A New Target and the Shadow of the Murim

I, Karn, have grown.

I won't be looking for cheap ways to snag Neto-tickets anymore. I’m going to love Rosalia thoroughly with a proper, straightforward approach, make her burn with pleasure to her heart’s content, and then, with my head held high, I’ll reap the rewards.

That’s the only way Rosalia will find the cuddling so sweet that she’ll play her part in our Netorase games with even more lewd enthusiasm.

I loved her. More than my perverted fetishes, I loved that foolish, beaming smile of hers. And she was likely the same. A hopeless, foolish lover who dreamed of a fresh, romance-novel-like relationship while simultaneously finding pleasure in fulfilling my Netorare desires.

We were two of a kind.

Holding her in a princess carry, I showered her face with a rapid-fire succession of bird kisses, pouring all my affection into them.

What a cute thing.

By the time the thirtieth peck landed, Rosalia had melted like a slime under the summer sun.

"Uhehe...♡ Karn is kissing me just like I do... I'm so happy♡"

The Academy’s main auditorium.

The entire student body was gathered together—or rather, packed in like sardines. The surroundings were noisy. It was one of the few large-scale events at the Academy: the group assignments for the practical exam.

It wore the fancy label of an "exam," but in reality, it was a camping trip—a school excursion—tossed out by the Dean to force students from different faculties to socialize.

According to Rosalia, who knew the original story inside and out, a major event was supposed to occur here.

Of course, that wasn't my concern. I was content just to enjoy a peaceful Netorase life while cuddling with Rosalia. I had already cleared away that cold, elusive death, so now it was her turn to handle things.

I wanted to be with her a little longer. We had lost track of time hugging and playing, and before I knew it, it was time to assemble in the auditorium, forcing me to rush and find a seat.

I scanned the crowd naturally. Light pink hair. I found her immediately.

Rosalia was sitting right in the middle of the Knight Faculty section, pressed tightly against Brandt von Eisern.

A professor on the podium was droning on with a boring speech. Taking advantage of the moment, Brandt’s thick arm was slithering under Rosalia’s coat. Rosalia’s shoulders twitched minutely. Her tightly pressed thighs trembled and parted.

It was obvious. That bastard was definitely sliding his hand in, secretly kneading her soft, white breasts like he was working mochi dough.

"Ugh...♡"

A suppressed moan, like a dying breath, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠escaped her lips.

I checked the system notifications I had set aside for a moment. The deep feelings I’d confirmed in the empty classroom earlier, plus two more from the princess carry.

Getting Neto-tickets was this easy and so "Rosalia-esque"—had I really been petty enough to make a bet just to save these?

Tsk. I felt a slight sense of shame. The more I thought about it, the more of a scumbag boyfriend I was.

Right, no reason to be depressed now. Let’s count the Neto-tickets I have.

'Status Window.'

I pulled up the translucent window in front of my eyes.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"..."

As soon as I read her inner thoughts, a laugh burst out. She was going to use my confession as fuel to masturbate? I was happy, but had she become too lewd?

Surely she wouldn't do it every day? If so, that was a problem. I’d have to help her regulate.

Even while being toyed with by Brandt’s sticky touch, her mind was only on me. Right, this was the taste of Netorase play.

The bet had concluded warmly as a "joint victory" following Rosalia’s pouty suggestion. As promised, I was in a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠position where I’d have to find the right moment to propose, but she had manipulated the system to slip in a Vulgar Neto-ticket as a bonus.

I felt like an overnight millionaire.

'Now I just need to increase the number of heroines.'

Sekina, the Dark Elf Necromancer, came to mind. I had promised to visit her during the Meteorology lecture with Rosalia, but the schedule had been pushed back repeatedly because Rosalia was being called away as Brandt’s personal toilet.

I had tried to go alone to uncover the secrets of my body, but I was too busy masturbating because Rosalia, becoming more vulgar by the day, was just too hot.

Once this practical exam was over, I’d take Rosalia by the hand and go visit her immediately. According to Rosalia, that long ending was coming to an end soon.

'A lovey-dovey couple lets the wife be Netorase-d by a powerful man.'

The true ending of that long, long adult game. If the game it was based on was this spicy, wouldn't it ultimately end in a bad ending where the wife is completely taken by the powerful man and the husband becomes a Neto-Maso wreck?

I’d have to ask her once the play was over safely.

I was lost in thought when the professor on the podium spun a roulette wheel several times and adjusted the microphone.

It wasn't entirely random. The professors and instructors sent evaluation criteria to the Academy Dean. The Dean then randomly paired students from different faculties, considering synergy. After balancing them appropriately, they spun the roulette.

Truly, this was a romance fantasy world.

"Attention. I will now announce the group assignments."

The professor’s voice rang out from the podium. The noise in the auditorium died down in an instant.

"This year, as a special measure, upperclassmen will act as mentors and join the camping trip. This is to evaluate leadership."

"Ah, what? If I get stuck with an old-fogey senior, I'm screwed."

"Please, just give me a chill senior...!"

The grumbling of nearby students reached my ears. I rested my chin on my hand, listening to the list blankly.

This year was unique in that seniors were coming along too. The Dean said it would be more fun that way.

I wished I were in the same group as Rosalia. But we were in the same faculty. The chances were low.

I wanted to stay stuck to her. I felt like I had become Rosalia myself.

The names, stripped of all middle names, echoed through the hall.

"Knight Faculty, 1st Year, Karn Mercier."

"Special Faculty, 1st Year, Iris Cromwell."

"Political Faculty, 1st Year, Dekart von Lugria."

"These three. The leader who will command this group is... Magic Faculty, 2nd Year, Veronica."

Silence.

