Chapter 391
Chapter 391
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Travel Preparations (14)
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****
“Here?”
“Yeah. A gathering of the wasteland's top tough guys, a place to healthily burn off their innate violence!”
The headquarters wasn't far away. Outskirts of the Dome. Close enough that the heavy machine guns rattling from the mutant defense line echoed faintly in the distance.
“Keuheheh, not bad, right?”
“...Where?”
At first glance, at least, nothing about the place struck me as even remotely “not bad.”
A rundown, dilapidated three-story commercial building.
It had a square 'ㅁ'-shaped layout with an empty space in the middle—your typical old academy building style. No way it was newly built; it looked like they'd just bought the existing structure and skipped any renovations.
A massive metal sign reading [BDSM] had been crudely welded up front, already streaked with red rust.
Thick steel plates half-covered the windows for cover. Barbed wire wrapped every drainpipe and climbable spot. Up on the roof sat a heavy machine gun turret next to some unidentified mutant head impaled on a long pole.
“...You guys raising war boys in here or what?”
No matter where you looked, it screamed “scavenger den”—the perfect BDSM headquarters.
“Kuhuhu~ Home sweet home! The more I look, the more I love it! It's exactly the hideout of my dreams!”
...I'd forgotten. This guy, despite being loaded since forever under the alias “Spice Shop,” had been crashing on a mattress under a single blanket amid the dust of a collapsed bowling alley.
Having money didn't mean he lived right. With his left brain pickled in cigarette smoke and his right in gunpowder fumes, no way was this lunatic's crew anything resembling normal when he was calling the shots!
“Earlier you were nagging me to spend some cash? Said I needed to learn how? Is this what you call learned? Hey! What the hell did you learn and from who? Did you get scammed by a private tutor or something!”
“You idiot! That's just your dog eyes not recognizing luxury! Look up on that roof! Know how much that mounted head cost? It's a masterpiece crafted by preservation experts and taxidermy artisans—doesn't rot, weathers naturally in rain, wind, sandstorms. That's our monument, our trophy! Enemy heads are the true warrior's symbol!”
“Aigoo, my head... Oh man, aigoo, my head...”
My mistake. I shouldn't have come to him—should've made him come to me.
Chatting here would turn volunteering into a pyramid scheme, Christmas into a strategic sales blitz.
“Vex... gone?”
“Yeah. Packed her up pretty while you were out cold and sent her off. She'll be back soon—where you wanna meet?”
“...Somewhere clean. At least no dust when I sit.”
“Hm, the bathroom?”
“Fuck you, Lord.”
Creaaaaak—
Should've known better than to expect anything from this guy.
Luckily, I didn't need Ian's guidance to know where to go.
One hallway stood out amid the mess of dust, gravel, spent casings, and food wrappers—polished to a shine like it'd been cut from another world.
Clear divide: the apocalypse pyromaniac uncle's personal zone versus the normal folks' path.
The greasy, gunpowder, metal-stinking side was for the metalhead crew handling vehicle bays, fuel depots, ammo dumps, armories.
The other—cleaned beyond tidy, almost hotel-lobby level—was proof even BDSM had sane people.
No mystery who did it. Only one guy around here cleans with precision-stacked crates.
'Thank you, Lord! For blessing me with Vex! At least you balance the trolling!'
Vex respected Ian's tastes but couldn't stand leaving her path dirty.
The waxed-clean corridor led to signs of life soon enough.
“Hey—rich boss man! Made it quick!”
“Didn't expect you'd drop the full amount upfront! Thanks a ton! I'll put it to good use!”
In the lobby gleaming like new, troopers stripped off their dusty fatigues and dove into gun imports.
“Called ahead to Old Man Woojin. Turns out his crew's been holding the rat bastards in check. Old fart boiled his train boiler or something—cursed up a storm loud enough to ring my ears. Coming over with their docs to check patients.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Cowering locals huddled in corners, fear-stricken, or wrapped in blankets with vacant stares—localized mutation victims.
Finally.
From deeper in the hall, an odd sound. Never heard in real life, but familiar from the game. The sharp *shing-shing* of a blade slicing air in an instant.
“Oh, right. Him too?”
Thousand Stream Emperor. Come to think of it, we'd crossed paths with the guy slicing mutants like tofu in Sector 45 during ops. He'd spotted the BDSM flag, declared “Gotta see Professor,” and hopped in a ride without a word.
Then, when he heard I wasn't around, he hunkered down at HQ to wait.
That razor-edge *shing* confirmed it.
“Thousand Stream Emperor. Rabbit. And me...”
“Hm? Hang on—broadcast rankings 1, 2, and 3 all in one spot? Ah, that's why you called? Game stuff to talk?”
“...Yeah.”
Current #1, ‘professor's’ broadcast [Professor's Live Game Life (Real Death)]
#2, ‘Rabbit Princess's’ [Rabbit Princess's Another Hop!]
Former #3, now #15 ‘Thousand Stream Emperor's’ [.]
The three rumored best at GG in the wasteland, together.
...Also—unknown to outsiders—the three ‘completion candidates’ handpicked by Gedroits, the wasteland's architect.
‘Coincidence?’
Nah. I'd called Rabbit, sure—but Thousand Stream Emperor joined BDSM on sight, stuck around specifically to see me.
Whatever came next wouldn't be purely game talk.
Save/load. Community ops and admin access—Rabbit's haul.
Super-sensory training program, part of military ops like Orpheus or Zeus—Thousand Stream Emperor's.
