I Became the World’s Strongest Without Fighting~ All the Beautiful, Cheat-Class Girls Are Courting Me Because of My [Love] Skill~ - Chapter 41 - Sleeping With Misha 2

Chapter 41 – Sleeping With Misha 2

“Misha, uh… put some clothes on.”

I hadn’t really paid attention, so I didn’t notice, but Misha is wearing a thin dress with no shoulders or sleeves. The length is only up to her thighs, and I can’t tell if she’s wearing pants or not.

Because she leaned forward, I could see a lot of things.

“? Misha is already wearing clothes.”

“…Are you covering yourself properly?”

Let’s check just to be sure.

“Yes.”

“…Pants?”

“Panties.”

“That’s obvious!! I asked if you were wearing pants!!”

Misha has this kind of aspect to her. She looks so nonchalant about it that you can’t let your guard down.

“Misha is going to sleep with this tonight.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Misha will.”

“You will!?”

An abrupt rejection to my scolding.

We’ll probably sleep in the bed together today. That was decided after Ilf’s panting incident, and I’m sure Misha will ask for it.

I can’t stand the thought of sleeping with her in that outfit.

Sneeze.

Misha sneezed.

I definitely can’t let her catch a cold. But I know Misha is stubborn, and continuing like this will just be a back-and-forth argument.

I took my pillow from the bed and gave it to Misha.

“For now, cover up. Change later, okay?”

Misha hugged the pillow to her chest.

Alright, nothing should be visible now. That’s a relief, at least for now.

I started wiping Misha’s head with a towel.

“Hoo…”

“…”

Rub, rub.

“Hoo…”

“……”

Rub, rub, rub, rub.

“Hoooo…”

“Misha? Don’t——”

“No——”

“Don’t refuse so fast!”

Misha put her face into the pillow and sniffed it, before pulling away from it.

“Then Misha won’t smell it now.”

I continued wiping her head, as the back-and-forth conversation is likely to continue. Drying Misha’s hair quickly is more important than that.

“Misha can smell it a lot later.”

“……”

This means that we will sleep together today. I can tell from the way she smiles slightly, as if asking for my confirmation.

“Does this hurt?”

“No.”

Rub, rub. Misha obediently entrusted herself to me, and I finished wiping her hair.

“Help me with this.”

“Okay.”

I handed the hair dryer on the table to Misha.

I was born with a low amount of magical power. Magical power is somewhat equivalent to magical aptitude, meaning I don’t have much talent for magic.

I direct the hair dryer, emitting a warm gust of air, onto her hair.

“Is it warm enough?”

“Yeah.”

Misha is always like this. She nods if she agrees, but she rarely speaks more than the bare minimum.

Rather than being silent, it’s more accurate to say that she uses very few words. Maybe it’s just something I’ve gotten used to, but Misha is the person with whom I can have a conversation most seamlessly.