“Ah!”
Chris’s glasses fogged up from the steam, and he slipped on a bar of soap, losing his footing.
Falling down, Chris hated how pathetic he felt.
When he tried to get up, Greg reached out his hand.
Chris turned his face away at the gesture.
“I don’t need your help. You and I are enemies.”
The setting is a public bath in the Republic of Alzel.
It’s around the time Marie kicked him out of the manor.
Chris and Greg had been staying at the bathhouse, working as live‑in staff.
It was hard labor, but they got meals and a decent hourly wage.
It paid better than a regular part‑time job—though the work was grueling.
“What do you mean ‘enemies,’ you idiot! I’m only helping you because you’re a dead weight!”
“What—what are you saying!?”
Since morning they’ve been scrubbing the baths and heating the water.
At noon they head to the academy for make‑up classes, then rush back to work for the busy hours.
Even after that they’re buried in cleaning and tidying up.
Both of them, usually fit, are showing signs of fatigue from the nonstop, unfamiliar chores.
“Honestly, I never wanted to work with you in the first place!”
“Same here!”
The two can’t stop fighting.
Then, Clemens, who was at the bathhouse, called out to them.
“Hey, you two over there, didn’t you forget there are customers?”
Clemens, having just finished washing his hair, spoke with his back still turned, rinsing foam from his shoulders.
“People came here to relax, you’re ruining the mood. Quarrels are fine, but do your jobs properly.”
The two lowered their heads.
Right—business hours were in full swing.
Why were they still in the bath area at this time?
It was because of the bathhouse’s special service.
Clemens held up two fingers so they could see him.
“Since you’re here, why don’t you give me a back‑wash?”
At his suggestion, the pair grabbed the tools.
The service here let customers pay to have their backs washed.
Chris and Greg silently began scrubbing Clemens’s muscular, broad back.
“Ah—this feels great. Greg’s rough strength and Chris’s oddly meticulous technique are both wonderful. It’s thrilling.”
Some of the other patrons felt a chill at Clemens’s words.
But Chris and Greg seemed oblivious.
“Greg, be more gentle!”
“You think you can wash like a wimp? Men’s skin needs a good, hard scrub!”
“That’s why you never get any customers.”
“What the—! Some customers actually say my washing style is good!”
Even though the fee was small, half of it went straight to the two of them; the shop kept the other half.
A cheap service, but every little bit adds up.
Greg wasn’t making much money.
Patrons rolled their eyes at the bickering pair.
Then Clemens offered them some advice.
“Hmm, you two are still no good.”
“What?”
“What do you mean, old man!”
When Greg called him “old man,” Clemens’s veins popped on his forehead as he shouted.
“Don’t call me that! —Oops, sorry. Still, you’re both hopeless. The kid who worked here before you was better.”
Clemens seemed to be a regular at this bathhouse.
“The previous kid earned more than you two. He was getting requests all day during business hours.”
The two hung their heads at Clemens’s words.
“What are we missing?”
“Damn! I can’t even face Marie now.”
Clemens stood up.
The important parts were hidden by foam.
“You both need to cover each other’s weak spots before you’re even halfway decent. And if you keep fighting, the future looks bleak. If you’re going to clash, make it a competition.”
“A competition, huh?”
Chris stared at Clemens through his fogged lenses.
He watched Clemens, who didn’t hide anything.
The crucial parts were still obscured by foam.
“Yes, you’re not enemies. You’re rivals.”
Greg’s face lit up as if he’d just realized something.
“Right, we shouldn’t be fighting here. For Marie’s sake—and for ourselves—we should—”
Chris felt the same.
She took off her glasses, tossed them aside like a loincloth, and said,
“This isn’t just our problem. There are three other rivals out there. To beat them, we have to—”
Their voices rang together, echoing through the bath.
“Polish the men!”
With renewed resolve, they set about scrubbing Clemens.
“Ah, you two! No, stop— that spot’s sensitive——Whoa—!”
Clemens’s odd cries bounced around the steam room.
From the next day onward, the two cooperated to polish every customer.
They gave it their all, polishing each patron with everything they had.
Rumors spread, and before long—.
◇
“Hey, doesn’t this place feel… weird?”
“Yeah, I thought so too.”
A pair of guys who’d just walked in looked around at the other patrons, shrinking a bit.
Everywhere they looked, it was just muscular men.
The vibe was different from any other bathhouse.
No one glared, no one did anything hostile—just a restless feeling, as if the men were waiting for something.
The two soaked in the water, thinking maybe it was just their imagination.
“The water feels great.”
“This place is nice.”
A slender old man approached them.
“You’re new here, right?”
“Huh? Yeah, that’s right.”
“—I see. Be careful.”
After saying that, the old man stood up and left the bath.
The two tilted their heads in confusion—when, in the opposite direction, two young male attendants in loincloths entered.
They were quite young and good‑looking.
“By the way, I heard they charge extra to wash your back here.”
“Really?”
As they chatted, the next moment—
“Greg, I’ll take your back.”
“I’m Chris! I want mine too!”
“Double! We’ll do a double today!”
—The men suddenly got excited.
In the noisy commotion, Chris and Greg were stunned.
A red‑haired guy twisted a headband.
“Hey! Wait up. I’ll keep polishing today!”
A blue‑haired guy took off his glasses, tossed his loincloth over his shoulder.
“I’ll scrub every inch, get rid of all the grime!”
They started washing the men, who looked blissfully entranced by the serious effort.
“Double is the best!”
A muscular guy with a blue jaw shouted.
Shaking, the two looked around the room.
Then they realized.
“Let’s get out of here!”
“We can’t stay. We have to go!”
As they tried to run, Greg and Chris grabbed their arms.
“Ah, fresh customers. Then today’s on the house. Free wash!”
“Greg, watch your language. But fine, let’s use this as a promo.”
The well‑meaning attendants.
But to the two men, it felt like being pulled into a swamp.
“Stop! Don’t wash us!”
“Someone help—!”
Surrounded by other patrons, they were forced into the wash.
◇
—And now.
In the bath at Einhorn, back in the kingdom, Leon was soaking with Chris and Greg.
“So, what did you two do to earn a living after Marie kicked you out? You didn’t pull scams like Jilk, did you?”
Leon shot a skeptical glance at them; Chris and Greg gave a thumbs‑up and grinned.
“Don’t lump us together. We’ve been polishing men!”
“Exactly. Unlike Jilk, we’ve been polishing men!”
Leon floated a towel in the water, making balloon shapes.
“This makes no sense.”
Then,
“Hey, Bartfort, don’t toss towels into the tub.”
“Right. That’s a breach of etiquette.”
Leon rolled his eyes at how strict they’d become about bath manners lately.
“You guys used to mess around not long ago. Well, whatever.”
When they tried to get out, the two called after them.
“Leaving already? Want us to wash you?”
“We’re good at it.”
Leon felt a chill at their words and—
“I’ll pass.”
He said, and the two looked disappointed.