The Nameless Serpent's Bargain
The bedroom of Yang Ha-yeon, the cherished daughter and successor of the Wonju Yang Family, existed on an entirely different plane from the quarters where the maids resided. The ceiling stretched high, and thin silk curtains softly filtered the morning light that slipped between the windows. Embedded in one wall was a gate byproduct—a finely crafted wind-attribute magic stone that constantly circulated fresh air throughout the room. The carpet underfoot was so plush it swallowed bare soles, while the bed was far too large for a single occupant and the sheets so exquisite that even the lightest brush revealed their superior quality.
On that bed, Kang Ha-ri lay naked and tangled with Ha-yeon. One of Ha-yeon's hands gripped Ha-ri's hair tightly. The other lifted and spread the soft flesh of Ha-ri's inner left thigh. In that exposed position, Ha-yeon pressed her own pussy flush against Ha-ri's and rubbed with slow, relentless insistence. Wet, slick sounds accompanied every glide of flesh on flesh. Heat bloomed in Ha-ri's lower belly; her hips kept slipping across the sheets. Ha-yeon leaned closer, increasing the contact, her trained thighs and taut abdomen pinning Ha-ri firmly beneath her. Rough breaths escaped through lips pressed tight, as though she refused to let any sound slip free.
"Ah, aah⋯⋯."
A trembling moan spilled from Ha-ri's lips. Ha-yeon's face remained nearly expressionless, as always. Yet up close, though her eyes were coldly sunken, the pupils beneath her lashes quivered with minute tremors, and beads of sweat had formed along the column of her throat.
The successor of the Wonju Yang Family—a woman who permitted not a single crack in her armor. A woman who must always stand straight, always be correct, always be stronger than anyone else. If her method of relieving stress was dragging a maid into her bed, it was almost tame. No one would believe it if told. That she would embrace a powerless maid—one incapable of cultivating internal energy—and rub her pussy against her with such hunger. Even if they did believe it, the response would be predictable: How dare you forget your place and complain? Shouldn't you consider it an honor that someone like you is even allowed to dirty the young lady's bed?
Ha-yeon's waist gave a short, sharp shudder.
"Nngh⋯⋯!"
A fractured sound escaped from deep in her throat. Tension coiled tight where their pussies pressed together, and the fingers gripping Ha-ri's thigh dug in harder. Ha-yeon paused for a moment, then exhaled a long, trembling breath. In that same instant, Ha-ri reached her peak as well, her lower belly clenching hard. Her hips bucked once before falling limply back. Slick fluids glistened between their bodies.
A short while later, Ha-yeon disentangled herself first. She rose from the bed without hesitation and reached for her clothes. Her trained body held almost no unnecessary flesh, yet the line from shoulder to waist and the elegant curve of her hips still proclaimed her femininity. Long, straight black hair fell neatly down her back, gleaming with a heavy, ink-like luster when it caught the light.
Ha-ri remained on the bed, legs still half-spread, catching her breath. Ha-yeon glanced down at her once. The lust that had burned in her face had already vanished, replaced by her usual cool, indifferent mask.
"⋯⋯Change the sheets and clean everything up."
It was a short, dry command. Ha-ri sat up and bowed her head.
"⋯⋯Yes, miss."
With that, Ha-yeon tightened her belt, retrieved her outer robe from the chair, and left the room without a backward glance. Once the door closed, only the lingering heat of their bodies and the thick, humid scent of mingled fluids remained.
Ha-ri sat dazed on the bed for a moment before slowly lowering her gaze. The sheets were soaked with the evidence of what she and Ha-yeon had done. Sticky nectar still trickled thinly down her inner thighs. She wiped it away with her fingers. Her expression stayed neutral, but her thoughts were anything but. She couldn't tell whether the sensation had felt good, painful, or simply familiar. The one thing she knew for certain was that she could never speak of any of this to another soul.
With practiced movements, Ha-ri stripped the sheets. She replaced the soiled linen with fresh ones, smoothed every corner with crisp precision, and rearranged the scattered pillows. Finally, she wiped the floor and even cleaned the faint stains on the bedposts with a damp cloth. By the time she finished, every trace of what had happened had been erased. As if nothing had occurred at all.
After leaving the room, Ha-ri was immediately assigned to other chores. The Wonju Yang Family estate resembled a small fortress. The front courtyard, annex buildings, training grounds, warehouses, servant quarters, and guest pavilions were all strictly divided. The deeper one went, the more restricted the spaces became. Yet how many people bothered to notice a pebble lying in the road? Occupying the lowest position in the household allowed Ha-ri to observe the family's inner workings more intimately than anyone else.
