Hangover Soup Is Basic for a Proper Dwarf Wife!
“A proper dwarf wife takes care of her husband's hangover—it's basic.”
“Th-this is-! Idol d-dance... hic! Like thiiiis!!”
Elma started stuffing the intro into her mouth.
“Bbaam-bbaam! Bbaam-! Doo-doo-doong-!”
A bizarre song that ignored pitch and rhythm entirely. Then she began bouncing her body up and down. It seemed like that trendy idol dance these days. Sexy. Coquettish movements. ...Or so she probably imagined.
“Bbaam! Bbaam! Yahhh!”
But reality was harsh. A 90cm adorable little frame. Breasts and hips that were overly developed for her size. And stiff joints from lack of exercise. She tried to wave her hips. Only her soft, chubby tummy jiggled. She tilted her upper body side to side. Only her ample bosom swayed.
“Wh-what do you thiiink! I'm super... hic... sexy, riiiight?!”
“Pfft...”
Her eyes were meant to be fatally alluring. Even an ambitious wink. But to me, it just looked like a hamster flailing after falling in water.
She popped her butt in the choreography. Jiggle. Jiggle. Her plump, chewy cheeks bounced tautly. Sexy? Not at all. Just pathetic. Tiny. And insanely cute.
“Ahahaha!”
In the end, I burst out laughing.
“You're doing great, my Elma!”
“Riiiight! I could even deeebut!”
Elma's moves got even bigger in her excitement. She lifted a leg and even tried a kick. Wobble. Wobble. Huh? That looks kinda dangerous?
“Heeere we gooo! Finale!”
Elma spun around in a circle. Right as she tried to bend her knees stylishly for the finish.
Her blackout-drunk legs wouldn't obey. Stagger.
“Wha-wha?”
“Elma!”
Her body tilted out over the table. I flung myself forward in a panic.
I caught the falling Elma. Thud!
“Uuuu...”
She collapsed on top of me like she was tackling. Her face buried into my chest.
“You okay? Hurt anywhere?!”
I stroked her back in shock, checking her over. The little head in my arms wriggled.
She slowly lifted her face.
“Heehee...”
She grinned drunkenly. Her face still flushed from the booze. Good. She wasn't hurt.
“You scared me. Why'd you climb on the table all of a sudden?”
“Honeyyy...”
Elma rubbed her cheek against my chest. Her tongue was twice as slurred as before. Her eyes drooped endlessly. The sudden movement must've spiked her buzz.
“Did I... do gooood...?”
“Yeah. You were amazing. I thought you were a real idol.”
“Riiiight...? I daaance so gooood... hic...”
“You were so cute I was going insane.”
Elma giggled dopily. Then she wrapped her arms tight around my neck. Whoosh—a wave of alcohol breath hit me. Mixed with her scent, even that was sweet.
“Gimme a priiiize...”
“What prize?”
Mwah. Elma puckered her lips.
“Kiiiiss meee...”
Her eyes half-lidded. Just her lips sticking out. Like a kid desperate for love. How could I not adore her like this?
I cupped the back of her head. Pressed my lips to hers.
Mwah.
“Mmm...”
A light peck. But maybe it wasn't enough for Elma. She licked at my lips and sucked them in. Tongues tangled, booze flowing between us. We devoured each other's mouths for a good while.
“Phaa...”
Elma pulled back, breathless. A thin string stretched between our lips. She grinned all blissed-out.
“Yesssh... kiiiissing my hoooney...”
Thud. Her head dropped. Buried right back into my chest.
“So waaarm heeere...”
“Sleepy?”
“Yeeah... so sleeeepy...”
The tension drained from Elma's body. Her little shoulders rose and fell. Soon, soft, even breaths leaked out.
“Hnn... hmmm...”
She was out. I chuckled wryly and patted her back. Small and sturdy. Gently, like soothing a baby.
“Good job, guest performer.”
The festival's finale. A magnificent stage you couldn't see anywhere else.
Thanks to this seductive, lovable hamster asleep in my arms.
“You'll catch a cold sleeping here.”
Night had deepened. The night breeze from the AC was pretty chilly. I carefully scooped up sleeping Elma. One hand under her butt. The other around her back. A hefty presence.
“Uuum... festival... meeeat...”
Even her sleep-talk was pure Elma.
“Yeah, yeah. I'll grill more for you tomorrow.”
I started walking. Toward our nest, where Neukdori awaited.
Light bulbs fading behind us. Our private festival. And my lovely wife.
Tonight, I could fall asleep feeling especially good.
The next morning.
I opened my eyes. My joints ached from the hangover. But my mood was refreshed anyway. Thanks to the small, sturdy warmth in my arms.
“Uun...”
The little lump nestled against me. Elma groaned miserably. She wriggled, face smooshed into my chest. The blanket pulled up to her head.
“Elma. You up?”
“......”
No answer. But I knew. Her breaths were quivering faintly.
She remembers everything.
Last night's madness. The great, renowned, respected... anyway, genius professor's idol debut stage. The jiggling butt and mysterious song. She must want to burrow into the blanket right now.
Whoosh. The blanket slid down a bit. A little crown of her head peeked out, then almond eyes.
