Holy See doesn't have a grand cathedral here, only a branch.
Although it's called a branch, this church is so magnificent it's almost surreal. It's actually a 50-meter-high white wall enclosing a cylindrical structure over 500 meters in diameter. From a distance, it looks like a giant white disc. To be precise, what we see is just the 50-meter-high wall; nobody knows for sure what's inside. Visits aren't allowed. There are rumors that a large sacred lake lies inside, and every month a giant silver whale descends from the sky, spitting out newborn humans and various divine creations from Valhalla.
Up close, the white wall is also unusual; it's not made of brick, wood, or stone, but of a smooth, milky-white material. From the ground to the 50-meter-high top, there are no protruding seams—it's completely smooth.
Walking beneath it creates a sense of unreality; the excessive smoothness makes you feel shrunken, like an ant crawling beside a giant ceramic bowl made by humans.
I remember the first time I came to the church with Seth. He looked so devout, bowing and praying before the church, and then said to me, "Miss Erika, look, this is the power of God."
Although I didn't say anything, I found it a little funny. It wasn't that I looked down on Seth; to be honest, I was just a man's sex toy and had no right to laugh at others. I just thought Seth's performance was too exaggerated. I wondered what his expression would be if he went to the city and saw the cathedral in my old city.
The scale of that church was so enormous that I didn't know how to describe it in words. I'll just say that the most obvious thing about the church was a black pillar that stretched directly from the church floor to the sky, which the Vatican called the "World Tree." Saying it stretched to the sky wasn't an exaggeration; it really was very tall.
From any corner of the city, one can see the entire sky split in two by a black pillar. Some people use binoculars to try to see where the "World Tree" leads to in the sky from the distant mountain peaks, but they can only see the black pillar getting thinner and thinner, with no end in sight.
Some people even say that this "World Tree" leads directly to the huge gray-blue sky object "Valhalla" that occupies one-tenth of the field of vision.
The automatic car drove beneath a massive white wall, which felt like walking along a white cliff. Seth didn't say anything today, probably sensing my bad mood. The burly Balot in the front seat also maintained his usual silence. The only sound came from Sid, who was in the driver's seat. Since Seth was taking care of me, he was driving. His passion for machinery made him an excellent driver. If he weren't so noisy and oblivious to the atmosphere, Sid's mouth wouldn't have stopped since we got in the car. For the entire 20-minute drive, I heard him talking about yesterday's events:
how despicable the five sons of the Marquis of Fukuzawa Eita were, how they deserved their fate, and how badly I was bullied yesterday. He even said he watched the video from yesterday more than 10 times, and the more he watched, the more pitiful
he felt for me. "Idiot, is it necessary to watch that kind of thing 10 times? I can't even stand watching it once," I couldn't help but think to myself.
However, I didn't actually say it aloud. What happened yesterday was truly outrageous, but I already understood my body's purpose. Being treated that way was part of my destiny. Although I found it unbearable, I could only escape by splitting my personality and imagining myself as a third party watching "someone who looks like me." So I didn't want to respond to Sid. If I discussed those things with him, it would awaken those sealed memories from yesterday, and I'd probably burst into tears on the spot. I didn't want to appear so out of control when we were about to go to a public place.
Seth seemed to see through my thoughts. Seeing that I wasn't speaking, he immediately stopped Sid and ordered him to concentrate on driving.
Although Sid didn't understand the underlying meaning, he thankfully started discussing the new car my father, "Duke Fuzawa," had bought. I think that was the one my mother rode in to the city hall. He said that because the church didn't have a ready-made one, it flew directly from Valhalla, describing how spectacular it was when it landed, with sparks flying everywhere. He also mentioned how astonished the people were when he boasted about it to them that night, without seeing the scene firsthand.
I wasn't particularly interested in the new car, but I noticed that my usually stingy father, the Duke, seemed to be spending lavishly lately. I wondered if it was due to my mother's management, but hopefully it would lessen the damage yesterday's events had done to the Duke's reputation.
With that thought, the car finally arrived at its destination: the City Hall.
Chapter Four: City Hall
The City Hall was actually a very beautiful building. Although it couldn't compare to a cathedral, the Greek-style columns and all-white marble gave it a classical grandeur.
It was actually a two-story building; the second floor was the actual government offices, while the first floor was usually used by citizens as a platform for speeches or gatherings. However, today it had been booked by the nobles of the Duchy for a billiards match.
