Chapter 100: Exclusive Pussy vs Lewd Pussy (4)[R-18]
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 100: Exclusive Pussy vs Lewd Pussy (4)[R-18]
“Can you make condoms out of this material?”
“C-C-Condoms?!? Y-y-you mean... those... things... you use... when... you know...?”
“Is there any other kind of condom besides the ones used for sex?”
“Eek?!”
At Evelyn’s blunt question, Poporing scrambled backward as she answered.
“I... I... well... I’ve never... thought about it...”
“You make and sell all these masturbation toys, yet you’ve never thought about condoms?”
“W-w-what are you saying...!! Those... those aren't... masturbation toys!! That’s... that’s slander!!”
Her mouth agape, Poporing clenched her fists tight.
“F-first of all, the name itself says they're massage machines!! They’re tools made for massaging!! It’s the people who use them in weird ways that are the problem!!! I-I don’t sell things like masturbation toys!”
As a matter of professional pride, she had never once created a ‘magic tool’ for such lewd purposes.
The ‘Vibrating Massager’ was like that, the ‘Vibrator’ was like that, and the ‘High-Precision Suction Device’ was the same!
It was only after making them that she realized they were being used for ‘that purpose’ far more than their intended one...
But the development costs were too high to simply stop selling them.
‘...A-and... the objects themselves are innocent!’
Yes, it was the people who were bad, not the objects.
Even with the same sword, it becomes a holy sword in the hands of a hero and a demonic blade in the hands of a demon king!
Unlike this blonde customer in front of her, that modest pink-haired customer who bought the ‘Vibrating Massager’ would surely never use it for such lewd purposes!
“Hmph! Then why did you put a waterproof function in it?”
“Ugh?! ...T-this might sound like an excuse... but... that’s... just because I sweat a lot... I really didn't make it for that kind of use...”
“Sure, let’s go with that. So, can you make them or not?”
“Uuuuuugh...”
Of course she could.
Poporing was confident that if it were based on skill alone, she would be counted among the top Artificers of her generation; she was only stuck in a hole-in-the-wall shop like this due to bad luck.
But...
“I... I don’t... usually... take commissions... for such... l-l-lewd... things....”
“I thought you needed money?”
─Grumble!!
Right on cue, Poporing’s stomach clock let out a thunderous roar.
“Sob, sob...”
Many people claimed they would rather starve to death than sacrifice their pride, but in Poporing’s view, those people just hadn't been hungry enough yet.
Now that she was truly on the verge of starvation, she just wanted to put something—anything—into her stomach.
“Hic... hic... I... I think... I... need it...”
“Then make them. I’ll pay you handsomely.”
“Yes... sniff... I-I’m sorry... but... then... what size...”
“As big as possible.”
“...Pardon?”
“I said make them big... The small ones don't fit.”
“I-it’s hard if you just say ‘big’... E-even a rough estimate is fine... J-just how...”
Slide─
In response to Poporing’s question, Evelyn held out her forearm.
“...?”
What did it mean to suddenly show her forearm when asked about size?
Was this some kind of joke that a virgin who’d never even dated couldn't understand?
Poporing racked her brain, but she couldn't make sense of it.
‘Ugh.... How did my life end up like this...’
When she was young, she thought she’d have plenty of romances once she became an adult...
She never imagined she’d be living a life where she couldn't even speak to a man properly, let alone date one.
“Sniff... I-I’m sorry... I... I don’t... know what... you mean...”
“No, I mean he’s about this big.”
“.....What?”
Poporing’s face, despite the naturally dark skin of the demon tribe, turned a visible shade of bright red as she looked back and forth between Evelyn’s forearm and Ian’s face.
“N-n-no way... R-really... a p-person... the size of a forearm... exists? T-this... doesn't... seem... like a joke... gulp!”
“What are you muttering to yourself for? Can you not make it?”
“Hic! I-I’m sorry... I... I was just... f-flustered... I think... I can... make it...”
“How long do you think it’ll take?”
“...W-well... I have to re-extract the materials... and making a prototype... costs quite a bit... O-of course... you bought one earlier... but... I have to use that... to pay my back rent... S-so... if you’re making a formal commission... I think... I’ll need... separate research funds... excluding the price of the item...”
“Enough. Just tell me exactly how much you need.”
“J-just a moment!!”
A calculator clicked away in Poporing’s head.
“R-roughly... 300,000 Eris would be...”
“300,000?”
“O-oh, no... about... 270,000 Eris... if I manage somehow...”
In truth, even 300,000 Eris was tight, but she lowered the price as much as possible for fear that Evelyn might cancel the commission.
Snap-!!
At that moment, four 100,000 Eris bills were pulled from Evelyn’s wallet.
“400,000 Eris. It’s a down payment. Have it ready by the next time I come.”
“Y-yes! I will do my absolute best!!”
Clutching the bills with both hands, Poporing bowed at a perfect ninety-degree angle.
Inside the room, where thick curtains blocked the windows, light flooded the space so intensely it was hard to believe it was the middle of the night.
It was the result of gathering every lamp and candle used in the Black Dahlia residence and concentrating them in one spot.
