Sweet Ranch's Happy Milk Cows - 3

A short while later, videos capturing the daily life at Sweet Ranch began to appear online.

There was no dedicated video editor, and there wasn't even money to hire one now. Yu Gayeon's workload had increased. An official Sweet Ranch Nutyube account was created. Every employee flashed a bright smile whenever a camera approached. For a brief moment, they could dream. If someone showed interest in Sweet Ranch milk in any way, maybe they'd think, 'So, what's this milk they made like that taste like?' If it came down to a taste test, Sweet Ranch milk wouldn't lose to any milk in the world.

Two weeks passed like that.

"Hoo…."

Yu Gayeon stared blankly at the Nutyube screen. The most-viewed video had around 100 views. Most didn't exceed 30 to 50. Considering some of those were views from company employees, there was effectively no promotional effect.

"It ended up like this, after all."

She had expected it. Countless companies tried to promote themselves on Nutyube. Without proper staff or investment, squeezing in among them couldn't yield good results. At the very least, they'd need a hundred—no, a thousand times more views to achieve the promotional impact Yu Gayeon wanted.

She had failed.

'Is there anything more I can do….'

She might have to swallow her pride and cling to her connections—old friends—begging, 'Please, just give me one chance to promote this milk.' It wouldn't help much, though. Or take a part-time job in another lab, dive into research unrelated to Yu Gayeon, and earn money right away. If Yu Gayeon, who handled most of the ranch work, disappeared, the ranch would collapse—but without money now, she'd have to shut down the business anyway.

The most rational, logical choice hadn't changed from before or now. Just give up on the business. She'd rack up a lot of debt, but focusing on other research for a few years would pay it off easily. Yu Gayeon was a genius. Research for money would make debt a non-issue. But the moment she poured her time into that, she couldn't pursue her dream.

"Ha."

With great effort, she turned off the computer and returned to her room to sleep quietly.

The next day arrived.

"Mm…."

After waking up, showering, and eating breakfast, Yu Gayeon checked the Nutyube account with vain hope.

"Huh?"

Something had blown up. Videos that had only a few hundred views yesterday had multiplied by hundreds. The views were still climbing.

"What… is this…."

Yu Gayeon flashed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a bright smile for a moment, but she froze in shock at the comments on the video.

Most were malicious. Denouncing Yu Gayeon, demanding the immediate shutdown of this shameless ranch.

"What the hell happened?"

Yu Gayeon quickly grasped the situation. She scoured the news and communities. Then she understood.

"This is…."

Fortunately, it wasn't a complaint targeting Sweet Ranch. Becoming a sex slave of the Superior Race and receiving their seed was a core value driving this society. Most sex slave training camps were legitimate institutions. Compared to before the Great Purification, they weren't much different from monasteries. Places isolated from society gathered those with deep faith—loyalty to the Superior Race—trained them in sexual techniques and submission.

But closed groups bred crime, then and now. Abusing "prospective sex slaves" out of loyalty to the Superior Race or personal desire was common. But this one was large-scale. Hundreds of prospective sex slaves. All phones confiscated to prevent leaks, prison-like bars and security to stop escapes.

Too many people were angry. And not all of them were smart. Yu Gayeon was "Mr. Yoo." At her ranch, they enlarged breasts via body modification and used drugs to enable women to produce milk. People ignorant of the facts targeted Sweet Ranch's Nutyube account, yelling, "This is that place in the news!" Enraged masses flooded it with malicious comments.

Of course, the baseless misunderstanding didn't last. The criminal facility got no media protection; Mr. Yoo's identity, the camp's location, name, and scale leaked everywhere. Corrections appeared quickly. But the public didn't easily admit being wrong. They didn't want to say, "We misunderstood. Our mistake. Sorry."

This was an incident where even Sermore Rishian of the Superior Race took a hardline stance, declaring, "If similar facilities are operating, I'll visit and handle them personally." Organizations resembling the culprit group would face massive audits.

"Ah."

Yu Gayeon realized. Her ranch had become famous. In a way she never wanted.

/////

"Ha…."

I let out a deep sigh.

"What a mess again."

From my perspective, the Resistance wasn't the real threat to Korea right now. Sure, they built antisocial networks and deceived people, but they were too small. Mostly cell-based, not causing much societal harm. Their root ideology—"Drive out the aliens and make a world for humans only!"—was delusional, but few acted on such twisted thoughts with terrorism or crime.

But those committing trash acts in the name of loyalty to me? They were dangerous. That's what truly harmed society. Some claimed uncensoring all media would turn every woman into a mentally deflowered outcast rejected by the Superior Race. They acted like purging "immoral" videos, comics, or novels was noble. Some bosses, under the guise of "doing your best for the Superior Race," forced overtime or withheld wages. When women protested, they'd snap, "You fucking Resistance? Questioning money when we're working for Lord Rishian?"

Objectively, the ratio of villains might not differ much. Oaths of loyalty and submission to the Superior Race outnumbered rebel cries. Still, it didn't change my displeasure. Societal trash was inevitable, but them peddling it in my name? Hard to stomach.

"We're truly sorry!"

A police officer knelt before me. He looked of age, with plenty of insignia on his hat—high-ranking, probably.

"No need for apologies. Have you arrested everyone from that camp?"

"Yes! All evidence collected. Not one will escape!"

Trust no one. Just as criminals imprisoned and modified people "for the Superior Race," cops might arrest without proper investigation "because the Superior Race wants punishment."

"Investigate thoroughly so no innocents suffer. Don't grab the wrong people!"

"Understood!"

"Handling the incident site matters, but check again for similar hidden groups. If external pressure worries you or intel's unclear, leave it to me."

No need for excessive pressure. They worshipped the Superior Race. Me glaring among them was divine wrath to them. Whether I wanted it or not, some would think blood sacrifices were needed to appease the Superior Race's anger. Not what I desired. Criminals get fitting punishment; victims get aid. No need for my direct involvement unless essential.

'But….'

Serving the Superior Race was this world's basic ethic. Many sacrificed themselves for it; more thought sacrificing others was fine. A powerful figure might be involved. Then I'd step in and clean up.

"We can handle most. But one ambiguous group the police can't easily touch…."

"Where?"

"Sweet Ranch. They take women, modify bodies to enlarge breasts, inject drugs for milk production, and sell it."

Gruesome tale.

"Never heard of it."

"They haven't sold product yet. Personally suspicious, but no prisoners, no complaints—hard for police to raid."

"Not a crime?"

"Modifications consensual; milkers are full-time employees. Unsure how the milk plant operates."

"Hm."

"Owner's Dr. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Yu Gayeon—famous, so calls saying 'She's not the type.' Hard to tell if lobbying to cover crimes."

"Good."

I smiled faintly.

"I'll go myself."

If they couldn't handle it, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I'd do it. My eyes would see the truth.