Dark Moon
A month had passed since I started working at the X Labor Agency.
After living expenses and the rest, the money I’d saved came to seventeen million credits. Fully taxed, free to spend however I liked.
“Excuse me, Master. Was breakfast to your satisfaction?”
Yuria approached and began clearing the empty dishes from the table.
“You’ve never once disappointed me with your cooking. Today was no exception.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
I rose from the chair and moved to the sofa. Unfolding the now-familiar paper newspaper, I began to read. Nothing particularly interesting. Articles about labor strikes and gang wars were relegated to a single line in the corner—commonplace enough in this world that they barely warranted space.
More than half the paper is about the nobility.
The citizens of Neo London were obsessed with the aristocracy. Most of them aspired to that life, so the demand was there, and the reporters kept their ears glued to high society. In a way, Neo London’s nobles were half celebrities.
The youngest daughter of Baron Tasty has come of age and made her debut in high society.
Described as a young lady with a soft, pearl-like charm.
I looked at the photograph printed in the paper and let out a dry laugh. The youngest daughter of Baron Tasty was nowhere near beautiful. Someone had clearly meant “steamed-bun-like” and settled for “pearl-like” by mistake.
The young lady stated at a formal gathering that she desires a kind husband. She expressed willingness to meet any man of gentle disposition, even if he is not of noble birth. Gentlemen interested in the young lady are invited to inquire directly at the Tasty baronial household.
It’s not that she’s fine with a commoner. She simply has no confidence she can marry a nobleman.
Nobles had eyes, after all. Unless a house was exceptionally outstanding, they preferred handsome or beautiful partners. Especially the men. That was why marriages between noble men and commoner women were fairly common.
In the old days it would have been unthinkable, but in this freer age it was no great matter.
The article is so favorable toward the baron’s daughter that the Tasty household must have paid for it.
I moved on to the next piece.
The eldest daughter of Viscount Bruntier had taken a lover—her own bodyguard—while already engaged. Exactly the sort of scandal Neo London’s citizens loved. The fact that Viscount Bruntier’s eldest daughter was a beauty only made the story hit harder.
Once the rumor’s out, it’s over. The engagement will be broken, and the Bruntier house will take heat for a while.
What would become of the young lady herself, I couldn’t say. She might marry the bodyguard, or she might enter a convent. Slim chance, but she might even leave Neo London in search of love.
Next article.
A new noble had been born.
Baron Heirman.
The man driving Neo London’s railway projects. A figure who had already been bouncing in and out of the papers through sheer influence had finally secured a title.
I read the piece carefully. Baron Heirman had achieved exactly the goal I wanted for myself.
They list his accomplishments, but nothing really stands out. Backroom deals with the Round Table Parliament, maybe?
I had no intention of tearing the man down. The fact that he could cut deals with parliament at all meant he had both power and skill.
I’m envious. If I want a title of my own… first I need connections among the nobility.
Easier said than done.
An ordinary citizen rarely even met a noble. And without strength or wealth, speaking to one as an equal was impossible.
“Master.”
Yuria came over. With the ease of long habit she settled onto my lap, wound both arms around my neck, and kissed me. I folded the newspaper, set it aside, and took hold of her slender waist. We stayed like that for a while.
“Yuria. I need your help.”
“Yes. I’ll help. What should I do?”
An instant answer, not a second of hesitation. Her blind obedience still took getting used to.
“It’s about business.”
The seventeen million credits I had. I had decided to put them into starting a business. Of course, that amount wouldn’t buy or build a factory.
“Have you decided what kind of business?”
“Food service. With your cooking skill… we’ll be competitive for sure.”
“Are you planning to open a restaurant? I’m sorry, but I want to focus on you, Master.”
I couldn’t force work on her. She was an employee, not a slave. That distinction mattered.
“I’m not thinking of a restaurant.”
With Yuria’s skill we could reach the top in a few years—I was certain of it. But she herself didn’t want that. And if success came that way, it would be her business, not mine.
“Then what kind of business is it?”
“A franchise. We’ll start with a single shop for now, but if you help me, it’ll be different from planning a franchise completely from scratch.”
“Food service, then? What will you sell?”
“Yuria. Have you ever heard of Great Korea?”
“I know it as an ancient nation that existed roughly two thousand years ago.”
Detailed information on Great Korea no longer existed. All that remained were ancient documents and ruins confirming that such a nation had once been real.
