Fortunate Aftermath
Fortunately, the party members witnessing that lewd betting scene in the bright morning light dealt a blow to my mental state but turned out to be a huge help for my situation. My comrades stepped up and explained everything to the Lord. With their cross-testimonies clarifying exactly what had happened, the Lord was utterly flustered. But he didn't blame me at all—not even a little—as I bowed my head and awaited judgment. Instead, he pulled me to my feet and comforted me. Regardless of the circumstances, I'd saved his daughter, so he was endlessly grateful. Better this than losing her forever, right? It all worked out for the best. I'd been imagining something horrific for a moment there—like the Lord burning every porter in the world alive as payback for taking his daughter's virginity.
"It's a kind of golem."
But the Lord's mood soured in the end. This unprecedented crisis—where about 10% of the world's dragons nearly rolled into the streets and died of shock in a single night—would forever carry the label of "perpetrator at large, investigation ongoing." Bilena sliced open the skin of the dangling-headed corpse to reveal its innards. White muscles, blue blood. An artificial body with mana flowing in place of blood. The "Baldenhart" the Lord had captured was a fake. A fake so eerily lifelike it was hard to believe. All that exhaustive island-wide search, powered by immense magic to suppress the pleasure, had been for nothing. Well, they must have had some ace up their sleeve to pull off something this bold. In a place gathering the world's strongest beings, no less. Whoever it was struck me as incredibly dangerous. Here's hoping our paths never cross again—but who knows what the future holds.
Florica, still on crutches, ground her teeth while leaning on the Monica sisters.
"When that bastard smashed the ship with me and jumped into the sea, he was carrying a hefty package. Big enough for two or three fake Baldenharts. I figured it was some massive sword or cannon made to fight dragons."
"Coincidentally, we've found a total of four 'fake Baldenharts' scattered around the island. I'm personally astonished. I thought the artificial muscles using luminescent vines and the mana-based fake blood were still experimental tech."
"I need to go ask the Magic Tower's dean. Thank you, everyone. The Mitra Church... will pay dearly for this."
Her words were chilling yet reassuring. I sighed and gazed out the hospital window. Not a single dragon needed inpatient care from this mess. No lingering trauma cases, either. Dragons are insanely tough to begin with, and living on this island is an adventure every day for their kind. It was just that the pleasure hit harder than expected... leading some to stray thoughts.
"I've got a new mission. Putting the humpsseed processing research under Uncle Lord on hold for now."
Nidroga's cousin muttered solemnly. Foolishly, I asked what his new mission was.
"Scour the continent for a succubus. There has to be one out there strong enough to recreate something like this on a smaller scale. Then, with her, I'll find a way to replicate today's events through demonic engineering."
"Just fuck your daughter, you moron."
Nidroga—who'd been through so much—ripped into him with uncharacteristically foul language. The cousin looked deeply hurt, but unfortunately, no one took his side. Nidroga's lecture continued, referencing Bitsurk and the ship battle, even raising a fist at her cousin. Then her eyes met mine. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Her momentum deflated, and she desperately averted her gaze. By the time I returned from the bathroom, she'd vanished somewhere.
The party worried when she abruptly hid without a word, but luckily the Lord gave us a heads-up.
"She's in her room. Says she's locking the door and not coming out for a while."
"Locked the door...?"
"Yeah. Makes me nostalgic, actually. She used to do that as a kid whenever she had worries."
The Lord suddenly beamed at me with a fond smile.
"Young love, eh?"
"...Pardon?"
"Nothing. Oh, right. Bantai? I heard you had some debt. That true?"
The Lord granted us indefinite leave. Stay and rest as long as we like before heading out. On top of that, he gave me a personal reward. I was stunned when he said he'd contacted the international bank and paid off my debt. No need to get mad that 100,000 gold finally landed in Adamanthon's hands. Sure, there might be someone out there who'd trade two legs for that sum, but Adamanthon Sunsstorm—a rich kid who loves himself to death—isn't one of them.
But it left a bad taste...
"Where the hell did that bastard slink off to?"
Adamanthon, quarantined in the facility for infected dragons, vanished amid the guards' incapacitation. Did he escape on his own? Or did that "Baldenhart diocese head" deliberately spring him? Eitryon said the half-destroyed hero's holy sword was gone too, so the latter seems more likely. But what value could that worthless idiot possibly have? No. Don't dwell on headaches. Plenty of worries have been resolved; no need to fixate on new ones. I'm a porter. Porters carry loads for the party. To do that, I need to stay healthy.
I closed my eyes and inhaled the dawn breeze deeply. The beach air was incredibly refreshing. Every step on the sand felt great. So for now, let's run. Left foot. Left foot.
