Chapter 20 : A Body That Would, Get Hard At The Drop Of A Hat

What governs a human being—instinct or will?

To that question, Usher could firmly answer: “Will.”

However, that didn’t mean he underestimated the power of instinct.

After all, aren’t humans vulnerable when hungry or emotionally weakened when ill? There are moments when one’s emotions falter due to the physical body’s demands.

Such was the case after his body changed.

Bersia’s body was more fragile than Usher’s original one.

It bruised and injured easily, reacting with extreme sensitivity even to minor stimuli.

Emotionally, it was no different. Things that Usher would have brushed off in the past became difficult to ignore, all because of the “physical responses (important)” of this body.

One glaring example was menstruation. During that time, Usher definitely felt irritable, restless, and unusually sensitive all day long.

He explained it as a continuation of such changes.

After finishing a meal with Marvin and being left alone, Bersia’s casual remark—”Your sulking is adorable”—had triggered him.

“I wasn’t sulking! It’s just that the saintess’s body is not adept at concealing emotions! Normally, I wouldn’t have reacted this way! Naturally! Just because my body changed for a while doesn’t mean the memories between Marvin and me are erased!”

…he said with crossed arms and a sulky expression, completely unaware of how childish he looked.

Bersia, sitting with legs crossed and her chin resting on her hand, smiled brightly.

Her attitude suggested she found Usher’s reasoning laughable.

“Oh, that’s not true. I managed to conceal emotions well with this body, you know? And by that logic…”

Bersia leaned forward slightly.

Usher flinched, feeling like a frog before a snake.

Then the snake opened its jaws wide.

“Doesn’t that mean you were walking around with a body that would, well, get hard at the drop of a hat?”

“Argh! That’s not true!!!”

“Oh, come on. If that’s not the case, why would I be, you know… reacting? Even now?”

“I-I know you’re lying!”

“Should I prove it?”

“A-Ah! No! Please don’t!!!”

As Bersia’s hand slid toward the waistband of her pants, Usher panicked and lunged to stop her.

His voice, dripping with shame, only spurred Bersia’s sadistic amusement further.

The disparity in physical strength was stark.

Even with minimal effort, Bersia could overpower Usher, leaving him struggling and clinging helplessly to her.

In the end, all Usher could do was beg.

“P-Please, treat my body with respect! I’m embarrassed to show my bare skin to others!”

“Oh, but it’s just you who’s looking right now.”

“But you’re looking too!”

“I see it every morning and night, though.”

“That’s not the same!!!”

Usher was serious. After all, if he got used to exposing his skin so carelessly, wouldn’t it lead to moral decay?

Someday, in a fit of mischief, Bersia might actually pull down his waistband in front of others.

Of course, a sane person wouldn’t do such a thing, but Usher could no longer trust Bersia’s sense of morality or decency.

Why did he have to endure this?

Lately, Usher found himself resenting the gods more and more. No, it was Bersia he resented even more.

Today, overwhelmed by his rising frustration, Usher shut his eyes tightly and reprimanded her.

“You’re truly too much! You’re a brute, Saintess!”

“Who curses so delicately? You sound just like a young lady saying no with her mouth but—”

“Augh!!!”

Bang!

The subsequent action was a reflexive response, an almost involuntary convulsion of sorts.

Blood rushing to his head, Usher slammed Bersia onto the ground.

“…Ah.”

Only after a moment did Usher regain his senses, feeling as though he had been doused with cold water.

Bersia, her head awkwardly planted into the floor, looked up at him with a dazed expression.

Usher stammered, “W-well, the saintess was the one who was in the wrong first…!” but soon approached her with concern and muttered:

“A-are you hurt…?”

Even so, the act of violence seemed excessive in retrospect.

The church was abuzz with talk of a witch’s resurgence and other pressing matters, but Usher’s daily life remained largely unchanged.

More precisely, the saintess’s routine hadn’t shifted much.

It was essentially a standby order.

Considering the combination of a first-class knight and a saintess, it was only natural to handle such critical resources with care.

They couldn’t afford unnecessary movements or wasted efforts.

Thus, Usher could only be deployed once the knights on the current mission had pinpointed the heretics’ base of operations.

It was frustrating to feel so idle, but what could he do?

He couldn’t afford to aggravate the situation with impatience.

For now, his days were spent mostly in the garden.

Not that he was idly passing time.

Since battle could arise at any moment, training was essential.

Simple physical conditioning—and sparring.

Thud!

“Let’s go again!” Usher shouted, his hands clenched into fists.

In front of him, Bersia lay sprawled on the ground, her expression one of quiet resignation.

