Yggdrasil (3-33)
The progress through the dungeon was so smooth it bordered on exhilarating.
Since everyone had already experienced the underground sewer dungeon, there wasn't a hint of worry during the advance.
Even I, Han Bom, and Han Yeoreum—this marked our fourth entry combined.
At first, I'd hyperbolicly thought that without monsters, we could navigate it blindfolded.
But I took that back.
Han Yeoreum flailed wildly as a fully restrained opponent and yelled.
"Fuck… Ah, I can't see!"
I snapped at the noisy Han Yeoreum.
"God, you're loud."
"What am I supposed to do when I can't see?!"
Han Yeoreum wasn't acting blind—she truly couldn't see.
A pitch-black blindfold covered her eyes, blocking even the faintest light.
The reason for Han Yeoreum's blindfold was simple.
"Better than bound hands and feet like a slave, right?"
"Fuck! Why the hell do I have to deal with this!?"
"Rapists get choices?"
"Fuck!"
An orange gem still floated above Han Yeoreum's head.
I considered snatching it by hand, but shelved the thought without acting.
No one here wanted that gem anyway.
"Hey, want a gag too?"
"…."
My threatening whisper instantly turned Han Yeoreum blind and mute.
She wasn't wearing the blindfold by consent.
My order.
Previously, binding her hands and feet stemmed from the women's unease and fear of sudden moves.
But it inevitably slowed us, and we had no need to crawl through a fully mapped dungeon.
Hence, the blindfold solution.
Far better for speed than stumbling bound.
Above all, blinded, she couldn't lunge at the women no matter how she thrashed.
"Fuck… There's the command anyway. No need for the blindfold."
"…."
Valid point, actually.
The command enforced compliance, so blinding was optional.
But why would I?
"Why show you consideration?"
"You little…."
"Honestly? I'd gag you, bind you, and dump you in the sewer. So shut up. Got it?"
"…Fuck."
True psycho.
Most would clam up to avoid escalation, yet she spat curses.
Well, this fun's gotta count for something.
Her defiance actually entertained me.
Persistent hostility kept things spicy from my side.
Afterward, we hit a safe zone. Min Hayeon entered and immediately spoke up.
"Alright, everyone eat up, then crash here."
I turned to Han Yeoreum with an order.
"Hey, pitch the tent. Blindfold off till food's done."
"Kah!"
Han Yeoreum ripped off the blindfold, venting pent-up frustration.
Bound limbs sucked too, but vision loss bred terror beyond stuffiness.
Humans prioritize sight above all.
I waved off the relieved Han Yeoreum.
"Hey, blindfold and tent right after eating. No bullshit."
"Fuck…."
Her replies locked on curses now.
We ate swiftly and prepped for bed.
I confirmed all members tented up, then eyed one.
"Hmph."
The woman snorted and ducked inside.
...Mastitis hits, she'll come begging.
Han Yeoreum, watching me and Han Bom, scowled my way.
Oh? Staring?
I approached and ordered.
"Alright, mafia bitch—eyes shut, play dead rat."
"Fucker…."
She cursed but complied, blindfolding before gingerly tent-crawling.
Flailing hands? Comedy gold.
"Fuck… Fuck…."
Endless fucking? Hilarious.
Time for my beauty sleep.
All tented? I followed suit.
..
..
In some ways, my sweetest sleep in ages.
Han Bom first, then two days drained by Min Hayeon, capped by Yang Ji-hyeon.
Yang optional, but "last time?" vibes had me dick-led.
Round and round we go….
"Ah, Uncle asleep?"
"Hweh?"
I groaned some incomprehensible noise, glaring at my waker.
Focusing in near-darkness, I barely ID'd her.
"Han Bom-ssi?"
"Dead asleep, huh… Sorry."
"Nah. Fine."
Clinging to foggy wits, I probed.
"What's up?"
"Uncle… You know why the milk comes out, right?"
"Hm? Y-yeah…?"
Fearing eavesdroppers, I skirted regression.
"Then… Mind making milk promoter?"
"Eh?"
Baffling request.
Han Bom always writhed in agony from mastitis-fueled milk, full of regret.
Sex perks for me, sure—but pain dominated.
"Doesn't hurt?"
"Started this, wanna push max."
"…."
Breast obsession goals.
Expected her thrashing then quitting in rage.
"One coming up. But speak if pain hits. Wrong purpose med."