"Eager this morning, huh? Even lugging that heavy bag on purpose."
"Gotta be, for a porter. Exercising without the weight defeats the purpose."
I opened my eyes. Esen, dressed lightly like in Cheseni, had caught up beside me. Her sleek neckline, defined abs. And that friendly smile. Just looking purified my soul.
"You were looking gloomy too. Heh."
"Mind if I steal a peek?"
"Go ahead, idiot. Stare all you want. I am too gorgeous to look away from, right?"
"Cocky as hell, but true, so forgiven."
"What, you gonna do if I don't forgive?"
Esen elbowed me playfully, laughing. I grinned back, ready to retort, but stopped—it felt like it'd veer off into dangerous territory.
"Normally, this'd lead to provoking each other straight to bed."
"That a problem?"
"Nah. But let's finish the routine first. Gotta keep the stamina up."
"Fair. Atmosphere's great, but diligence wins. Why do you think I fell for you?"
Her beaming smile and casual affection made my chest ache suddenly. Just days ago, right in front of her eyes, I'd fucked Nidroga like it was a show. Admitting from the start that's what I wanted, baring my desires without a shred of shame. Is this okay? Guilt surged. But... Esen seemed unfazed.
"Two to eleven. Impressive score."
"Huh?"
"That day's tally. Once face-to-face, once from behind."
I'd been jogging casually, sipping from my bottle, when I spat water out my nose and collapsed to my knees. Esen unfolded the paper memento from that day, giggling with jumping jacks while I recovered.
"Honestly, never seen Nidroga bawl like a mess like that. Felt so damn good. Always acting all aloof and superior—stronger than me, so I couldn't even hit her."
"If she were weak, you'd say you couldn't hit a weakling. Finding someone evenly matched is rare when you think about it."
I wiped my mouth, stood, shot her a glare, and resumed running. Esen snorted and followed.
"Like you."
"Me, evenly matched?"
"In bed, dummy. Not fighting."
Evenly matched, huh. Were we? Memories of tangling joyfully with Esen flashed by like a montage. Damn it. Focus on the workout.
"Though I'm barely ahead. Only 'cause I go easy on you."
"Hold up. Can't let that slide."
"Am I wrong? Wanna cry about it again?"
"...When did I cry?"
"Don't remember Cheseni? Peeling off that Ada, eyes all teary staring at me—like a cute hamster."
"Cheseni. Good times."
I twisted my lips.
"But don't you always do that? Begging like a pathetic cumdump, no better than Nidroga."
"Ooh, learning dirty talk now?"
...My surroundings seem to be coaxing out a sadistic streak. Feels like Esen and her sister are forcibly dragging out my thug side. Like being remodeled to their tastes. And Nidroga bore the brunt. Future looks bleak. What kind of sex will I be having a year from now?
"Five in a row, right?"
"Yeah. Five straight. You didn't forget our deal."
"Forget? My loss if I did. Possible?"
"More than that. Look forward to dinner."
Esen's eyes widened as she stared at me.
"...You saved that wish instead of begging for stamina. Good call. Not like you've got a pregnant-maker juice factory between your legs."
"Don't force puns. Someone hears and misunderstands."
"Just facts. Lately you're full-on sperm—"
Footsteps approached, and Esen flinched, cutting off mid-sentence.
Florica's recovery was swift. Sure, turning her back on the Mitra Church left her isolated, possibly branded an excommunicate or heretic ahead. But she seemed unbroken. Mitra's philosophy—stressing doctrine and absolutes—starts by being strict with oneself, or so they say. Despite injuries everywhere, she forced herself to move daily. I'd seen her every morning without fail. Her face brighter these days, she greeted me.
"Good morning, Bantai."
"Morning, Florica. Straight from the hospital?"
"What, you two close?"
"Not close—just bump into each other loosening up in the mornings. What right do I have to claim friendship with you all?"
"There he goes pity-partying again. Still grinds my teeth thinking of Bitsurk. Stab me in the back once more, and I'll kill you."
Harsh words, but her weary smile softened the blow—or so it seemed to touch Esen. She grumbled and handed over her bottle.
"Drink. Hate seeing chapped lips."
"Thanks."
Florica took a sip and passed it back. Then asked,
"Overheard from afar—what's 'sperm' mean?"
This time Esen choked on her water. Barely avoiding my pathetic fate, she sighed and scrambled for an excuse. None came.
"Mind your own business."
"...R-Right."
Florica flushed, awkwardly turning away. After a pause, she leaned toward me.
"Heard the news, Bantai? About Adamanthon."
"Ah. He escaped?"
"Not that. Sunsstorm family folks are rushing here full speed. Arriving soon, they say."
"...What?"