The Captured Thief
In the end, it seemed this cat was the reason the gate had never been cleared.
As the gate dissolved, a modest amount of experience flowed into my growth-type skill, and my total mana capacity ticked upward by a small margin. For someone like me who had the dream as a shortcut, it barely registered—but for most Awakeners, those scraps of growth were everything.
When we returned to the entrance point, the cat still clutched in my hand suddenly dissolved into glittering motes of light. They settled onto the back of my hand and left a tiny mark. The mark shimmered for a moment, then vanished without a trace. Of course it hadn’t truly disappeared; it had simply become invisible to the eye.
"So that’s how it was hiding."
"Yeah. Even this close, I couldn’t sense a thing."
The instructor was overjoyed once the gate finally cleared. Guarding and maintaining a gate that refused to close had been costing the Association a surprising amount of money. Almost immediately, a reward of one hundred million won was deposited from the Association. The lingering problem of the Erosm remained, but the gate itself was gone—so the clear bonus was paid on the spot.
Normally the payout for a mid-sized gate was only around ten million won. This one, however, had sat uncleared for over a year, so a hefty premium had been tacked on. Even after setting aside a portion for party funds, each of us still walked away with ten million.
"Whoa, jackpot. First time I’ve ever made this much for a single day’s work."
Even though healers already took a generous cut of the party share, Lim Hana’s eyes were wide with shock.
"Pretty sweet, right?"
"Seriously. Why didn’t I know about this sooner?"
Lamia, who had been listening, gave a wry smile.
"It’s only possible because we’ve got a tank who’s less magnet and more industrial vacuum cleaner. This gate wasn’t just abandoned—other parties threw themselves at it countless times and still walked away empty-handed."
"Ah."
We wrapped up our first successful gate run, washed off the grime, and collapsed into bed almost immediately. The moment I slipped into the dream, she was already waiting—wearing yet another new character.
Her hair was loosely tied back in a single messy tail. Over a white shirt she wore an orange jacket; below, she had poured herself into skin-tight leather pants that were deliberately mismatched—one leg full-length, the other cut short.
"What character is this supposed to be?"
"Treasure Hunter. Specialized in sniffing out hidden things. Comes with a passive that bumps dungeon rewards by ten percent."
"Isn’t that just a thief?"
"Don’t split hairs."
"Yes, ma’am."
While we were talking she suddenly frowned, stepped closer, and reached out. As if by magic, the cat I had bound as a familiar earlier that day materialized in her hand.
"Kyaak! Kyauung!"
The same creature that had played cute and pitiful for me immediately arched its back and hissed at her. Either it had no fear, or it had some other reason.
"You brought something strange along."
"Specifically?"
"Whether you know it or not, there’s a god who’s completely obsessed with cats. Every feline-shaped being ultimately belongs to that one."
"Oh… then—"
"Exactly. Because of this little thing, our relationship just got reported to that god."
She tightened her grip. With a soft pop the cat burst into light powder and vanished from sight.
"Did you kill it?"
"No. I simply made sure it can’t crawl back into the dream."
"No further measures?"
"It’s not an ordinary cat. Kill something like that and the cat-mom bitch will make my life hell."
"…"
Cat-mom. So the cat-obsessed god was female, then.
"Anyway, forget that nonsense. We’ve got work to do. Looks like clearing the gate expanded your vessel again."
"Meaning…?"
"You can go twice."
"Ohh."
"Give it your best."
"Haha. Of course. What’s the setting today?"
"The fate of a thief bitch is pretty obvious, isn’t it?"
Earlier she had told me not to call it a thief, yet now… maybe she was thinking of that cat-mom goddess.
She snapped her fingers and the surroundings transformed at once.
"Wow."
A dungeon prison that looked like it had been painted into existence. Bars high on the wall let in a thin shaft of light, so it was more semi-basement than true underground cell. In the blink of an eye her wrists were bound and raised above her head. Just from that starting pose I already had a clear idea how the scene was meant to play out.
"Shall we begin?"
"Go ahead."
The role-play started immediately.
"Looking good, thief bitch."
"Sh-shut up."
"Still foul-mouthed even like this. Or maybe you just don’t understand the situation yet?"
I stepped behind her, ripped the shirt open, and bared her breasts.
"Kh—"
"Not going to tell me to stop?"
"If I told you to stop… would you?"
"Of course not."
I kneaded those full, springy breasts like dough. She flinched and twisted, trying to squirm away. After savoring the soft weight for a while, I slid one hand straight down into her pants.
