To Chase the Runner, You Need a Flyer
Esen woke to the sensation of something pressing down on her lower abdomen. She jolted awake, eyes flying open—but she couldn't see a thing. She tried to sit up, but her body felt like it weighed a thousand tons. No, truth be told, she just didn't want to move. It had been ages since she'd felt this suffocating... yet so comfortable.
Her eyes were covered by something, and her body was bound down by a heavy weight. Amid it all, warm fingers kneaded her flesh with careful squeezes, slithering over her entire body.
What the hell is going on?
She was startled, but it didn't feel bad. If anything, it was like meticulous care seeping into her fatigue-soaked muscles. Esen nearly let out a sigh of relief from the tingling that pushed away her exhaustion. She almost pitifully begged for more pressure right there.
But as those firm fingers crept toward places they had no business going, Esen let out a groan and panicked. The inner armpit. The edge of her breasts. And...?
The dizzying pressure crushing the spot where her thighs met her abs, her groin. In that instant, it hit her. Exhaustion. Sedatives. A black hand taking advantage of her weakened state. Caresses disguised as "just a massage." The lewd snare that wraps around a hunted prey's neck.
Rumors of all the dirty tricks porters pulled to sleep with women.
"You crazy porter bastard, you piece of—!"
Esen shot up in an instant, grabbing the sinister wrist. Then she froze for three reasons.
First. Her oppressively heavy body wasn't bound by anything at all. She was just lying there, half-submerged in hot spring water on a stone bed. Covered only by towels over her chest and hips. Dressed like a leisurely hot spring tourist.
Second. The wrist she'd snatched wasn't a porter's. It belonged to a woman with a friendly face. Plump cheeks, but still more "big sister" than "auntie" to Esen.
Third. The woman massaging her didn't get angry. She just soothed Esen back down. In some foreign tongue Esen couldn't understand.
To Esen, those incomprehensible words were scarier than a monster's fangs. Her stomach churned as she muttered,
"What the hell are you saying?"
"Stop being a pain in the ass and go back to sleep. Treatment's not done yet."
Esen whipped around with a start. The porter's voice came from beyond the wall of the steamy-hot room, like it was right through the sauna-thick air.
"Porter? You're there?"
"Figured you'd forgotten, so just a reminder—my name's Tan. Why?"
"What the hell happened? Where are we? Who's that lady? And why the fuck am I getting a fancy-ass massage?"
In the gaps of her frantic questions, Esen remembered. If he wasn't in the room but close enough to chat through the wall...
"You... you heard that? All my noises...?"
Her mind flashed to things she didn't want to recall. All those unconscious moans, right where the porter could hear.
Esen steeled herself against the shame and asked. Then realized it only made her more ashamed.
"No clue what you're talking about." Gratefully, the porter brushed off the last question like nonsense. Esen was glad for the wall. If he'd seen her flushed face, she'd have died of embarrassment.
"No clue what you're talking about, but this is like a hospital in town. The lady next to you's a healer. What you got was her special health therapy."
"A hospital? What kinda hospital does this shit?"
"Local custom. They dunk collapsed folks in healing springs to restore their vitality. The healer said your condition was serious."
"...Condition? Me?"
"Overwork. Bet you barely slept, ran solo missions without a porter, camped rough to get 'em done. You're impressive. How do you live so hard?"
Esen, who'd been spooked, puffed up proudly at "live so hard." Then pouted.
"Just so you know, that's not praise. Healer said even a rubber hammer would've knocked you out. You're a Tigress—tough as they come—and you still pushed that sturdy body too far. Abuse it like that, and you won't last long in a party."
"Keep eavesdropping like that, and you won't last long as a porter."
"I'm here not to snoop, but to check if your health's off. Just like that lady's not a porter, and this ain't some lewd trap I set. What was it you said? 'Crazy porter bastard' while jumping up? Who's the one with the perverted fantasies?"
While Esen slept, the porter had chatted with the healer about her condition. Esen, who'd poked just to test and got tenfold guilt back, grumbled but inwardly tucked her tail. She couldn't win a word-fight right now.
The healer smiled and gestured for Esen to lie back down. But Esen half-obeyed, then bolted up again as something hit her.
"The girl I saved? She okay?"
"Totally fine. No major injuries, lucky. Got good emergency care and went home to family."
Her back still throbbed where it'd taken the club meant for that girl, but it wasn't meaningless. Relieved, Esen started sinking back under the healer's hands—then exploded out of the water again.
The healer kept her superhuman smile.
"No time to laze around getting massages. That troll bastard's probably running right now!"
"If you're stressing mission failure, it's already too late. The second you jumped without thinking, it was over. Rest up, prep for the next one. Troll won't terrorize folks here anymore anyway. It's probably long gone."
Esen's vision grayed. "I..."
"It faced the ecosystem's apex predator—a Tigress—and lived to tell. Doesn't wanna get revenge-killed, so it's probably ditched town by now, hightailing it far away. I get you want promotion, but let's aim for next mission."
"I... I got no next mission."
Esen's voice dripped with resignation. Silence hung beyond the wall. After a long pause, Porter Tan asked,
"What're you talking about?"
———————
Me. Pro porter Tan. A-rank guild cred pro porter. Sharing the party's load—that's the job's virtue.
But sometimes, party members dump burdens even a porter can't shoulder.
That's how I learned why Esen insisted on solo missions. It wasn't just failing special-rank promotion.
If she flopped this one, no chances forever. She'd have to ditch her current life entirely.
'Reputation score's borderline, so probably no promotion. Means heading home this year.'
'Home?'
