Lilith Ashtarte (2)
"...I'm fucking tired, you know?"
"Cut the bullshit and sit your ass down."
I smacked my lips as I looked at Lilith saying that.
Then, as I roughly sat facing her, squeezing into the cramped space, she patted the spot next to her with a tap-tap.
"I said cut the bullshit, so why the fuck are you still bitching? Stop moping over there and sit here."
She shifted her hips to make room, and as I obediently perched on the edge of the bed, Lilith cracked open a beer can and handed it to me.
"So, what's your take on the job after trying it out?"
My take, huh...
"Wasn't bad. Felt good. Made a shit-ton of money."
"Yeah?"
She nodded at my words and chugged her beer.
She downed the whole can in one go, casually set it aside, and looked at me.
I could see myself reflected in her blood-red eyes, a stark contrast to her black hair.
"But why the hell do you look like someone killed your dog? You said it felt good and you made bank. Isn't that what you wanted?"
"Well... yeah."
"Yeah, I get the gist."
As I trailed off, Lilith grabbed a handful of the snacks she'd torn open and shoved them into her mouth. Crunch, crunch.
Crumbs scattered all over the bed like it was nothing, and it was driving me fucking nuts. I stared at the mess on the sheets for a while until Lilith finally spoke up.
"You know what the most common reason dispensers quit is?"
"...Dunno? They think they're gonna keel over dead?"
"Right, that's the top one. There are just way too many bitches who are too much to handle. Honestly, supply still can't keep up with demand even now. But we can't just grab any random fucker and say 'hey, be a dispenser.' It's a real headache..."
"Really? Feels like word gets out and everyone would line up for it."
"Sure, they'd come running. Those bitches aren't bad-looking, after all. Not as hot as me, though. But nah, that won't work. Random assholes can't even last a day anyway. They get cocky, don't know their place, and end up skin and bones in the hospital after one go."
Lilith snorted derisively. Sure, Eileya and Mumungmumung were beauties, but they paled next to Lilith—that much was true.
Still, her shamelessness in saying it out loud was almost admirable. Learning that dispensers were selected under stricter standards than I thought left me with a weird feeling. Made sense, though—I'd been milked ten times in an hour on my first day. No average stud could last a full day.
"Anyway, yeah, that's number one like you said. But number two... that's guys who quit after shit like what you went through today."
What I went through today.
...Right. Mumungmumung.
"...You knew?"
"Kinda had to, since your first client was that slime bitch Mumungmumung. Slimes go nuts for cum mostly when they're knocked up or about to be. When I heard you'd been dragged off to her right when she was getting antsy, I figured something like this might happen."
Click. She cracked open another beer, and I did the same with the one she'd given me before taking a swig.
It was cold.
Somehow, it calmed me down a bit.
Lilith watched me quietly for a moment, then spoke.
"What can you do? That's just how their species rolls. Reality is reality. And it ain't even your kid for real. You heard that much, right?"
"Kinda."
She nodded.
"Makes it easier to explain, then. Slimes are just built that way, apparently. They seduce males from other races to knock 'em up and drain their essence. But the kids born from that? No relation to the dad at all."
As she rummaged for more snacks, she clicked her tongue and snapped her fingers. A fresh bag of snacks dropped right next to her with a thud.
She tore it open and continued.
"Even if you peel it open like this, the kid's got zero blood from the male. It's like the snacks inside are totally different from the packaging. But you could get the wrong idea. Hell yeah, it's natural. You rip open a bag expecting snacks, or a guy creampies a pussy and a kid pops out—obvious it's his, right? Most species work that way. But not them. It's really not. When I first heard that shit, I was floored. But what can you do? That's how it is."
Foo-ha. She chugged another beer and went on.
"But here's the fucked-up part—harpies or mermaids are different from slimes. Those bitches pop out kids that look just like the dad. Except they end up identical to the mom anyway—pure harpies or mermaids, no hybrids or whatever. Basically no different from slimes, but they have the balls to make 'em look like the father anyway."
As she grabbed another snack, she glanced at me and crooked her finger.
"What?"
I approached, and she said,
"Eat some fucking snacks."
She shoved one right into my mouth out of nowhere. I stared at her in disbelief, but she ignored it completely.
"Anyway, that's why it happens sometimes. Dudes get attached to the kid, thinking it's theirs. Makes sense—the kid looks just like them, and they fucked the mom silly. But their species are wired totally different. Emotions and all."
That's where the disconnect hits, Lilith said.