And then, the entire auditorium erupted like a boiling pot.

"Wow, crazy. Look at that lineup... A saintess and the 3rd Prince? First place in this exam is a lock."

"Wait!? I heard Veronica-senpai is a genius at curse magic... isn't she getting constant love calls from the Black Magic Tower?"

"But who is Karn Mercier from the Knight Faculty?"

"No idea. They probably just threw in some nobody to balance things out since they gathered so many high-spec people."

The whispers of unknown students scratched at my eardrums. The lineup was truly breathtaking.

They said upperclassmen would be mentors starting this year. I didn't know who Veronica was, but by the sound of it, she was a quite capable senior.

But more than that, I was sad I wasn't in the same group as Rosalia. My energy drained away instantly. How had I become such a clingy Rosalia-addict?

I turned my gaze toward Rosalia.

"..."

The disappointment of not being in the same group as me. Those rapeseed-yellow eyes, which had been staring only at me even while being sexually harassed by Brandt, were suddenly sunken and dejected.

She was too cute.

I wanted to immediately ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠start a campaign, claiming Dekart had rigged the assignments and demanding they be redone. To think I’d become a Rosalia-loving dog.

I turned my head to look at Dekart, who was sitting arrogantly in front of the podium with his legs crossed. A handsome face, a relaxed attitude. An arrogant prince who treated my woman like a mere hole-filled onahole and, once bored, made a butter-smeared muscle-pig bastard do the cleanup.

Dekart was currently watching the back of Iris Cromwell, the original saintess, with a smile filled with possessiveness. A scheme to isolate her and make her his own.

'Should I try to capture the saintess this time?'

Very impure and cheeky calculations began to spin in my head. The target Dekart was eyeing. A way to take revenge on the guy who treated my precious Rosalia like a toilet. Of course, I wasn't trying to capture her just for revenge.

Feelings that started from pity might be irresponsible, but for some reason, she seemed incredibly desperate. The life she carried was too pitiful to leave alone. My intuition told me she was a sad person.

Memories of our last date bubbled up. Buying her clothes appropriate for her age, her taking a bite of a sweet strawberry shortcake for the first time in her life, and that foolish face of hers, smiling brightly as if she owned the world. A taste similar to Rosalia’s.

She must have lived her whole life suppressed; did she have to miss out on the youth of the Academy, too?

Just then, I made eye contact with Iris Cromwell, who had silver hair and blue eyes. As soon as she spotted me, her face lit up brightly.

Right. I was Iris Cromwell’s first friend. It would be fine for me to step up and help her reclaim her lost youth.

Rosalia. Just this once, bear with it.

The forest behind the old Academy building, shrouded in darkness. A young man with an exotic, faded light-blue martial arts uniform—out of place in this convenient and sophisticated empire of magic technology—walked out of the shadows, his hair tied in a ponytail.

"Still, I didn't expect an opportunity to arise. A job like this should be perfect for the 'Cold Death' master, wouldn't you say?"

The young man’s voice was unique. A high-brow, archaic tone that sounded like it came straight out of a historical drama.

Beyond the darkness, a woman hiding in the shadows replied irritably.

"Tell me about it. Normally, the 'Murim' guy's lot only gets called for mindless labor that requires brute force."

"I would truly prefer it if that fellow stepped up, but I cannot reach him at all. He ignores every mark left on the communication network and every telepathic message."

"He’s gone silent again. Sigh... I wonder if that corpse-fetishist hag finally crossed the River Styx while getting fucked by a rotting corpse."

The woman kicked the dirt floor with her heel, agitated.

"Tsk. I am utterly hopeless at stealthy infiltration."

"Who told you to infiltrate? Just smash everything to pieces like a brute. That’s your specialty, isn't it? Draw the attention of the Academy faculty completely."

"I'll awaken the saintess in the meantime."

"Hmph... truly, do you think that has any chance of realization?"

The young man stroked his chin and asked back, unimpressed.

"It’s enough. The gates of heaven will open. No, they must open. It wouldn't be a bad deal for you either, would it? If you could see a world on a higher dimension... perhaps you might even find a way back to the world you were originally from."

"I'm over that now."

"What?"

"At first, gathering Qi in my Dantian was incredibly stiff and annoying, and there were so many bothersome things that I wanted to go back. But after living here for a while, I find this place much more fun."

The young man tapped the hilt of the sword at his waist.

"There is an abundance of mystery, and the place is crawling with strong warriors. In this world, I shall achieve the Tal-gak (shedding of the shell) that I could not attain in my previous life."

"Ha... you crazy 'Murim' freak. Do as you please. Anyway, hurry up and clear away that dismembered corpse at your feet. You spout all that nonsense about the 'Righteous Path' and 'Chivalry,' yet you've turned a person into minced meat?"

At the young man’s feet, the body of someone who had been an agent of the Empire’s National Intelligence Service was dismembered beyond recognition.

"Hahaha! This fellow challenged me to a duel first! So, no questions asked. It is only proper etiquette to smash him with all my might!"

"What a load of high-sounding bullshit. The neighborhood you lived in, that 'Murim' place or whatever, seems like a much crazier world than this one. You tear people to shreds without a shred of guilt."

"Oh! How can you be so cold-hearted? When an opponent comes at you with all their might, sparing them is the ultimate insult to a martial artist!"

"...You lunatic."

The woman muttered, shuddering.

"Anyway, that 'Aura Sword' of yours from that world gives me goosebumps every time I see it. Condensing your energy so thinly and sharply to slice someone in half."

"This is my path of martial arts, so do not argue about it. Now, when shall we execute the plan?"

"..."

An ominous shadow was slowly, but surely, seeping in.