Chapter 60
Chapter 60
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 60
Chapter Title: A Bit of Rest (5)
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Turning my back to Zirnier, I sat down on the small chair that Unit 1 and Unit 2 had brought over.
Carefully, I removed my helmet.
The air felt refreshingly clean, like it had been ages since I'd last breathed it in.
Well, it wasn't that refreshing, honestly.
The air, thoroughly baked by the massive heat pouring from the forge, was stiflingly hot and stuffy.
But now, without the helmet muffling things, a strange scent wafted subtly from behind me.
My sense of smell sharpened, and I immediately recognized what it was.
Zirnier's body scent.
She really was a blacksmith through and through.
There was a faint metallic tang from swinging the hammer just moments ago.
But overpowering it was the thick, musky aroma unique to a sweat-soaked female, drifting up and chasing away the smell of iron.
Even a superhuman body can feel the forge's insane heat, huh.
As I mused on that, I sensed movement from behind.
Zirnier approached and squatted down on a backless chair just like mine.
She was much closer than I'd expected. If I leaned back even a little, my back would touch her.
And her body was scorching hot, giving me the illusion that I was warming my back by a hearth fire.
"Alright, then. I'm touching you now?"
Zirnier said in her usual flat tone.
She's probably just not interested in anything but weapons and armor. Zero romance for her.
An explorer and a blacksmith. Perfect business partners.
"Sure."
I nodded lightly, and her hands reached around from behind into my view.
At a glance, they looked incredibly rough.
Callused, scarred from old burns, hands forged from countless hammer strikes and relentless effort—the mark of a master artisan.
Tap.
Yet even those masterful hands were still just a woman's. The touch on my cheek was softer than I'd imagined.
Her palms, resting warmly on both cheeks, felt like hot packs rubbed vigorously on a winter day.
"Lifting up now."
"Okay."
Her fingers gently traced my skin upward from my cheeks toward my brow.
Smooth—
The warm hands cupped my eyelids like hot packs. My vision naturally darkened.
Only faint slivers of light slipped through her fingers, and with my eyes covered, my nose grew even more sensitive to her scent.
...This feels weirdly erotic.
Touching my cheeks hadn't fazed me at all, but now that my sight was blocked, it suddenly felt intensely stimulating.
"...Hmm..."
I heard Zirnier's thoughtful hum, laced with hesitation.
Click. Clack. Click!
The mechanical arm trio whirred noisily as they moved.
Rub. Rub. Wiggle—
Her hands fidgeted slightly over my eyelids.
To think she can check the wearer's field of view with something this simple.
It was only possible because it was Zirnier. What other blacksmith could pull off this level of precision?
Rub. Rub rub—
"......"
The touching dragged on a bit, probably because it was such delicate work.
Rub rub rub—
Her hands, starting from my cheeks, moved up over my eyelids and brow, pressing my temples, forehead, and crown.
Then they slid back down, tracing my nose bridge and stroking my jawline.
"Zirnier. This is..."
"...Hold still and don't open your mouth for a sec. Let me focus."
She spoke with utmost seriousness.
Right. Can't interrupt a craftsman's work.
I silently endured her touch for what felt like ages.
Zirnier's hands—rough and callused yet softly feminine—caressed every inch of my face without missing a spot.
Smooth—
Her index and middle fingers pressed firmly along the philtrum.
"Pfft."
The situation struck me as absurdly funny, and a laugh slipped out unbidden. An old memory flashed back.
Never thought I'd get my face touched like this by any woman but my little sister.
But that thought didn't last.
My tiny chuckle triggered an avalanche. It shattered Zirnier's deep focus.
Squish.
"Mmph."
Her fingers slipped past my lips into my mouth.
Freeze.
The hand that had been roaming my face halted abruptly.
I felt her fingers on my tongue.
Undeniable accident. Total disaster.
Zirnier was as flustered as I was, and I reflexively clamped my mouth shut.
Meaning I'd lightly nipped her finger.
"Eek!"
Schlop!
A sharp yelp rang out as her hand yanked free from my mouth in an instant.
"A-Are you okay?!"
I started to turn around on instinct.
Grab.
Zirnier gripped my head firmly. I froze, unable to turn even halfway.
"...I-I'm fine, so no need to look! S-Sorry. First time doing this, so..."
"N-No, my fault..."
She'd been relying purely on tactile feedback, so mishaps like this were bound to happen.
And though my carelessness caused it, she acted like it was her mistake.
Artisan pride, maybe. Who knows.
"...Alright, touching more."
She showed her resolve to push on despite the fiasco, prioritizing the work.
Incredible work ethic. I nodded in admiration.
Squish.
Her fingers resumed pressing across my face.
In the corner of my vision, I saw them tracing my philtrum again.
I tried not to think about it, but that disastrous moment replayed vividly.
It was a little salty.
All that sweat from the forge, probably. The texture rolling over my tongue lingered fresh in my mind.
That ambiguous sensation—neither quite touch nor taste—floated persistently in my head.
Squish.
