Chapter 1.1 – The Reason She Hates Spring

Spring.

A season when the warm wind blows, thawing the ice that had been frozen solid all winter, and seeds that had lain dormant in the depths quietly sprout.

The harsh cold, which relentlessly tormented her, who was more sensitive to the cold than anyone else, had finally receded; these days, the warmth was so complete that one could be sure it was spring.

“It’d be better if winter lasted for half the year.”

Spring, when sprouts appear and sleeping life awakens, might mean new encounters and relationships for some, but Daphne hated spring the most out of all four seasons.

For Daphne, who worked as the medical officer in charge of the Imperial Knight Order, spring was the season when she had to perform contraceptive procedures on thousands of prospective knights.

Daphne’s gaze turned to the window. Outside the building, a long line of aspiring Imperial Knights had formed, waiting to receive the procedure. Just seeing it made her depressed, and simply coming to work was agonizing, her face growing even darker with worry.

“Another good morning!”

Unlike Daphne, who was utterly deflated, a lively morning greeting rang out. Daphne nodded stiffly. She took a sip of her strong brewed coffee and walked to her seat.

“They say spring is the season of beginnings, and I guess that’s true?”

Too tired to even answer, Daphne just nodded again, then looked out the window once more and let out a deep sigh. Worrying wouldn’t make things any better, but the darkness before her eyes kept making her sigh.

“Were you alone last year? Still, this year you have me, so it’ll be fine. Anyway, it’s only busy here in spring, so after this period, it should be easier, right?”

“Well, I can only hope.”

“‘I can only hope’? Are you picking a fight with your great senior right now?”

“You know that’s not what I mean. And you’ve always teased me for fun, knowing exactly how I’ve been!”

“That’s true.”

Hailey shrugged, a playful look on her face. Her tone was a bit too casual for speaking to a senior officer, but it couldn’t be helped.

Daphne recalled last year, which was nothing short of bleak. When a colleague suddenly took leave for maternity rest after becoming pregnant, Daphne had to handle hundreds of new knights by herself.

She requested an assistant medical officer, but was refused simply because there was no one available. As a result, she truly reached the brink of collapse. She had to eat and sleep in the office, spending two months in a living h*ll, with no such thing as getting off work.

If only her magical power had run out completely so she could stretch out her legs and say, ‘I can’t work anymore!’ with confidence, it would have been better.

Unfortunately, Daphne had been born with the perfect constitution as a mage; just one night’s sleep and she’d recover as if nothing had happened. She was, indeed, the ideal candidate for a medical officer.

“Still, the number’s gone down a bit this year. About fifty a day? If you do the math, it’ll take just under two months.”

Hailey glanced over the mountain of paperwork and spoke in a flat voice.

Even if it was fifty a day, that only shaved off a few days. But even that was something to be thankful for, so Daphne found some comfort. Having survived the worst, she could accept things a bit more calmly.

“All right, let’s get started then?”

Hailey energetically pulled back the office curtains.

Before the procedure, they had to confirm the candidate’s name and date of birth, and obtain a signature of consent. Even though the procedure was mandated by law, if the candidate refused, it couldn’t be performed.

Of course, if they refused, they could not become an Imperial Knight, so even if they were dissatisfied, they had no choice but to sign the consent form. Once the signature was obtained, it was simple. The candidate would lower his pants and lie on the procedure bed, and a particular type of magic would be cast on his member.

Sometimes, people wondered if it was possible to simply hire another mage to reverse the procedure, but this procedure served as a kind of identification badge for Imperial Knights.

In other words, without the mark, one could not be recognized as an Imperial Knight, so there was no one who would deliberately hire a mage to break the contraceptive spell.

Of course, if one needed to have an heir after marriage, they could have the spell removed through the proper procedures. In that case, the mark proving Imperial Knight status would disappear, so a different type of magic would be newly applied.

Even the noble families, who once protested, “How dare you go against the order of nature!” changed their minds over time. It seemed they no longer had to worry about illegitimate children causing trouble.

“Next, please come in.”

Daphne checked the medical chart and called the next candidate. Evan Clyde. The third son of the Clyde Earldom. At her call, a man poked his head in. With a tilt of her chin, she signaled for him to come in, and he entered hesitantly.

“Your name?”

“Evan Clyde.”

His voice, unlike his delicate looks, was low and rough. As Daphne put on new gloves, she scanned him up and down. If she had seen him outside rather than here, she might have been interested, as he matched her tastes in many ways.

Soft brown hair, green eyes conveying many emotions, and….

But personal feelings had no place in official business. Daphne unconsciously tensed her brows again and spoke.

“How old are you this year?”

“Twenty-two.”

Daphne carefully compared the photo on the medical chart to his face. This was a step added after an incident where someone tried to send a similar-looking servant in his place. Not that it mattered—without the mark, the real person couldn’t even enter the palace anyway.

“You can take off your pants over there. Hang your clothes on the rack and put on the gown, then lie down here.”

“Oh, um, yes, just a moment.”

She pointed to the area with privacy screens for changing, and he hurried over. Soon, he emerged in a dark gown, looking awkward.

As Daphne prepared the instruments, she glanced at him lying on the bed, unsure what to do. His earlobes were so red they looked like they might burst—he was clearly mortified.

“Let me confirm your name and age again.”

“Evan Clyde, twenty-two this year.”

His answer, fitting for a new knight, was filled with tension. Daphne, with gloved hands, lifted the gown where a certain area was bulging.

A startled sound escaped him. As expected, his member stood upright, no different from the others. But among the thousands she’d seen, this was unexpected.

First, it was extremely large. All the men she’d seen before had dark, small members, barely half a hand even when er*ect, so his looked almost strange.

Sometimes she’d think, “This one’s pretty big,” but it was always ugly. So Daphne had no choice but to believe that was the average appearance of a man’s member. Medical books described it that way, too.

But Evan’s was clearly different from what she knew. It had an overall pinkish hue, much brighter than she was used to, and was much larger. It was obvious even two hands wouldn’t be enough to hold it.

It was, in every way, an exemplary male organ—so beautiful she’d want to use it as a model. But in a place where small and ugly ones were the norm, he was technically a mutant, outside the average.

Mutations that differ from most individuals tend to be ostracized in an ecosystem. So if his were used as a model, it was easy to predict that disgruntled men—whose identities she would never know—would send anonymous complaints.

Daphne shook her head to erase the image of his member, which seemed burned into her mind. There were still many patients waiting, so she needed to move quickly—if only to get off work early.