Passion Dedicated to Artemis
Ruya, who had been scrutinizing the documents, asked in a puzzled tone, “For Arte? Is that really the workshop’s name?”
“It’s an abbreviation. The full name is Passion Dedicated to Artemis.”
“Too long. More importantly, where is this workshop anyway?”
“The nationality is Korean. From what I’ve heard, they’re a group of artisans who immigrated from the Japanese Empire. According to them, they fled after rebelling against being forced to produce only ugly military equipment. They escaped and sought asylum.”
Disgusted by the simple, practicality-focused designs of military gear, they now operate on the belief that hunter equipment should be made exactly as they wish. By abandoning productivity and high performance in favor of creating only the designs they want, they ended up producing gear with solid mid-tier performance, striking aesthetics, and reasonable prices—excellent value for money.
“The performance really is faithful to the basics, and the design is impressive. The price isn’t exactly cheap, but the design makes it feel worth it.”
“Shall we go with these?” I selected a pair of gloves and greaves whose design I liked and showed them to her. They were products focused solely on durability and shock absorption, with clean, luxurious designs. Though made of silver metal, they were accented with other colored metals in places. The combined price for both was around 270 million.
“But why do the greaves come with shoes attached, and in high-heel form? The heel is thick, sure, but high heels on combat gear? Are the artisans out of their minds?”
“They say they can never compromise on aesthetic reasons. Surprisingly, though, they’re quite popular.”
“I don’t get why female hunters would want this when it’s not just for show… Haah.”
Ruya, who fought on the front lines, might not understand, but the majority of the already scarce female hunters focused more on rear-support missions than direct combat. Perhaps the women working in the rear were looking for equipment that was both pretty and functional as armor.
“Why would you pick something like this when you do close-quarters combat?”
“I’m used to fighting in high heels.”
“Fine, I don’t care. Pick whatever you want.”
“Then these.”
“Thank you.”
Damon’s fearsome face broke into a bright smile as he began drafting the contract. His massive hands, which made the writing instrument look tiny, produced elegant handwriting.
“Please review it.”
We both read the contract he had prepared. Finding it neatly written with no errors, we nodded.
“It looks good.”
“Please sign here.”
I wrote my name where he pointed. Damon carefully stored the contract—signed in Hangul as Elisha Dryvyq—into his bag without wrinkling it, then explained the item pickup process.
“The custom products from For Arte especially recommend visiting the workshop for precise measurements and adjustments. The designs are complex, so it’s necessary. Would you like to visit the workshop?”
“That would be best, wouldn’t it?”
“It’s not cheap, after all. Comfort is the most important thing with equipment.”
“Then please visit the address written here. I’ll contact the workshop in advance.”
He handed over a business card from his case. Beneath the long workshop name—Passion Dedicated to Artemis—was the address. After downing the now-lukewarm coffee in one gulp, he offered a polite bow and left. Once his enormous frame disappeared, the living room seemed noticeably larger.
“Master, the request departs in three days, so let’s get the measurements done right away.”
“Yes.”
As Ruya said, we had a long-term request in three days, so we decided not to waste time. We hailed an aerial taxi, entered the address, and it began moving automatically.
“People from the Japanese Empire often have peculiar personalities. They’ll risk their lives over the strangest things.”
“Like the people at this workshop?”
“The Japanese Empire prohibits and monitors its citizens from seeking asylum abroad. If those artisans had been caught crossing the sea, they would’ve been dragged to the infamous Gunhamdo prison and eventually died.”
“They really did risk their lives to escape. All for the sake of making equipment however they pleased.”
Whether to call it artisan spirit or hopeless stubbornness, I couldn’t decide. The address the taxi arrived at was an old, shabby factory building. Inside the signless structure, a dozen or so middle-aged men were sweating as they worked. When we entered, the man nearest the entrance spotted us and approached.
“You the girls Damon mentioned?”
“Yes, we’re here for precise measurements.”
“Thanks for choosing our products. This way.”
The man, wearing a thick work uniform with a receding hairline, led us deeper inside. The artisans at work only glanced briefly before returning to their tasks. Guiding us into another building within the factory, he opened a worn door, prompting a bespectacled man inside to snap irritably.
“I told you not to disturb me while I’m working!”
“Quit whining. We have valuable customers here for measurements, so get to it.”
“Hm?”
The man, covered in tools hanging from every part of his body, pushed his glasses up and rose from his chair. He narrowed his eyes at us and asked, “Which one of you?”
“Me.”
“What are you waiting for? Take them off.”
“Pardon?”
“This guy never listens no matter how many times I tell him. He means take off your shoes, miss.”
“Ah, my shoes.”
I removed my shoes and placed my feet on the platform as instructed. The bespectacled man began meticulously measuring with a tape measure and other tools.
“Oh my, oh my. Your balance is excellent. Your feet are perfectly straight with no difference between them—beautiful. Your legs are also exceptionally well-formed. Like sculptures.”