Her index and middle fingers pressed down on my upper and lower lips.
"Th-This is essential for mapping the exact position of the mouth opening."
"Ah, got it."
She hadn't even explained, but she justified it preemptively.
Now that she'd said it, there was no room for hesitation.
Zirnier obsessively prodded, stroked, and tapped around my lips for a good twelve minutes, committing the feel to memory.
"Mm, okay! Got a rough sketch now. Put your helmet back on. Use the spare here while I fix yours."
Finally done. I hadn't even done anything, but I felt drained.
I donned the spare helmet she handed me—no special features—and stood from the chair.
Turning around, I saw Zirnier looking perfectly composed. Her mask hid any expression.
She was tightly wrapping her right index finger with her left hand.
The one that had been in my mouth. (Not that I sucked it or anything—don't get the wrong idea.)
"R-Really okay?"
What I meant was obvious. She squeezed her finger harder and replied calmly.
"Huh? Me? Oh, yeah. Fine. Totally fine, right, Unit 1?"
Click click. Clack. Creak!
The mechanical arm trio twisted their forearms and fingers into knots among themselves.
What was that? Malfunction?
Thwack! Zirnier kicked the trio into the corner.
"Fixing the helmet and forging the axe won't take long. The axe frame's already hammered out—just need to embed that Minotaur soulstone you gave me for the details."
So she said. I set an appointment for three days later and bowed politely to her.
"Thank you. I don't have much to offer, but when you swing by the inn later, I'll pour you some dwarven brew."
"Hmph. How'd you know I like that stuff?"
"You always chug it every time, so I figured."
"Heh. You've got an eye for more than just weapons, eh? Fine. I'll drop by soon—keep that glass clean."
She chuckled dryly and waved me off dismissively. Time to go.
I left the underground workshop under Unit 1's guidance.
Outside, customers still wore dazed expressions.
They looked like they wanted to complain about how long they'd waited—longer than me.
"Thanks for hanging in there~"
What're you gonna do about it? If it bugs you, build better connections.
I really owe Diana a ton.
Zirnier replayed the lingering sensation on her fingertip.
The firm yet rough lips, the soft tongue... sticky saliva...
For some reason, the finger that had entered his mouth itched.
Unthinkingly, her nose drifted toward it.
If she had to make an excuse, it was pure artisan curiosity.
Sniff sniff. The faint minty scent surprised her. Good personal hygiene, unexpectedly.
But more than that, there was a ticklish aroma stirring deep in her lower belly.
...What is this?
Not quite as satisfying as completing a masterpiece she'd rank among her life's best.
But a similar shiver raced from her gut to the tips of her breasts.
"Hic..."
Overwhelmed by the unfamiliar, oddly pleasant sensation, her legs trembled as she slumped into the chair. Her waist felt strangely weak.
The moment she sensed something off, she yanked her finger away from her nose. This was dangerous. She couldn't sniff it anymore.
...Why's my mind going there?
She shook her head vigorously, dispelling the faint trace of his scent.
Then she focused on work.
Staring at her first creation, the Great Helm, she sought areas for improvement.
But to do that, she had to recall the feel of his face under her hands.
From crown to chin, she reconstructed the unseen facial contours purely from tactile memory.
His exposed forearms, sleeved short, were covered in scratches and scars—she'd assumed his face matched.
Surprisingly, no such marks. His skin felt surprisingly good, and calculating the field of view from brow, between-eyes ratio...
His features were surprisingly well-proportioned too.
Small face, high nose bridge, sharp jawline—even a smaller helmet size would...
Hmm...
Sniff. Sniiiiif.
Unconsciously, she buried her nose against the index finger that had pressed his tongue and soaked in saliva, lost in thought.
Most people couldn't infer a face from this much data.
But not Zirnier, one of the Labyrinth City's top artisans.
"Won't be exact... but I can sketch the rough outline..."
Zing—
Visualizing his face forming in her mind amplified the prickling from her chest.
Her sweat-soaked breasts, wrapped in bandages, twitched at the sensation.
After pondering with a flushed face for a while, a former comrade crossed her mind unbidden.
"Ha."
Ah, that explained it. Why she'd suddenly hired and raised that uninterested part-timer.
"That bitch Diana... she set me up?"
I'd wrapped up a big task early in the morning.
Next, I headed to the Explorer's Union for my schedule.
Ignoring the oddly clingy stares around me, I went straight to the training room and spotted Edelbert practicing alone.
His healthy, sun-kissed skin and near-perfect, soft-yet-firm physique.
And the shocking leotard outfit precariously hugging the epitome of softness—his chest and hips.
I still couldn't get used to him, no matter how many times I saw.
"You're here, my disciple. Tough expedition in the Labyrinth?"
"Yes. Thanks for worrying, Master."
"Prepare for sparring. I'm curious how much you've improved."
Edelbert beckoned me with a flick of his hand.
Master... even with that emotionless expression...
Isn't it a bit much to demand sex right after seeing your disciple back from a near-death ordeal...?