Who Could Have Loved the Monster Princess? - Chapter 14
I tossed my innocent hand back onto the bed. Yeah, it had to be a dream, some kind of crazy lucid dream.
In the dream, I was a human. The ears that Ken had nibbled and licked were absent in my current form. Instead, there were auditory organs resembling those of reptilian demons.
I don’t know if that’s what it feels like to have ears, or if it’s a figment of my imagination.
‘…How can I see something so clearly in my dreams that I’ve never seen in real life?’
Like Ken’s p*nis.
‘No way, am I in heat right now?’
I wonder if I’m cursed to be in heat like an animal. Various acts from the dream flooded my mind again. I also remembered Ken’s beauty, marinated in pleasure and even more deadly than usual.
The more I thought about it, the more I felt ashamed for having such scandalous thoughts.
‘Maybe that’s a good thing?’
I felt a little bad for Ken for having stolen his face for my dreams, but then I realized that his gxnitals were just a figment of my imagination, so it didn’t matter where his private parts were.
‘After all, there’s no chance of actually experiencing it, right?’
Last night’s dream felt almost like a glimpse of spring flowers in bloom. But now, in waking consciousness, the dream feels rather exhilarating but distant.
As my senses return, the dream gradually faded. What felt like firsthand experiences throughout the night, even the vivid sensation of rising pleasure, has dulled into a mere memory of a pleasant conversation.
As I lingered on the fading edges of pleasure, trying to grasp onto the remnants of the dream, I suddenly felt a sense of emptiness.
‘I should just get back to work.’
***
Recently, every time I became aware of the curse affecting my body, I felt like I was losing out in life.
When did it start? Every morning, almost absentmindedly, I’d check my hands. Perhaps it became a habit from last winter until my birthday, and even now, I occasionally find myself doing it out of habit.
I was checking to see if I was becoming more human.
‘It used to be good when I was a kid, because I was stronger than the adults.’
Dad often said my beauty was exchanged for this strength and power.
I used to prefer strong arms and legs over a pretty face that didn’t offer much else. But lately, I’ve been feeling a bit odd.
‘My original form traded for strength…’
I was curious about that. Dreaming about being human and making love with Ken made me wonder.
‘Is it possible that I’m just hitting puberty now?’
My mood was so volatile that I even had these thoughts. The peaches that usually comforted me were already eaten up last night.
I wasn’t born this way. They said I gradually changed after my birth. Born amidst the chaos of war with the Demon King, I became the strong and indestructible being my father intended me to be.
‘A gift from my dad… Did my mom want this too?’
As much as Mom wanted a child, she was equally fearful of losing me. My presence was her only hope in a world where death was all around her, so she agreed with Dad to use curse magic to make me stronger.
I’ve been told that I inherited only the outstanding qualities from Mom and Dad, making me an incredibly adorable and pretty baby. In exchange for that adorableness, Dad was able to grant me resilience.
The result is who I am today.
I don’t think my mom ever expected me to turn into a demon. After the war was over and we were out of harm’s way, she would sometimes ask Dad, “Curses are broken by love, right?” She thought it was only natural for me to receive love despite this appearance.
‘I wonder if Mom remembers what I looked like when I was human?’
Suddenly consumed by curiosity, I headed towards Mom’s workshop.
In the detached building east of the mansion was Mom’s workshop. Even from outside the building, I could hear the sound of metal being etched and the faint clinking of tools.
Carefully opening the door so as not to disturb her, I caught a glimpse of Mom’s creations. Most of them were interior decor items like curtains, wall ornaments, candle holders, crafted in forms conducive to enchantments.
Mom’s work wasn’t ordinary sculptures or crafted items; they were frameworks for creating magical artifacts. In rare cases, they had mystical qualities in their own right.
Shaping, carving, and etching the forms took days, sometimes months. As I sat and watched, my mom seemed to keep hitting the same spot over and over again. As the days passed and the seasons changed, the piece finally began to take shape.
It was fascinating how, even though nothing seemed to change, her pieces slowly and surely moved toward completion. So, whenever I had free time, I used to visit Mom in her workshop to watch her.
Today, Mom was shining a thin piece of metal, and the metal plate, about the size of a paperclip, gave no hint as to what it might become at this stage. She tied her long, unruly hair into a bun, wore ragged overalls, and sat on a small, backless stool, concentrating.
She seemed so engrossed that she probably didn’t notice my arrival. Usually, she acknowledges my presence with a glance.
I sat on my designated couch, silently watching Mom, and then, almost involuntarily, I asked her, “Mom, what did I originally look like?”
I was a little embarrassed because I just blurted it out of nowhere. I came to see Mom out of curiosity, but I didn’t actually intend to ask.
