Looking for a Sex Partner

"Sigh... This is driving me crazy."

"...I'm sorry, sir."

"No, it's not your fault."

A heavy silence hung in the office.

A middle-aged man with prominent graying hair sat behind a luxurious desk.

Standing before him was a secretary clad in a neat two-piece suit.

"How many hunters did you say are currently... 'immersed' in the gates?"

"...When we conducted our internal survey, it had already surpassed ninety percent."

"So roughly ninety thousand. And now?"

"..."

"It's fine. Just tell me."

"One thousand. We estimate there are barely a thousand left."

"A thousand..."

This didn't mean a thousand hunters were trapped inside the gates and couldn't get out.

Hard as it was to believe.

It meant there were only about a thousand male hunters left with a normal, functioning mindset.

"And the trend?"

"We expect the remaining hunters will also succumb to the gates. Most of them are currently hospitalized or resting due to injuries, so likely the moment they are discharged..."

"...Utterly hopeless."

The "Gate Immersion" phenomenon.

It was a syndrome currently sweeping the entire globe.

They used the polite term "immersion" to beat around the bush, but...

In the end, it just means they're shoving their dicks into the gates.

The middle-aged man clutched his head.

At first, he thought it was just a few low-rank hunters acting out.

But he was wrong.

Even S-class rankers had fallen, unable to forget the tight, clingy sensation of the gates' mana membranes.

As a result, the frustration of female hunters was boiling over.

Unable to satisfy their sexual desires through normal means, female hunters had begun committing crimes.

Assaulting ordinary men was common, and there were even cases of women caught trying to stuff a man's dick into their own pussies while he was still actively fucking a gate.

"President. We must devise a countermeasure. At this rate, the very foundation of hunter society will collapse."

"I know. But how do we stop it? It's not like we can seal the gate entrances with concrete."

"Perhaps physical castration..."

"Are you insane?! Do you think hunters' human rights are just for show?!"

Hunter Association President Park Chuno.

Right now.

He was starting to feel a desperate urge to live up to his name and hunt them all down.

"Whew, this should do it, right?"

I sat in my chair, staring at the monitor with a proud look on my face.

On the screen was an image I had painstakingly designed.

Kaaah...!

Even if I say so myself, this is a masterpiece.

My design sense is insane.

I mixed red and yellow perfectly to maximize visibility.

It had the raw intensity of a local supermarket's blowout sale flyer.

The moment sex-starved female hunters laid eyes on this poster, they'd definitely come drooling.

Now, all that was left was to scatter this poster across various online communities and wait.

"Ah, almost forgot."

I opened the program again and added some fine print at the bottom.

Contracts need to be precise, after all.

I typed in a few more precautions.

The clause regarding Dark-attribute hunters was absolutely essential.

My buff was Holy-attributed.

What would happen if I dumped Holy-attributed semen into the womb of a Dark-attribute hunter?

A holy war would probably break out inside her pussy.

It wouldn't just be a yeast infection; her uterus might literally explode.

I had no desire to become a murderer.

Yes. Now it was truly perfect.

By the way, how should I set the price?

This was a crucial question.

The fee I received from Chae Suhyun last time was a base of 5 million won.

Plus a 5 million won bonus for satisfying her fetish.

Ten million won in total.

But I couldn't charge everyone that kind of money.

Chae Suhyun was an elite A-class ranker who rolled in cash.

A wealthy woman who easily pulled in hundreds of millions of won a month.

That was why she could throw around that kind of money so easily.

On the other hand, what about the average, sex-crazed hunters out there right now?

Could they afford to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pay as much as Chae Suhyun?

I highly doubted it.

Even if they were so desperate for sex that they'd take out a loan, scraping together every last penny...

I would reject those clients.

Why?

Because right now, one-off clients weren't my priority.

Finding partners for long-term, repeated sex was the goal.

My objective wasn't money; it was stat farming.

High-intensity sex training to absorb mana while sweating buckets.

I need to do it at least a thousand times.

I tapped away on a calculator.

To rank up from C-class to B-class, I needed about 100 stat points.

And based on my remaining stats...

I'd have to fuck over a thousand times to fill those 100 points.

Even if I ejaculated five times a day, it would take over 200 days of grueling labor.

I'd have to keep my dick working every single day without weekends.

Of course, if I got commissioned by high-rank hunters during this grind, the timeframe might shrink a bit.

But they weren't exactly easy to come by.

Just being near high-rank hunters made me feel like my mana was being replenished.

They were walking mana dispensers.

I'd even heard that some corporate giant in the US paid tens of millions of dollars just to have an S-class hunter live near their company's mana tank.

But relying on that kind of luck was a long shot.

"First, I need to take the first step."

High volume, low margin.

That was my strategy.

Fucking as many times as possible at a reasonable price.

The most important thing was drawing in the crowd.

First, I logged onto Hunternet, the community with the biggest reach.

This place was the holy land for hunters.

It boasted hundreds of thousands of daily visitors.

I clicked on the board and hit the write button.

I wrote a simple, straightforward title.

[Anyone Down to Fuck?]

There was no better title to bait clicks.

Then, I attached the image I had worked so hard to create.

Finally, I clicked the post button.

Click.

Whew.

I had finally taken the first step.

Now it was time to check ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the flood of comments and direct messages.

With a pounding heart, I hit refresh to check my post.

And then...

"..."

Ah, fuck.

I got banned.

Fuck.

Getting banned sucked, but a mere ban wasn't going to stop me.

I was a Korean of sheer fucking will.

I immediately paid for a premium VPN.

Bypassing the IP blocks, I toured various community sites and started spamming my promotional post.