“...That f-fucking bitch.”
However, in contrast to the room that was so bright not a single shadow could be seen, the room’s owner, ‘Estelle Black Dahlia,’ was radiating an atmosphere as dark and black as her hair.
“Die... Delphicia.... Die... just die...”
Estelle spat out negative emotions while incessantly biting her nails.
She had chewed them so much that now, rather than biting nails, she was practically gnawing on raw flesh.
Crunch— crunch—
Every time she bit down, blood seeped from her swollen fingers and a dizzying pain flared up, but Estelle showed no intention of stopping.
“Die... die... hic... d-die... die... Delphicia... just drop dead.... You goddamn bitch...”
If anything, every time the pain surged, she bit her hand even more violently, pouring out curses toward Delphicia.
But....
Droop— droop—
“Die... di... e... d... ie..........”
No matter how much she tried to chase away the drowsiness with bright light and pain, her eyelids were too heavy.
“......!? ...Hah!... Ah!... A.. hic... No!!”
She had only intended to close her eyes for a split second, but she had drifted off.
“Hic...! I-I can’t... fall asleep.... hic... I can’t... sleep... P-please... hic... if I sleep...... A.. ah! Don’t sleep!!..... Don’t sleep... hic... P-please..”
Sobbing while covering her mouth, Estelle picked up a pair of pliers with a trembling hand.
“A... ah... ah... hic... hic!!”
It’s scary.
It hurts.
It’s agonizing.
I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
Imagining the pain to come, tears streamed down Estelle’s cheeks.
...But she had to do it.
“Hic..... Gasp!... Mmph!!”
Estelle stuffed a piece of clothing into her mouth so her screams wouldn't leak out, then gripped a fingernail with the pliers.
Rip—! R-rip—!!
“...Mmph!!!... Mmmph!!!”
Estelle’s eyes flew wide open.
Despite the clothes stuffed in her mouth to stifle the pain, it felt like her teeth were going to shatter.
The pain would be less if she pulled it out all at once, but Estelle pulled the nail as slowly as possible.
“Mmph..!!... Mmmph!!.. Mmph!”
Because the goal wasn't the act of pulling the nail itself, but to wake herself up with the pain.
R-rip—! Clang!
“....Ugh!!”
The pliers hit the floor at the same time the nail came free.
She wanted to scream from the sheer agony, but she couldn't, for fear that her sister Frederica might hear.
She had ordered her never to come near, but...
The kind Frederica would surely be nearby, looking for any excuse to check on her.
“Hic...! Haa...! Haa... haa....”
Still, by pulling out a raw fingernail, she was able to push back the overwhelming drowsiness for a moment.
But she couldn't rest easy yet.
Sleep Desire.
Along with appetite and sexual desire, it was one of the three great human instincts.
The moment she let her guard down, she would surely fall asleep.
Crawling across the floor toward a medicine bottle, Estelle grabbed a handful of stimulants and washed them down with coffee.
Crunch— Gulp— Gulp—
Coffee she hadn't managed to swallow trickled down Estelle’s white neck along with her tears.
My head is fuzzy.
She didn't know how many days it had been since she last slept.
She had taken near-lethal doses of stimulants and drank coffee, but she could feel that she was at her limit.
‘I.. I knew it... I... should have... hurt her more...’
She had to hurt Delphicia, no matter what.
If she had, she wouldn't have to suffer like this now.
No...
That wasn't it.
That was just an excuse.
If only I hadn't thought about conveying my feelings to Ian...
If only I hadn't leaned on Ian’s kindness...
Because I am weak, I ended up hurting everyone.
“Ugh...?!”
As the memory of hurting Ian resurfaced, she felt another surge of nausea.
“Blegh... hic.... Blegh... urgh!”
The contents of her stomach spilled onto her legs, but it was a small mercy that it was only stimulants and coffee.
“Hic...! Ha....!. Hic.. haaa.... hic... I’m.. I’m sorry... I’m sorry...”
An unbearable self-loathing filled Estelle.
She had felt a sense of relief after hearing from Frederica that Ian was safe.
Estelle, who wasn't satisfied with hurting Ian once and had to hurt him again.
Estelle, who should be suffering more than anyone else.
Estelle, who should be paying for her sins.
Estelle, who didn't even have the right to feel relief.
She felt relieved.
She couldn't even use the excuse that she didn't know it would turn out like this.
Didn't I already know that everyone involved with me becomes miserable?
“...Ha... haa... ha... ha.. hic hahahaha!..... I-I’m sorry... for being born... I’m... sorry... for being alive.. I’m sorry... for not being able... to die... hic... hic... waaaaah!”
A dry wail escaped Estelle’s lips.
She knew that even crying like this was a waste of stamina, but she couldn't hold back the tears.
“I... I was wrong!... So...! Hic.... Please..... Please!...”
Droop— droop—
“...Don’t......”
Regardless of her will, Estelle’s eyelids slowly closed.
In her fading consciousness, Estelle thought:
─Cursed bitch.
That phrase she hated hearing so much was the perfect description of her.