'Made a promise with my parents when I joined a party. If I didn't wanna stay cooped in the tribe, become a special-rank fighter in three years and raise Tigress prestige. Fail, come back no arguments.'
I lost my hometown to monsters. Couldn't grasp it right away.
'Going home's that bad?'
'Tigress are wild beasts in many ways. Prefer strong mates, too. Parents didn't wanna let me go at first—too many males itching to breed with me.'
My vision spun.
'So then—'
'I'd spend life as breeding stock and nanny. Tribe tradition: pop out strong-blood kids for multiple males. Stuck in the village forever.'
Esen Taiga loved the outside world. Loved her party life. Didn't wanna rot in some shithole mountain valley without flush toilets, saddled with "husbands" a stone's throw away.
Weird part? Hearing it twisted something in me.
Not revulsion at their alien ways, or pity from my place. Sure, by common morals it's gross and pitiable, but more than that—
Esen's face flashed: trembling in my arms, pained. Pitiful eyes like a cornered, injured cat. Imagining that Esen surrounded by buff Tigress males...
Why the fuck does this piss me off so much?
Grappling up, her heartbeat against me kept burrowing into memory. I shook my head to dislodge the pounding images.
Reasons for anger, heart-pounding? Obvious. I'm Adamanthon-level scum.
Porter with uselessly sturdy thighs, overflowing libido. No girlfriend prospects growing up. Mix 'em, get a Tan Bantai idiot.
The type who holds hands and dreams of a cottage together till old age.
No time for pathetic personal feels. I'm the party's hired porter. One fighter's career's on the line.
"Want me to fix it?"
My gloomy voice carried through the hot spring treatment wall.
"That's not a porter's job."
"What if I can track that troll in a day?"
Short silence beyond. Then a killing-intent voice: "Rip that bastard like jerky and kill him. How?"
I didn't spill the method. Nothing set in stone; no bragging.
"Promise first. Cooperate with the healer, take treatment seriously."
"No time for—"
"—you do. Gonna get your ass handed by a weaker foe again, ugly? Go out like that, same shit happens."
Esen's furious huffs echoed. I half-feared a Tigress smashing the stone wall.
Porter instinct kicked in; I yelled reflexively. "Do that, no tracking!"
"What?"
"Don't listen, no tracking! Behave and recover, or no troll hunt!"
"Hey, what the—"
"Tch! No!"
Tch, no? Like scolding a hissing cat.
Esen shut up, baffled, then probed slyly. "......You got a way?"
"Yeah."
"Play nice with treatment now, and you'll help catch the troll? Catch up to the bastard way ahead?"
Her voice drooped, not the earlier gloom. Childlike, expectant. Worked, thank god—relief flooded.
"A-rank cred porter here. Always find paths when party's stuck. I'll get you ahead of it. Rest now. Fatigue gone, you'll smash sweeter, right?"
Mumbled "fine" came through. I called to the healer in local tongue: keep going.
She replied prickly: got it.
"Haaah—feels so good. More... more...!"
Pissed at Esen's defiance? The emotional massage yanked louder patient groans. Erotic moans snagged my departing ankle.
I forced my twitching body away.
Me. Pro porter Tan. A-rank guild cred pro porter.
...Maybe not A anymore. Probably under review, demoted. But skills don't vanish.
Hired by the party. Fighter faces career end. I'll stitch it with A-rank finesse.
———————
"Fatigue whooshed away like that in one day. Feels like I slept a week straight."
Next day. Esen seemed refreshed, but uneasy.
"Hey, porter."
"Yeah."
"Wasn't staying here 'cause language barrier, but costs too. Party budget's tight lately..."
"Didn't wanna impose?"
"Yeah. Accountant'd give me shit."
Honesty meant warming up. Progress with a comrade—pride past parties' bitches never gave.
I showed the bill. Esen gawked.
"That's cheap!"
"Three ways to dodge local ripoffs. Master the language. Thorough research. And... proper flattery."
Handed our party's invoice, shyly tugged the healer's wrist.
"Thanks for caring for our party member. Your heart and beauty unchanged from four years ago, ma'am."
"Oh my, such a smooth tongue. Come again, Tan."
'Beauty unchanged.' Magic spell: no double-pay for outsiders.
Kissed the healer's hand—Esen's eyelids twitched, stunned.
"What're you doing?"
"Local gentlemanly greeting. Compliment what's visible, and locals warm right up."
"You were like butter in a hot pan. No idea what you said, but that slimy tone made me wanna puke."
"Blame the locals, not me. Their culture's just more honest than ours. Anyway—got our tracking."
Esen's scowl bloomed into a grin. Slapped her palm with her fist, fierce. "After yesterday, I'll buy whatever you say. So, how do I get face-to-face with that troll fuck?"
"Wyvern."
"Bullshit."
"You flip-flop fast."
Led her outside the center. Hesitant Esen gaped at the 4-meter wingspan flapping.
"Where? With what money? You kiss some noble lady's hand for discount?"
"Got discount, but not party funds. My wallet."
Had to. Cash only, no credit.
Esen paled. "You said you had no money?"
"Not no spending money. No repay money. Ride or not?"
Years later, Esen said that. More curious how I dared snag a rare wyvern than where.
Made sense. Saddled wyvern pissing freely on the ground, startling passersby—like blood from a 100,000-gold debtor's wallet.
"This ain't debt. It's sharing souls."
To stammering Esen, I grinned. Weeping inside, of course.
Thanks to ties with strong folks, scored impossible transport. But wallet stung. "Count Alamo's pal" discount still 4k. Insane?
Why push this far? Dunno. Done is done. No ride, wasted chance.
"Ride or not?"