I was a little puzzled as to why a billiards match between nobles would suddenly be held. I asked Seth, and he said it was "held according to custom."
Nobles had many social activities, and for them, since they didn't want to gain glory on the battlefield, winning through competition was a good opportunity to enhance their reputation. I found it sudden, but I rarely participated in social activities. I had seen my mother practice billiards before, but this was the first time I'd seen a match.
Upon entering the hall, it seemed the match hadn't started yet, and there weren't many people in the stands. Normally, I would have tried to find a regular seat out of the light, but safety was paramount today, so I chose an empty VIP box.
After settling in, I observed my surroundings. The box was quite upscale, with solid wood walls carved with intricate Baroque patterns, clearly very expensive. In the center was a long leather sofa; although it was labeled as a two-seater, there was actually plenty of space. It felt like all four of us could sit comfortably. However, I knew that even if I invited them, it would be pointless. I'd tried before; while they were uninhibited around me at home, they were very cautious in public. It's against social norms for commoners and nobles to sit in the same chair.
Therefore, the other three stood behind me. With that in mind, I gave up on inviting them.
In front of the sofa was a wooden railing, followed by more than ten rows of spectator seats. About 20 meters away was the competition venue, which used to be a stage but was now being used temporarily. The venue looked spacious; it could easily accommodate three pool tables, although only one was set up, as only three players were playing in a round-robin tournament.
Long sofas of high-quality material were arranged around the perimeter for the players to rest.
After sitting down, seeing that I had nothing else to do, I took out my communicator from my bag and tested the software labeled "laws" again; it still didn't work. It must require some condition to activate.
Then I opened the text editor on the communicator. I always keep a diary, not to show it to anyone, but like a confessional, a place to confide. Writing it down helps seal away those events, and I planned to handle yesterday's events the same way.
I looked down at the screen, but the deep-seated fear made me hesitate, unsure where to begin.
At that moment, other spectators began to enter.
Most were ordinary people from the neighborhood, with a few dressed in higher-class attire, presumably relatives of other dukes.
As noon approached, more school-aged children joined in, probably coming in after school. A cursory glance revealed that almost all the spectators were male, which was quite normal given Gaia's gender ratio. The
adults who entered were alright; their gazes merely showed slight surprise when they swept over the only oddity in the audience, without dwelling on it. The idle teenagers, however, were clearly curious about this unusually dressed figure, gathering around me. Fortunately, there were railings in front of the VIP seats, so they simply explored the details of the body in the skirt with their eyes.
Initially, these gazes were somewhat hesitant, merely wandering over the body. But once their eyes landed on the transparent skirt, they were like hungry wolves smelling blood, their hormones driving their gazes to penetrate the almost transparent fabric and advance towards the flower's core.
I quickly straightened my legs, shifting to a sideways sitting position, and placed the communicator between my thighs. This way, I could both cover the shameful gap and lower my gaze, afraid of meeting those eyes. However, my actions clearly angered the owners of those lustful gazes. Several seemed to recognize my face and started shouting,
"Toilet-chan!"
"Toilet-chan!"
"How much did you have in your belly today?"
I couldn't refute the humiliation backed by facts, and retaliation would probably only invite greater retaliation. I could only maintain my posture and endure the scene before me. Fortunately, the game was about to start, and the lights outside the field dimmed, making my body less conspicuous.
The gathered children were also chased away by Seth, which reassured me. Although the lights were dim, the communicator in my hand emitted its own light, so it didn't affect my use. The brightest spot was beside the pool table on the stage, where representatives of Marquis Fukuzawa Eita and Marquis Fukuzawa Hideki appeared. They were brothers of the current Duchy administrator, Duke Fukuzawa Eiji. However, unlike the Duke, who had chosen their mother as representatives,
Marquis Eita chose an unfamiliar face, impeccably dressed with a neat bow tie and coat, even cufflinks on his sleeves—likely a butler or a retainer.
Marquis Hideki, on the other hand, took to the table himself. His suit fabric looked high-class, but the collar was open and the suit jacket unbuttoned; after all, it was under the spotlight, likely hotter than the stands. Although this match was merely a competition between nobles, it concerned noble honor, and unless there was another important matter, they generally wouldn't choose a representative other than themselves.
Looking at Marquis Eita's representative, I felt much relieved; at least I wouldn't encounter those five brothers of Marquis Eita's family today
.
As the two well-dressed figures on the court vigorously struck the ball, the arena quieted down. Everyone watched the game attentively. Even the children, who had no interest in the match, dared not make a fuss in front of the nobles and sat quietly in the stands.