She was hurrying down a corridor when a low, rough male voice stopped her.
"Hey, you. Maid."
Ha-ri halted and turned. One of the martial artists from the Wonju Yang Family's Red Peak Unit stood there. He appeared to be in his mid-to-late twenties. Broad shoulders and a body honed by training and real combat, yet he lacked the easy confidence of a superior. His low rank was obvious in both his eyes and his tone.
Ha-ri bowed at the waist.
"You called, warrior?"
Instead of answering, he shoved an armful of martial uniforms at her. The stench of blood, mud, and sweat hit her immediately. She caught them reflexively; their considerable weight dragged down her arms.
"Wash them thoroughly. These clothes are worth more than a dozen lives like yours."
The crude mockery landed without inflection. Ha-ri's expression didn't flicker. She was used to it—too used to it for the words to even register as an insult anymore. The uniforms in her arms were no ordinary fabric. They were the Red Peak Unit's standard issue, crafted from monster hide harvested from gates, finely refined magic stone powder, and special mineral fibers. Light yet durable, they could deflect blades and impacts to a degree while facilitating smooth internal energy flow. A powerless like Ha-ri could sell every organ she possessed and still never afford even one.
When Ha-ri quietly answered, "Understood," the warrior snorted with laughter.
"Listen to her talk. Let's hope those hands of yours are just as quick."
Another warrior nearby chimed in.
"Isn't that the one who attends the young lady?"
"Yeah. Lucky bitch. Face isn't bad either."
"What does a pretty face matter? She's still powerless."
Cruel chuckles followed. Ha-ri lowered her head further and slipped away. Arguing was pointless. Men like these didn't want her replies—they simply wanted to see how much she could endure.
The laundry area lay near the right wall of the estate. It would have been convenient if automatic washing machines existed, but those were reserved for single households. Such devices stole jobs from countless people and were therefore considered monstrous. Ha-ri filled a large basin with water, added detergent, and began unfolding the uniforms one by one. The smell of blood rose. Human blood and monster blood carried distinctly different scents. Today's load leaned heavily toward the latter. They must have returned from a gate recently.
While examining the slash marks and torn seams, Ha-ri's fingers paused. Thin, dried green mucus overlapped with dark brown scabs. A green skin, perhaps? Or some other low-grade monster? She could only guess. Such matters belonged to the warriors. A maid's job was simply to clean what was dirty and pass anything needing repair to the appropriate staff.
Dipping the fabric in and out of the water, Ha-ri moved her hands mechanically. Her wrists ached and her fingers had gone numb from the cold, but she could not stop. These garments had been entrusted to her by the warriors. And after this came errands for the apothecary, sweeping the courtyard, preparing tea, and whatever other tasks anyone might demand. A maid's day was never leisurely.
Some time later, once the uniforms hung clean on the drying racks, Ha-ri headed toward the training grounds. A servant had asked her to bring water on the way.
In the open-air training area on one side of the estate, warriors of the Wonju Yang Family had gathered. The ground was packed hard, and wooden targets and iron dummies lined the edges. At the center stood Yang Ha-yeon. She drew her sword from its sheath; not even the faintest metallic whisper could be heard. Yet the tremor that followed in the air was unmistakable. The wind lingering in the training yard suddenly shifted direction. A faint current spiraled outward with Ha-yeon at its center.
She held the blade level, then swung it with what appeared to be almost no effort. Far away, one of the wooden targets split cleanly in two a moment later.
"Whoa, so that's real sword wind?"
"Exactly. She isn't projecting sword energy—she's launching the wind itself. Leaves almost no sound behind."
"If you got ambushed by that, even an advanced master would start the fight at a disadvantage."
"No wonder the Wonju Yang Family has reigned over the Gangwon region for over a thousand years."
The surrounding warriors murmured in awe, but Yang Ha-yeon remained indifferent, as if she hadn't heard them. Or perhaps she had, but considered their praise unworthy of attention. To her, this was not a talent worthy of praise but the bare minimum expected.
Only direct descendants of the Wonju Yang Family could inherit their divine supreme art, Heavenly Wind Ridge. By absorbing and refining the vital energy carried on the fierce winds that roared across the Taebaek Mountains, they could command everything from gentle breezes to world-shattering typhoons.
Ha-ri, whose education had been limited to basic maid training, understood none of the theory. She only knew, bone-deep, that the woman standing there inhabited a completely different world from her own.