On some of the larger sites, my posts were deleted at the speed of light the moment they went up.

But they managed to survive on smaller, poorly managed sites with loose regulations.

Of course, I waged a guerrilla war on the sites that deleted them, constantly switching IPs to repost.

HunTalk! HunTalk! HunTalk!

"Damn, is this what it feels like to have a full inbox?"

My smartphone buzzed relentlessly.

Messages from women piled up like a mountain on HunTalk.

The response was explosive.

Now, all I had to do was pick the hottest hunter out of the bunch and wreck her pussy.

And of course, the more they paid, the better.

I lay on my bed, humming a tune as I scrolled through HunTalk.

I checked the messages one by one, sorting through their profiles.

Let's see...

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

F-class, E-class, F-class, F-class, D-class, E-class, C-class...

...

They're all small fry.

Fuck.

"Seriously, where did all the high-rank hunters go?"

Wasn't it a rule that the higher a hunter's rank, the more they were influenced by mana, making their sex drive even stronger?

This is exactly why you should never listen to the keyboard warriors and self-proclaimed experts lurking on online forums.

What? "I'm a B-class hunter, so you should listen to me"?

"I'm an A-class hunter, so just trust what I say"?

"What a load of absolute bullshit."

That was the reality of online communities.

A dark abyss overflowing with pathological liars suffering from Ripley syndrome.

Dumbasses slurping cup ramen in their rooms while typing away that they're S-class rankers.

This is why you need to go out into the real world and meet verified people.

"Sigh... I guess the best of the lot is a C-class hunter."

I zoomed in on her profile picture.

But she didn't really appeal to me.

For most hunters, once they start sensing mana, they transform into beauties.

Their skin clears up, their facial features become defined, and their posture corrects itself.

Most people called this "mana plastic surgery" or the "blessing of mana."

Yet this C-class hunter, despite receiving the mana makeover, was average...

No, she couldn't even be called average.

She was basically on the level of an ordinary civilian.

The mana must have given up halfway through fixing her face and run away.

...To be fair, it's not like I'm some gorgeous hunk either.

Pricked by my conscience, I glanced at the mirror.

Of course, I had undergone the mana transformation too.

But maybe because I possessed this body, my face didn't change much even after awakening.

I still had the same plain, average face from before.

Instead, my height and build had gotten fucking massive.

Standing well over 190 centimeters.

Packing nearly 110 kilograms of solid muscle.

Broad shoulders and thick thighs.

This overwhelming physique was the only proof that I was an awakened hunter.

...

Though, conversely, it meant my face did absolutely nothing to prove whether I was an awakened or a civilian.

Ahem.

Whatever. A man's worth is all in his hips anyway.

It's not like I'm going to feed myself with my face.

With that thought, I kept scanning the messages, searching for a decent woman.

But there were no prime listings that caught my eye.

Everyone had a screw loose somewhere.

Either their breasts were too small.

Or they had no hips.

Or their face just wasn't my type.

One day passed like that.

Then two days.

On the third day.

Squeeze, squeeze.

Out of sheer boredom, I had my hand down my pants, absentmindedly massaging my dick.

HunTalk!

"Fuck, which bitch is it this time?"

I had received countless messages over the past three days.

Most of the inquiries came from F to D-class hunters.

The C-class hunter who messaged me on the first day was actually a rare find in comparison.

F, F, F, D, D, C, F.

It looked like the report card of a college student begging to be expelled.

The grades were scraping the absolute bottom.

Still fondling my dick, I checked the HunTalk message.

And then...

The moment I saw the message on the screen, I doubted my own eyes.

...

......

"Whoa, it's here!"

I sprang up from my seat.

An A-class, no less!

And a tank!

Tanks naturally possessed insane stamina and durability.

The absolute best class to withstand my merciless piston thrusts and pussy-slapping!

I couldn't afford to blow this golden opportunity while playing with my dick.

I replied immediately.

I kept my tone stiff and formal to sound as professional as possible.

The read receipt disappeared.

She had read the message.

She seemed suspicious.

Well, that was a natural reaction.

In this day and age, a normal man advertising sexual services was unheard of.

Besides, an A-class hunter would naturally be sensitive about exposing her identity.

I relaxed the conditions to put her at ease.

After all, all I wanted to verify was whether she was actually A-class, and what her face and body looked like.

Hmmm.

No response after that.

She was probably taking a photo of her license and using Photoshop or some app to censor her personal details.

Even though it was only a brief moment, it felt agonizingly long.

I swallowed hard, staring intently at the screen.

Please let her be a hot older sister.

Even if she wasn't on Chae Suhyun's level, at least let her be pretty enough to make my dick stand up and applaud.

And a moment later.

A photo arrived.

"..."

I tapped the photo to enlarge it.

And the moment I saw it...

I was left speechless.

It was a face I knew all too well.

An innocent, pure-looking face.

Eyes that drooped slightly like a puppy's.

And a name I had heard many times before.

The nameplate wasn't covered, so it was clearly visible.

A name that sounded like it demanded to be pounded hard.

Park Ara.

"Is this fucking bitch serious?"

A hollow laugh escaped my lips in sheer disbelief.

They say you always meet your enemy on a single-log bridge.

The old saying was spot on.

Park Ara.

The crazy bitch who had a mouth like a sailor despite her innocent looks.

The pink-pussy tank bitch who had led the charge to kick me out of the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠party.

The bitch who had insulted my godlike sex techniques, calling me a beast.

The very bitch who threw a massive fit, crying that her legs were shaking too much to enter the boss room!

It seemed this bitch...

...was so desperately horny she was willing to fuck her worst enemy.