With the previous player's attempt to hit the white ball failing, the match ended.
The contestants changed, and it was the Duchess's mother's turn to appear. Under the spotlight, the gray shadows of suits and ties were suddenly replaced by a pristine white body. Under the light, some parts of this figure even reflected the light, creating a stark contrast with the light-absorbing fabrics of the surrounding figures. A completely white body appeared before the pool table. The scene before them had been composed entirely of dark tones: the dark green pool table, the dark table itself, and the surrounding dark gray shadows. This sudden appearance of a white figure was like a pure white rectangle appearing in a dark-toned night scene photograph—incongruous, as if what one was seeing was not real.
It seemed as if the eyes needed several seconds to wait for the glare from this pure white block to fade before other details could be seen. A mature and sensual Dong body was presented to all the audience members. Her full breasts trembled slightly under the lights, and her snow-white thighs, though rounded, had no excess fat, resembling standard cylindrical alabaster pillars supporting two round hemispheres above. These hemispheres appeared exceptionally large in contrast to her slender waist, echoing her breasts and resonating in sync with each rise and fall of her white strappy high heels. Of course, upon closer inspection, one could also see many other ornaments on her snow-white body. A dark choker adorned her slender neck, with a circular tag hanging in front, identical to the one below mine. This time, the mountain-shaped pattern on the tag was genuine, not a fake one that Seth made for me.
Both hands wore bracelets engraved with patterns and openwork designs, connected to another choker of the same style by multiple thin chains.
It's often said that women draw on their handcuffs, and the ones my mother wore were indeed beautiful. However, even the most beautiful instruments of torture are still instruments of torture. My mother's hands were bound within the confines of the chains, unable to touch her nose or her nipples. Her hands were restricted to this area.
I'm actually quite familiar with this thing called a "Saintess Jacket." As a woman serving my mandatory military service, I had to wear it for eight hours a day, according to regulations. Of course, it wasn't always the same as what my mother wore; there were actually many forms. But anything that could restrict a woman's hands and prevent her from covering her body could be called this.
It's said that the name comes from the fact that women wearing it resemble nuns praying with their hands clasped together. It truly is a symbol of male conquest of women. Faced with humiliation, women wearing it could only pray.
I had to wear it every day because of the "service period" regulations. My mother had long since passed her service period, and the reason she wore it now was probably due to a special rule among the nobility for female participants. I had heard of special rules for female participants before, but I didn't know it was this kind of agreement. It's not surprising that women, as objects of service to men, had such humiliating rules. However, my mother didn't show any pain on her face on stage; she simply greeted the audience with her usual smile.
My mother looked different from my sisters and me. She wasn't the petite, dark-haired housewife typical of East Asian women, but a blonde woman with large breasts. Her hair was a beautiful platinum blonde with natural waves, exuding femininity. She exudes the charm of a mature woman.
If my own judgment of my beauty is merely the narcissism of a little girl, then my mother's beauty is a universally acknowledged fact. Before becoming a duchess, she was a famous actress (of course, in this male-dominated world, films starring women are generally erotic films made for men).
As for why my mother looks different from us, that's only natural. Everyone in this world was created by the goddess in the church. According to Genesis, we are all a composite of genes from various races. Among men, some nobles would specifically commission offspring containing their own genes, while ordinary people didn't have this opportunity. We women are different. Genesis says that we borrowed the goddess's genes to create perfect bodies; different genes provided by the goddess naturally result in different people.
Comparatively, my sister and I are both East Asian, and although our personalities are different, we look quite alike, which is actually quite rare. I think it's a coincidence that brought my sister and me together. It was simply assigned to my mother. I looked at the familiar yet unfamiliar figure on the table. My mother, clearly unable to handle the cue stick with her hands, seemed unsure if there were rules for female players' strokes. I observed her stroke: Accompanying her was the duchess's butler, her personal attendant.
The butler first selected a suitable cue for the duchess. He must have been an expert on the course, for he chose his target without hesitation. Holding the cue, he stood with the duchess at the table. The duchess and butler discussed the shot's trajectory, and then the butler set up the cue.
I could see the duchess approaching the cue, and the butler inserted the cue handle into the duchess's already prepared, open vagina. After insertion, her labia immediately clamped down on the cue. From this distance, I couldn't see the details, but it seemed as if the cue grew from my mother's lower body, moving with her body. The duchess adjusted her posture a few times, bending her waist and hips backward. Then, she suddenly straightened her body, using the power of her waist and hips to propel the cue stick forward, striking the cue ball and completing a shot.