Ha-ri waited near the entrance to the training grounds, water bottle in hand. She had not been invited inside, yet she had not been driven away either. That familiar boundary—visible, yet expected to act as though she were invisible.
Yang Ha-yeon lowered her sword and tilted her head slightly.
"You."
A curt summons instead of a name. Ha-ri bowed immediately.
"Yes, miss."
"Water."
Ha-ri hurried forward and offered the bottle. Ha-yeon accepted it, tilting her head back. Her throat worked as she drank. A single droplet traced the line of her jaw. Though it was the same face Ha-ri had seen in the bedroom earlier, the Ha-yeon standing here now seemed impossibly distant. The thought almost made Ha-ri smile at her own foolishness. Of course she was unreachable. She always had been.
That was when a short, sharp alarm rang across the entire estate. Once, twice, three times. An emergency signal at precise intervals. The atmosphere in the training grounds changed instantly. The playful admiration vanished from the warriors' faces. Some sprinted toward their equipment while others pulled out their communication tablets to check the situation.
Ha-ri recognized the tone immediately. A gate had opened.
Ha-yeon returned the water bottle and asked curtly, "Where?"
A nearby warrior ran up and reported, "Chiak Mountain, miss. A fissure has been detected at the ruins of an abandoned temple."
Ha-yeon wasted no time. "How many personnel can we mobilize immediately?"
"Three platoons from the combat units."
"Personnel for on-site control?"
"Including the reserve checkpoint, roughly two squads."
Ha-yeon nodded and issued orders. "Take only one platoon. Assign the servants in two-squad units."
"Yes!"
Her gaze then fell on Ha-ri.
"Come with us."
"Understood."
Ha-ri answered at once. Even in gate incidents, warriors were not the only ones mobilized. They needed people to carry supplies, attend to injured or exhausted fighters, and operate the byproduct preservation devices. Most of that labor fell to the servants.
Preparations moved like lightning. Crates poured out of the warehouses. Warriors donned coats and gloves over their standard uniforms and gathered their weapons. While they armed themselves, servants loaded preservation boxes, medicine chests, water barrels, and emergency rations. Ha-ri worked alongside the other maids, transferring equipment into the vehicles.
The large van carrying the combat unit was already idling, its magic-stone engine emitting a low vibration. The rugged, gate-response vehicle had a reinforced chassis and impact-dampening windows. The servants were practically shoved like luggage into another vehicle loaded with equipment. Cramped shoulder-to-shoulder in the narrow seats, one of the servants across from Ha-ri sighed.
"Another mountain⋯⋯."
"Chiak Mountain has terrible roads too."
"This one will be small, right? Please let it be small."
Despite the muttering, no one sounded optimistic. Gates always carried variables. What looked like a minor rift could suddenly vomit hordes of monsters, or a seemingly ordinary type could contain a maddened ruler.
Through the window, Ha-ri watched Ha-yeon walk toward a separately prepared sedan. The driver opened the door and she climbed in without hesitation. Such treatment was natural for the successor and field commander.
The convoy soon left the estate. Once they passed the city outskirts, the road grew steeper and the mountain's shadow deepened. Beyond the modern pavement, guardrails, and scattered utility poles rose the massive spine of high peaks, boulders, and dense forest. When a gate opened on Chiak Mountain, the terrain often favored monsters over humans. Limited visibility made ambushes easy, and the natural features became the enemy's allies.
By the time they reached the site, temporary checkpoints and cordons had already been established. The Yang Family's banner fluttered in the wind—the emblem depicting the high winds that roared across the Taebaek Mountains. Their vehicles passed through without challenge.
When Ha-ri stepped out, a chilly mountain breeze brushed her cheek. The scene was already chaotic. Beyond the cordon floated a black fissure that looked as though space itself had been torn open. Its edges rippled, and its depths swallowed light completely. Simply looking at it made her dizzy.
The moment Ha-yeon exited her car, she approached a waiting warrior.
"Situation?"
The warrior reported swiftly. "Orcs and goblins have poured out of the gate and abducted nearby residents."
Another warrior continued, "Women for breeding, men for slavery or sacrifice. They've even taken children and elders they would normally kill and eat."
Ha-yeon's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Orcs and goblins. Remnants of the Nameless Cannibal, I suppose. A common gate. The ruler is likely at least a troll, possibly an ogre."
The warrior beside her nodded. "Better than an earth-mother deity gate. Those yield better rewards but are far more troublesome."
"Twenty-three years ago, a snake goddess gate appeared. It was connected to Medusa, if I remember correctly. We barely survived that one."
