Three-Way Meeting
"I'll be back, so keep an eye on the house."
"Yes. Have a safe trip."
The imperial side had arranged a meeting with their envoy, and as promised earlier to Tier, she and I were heading out alone. Daphne and Plang followed us to the front gate to see us off, smiling and waving at my words.
Though Nangkangi's little mishap had caused some heartache, Daphne had realized that in a household swarming with women she'd call wives—whether they bore her children or Undine's—it was a loss to herself to dwell on it sullenly. Free of worry, she greeted me with a full smile. As for Plang, if sex had once been just a game of pleasure for her, the recent nighttime ambush seemed to have sparked some mental growth—or perhaps puberty was kicking in. Her face flushed red like my hair, peeking over Daphne's shoulder with just her eyes showing, tail wagging gently to wish us a safe return.
With that unfamiliar side of Plang at our backs, Tier and I turned and headed off to meet the imperial envoy, making our way first to the dwarf Haron.
"Plang... do you think her memories are coming back?"
"Hm... well, it feels less like memories returning and more like growth. We'll have to watch and see."
"Yeah... I'd prefer it if it's growth."
Chewing over Plang's changed demeanor as a conversation topic, Tier smacked her lips and spoke. I tilted my head, eyeing her with puzzlement.
"Why? Wouldn't memories coming back be easier? Growth means it'll improve gradually from here, but we'll have to keep worrying about her constantly in the meantime."
"Well... if it changed all at once, it'd feel awkward... and not like Plang at all..."
Perhaps from all their bickering, a deep bond had formed between the two who clashed most at home. Tier was voicing her wish for Plang's condition to improve steadily without drastic shifts. A sudden positive turn for Plang meant no more headaches from her thick-headed antics—I let out a sigh of relief. But memories of drugging her to sleep for my conquests made sweat bead on my brow.
Still, with her horn gone, and that species trait where aptitude shatters so badly it's still talked about... no need to worry too much.
Isn't this just like those medical drama clichés? Massive trauma, vegetative state beyond saving, then the protagonist's tearful care and whispers of love bring vital signs flickering back—eyes snapping open, fingers twitching.
Yeah. If it were memories resurfacing, she'd be trembling and overwhelmed by a flood of recollections, not acting all shy like a pubescent girl.
Weighing whether to smash her remaining horn for my future peace and the household's, I compared her behavior to those killer drama tropes from the real world. Her current actions grew clearer, and I nodded, firming my resolve.
No point fretting now—it won't solve anything. She's improving with good care, so we'll just keep watching.
Curious what charms a pubescent Plang might have, I chuckled idly. Tier, catching my smile for some reason, seemed cheered too—her tail wagging as she followed. With that, we quickened our pace toward Haron's forge.
+++
"Old man!"
"Ex, excuse me..."
Familiar now after several visits, I kicked open the front gate and strode into the forge. For Tier, meeting the guild master—a big shot in his own right—still tensed her up. Voice shaky, she scurried behind me. Like a nervous pup entering new territory.
Still in her tank top and breezy activewear, but she'd dressed up a bit for the imperial envoy and Haron—less her usual ragged assassin vibe, more formal rogue or classic thief archetype. Clutching my sleeve hem, glancing warily side to side—it looked awkward, but to me who knew her well, it suited her perfectly and was utterly adorable.
At a glance, she sometimes seems more kid-like than Plang. Weird.
Was there some mysterious link between nerds and thick-heads? I smirked. Coaxing and soothing Tier, we proceeded slowly—until.
Sniff. Sniff.
Tier's sudden nose sounds hit my ears, and my senses—spread for any threats—picked up Haron plus others. I smirked, reaching the reception room door and flinging it open.
Inside, the familiar dwarf geezer aside, a man sat opposite him.
He's sharp...
Sitting across from Haron meant he was high-ranking enough for wyvern deals and eggs—an imperial heavyweight. Yet he looked twenties, like me. In this world, twenties usually meant first-rate scrubs at best, unless special like my girls. But this young guy radiated peak superb realm entry—my eyes widened instinctively.
Thinking of Tier's group at similar strength, he had to be another five-star character.
Didn't expect another high-tier here...
Interest piqued, I strode forward unhesitatingly and plopped into the empty chair prepared for me.
"Pleased to meet you. I'm adventurer Berg. From the East, so I'm clueless on local etiquette—forgive me there."
Calmly speaking, I let slip just a hint of my unimaginable superb realm pinnacle aura, staring him down. He'd come to meet a top-tower climber, not some young punk sharing his table—he'd frowned. But sensing my power instantly, he straightened.
"Hm, I didn't expect someone so young either, so I misspoke rudely. I'm Griham Reinhardt, son of Count Reinhardt of the border marches. Call me Griham."
In a world where manifest realm like the Heavenly Demon was peak human achievement, tasting a fragment of my twenties pinnacle superb aura—yet he smiled calmly, introduced himself steadily, eyes gleaming as he sized me up. I nodded inwardly, smirking.
Quick on the uptake, good pivot... Noble education shows in his poise. Not bad.
This world was otaku-fied, far from gritty medieval, but locals' knowledge depth screamed authenticity—Unlike my exceptional non-human women, street mobs were Plang-level idiots, grating endlessly. Finally, a cultured high-rank who might converse properly—my smile warmed naturally.
"This little shit. Why bother with manners now, you prick? You spat casual barbs at me, older than Griham."
"Nah, how could I treat a rundown geezer guild master the same as someone like Griham here, destined to shine? Sigh... no common sense."
"Y-you...!"
"Tsk. Tsk."
Laying verbal smackdown on the still-springy Haron, Griham—catching that our guild master-adventurer tie ran deeper, with his own investments in me—leaned forward, eyes intrigued, and spoke.