“…Can we take a break?”

“No, we cannot! Even if you have a sturdy body, you need at least some form of combat ability to defend yourself against enemies targeting the saintess!”

“I think I’ve already surpassed the minimum.”

“It’s because I see potential that I refuse to stop! Your technique can still improve!”

Usher’s body was drenched in sweat.

His breaths were hot, and his head spun.

After all, there was nothing as invigorating and fulfilling as sparring.

“…Sigh.”

“Sighing won’t help! Shall we move on to sword training next?”

Usher picked up a wooden sword.

It was a light and thin replica resembling a rapier, but he didn’t mind.

He had never been one to be overly concerned with the type or quality of a weapon.

“We’ll practice basic blocks, counters, thrusts, and slashes! You’ve done joint training before, but since my body’s training requirements differ, I’ll have to teach you directly!”

With that, his coat fluttered as he moved.

Bersia mumbled under her breath, clearly grumbling.

“You’re all sweaty…”

“That won’t work on me!”

He barked in response.

Usher calmed his flushed cheeks with a firm resolve.

Ah, how much longer would he keep squealing over such vulgar remarks?

He knew full well that Bersia teased him because of how easily he reacted.

He resolved not to respond anymore.

With that thought, Usher glanced down at Bersia with a sharp gaze.

The corners of his lips curled into a satisfied smile, brimming with self-congratulation.

“Let’s get started! We’ll begin with the first sword technique!”

“…Ugh, this is so boring.”

“Training isn’t meant to be fun! Here I come!”

Thwack!

With a light bounce, Usher lunged, aiming his practice sword straight at Bersia’s chest. Bersia gritted her teeth and swung her wooden sword to counter.

Clack!

The attack was blocked. Naturally.

No matter how advanced Usher’s understanding of swordsmanship or combat instincts were, the difference in their physical capabilities was too stark to ignore. Bersia’s body was inferior in every aspect—strength, speed, and reflexes included.

Conversely, Usher’s original body, now worn by Bersia, was so well-honed that it could move along the ideal trajectory faster than conscious thought.

This balance created their current dynamic: a battle between overwhelming physical prowess and overwhelming combat intelligence.

For Usher, this situation itself was a form of training. After all, fighting from the perspective of the weaker party… had become a distant memory for him.

Swish! Clang!

Their movements quickened.

Though Bersia didn’t appear particularly motivated, she wasn’t entirely unwilling to learn, and her swordsmanship was gradually sharpening.

As her techniques improved, the difficulty rose. At this point, Usher could no longer rely on mere “reaction” to keep up—he had to anticipate her moves and counter them.

A jolt of electricity ran down his spine.

His heart pounded wildly, spreading the exhilaration of battle throughout his body.

This was the kind of joy one could only feel in a state of absolute focus.

In Usher’s mind, all possible sword paths Bersia might take were computed and erased in an instant. Anticipating her next move, he deflected her thrust and surged forward, aiming for a decisive strike.

Or so he thought.

“Ahk!”

He stumbled.

His underperforming body didn’t move as he intended, betraying his expectations.

In that moment, Bersia’s eyes widened.

She dropped her practice sword and caught Usher in her arms.

Thud!

The two toppled over, with Bersia pinning Usher beneath her.

Wide-eyed, Usher looked up at Bersia, who frowned, likely from the pain in her hand cradling the back of her head.

Their faces were close.

Perhaps from their earlier exertion, their bodies radiated warmth. Usher could feel the moisture in Bersia’s breath, and where their skin touched, a faint tingling sensation spread.

A drop of sweat trickled down Bersia’s nose and landed on Usher’s cheek.

“Uhm…”

Usher’s lips moved soundlessly, his mind turning blank for some reason.

And then—

“What are you two doing?”

A sharp, clear voice pierced the moment.

Usher flinched and turned his head.

At the entrance to the garden stood Rubena Pradeiri, frowning deeply as she stared at them.

“?”

Usher froze, confused, simply staring back at her.

Then, he realized their predicament.

He lay sprawled on the ground, with Bersia straddling him. One of Bersia’s hands was cradling the back of his head, while the other rested on his waist. Their sweat-drenched bodies were tangled together, and during the fall, Usher’s skirt had flipped up, revealing everything from his ankles to mid-thigh.

Blinking, Usher looked at Rubena again, and then it hit him—how this must look to an outsider.

His face turned bright red.

Rubena’s expression was a mixture of disgust and disbelief as she took a step back.

“Frolicking outdoors in broad daylight, huh?”

“N-no, no, no! It’s not like that!!!”

Panicked, Usher let out a desperate scream as his first reaction.