"Yes."
Rubbing sleepy eyes, list-scanned for promoter.
Han Bom hugged my back mid-search.
"Uncle, am I boring now?"
"Huh? What?"
"…Feels like caught fish treatment."
I flicked her forehead instantly.
Pop.
"Ow!"
"What kinda talk?"
"Ow… Hurts."
Han Bom overacted, rubbing dramatically.
I'd barely knocked.
"Don't say it. Don't think it."
"But that's the vibe…."
"Hmm…."
Whipped up promoter quick, handed it over, pulled her close, lay quiet.
"Dungeon nights—sleep together?"
Right—the chat window.
Channel viewers griped endlessly, as always.
Expected.
They craved cathartic thrashing and showy kills.
Handsome guy effortlessly seducing women, stealing others' girls.
Even stabbed for it? Prime entertainment.
Dying that way? Their circus.
But they got Han Yeoreum's humiliation-NTR mashup, clinging to life stubbornly.
No refresh—just dank, stuffy infinite NTR.
Luckily, most shifted to third-person enjoyment eventually.
Not all, but majority quit whining.
Stuffiness lingered, though.
Han Yeoreum inwardly cursed the viewers.
Fuck… What? Wanna see? Faint? Internal damage? Suicide? Eat shit, fuckers….
She'd already seared Su-ho x Han Bom sex into her brain.
Viewers saw the Waiting Village Min Hayeon x Su-ho scene.
But not Bom's—regression wiped their memories too.
Her exclusive scene now.
Han Bom… Fuck….
That instant, past-loop Han Bom sex replayed vividly.
Han Bom drooling like a perv, Su-ho's underwear in mouth.
Ignoring brother-me beside her, hips bucking wildly.
Prioritizing man over family.
Scenes I'd never imagined witnessing.
I'd pimped her to crush-friends because I trusted her.
Belief she'd never yield to men.
Shattered.
Han Bom… I know…. That fucker did something weird…. Hayeon, you, I'll save us….
Revenge on Su-ho mixed with delusional "love," self-styling as justice.
Min Hayeon or Bom hearing? Street-madman vibes, seizure incoming.
Fuck why's it worsening per loop!?
Regression? Cheat-key beyond hacks.
Accumulate memories, rewind crises, fix.
Yet content regressors suffered miserably—but happy endings.
She banked on that finale.
Endure…. Humiliation? Shame? Fuck it. Su-ho… Kill you and….
Mid-vow, footsteps approached outside the tent.
"…?"
Unknown at first, but chat clued her.
Video: Fucking Han Bom in Ballet Outfit
90,000 Points
Han Yeoreum cursed at the mission.
Retards… Bom do that?
Bom's man-hate peaked at that: leotard-perving on ballerinas.
TV male fantasies? She'd erupt like a volcano, rage everywhere—even with Min Hayeon nearby.
(Fuck, think ballet's for their crotch pleasure?)
(….)
Han Yeoreum flinched then.
Among conquests, ballerinas wore leotards easy.
Most satisfied her eyes and lust.
Anyway… Bom's different. Mild man-hate, but leotard-sex? Pure disgust.
This mission? Annoying, not rage-inducing.
She trusted Bom here.
Viewers spotted her smirk, chat exploded.
Hmph… Probably bathroom. Idiots….
Then—faint, thin: Han Bom's voice pierced her ear.
(Uncle… Asleep?)
"…!"
Normally inaudible, but blind silence sharpened senses.
Han Yeoreum strained toward the voice.
(Asleep? Peek inside first.)
Han Bom tent-entering….
That alone warped her body again.
Fuck… Hah… Bullshit….
Han Yeoreum cursed inwardly but followed calmly.
Time passed; faint Su-ho voice trickled in.
Even sharpened ears? Standard eardrums.
Fuck can't hear… Closer….
Unconsciously kneading her altered crotch with both hands, she slinked barefoot from the filthy sewer—silent to avoid shoe-scrapes.
Chat her sole sight, Han Yeoreum crawled tentward, trembling fury.
Shut up… Just eavesdropping what they say! Think I'm trash like you!?
Body betrayed.
Cells infected with excitement, lust surging bloodstream-wide.
Crawling brought voices creeping in.
"Uncle."
"Yeah?"
Su-ho replied; long pause, then strained Han Bom.
"Uncle… Like girls in ballet outfits?"