He muttered in constant admiration. My body had been modified once by Isabel, then refined again when converted into a full-body prosthesis based on that form. Since it was designed from an existing biological body and then mechanized, its precision was extremely high.
“I’ve never seen such beautiful legs in my life. My artistic spirit is burning.”
As he touched and examined my legs closely, a hint of madness flickered in his eyes. Ruya’s face twisted in alarm. He ran his hands over every inch of my legs, even reaching the inner thighs. Finally, Ruya spoke up.
“Isn’t it inappropriate to touch someone else’s woman so freely? Please be careful.”
“I’m touching for the sake of art. How dare you compare me to perverts?”
“That seems fair.”
Indeed, his touch carried no sexual intent whatsoever—only the careful handling of an artwork. When I sided with him, the man snorted as if it were obvious and continued his work. Ruya approached with a dissatisfied expression and whispered, “Still, don’t offer your body to other men so easily. As Gwangnam’s woman, you should be more cautious.”
“Even you, Ruya? I told you, I’m just his sex partner.”
“Come on, you’re already Gwangnam’s woman and part of our family. Honestly, you don’t dislike it, do you?”
Hmm… Had it been that obvious, even to Ruya? Just as she said, I felt a quiet joy at having gained a new family. Kyubey and Uriel felt more like other versions of myself than family, while Maria, Isabel, and Stella were close but not family. The Abaddon offspring, having grown independently by finding their own hosts, were kin but lacked that familial warmth. Yet Gwangnam and his wives treated me as family without hesitation, even when I showed little reaction. We always ate meals together, they included me in family matters and asked my opinions, and whenever possible, we shared the same bed. Living with such affection, the loneliness I had always felt—even while living with Elisa—began to fade, replaced by a sense of fulfillment.
But I was Elisa’s doll. As a doll, my owner’s will mattered more than my own, so without her permission, I couldn’t become his wife and a complete part of the family.
“You know I can’t be a full member of the family without permission.”
“You don’t need marriage to be family. Our family already considers and accepts Elisha as one of us. All that’s left is for you to acknowledge it.”
“Please give me time to think. And this isn’t the right place to discuss it.”
“Understood.”
The receding-haired man who had brought us was already gone, leaving only the bespectacled artisan, who paid no attention to our conversation. Still, family matters weren’t appropriate to discuss here. Ignoring our exchange entirely, the man, who had been staring intently at my legs, finally spoke.
“Take off your pants.”
“Why my pants?”
“To make it properly, there can’t be even the slightest error. Hurry up.”
“Yes, well.”
Seeing the bespectacled man’s eyes blazing with passion, I felt a flicker of anticipation about how meticulously he would craft the gear. As I bent to remove my pants, Ruya took them from me. She still looked displeased at the idea of me undressing in front of another man.
“Relax your expression. I’m still wearing underwear.”
“Just showing your underwear is embarrassing enough, you know?”
“You expose yourself all the time, so what’s the problem?”
“That’s only when it’s just family. Generally, a woman who exposes herself anywhere is either an exhibitionist or promiscuous.”
“I don’t expose myself just anywhere either.”
Thinking about it, I was surprisingly conservative. Even during my time as an angel and a slave, I always covered my body when going out and never threw myself at others carelessly. Though I had been made into an angel to satisfy men’s desires, I couldn’t quite understand why I hadn’t had as much sex as the other angels.
While we chatted, the man continued measuring meticulously with the tape, recording every detail. Even one leg alone required dozens of measurements, taking considerable time. As he wrapped the tape around my upper thigh near the groin, I asked, “Do you usually measure this many areas?”
“The gear you ordered covers the entire thigh. Naturally, there are many spots to measure. Normally, we leave extra space between the metal parts and the leg, but that makes the components bulkier, preventing fine lines and making everything look thick and unattractive!”
His tone started calm but grew louder as irritation crept in. Yet his precise, unwavering hand movements tolerated no error.
“We can’t ruin such premium materials with clumsy gear. Do you think I crossed the sea risking my life for nothing? It’s all for the revival of beautiful metal armor in the modern age.”
“I see.”
He was starting to seem a little frightening. Ruya had moved far away, openly grimacing. After measuring both my legs, he compared the records with my body, furrowing his brow.
“Your legs match perfectly, down to the last millimeter. Even the skin contours and bone angles are identical. Are you some kind of artificially cultured human from an incubator? How is this possible?”
It sounded like a question, but it was more of a mutter to himself. He seemed uninterested in my answer, poking at my lower body with his pen here and there for confirmation before speaking again.
“Your pelvis is incredibly wide. Even with such thick thighs, there’s plenty of space between them. This way, I can fill the inner thighs with metal too.”
“Now that you mention it, why is your pelvis so wide? Is there a reason?”
“I’m not sure. I just ended up with this body somehow…”
Isabel had probably designed this skeletal structure. What had she said? Something about making a frame that suited God’s tastes? Perhaps this was his preference. He had seemed to like it when we first met, too.