Saint's Prison - Chapter 96

Soap and Lemon.

In this place, there is no custom of bathing at night. It is in the morning, as one gets ready, that the body is washed.

“Andy-sama, do you have any itchy spots?”

“No, I’m fine. It feels good.”

“Hehe, if there’s anything, please don’t hesitate to tell me.”

Amal says with a smile, gently washing my back. Ever since our interaction regarding the bath, I’ve started using the same bathroom as her.

Although I initially resisted, Amal wouldn’t back down, insisting on it. Usually, she’s absolutely obedient to my wishes, but she rebels in strange ways. She’s compliant but doesn’t hold back when it comes to indulging herself. You wouldn’t imagine her to be such a spoiled character from her cool and mature appearance.

“Andy-sama, next I’ll wash your hair.”

“I’ll leave it to you.”

“Yes, I’ve been entrusted.”

She lathers up the soap, and now washes my head, massaging it. The soap used here in Stonehurst is what would be known as Marseille soap in the modern era. Made with vegetable oils, it’s gentle on the skin. I didn’t know soap existed in this era, but as a Japanese person, I’m purely happy to be able to clean my body properly.

“Andy-sama, does it hurt?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Rather, it feels really good.”

With just the right amount of strength, my body relaxes. It feels so heavenly that my voice draws out.

“I’m glad. I’ll work even harder!”

Her determined voice comes from behind. Along with it, a soft sensation transmits across my back. No, well, she is my lover, so I might as well fully enjoy it. Thinking that far, I almost roll my eyes at my own fatherly sentiment.

“I will pour water, so please close your eyes.”

Amal draws water from a large barrel in the bathroom and pours it slowly over me. Naturally, it’s not hot water, so it’s cold. But it’s just right for now, as it washes away worldly thoughts along with it.

She repeats this several times, carefully rinsing my hair. I hear the squeak of my hair’s cuticles crying out.

“Andy-sama, excuse me.”

Amal drips something onto my hair and rubs it into my scalp. Soon after, a refreshing citrus scent tickles my nostrils.

“Amal, what is this…?”

“It’s lemon juice diluted with water. Washing with this will give your hair a shine.”

“Huh, I see. Like a substitute for conditioner?”

Soap is alkaline, lemon is acidic. Maybe it neutralizes the soap, acting like a conditioner. It also removes soap scum and sebum that water alone can’t cleanse. Right, it’s like how citric acid is effective for cleaning around the house, the same principle.

Then, it occurs to me.

(Ah, so that’s why I smelled a citrus scent from Johanna.)

I recall Johanna’s body odor and understand. The source of that scent was lemon juice. Surely Johanna too must take care of her hair this way.

(She suits fresh scents better than sweet ones. Being a dignified beauty, it suits her all the more.)

“…Andy-sama. What were you just thinking about?”

I hear Amal’s cool voice.

Startled, I come back to my senses.

What I was thinking was just an impression, nothing guilty. …Not guilty, but somehow the atmosphere turns awkward, and I turn around to explain myself.

“No, just thinking that lemon has a good scent.”

“…Hmm, is that so? If that’s the case, it’s fine. But, Andy-sama, if you daydream like that, Amal might misunderstand that you’re thinking about another woman.”

…How sharp.

Is this a woman’s intuition? Her words seem to read my mind, and I can’t help but grimace. Sensing my discomfiture, Amal lets out a sly smile.

“Then, next I’ll wash the front for you.”

“No, I’ll wash the front myself!”

“I refuse.”

—An immediate response.

Ignoring my protest, Amal’s soapy hands slide over my chest. In a panic, I grab her hands to stop her.

“No no. That’s not good!”

“No way!”

“No way, you say, but…”

Her cheeks puff out to the limit, and she throws a tantrum. Like an engine with broken brakes. And to make matters worse, she’s speeding to the limit with the flames of jealousy.

“If we do that here, what’s the point of washing? And what if you catch a cold?”

“But!”

“Be patient.”

“But!”

“No buts, I always say that. …Look, I’ll wash your back instead, so give me a break.”

Lately, there have been too many “but” attacks.

(…That just shows how much Amal’s emotions have grown.)

When we first met, the lack of emotional ups and downs was a natural conclusion, as there was no one to talk to or express emotions to.

Being unaffected by emotions is precisely why she could endure loneliness. It was the girl’s sad self-defense. Now that she has someone to depend on in me, age-appropriate emotions have begun to grow. The spoiled behavior, I think, is a reaction to everything up till now.

“Is that all?”

“Ah, I’ll wash your hair too.”

Amal turns her mouth down into a frown. I smile wryly at her obvious “I’m not satisfied” appeal.

“…I’ll work hard tonight, too.”

A full smile. That seems to have been the right answer.

Though I feel as if I’ve been smoothly convinced, looking at that smile, I can’t say anything.

Amal, in a good mood, rinses my hair with water.

My vision blurs from the water. I wipe the water from my face with my hand and slick back my hair.

Amal stares at my face and sighs. Then she wraps her arms around my neck and rubs her cheek against mine.

“Andy-sama, it’s prickly.”

“Well, I haven’t shaved yet.”

“It’s manly, and Amal likes it. Hehe, please let me do this every day before you shave.”

“You really do like strange things. But it hurts, doesn’t it? Don’t rub too hard.”

“I refuse. I won’t let go, and it’s only Andy-sama, so there’s no problem.”

“Hahaha, you’ve become quite the talker.”

“Hyah, don’t suddenly splash water!”

Through such exchanges, another day was about to begin.