"Hhk!"
My fingers pushed past the leather and dug into her intimate flesh. She writhed, trying to hinder the motion, but it was useless. The fingers already inside her simply kept exploring like a snake, regardless of her struggles.
Call it a conditioned reflex. At first her insides had been dry and tight; after only a few strokes they began to grow slick. Her breathing, too, gradually took on heat.
"What’s this? Enjoying yourself already?"
"Th-that’s impossible."
"Then why are you panting like a pervert?"
"Kh—"
Every time the fingers pinching her nipples and the ones wriggling inside her pants moved, her hips jerked and twisted. At first it might have been pure resistance; now each stroke made her jolt as if electricity were running through her.
Moving my hand inside those skin-tight leather pants was getting inconvenient. I loosened the belt, yanked the pants down, and set to work properly. The heat in her breath thickened.
"S-stop… stop it…"
"Stop what, exactly?"
She was clearly nearing her limit, her voice wet and pleading, but I ignored her and dragged the pants all the way to her ankles, then worked her sensitive insides even harder.
"Hiiik! Hhhuk! Haaah! I-it hurts… hhk!"
She let out broken little cries that were half sob, half moan. I only grew rougher, churning the deepest, most sensitive places. Suddenly her juices flooded out like a broken dam.
"Oh? Did you just come?"
"Kh…"
"Coming from torture? You’re a total pervert."
"…"
Watching her bite her lip, I loosened the rope binding her arms just enough, bent her forward, and drove my cock straight into that thoroughly soaked pussy.
"Aaaah!"
"What, were you a virgin? Not that it matters."
"S-stop…"
"Don’t make me laugh."
I thrust in hard, wet squelching sounds filling the cell as her moans tore free.
"Augh! Hhhuk! P-please… haaah!"
"Too late."
She stopped begging me to stop—she must have realized it was useless—but every time my cock bottomed out against her womb she shuddered as if something were racing up her spine.
"Hhhuk! Did you… put something… hiiik! in me? Why is my body… like this…"
"Nothing of the sort. If you’re feeling anything, it’s purely because your body is filthy."
"N-no… hhhuk! That can’t… haaah!"
Even while denying it, she deliberately pushed her ass back so she could feel every inch more clearly. After enjoying that position a while longer, I simply laid her down on the floor.
"N-no!"
"Too late for that."
She twisted and tried to resist as I lined up again, but it was pointless.
"Hhhuk!"
The moment I sank back in, her body shifted of its own accord into a perfect receptive angle, as if the earlier struggle had never happened. I pounded into her without mercy. Something seemed to click for her; her voice turned wet and desperate.
"Haaah! Haaah! P-please… just not that…"
"Not what?"
"D-don’t come inside… haaaang! Pleaseee!"
"Your begging posture needs work."
"I’ll do anything… hhhng! Just not that!"
"Then use that mouth to squeeze tighter. Might change my mind."
The instant the words left me, her thighs locked around my waist and her insides clenched with a new, deliberate pressure. Still clumsy from inexperience, but more than enough to push me over the edge.
"Ohh—coming!"
"N-nooooo!"
As I came, her pussy spasmed and clamped down hard, as if determined not to spill a single drop.
Really, this thief bitch’s words and actions never matched.
"I said… not to…"
"Ah, sorry. Felt too good."
"…"
I pulled out while still spurting; the remaining load painted her chest and face.
"Is this how it’s done? Now that I know, I’ll do it this way from now on."
"You’re… going to do it again?"
"No. I’m finished."
"…"
She looked confused for a second—until my clone stepped into the cell. Her whole body began to tremble. I grabbed a fistful of her hair, forced her head up, and shoved the cock still coated in cum and juices into her mouth.
"You made the mess, so you clean it up."
"Ghhk—"
Only after the cleanup blowjob was finished did she get a moment’s freedom. It didn’t last. While she still lay there with unfocused eyes, the clone slid back into her pussy.
"Haaah!"
She thrashed like a fish on a spear, yet the aftershocks of her earlier climax still forced hot, ragged breaths from her lips. It was obscenely erotic. Then the clone came as well. Even half out of her mind she tried to push it away, but of course it was useless.
"Clean it."
"…"
With two loads of cum already dripping down her thighs and her body still twitching from residual pleasure, she obediently sucked the cock held in front of her face. When the cleaning was finally done, I delivered the sentence.
"I’ll collect every last thing you stole with that body of yours, so work hard from now on. Understood?"
"Yes…"
She managed that single word before her eyes rolled back and she blacked out completely.