"Not only was the air itself poisonous, but the ruler possessed petrifying eyes, didn't it?"
"Chiak Mountain has always been known for its snakes. There's no telling when another gate of that type might appear."
Ha-ri listened silently from behind. Earth-mother deities. Snake goddesses. Medusa. Topics that had nothing to do with her—knowledge exchanged only among warriors. Nothing a maid needed to know. Yet for some reason, the word snake lingered in her ears.
The warriors quickly organized their formation—those who would enter the gate and those who would maintain a perimeter outside. The servants would wait beyond the gate and enter only after the warriors had slain the monsters and ruler, carrying the preservation devices.
Ha-yeon adjusted her grip on her sword hilt and commanded, "We enter."
The warriors vanished into the gate as though swallowed. Not much time seemed to pass before the barrier inside the gate shuddered violently. At first, those waiting outside assumed the entry team was returning. But what emerged next was not human.
A massive, greenish-brown body. Thick neck, protruding lower tusks, and a heavy iron weapon in its hand. An orc. And not just one. Goblins poured out behind it, scrambling across the ground.
"What the hell?! What about the people who went inside?!"
One of the perimeter warriors cried out in shock.
"They crossed paths!" another shouted. "The bastards must have been lying in wait just inside the entrance and slipped past the young lady's group!"
"That's impossible! The young lady can read the flow of the air around her—she couldn't possibly miss an ambush—"
"We don't have time to analyze it! Stop them!"
Shouts erupted as battle broke out. But the warriors left outside were fewer than the monsters. Most were also lower-ranked than the main entry team. One orc's iron mace crushed a warrior's skull. Another snatched a spear and twisted its owner's neck with a sickening crack. Goblins shrieked and scattered in every direction, charging the servants.
Screams tore through the mountain air.
"Run!"
"Help—"
"Aaaaagh!"
Preservation devices rolled across the ground. Shattered medicine bottles released pungent odors. One fleeing maid was grabbed by the ankle and dragged down. Goblins swarmed over her, tearing at her clothes. A warrior sliced through two goblins with his blade, only to be split vertically by an orc's axe. Blood sprayed like a fountain.
Ha-ri stumbled backward. Her breath caught in her throat. The sight of people being torn apart, screaming, violated, slammed into her. She was a maid. A powerless one at that. She knew no martial arts and had no combat training. She turned to flee toward the mountain path when a massive shadow blocked her way.
It was an orc. The creature stood a head and a half taller than her, with shoulders as wide as a door. Its yellow eyes raked over her body. A lewd grin spread across its face. It clearly did not intend to kill her immediately. It would rape her first—then either drag her into the gate as breeding stock or devour her afterward.
Ha-ri felt her legs freeze. Was her life truly going to end here, like this?
Resignation rose in her throat. At that exact moment, something white moved at the edge of her vision. Small. White. Slender.
Ha-ri turned her head. Between a gap in the rocks and an overturned equipment crate, in the middle of the carnage, lay a pure white snake. It was so small she might have stepped on it without noticing, yet its presence was strangely distinct. Most of all, its eyes. They were not the eyes of a beast. Cold, intelligent—more human than human.
And then a voice rang inside her head.
Ha-ri could not even breathe. The orc took a step closer. A rough hand reached for her. Yet her gaze remained fixed on the white snake.
The voice resonating in her skull belonged to a woman. Calm, serene, and carrying a resonance that did not allow for refusal. Though the sudden phenomenon should have terrified her, Ha-ri understood instantly. This was no hallucination. If she did not reach out now, it would all end.
I don't want to die like this.
Instinctively, Ha-ri extended her hand. As her trembling fingertips cut through the air, the white snake sprang from the ground like a released arrow. Cold scales wrapped around her forearm. The slender, flexible body coiled around her left arm in an instant. A sensation like a white-hot needle scraping her skin followed, and the snake sank beneath her flesh.
"Nngh—!"
A short cry escaped her. The snake's form imprinted itself on her arm like a tattoo. At the same time, something hot and cold coiled in the empty space below her belly. An alien feeling, as though an organ that had never existed before had suddenly formed inside her. Goosebumps raced from the base of her spine to the nape of her neck.
The orc's hand was nearly upon her.
The serpent coiled inside her whispered.
Ha-ri drew in a sharp breath. Even an uneducated maid could sense the change. Something inside her was writhing, awakening. An unfamiliar, dangerous power that was not human. Yet it whispered that she could use it right now.
The instant the orc tried to seize her shoulder, Ha-ri grabbed its wrist first.