Our eyes met.
Flinch. Her shoulders jumped.
“Sleep well?”
I pretended not to know, asking gently.
Elma's pupils shook like an earthquake. I could practically hear the gears turning in her head.
“U, uu...”
She clutched her forehead and groaned.
“H-honey. My head hurts so much.”
“That's what you get for drinking the hard stuff like that.”
“What'd I do yesterday? Uu, my mind's totally blank. I don't remember a thing.”
Pure acting. Like hell she didn't remember. She was on the verge of dying from shame.
Proof? Her little ears poking through her hair. Burning like a thermometer. Steam about to pour out any second.
What to do with this cute professor. Mischief bubbled up.
“You really don't remember?”
“Y-yeah! Nothing at all! N-not a single thing!”
Elma nodded desperately. I sighed deeply on purpose.
“Haa... I knew this would happen.”
“Wha...? Why, what's wrong?”
She peeked at me anxiously.
“Yesterday, Elma made me a huge promise.”
“A p-promise? Me? Wh-what promise?”
“You really don't remember? You said you'd serve me every morning in a bunny girl outfit from now on.”
“......!”
Elma's mouth gaped open. Of course, she'd never made such a promise. She knew it was a lie too.
Now, how would she react?
“......”
She bit her lip. Then bowed her head. Her little hand tugged at my collar tight.
“Elma?”
Her head lifted slowly. Wet almond eyes.
“Honey...”
“Yeah.”
“Do you... wanna see me... in a bunny girl outfit?”
My heart plummeted. Even knowing it was a joke, she'd taken it as 'cause my husband wants to see it.' Her lips even twitched. Clearly happy about my desire.
This bundle of complexes. This little woman desperate for love.
“Th-then...”
Elma gripped harder. Her voice trembled.
“From now on... I'll do it. Bunny girl.”
“......”
“I can make one quick... I'll put it on right now and do it. If that's what you want.”
I'm losing it. How can she be this cute and heartbreaking?
“Ahahaha!”
I couldn't hold back and burst out laughing. I pulled Elma into a tight hug.
“Kyaa...! H-honey?”
“Just kidding. Kidding.”
Holding her close, I peppered her crown with kisses.
“J-just kidding?”
“Yeah. You pretending not to remember was too cute.”
“Wha...?”
Whoosh. Elma's face flushed twice as red. Shame and grievance mixed.
“Y-you bad honey!”
She started pounding my chest. It didn't hurt. Just sulky affection.
“It's fun teasing people?! Do you know how much I was stressing?!”
“Sorry. You were too pretty.”
“Pretty my ass! You planned to mess with me!”
Elma puffed her cheeks in a huff. I stretched those cheeks with both hands.
“For real. Your dancing yesterday was the prettiest in the world, and trying to grant my request just now was the absolute best.”
“Uuu...”
Praise bombardment. A miracle drug for our low self-esteem professor. Elma stopped resisting and rubbed her forehead against my chest.
“Seriously... you toy with my heart like that... You don't do this to other girls, right?”
“Don't worry. You're the only woman for me.”
“Heehee...”
I patted her back. Soft, chewy skin. The satisfaction of her fitting perfectly in my arms. Happiness density rising from morning.
That was when.
“But you do want it, right?”
Elma whispered in my ear, lips brushing close. Hot breath tickled my earlobe.
“The bunny girl...”
“......?”
“I'll do it for you... later at night.”
Seductive whisper. Her chewy thigh rubbed slyly between my legs.
Gulp. She strikes when you're off guard.
“Looking forward to it.”
“Heehee. Get ready.”
Elma sat up. With a victorious smile.
Stagger. But she hadn't taken a few steps before her body wobbled. Her head was still spinning, probably. Not surprising after chugging 60-proof liquor like water.
“Careful.”
I rushed to support her.
“No good. Lie back down.”
“Nooo...”
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. Clenched her fist and stood firm.
“A proper dwarf wife takes care of her husband's hangover—it's basic.”
“Don't you need the hangover cure more?”
“Hey! You just sit tight, honey!”
Elma poked my lower belly. I didn't budge, of course.
“Feeding the family is a dwarf wife's duty! That's what being a good spouse means!”
“Want me to make it... No, should we just order in?”
“Tsk! Where's a man talking kitchen work! Just wait!”
That dwarf busybody mindset flared up again. Her stubbornness was unbreakable.
Stagger, stagger. Her precarious steps toward the kitchen. Even watching made me nervous.
“Haa...”
No point stopping her. But last time's disaster flashed in my mind. Screaming potatoes and carrots. The bloody battle with ingredients.
“Hey, Elma!”
“Whaaat!”
“Please, no living ingredients!”
“Got iiiit! Just dead stuff!”
Her bold reply echoed from the kitchen. 'Just dead stuff' never sounded so reassuring. I pulled the blanket back over me.
Eh, it'll be fine somehow. Even her sloppy cooking's become a cute event now.
Bang! Crash!
“Ack, shiiit!”
Anxious noises kept coming. I pretended not to hear and closed my eyes.
I'll sleep a bit more. It'll be done by the time I wake up. One way or another.
“Haa...”