To be fair, my mother's movements were quite elegant, like a slight twist of her waist, and her coordination with the butler was excellent. The cue ball, like other players using both hands, smoothly struck the colored balls, and the force from the cue ball even pushed one of the colored balls into the net, making it a perfect break.
But I felt incredibly ashamed of the scene before me. Looking at my mother, I immediately thought of myself standing in front of the pool table like that. I had indeed been asked to do this,
even in a practice match, with only a few servants from the Duke's mansion around.
After being stripped naked and put on the "saint's jacket," my face flushed crimson with shame, and my body trembled involuntarily. When the cue stick was inserted into my genitals, I felt both ashamed and terrified. My entire body went limp with fear. My hand technique, which wasn't bad, was completely useless in my current state. I was simply pushed against the cue ball by the hand behind me. Even though there was a pad deep inside my vagina, the impact felt like being punched. The force of the impact forced my labia open, and I felt a warm liquid leak out – probably urine from the urethra due to the intense stimulation.
This painful memory made me afraid to play billiards again.
My mother didn't force me, only occasionally asking me to watch her practice. Little did I know that her practice was for a competition in front of a crowd.
Ignoring the sounds of the pool balls hitting the table, the occasional gasps of my mother after each shot, and the deliberate jeers from other players and spectators—"The Duchess has such big breasts!" "Look at that fat ass, it must feel so good to whip it with a belt, no wonder the Duke trained her so well"—my
mother remained unmoved, even taking it all as praise for her body. Between shots, she would smile and gesture to the audience. I felt utterly ashamed and desperate about everything happening around me. In my mind, my mother was an amazing woman. She worked incredibly hard to raise my sisters and me, and after becoming Duchess, she made many contributions to the Duke's family. The title of Duchess was well-deserved. My current life is, in a sense, a gift from my mother. But even someone as outstanding as her was mercilessly humiliated in front of men.
But that's how the world is. No matter your status, as long as you're a woman, you must obey men's commands.
When Goddess created us, she decided our mission: "Absolute obedience and loyalty to men."
Not only is it recorded in "Redemption," but I even feel that the goddess might have considered this when creating our bodies. The other women around me didn't seem to find anything wrong with being ruled by men, and my mother on stage didn't consider the billiards match a humiliation. She adhered to the special rules for women in the competition, wanting to win and bring honor to the Duke. In this light, it seems abnormal that I, who considered the competition humiliating, was the one who was abnormal.
Soon after, a burst of applause from the audience interrupted my reverie. The match was over, and I saw my mother on stage proudly displaying her winning prize. Although the eyes of the audience were still fixed on my mother's naked body, the honor of victory was undeniable.
Not only was I surprised that my mother could win, but her two opponents on stage also had somewhat incredulous expressions on their faces. On the one hand, they hadn't expected my mother and her attendant to cooperate so well, truly utilizing the strength of two people.
On the other hand, they probably underestimated their opponents. I've watched my mother practice and compared her to the other women at school. I think my mother's skills are quite special. The other girls at school aren't very good at sports, not just because of physical strength, but because they seem to lack the ability to predict the trajectory of objects. Sometimes, actions that I think only require a natural physical reaction are very difficult for them. I'm afraid the two marquises on stage judged my mother's skills in this way, which is why they lost to her.
According to my mother, the women she knows who are her age and were created by the goddess in the early stages all have good athletic abilities. But she doesn't know why my sister and I also have good athletic abilities. I was indeed only created 17 years ago.
On stage, my mother, with a victorious smile, waved to me from below. I understood why she had specifically asked me to watch the match today; she probably wanted to tell me, "Even women can defeat men and gain honor."
Watching my mother, naked yet shamelessly defeating men on stage, I made up my mind to stop running away from yesterday's fear. I would record yesterday's experience, sealing away the painful memories. I began recording my experience on my phone. The poem of departure has been played, 　the wheel
of fate is ready, and the karmic fire of the red lotus has been ignited. The helpless traveler steps forward, forced to participate, unaware of who determines her future. She records daily details, unaware that these will one day be sung and 　　recorded in history.
=== ... 　　The day before yesterday was an ordinary day. After lunch, I was watching animations on my communicator in the first-floor dining room. 　　My father was taking my sister to a social event; these kinds of things happen quite often. After arriving at the Duke's mansion, I usually...

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