Me. Professor with GG time dilation control.
Different prizes, same goal—different motives, guaranteed.
“...This'll be fun.”
At least the coming chat wouldn't be boring.
****
Vroooom—!
Alert from the perimeter guard about a guest—I stepped out.
Screeeeech!
The vehicle skidded in, laying rubber like a stunt driver.
Flutter!
Bright yellow body gleaming, rose petals scattering from the open window.
“Horse and flowers?”
“Aaah, I nail anything I set my mind to, don't I? Lucky they had both in stock.”
Emerging alongside Vex's godawful driving.
A yellow sports car stuffed with fake rose petals.
Black horse logo emblazoned on the hood.
“Ferrari! Kuhuhu, pure wild stallion vibes!”
“A sports car surviving to this era?”
“When WW3 rumors flew, you think the rich hid expensive rides or cheap ones? Some chaebol stashing a Damas in a bunker?”
“Huh... Makes sense?”
“Kuhuhuhu! Pretty well-preserved for rarity value. What's money for if not hoarding stuff like this?”
“Dome's been strapped lately, auctioning off bits. This was official Dome auction—old money started Dome in mega-bunkers to screw the next gen. Still got tons hidden. Snagged it first bid.”
Yup. Ian took my joke—“send her on a horse with flowers”—literally: suited-up Vex in a rose-filled Ferrari.
“Annyeong~!”
Rabbit's bouncy voice rang extra bright—customer highly satisfied.
“How much? Looks solid.”
“Cheap? Yelled ‘METAL JO BIDDING!!!!’ first—nobody after.”
Lunatic scared off rivals.
Mid-chatter, Vex finally parked without crashing and stepped out.
“Ba-bump, ba, brake, fi-find, car launches, fires...!”
“Yeah, bit wild for newbie drivers like you. But that lady seemed thrilled?”
“No need to say! Ferrari in the wasteland—mind blown! Honestly touched, Desmond!”
Flutter!
Clack-clack!
Fake roses flew between the upward-swing doors, stylish-yet-not-gaudy heels stepping through the petals.
“Dressed up a bit—okay? No dress code, right?”
“E-even if there was, we'd adjust to you.”
Black heels, tasteful red dress hugging curves without strain. Flowing waves highlighted feminine lines perfectly—Rabbit knew exactly how to wear it.
‘...She commands the room just by being here.’
Beyond pretty or hot—pure presence dominating with poise and looks alone.
Some call it charm; at this level, “charisma” fits better.
World Clear clearly no land grab.
Edging closer with guarded welcome—
...Clack.
Another heel from the back seat.
“Cough cough. Rabbit, this outfit's a bit...”
“Inconvenience! Dana, the comfiest state is buck-naked breathing! Yet we rise, move, do stuff every morning—why?”
“This is different—”
“Because! That inconvenience holds value worth enduring!!! Come on, our pretty Dana-yang? Grumbling wrinkles that cute face—hurry out~? Imagine those three doofuses' faces!”
“Uuuuugh...”
Clack.
Behind the updo red-dress beauty, a white dress emerged.
Fiddling uncomfortably with the airy hem. Pale skin making light makeup pop, especially the red lips.
‘Ambushed!’
Tension? Wariness? Bracing for mind games?
All melted like salted slugs before ‘fully armored Dana Elishia Hyacinth's’ dazzle.
“Professor? Blinding, right—even to you?”
“Y-yeah, uh, Dana, what brings you...”
“What brings me? Whaaat brings meee~?”
Clacking heels closed in on my dumb question; manicured finger poked my chest.
“What! Told you we're close! Came home alone after overnight? Scolded her~ Date got too serious and fizzled awkward~ Dana blames herself for dragging in weird Light Church kids~ Boyfriend meanwhile gallivants!”
“Ugh.”
“After that? Should've dashed over at dawn piggyback-style! Instead calls me to his psycho den? I wanted to carve ‘I'm a moron cuck’ on your forehead on sight!”
“But.... Packaging too pretty. So double-date with Vex, finish yesterday's business. Good job? Your guys friends, us girls friends—double date fine? Learn-by-watching bonus.”
“Y-yeah, uh.... sure...?”
Totally Rabbit's pace. Try to think straight—white dress curves tease through thin fabric, blush creeps on pale cheeks, head bows cloud-like....
Smack!
“Snap out of it, idiot. You're the boss—keep some dignity.”
“Ugh, th-thanks...”
Ian walloped my skull back to reality.
“Let's head in. Awkward standing out here.”
“Yeah? Vex~ Grab me!”
Host-me beckons; Rabbit summons Vex like a pro, strides in. BDSM's end-times vibe oddly charming around her and Vex.
Slightly—
Dana slips her arm in mine.
“A bit... weird?”
“Hm? N-no! Not at all! So dazzling I can't even look... uh... great.”
‘Pretty’ too ticklish to say.
“Yeah?”
Gaining confidence, she presses closer.
Damn. Heart hurts. Natural beauty full-armored? Way past my limits.
Walking in felt like floating on clouds.
Bouncy.
Fluffy.
I admit. Round 1 total wipeout to Rabbit.
She brought Dana to snag momentum, won't let go easy.
‘Gotta get inside fast.’
Lucky break: inside waited her polar opposite, planted firm.
A man honed like a blade.
Thousand Stream Emperor.
‘Saved by the tough guy!’
Hadn't seen his face, but warming to him fast.
****