"They've got mothers and kids, but no such thing as fathers. One dispenser shows up out of nowhere to some species like that and tells the kid, 'I'm your dad.' Guess what happened to him?"
I thought for a second.
Answer was obvious.
"...Probably didn't end well."
"Bingo. From their side, it's like some stud they bought for seed shows up claiming rights to their kid. No father concept means they've got insane maternal instincts. And now some random fuck—basically a stranger—approaches their baby?"
Shit hit the fan. The dispenser just wanted to hold the kid, but the harpy mom attacked him.
Happens yesterday, today, probably tomorrow too.
Just another everyday incident in this mess—that's the story Lilith told me.
"You didn't know. Of course you didn't. We never told you. You didn't ask. Hate that shit, tried talking it out to change things, but even when words got through, some stuff just doesn't budge. Can't fix what can't be fixed."
Different cultures.
Different histories.
Above all, different species.
The gaps that create.
"In the end, it's all on us. We tried our best, but it was sloppy as hell. Structure made it inevitable. Those so-called heads, the twenty-two heroes? Bunch of muscle-headed idiots who knew fuck-all about politics, all different species. We got called heroes 'cause we couldn't stand the chaos of everyone killing each other in some clusterfuck war, bumped into each other, and teamed up. We had power, though. Raw strength. It worked somehow. But it didn't really."
All muscle, no brains.
She swung her legs back and forth as she spoke.
"Harmony, equality—fucking beautiful words. Equality where there ain't none, mixing what can't mix. Telling different species to understand each other. And if you complain? They twist your arm a bit. Back then, we thought force would do it. Dumbasses overflowing with power figured everyone would live happily ever after. What idiots."
"...You drunk?"
"Me? Hell no?"
She smirked, still swinging her legs.
Looked drunk as fuck to me.
"...Anyway, what I'm saying is."
She scratched her head.
"Don't sweat their shit—it'll just bite you in the ass. I get why, since I know your deal. But wrong is wrong."
I gave a wry smile at her knowing my situation. Made sense—the papers she gave me had all the dirt.
Plus, she wouldn't have offered to make me her son outta nowhere if she didn't know I was an orphan.
"So you came here to tell me this? To cheer me up?"
"Nah, not that."
???
Not to cheer me up?
I stared at her, and she giggled at my look. Maybe the beer, or her flushed cheeks, but she looked adorable right then.
A crazy succubus queen who claims she's a virgin despite who-knows-how-many years old.
Still, she looked cute as hell.
"What do you think I came for?"
She flashed a playful smile like any girl her apparent age. Looks-wise, yeah, she could pull off cute.
I pondered her question.
Not for comfort... then why the hell come to this shoebox and spill crumbs all over my bed? She gonna clean up?
No clue.
"...Beats me."
"For real?"
She leaned in close.
"You really, really have no idea?"
"......"
I blinked at her sudden closeness, and she burst out laughing.
"Guess I'm not the drunk one—you are. Your face is beet red."
"...Whatever. Just spit out why you're here."
She shrugged.
"You went at it hard with Mumungmumung, right? Means you got drained a ton. Came to check that out."
So...
Level Drain. The Jotaechang thing she told me to call it.
That's why?
"...Well, also kinda checking on you."
She turned away and chugged her beer. Her ear tips were bright red.
I know this one.
Tsundere, right?
She did come to comfort me.
I couldn't help but smile at her. Something tickled in my chest, making me grin.
"What? Why the laugh?"
"Nah, nothing. Really."
Nothing at all.
Just...
"Feels right making you my mom. Rich and sweet—best combo."
"...The fuck?"
She glared daggers, swinging her legs like she was embarrassed, and I chuckled.
"Wah, baby Kang Hanjo here. Mama Lilith. Gimme titty."
"Wanna die?"
Real killing intent. I shut up.
How many cans in? As we polished off the beers she'd brought, something hit me.
"...Hey, Mom. Got a question."
"What? Say something weird and you're dead. 'Mama'? That shit creeped me out."
I hesitated. Was this weird? Seemed fine.
"How old are you, Mom?"
Looks early 20s. Maybe younger. But no way she's that young. She had this seasoned vibe.
Body screamed 20s, words had depth, but her antics were like a bratty kid. No clue on her age. At least older than me, since she adopted me. Still, curiosity killed the cat.
Shouldn't a son know his mom's age?
"...Yeah, you wanna die for real."
???
She snapped her fingers again.
No snack bag this time—dozens of beer cans materialized.
"Don't wanna die? Drink 'em all. Then maybe I'll let it slide."
Her smile was the scariest shit yet.