“I’m going to sell KFC—a dish from Great Korea.”
“KFC…?”
“Korea Fried Chicken. The fried chicken of this era tastes like garbage, so it’ll catch on for sure. KFC can conquer the world.”
Yuria was silent for a moment. Then she nodded.
“Calling it an ancient national dish should draw interest. But the taste still has to hold up.”
“That’s where I need you. Can you research it so it suits Neo London palates and makes the franchise succeed?”
“I’ll help. That’s well within my ability. Do you know the recipe for the chicken?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have started otherwise. …The problem is I only know it roughly.”
I stood, went to the room, and returned with a document. A joint-venture contract.
The split was sixty percent for me, forty for Yuria.
“…My share is too large. Ten percent is enough for me.”
“Your cooking is the heart of this business. You’re entitled to forty percent. …Honestly, even forty feels short. The core of this whole thing is your skill.”
“…Then I’ll take twenty. No further discussion.”
Yuria’s tone was firm.
I wanted to give her more, but pushing further would only make her refuse entirely, so I accepted it.
“Have you thought of a name for the shop?”
“For now… YuYu Chicken.”
“Does the name mean something?”
“The ‘Yu’ from Yujin and the ‘Yu’ from Yuria put together—YuYu Chicken. …You hate it? Should I change it?”
“Ah—no!”
Rarely, Yuria raised her voice and waved her hands.
“YuYu Chicken! It’s a wonderful name! Easy to say, fun, and it feels friendly. A franchise name matters, so with this one we’re sure to succeed!”
She spoke with real excitement. Praise that warm made the corners of my mouth and my shoulders lift a little.
“YuYu Chicken will succeed. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Yes, Master. …YuYu Chicken. It really does sound like a family name.”
“Like a family, huh…”
Did Yuria want a family-style company? Probably not. More like—
“You’re right. Since we took our names for it… it feels like a married couple running a chicken shop together. That doesn’t bother you, does it?”
“Bother me? On the contrary… my heart’s racing.”
Cheeks flushed, Yuria came closer. She sank to her knees on the floor as if it were the most natural thing in the world and slipped between my legs.
A languid smile curved her lips as she nuzzled her face against my crotch. When it swelled, she caught the zipper in her teeth and drew it down. Through the fly of my underwear, my half-hard cock sprang free.
“Ah… aaah…”
Yuria gazed at it with open affection. Even I had to admit the size and thickness were impressive.
“Haa… haa…”
Her breathing roughened. Lust and appetite mixed on her face. Her pink lips parted; a tongue already slick with saliva emerged.
The tongue dragged wetly along my cock. I shuddered. She knew exactly where I was most sensitive.
“Taste good?”
“…Yes. It’s too good. I have to have it at least once a day. Hngh…”
Slurp. Shlurrrp—!
Once she got going she bobbed her head without mercy, sucking hard. I rode the pleasure that felt like it might tear the cock right off me and simply enjoyed her fellatio.
Three minutes later I couldn’t hold back. One hand locked in her hair, hips jerking, I came. Yuria buried her face against me as if she refused to lose a single drop.
“Hnn… hnnngh…”
I stared at the ceiling and caught my breath. Gulp, gulp. The sound of swallowing. When I looked down she was still inhaling the scent of my cock while she swallowed the cum. The expression on her face was pure filth.
“Yuria. Stand up and show me your panties.”
“…Yes, Master.”
She obeyed. Lifting her skirt, she displayed the black panties. The center was completely soaked.
The smell of a heat-struck pussy reached me even from here.
“You came just from drinking my cum?”
“I couldn’t help it. Master’s semen is too delicious… no, ‘delicious’ doesn’t even cover it. To me, Master’s cum itself is an aphrodisiac. A maid who got completely in heat from drinking her master’s cock juice… please look a little longer.”
Yuria hooked the panties aside. Her pubic hair glistened wet; sticky nectar stretched down between the pink folds. Her clit was stiff and swollen, of course.
I licked my lips. Today her pussy looked especially appetizing.
“I want to suck on your pussy. Is that all right?”
“Of course. Master may suck my pussy whenever he likes.”
She climbed onto the armrests of the chair I sat in, found perfect balance, and settled her pussy over my mouth. I ate her like a man starving.
“Aaaahn! Ahn! Master…! Ahn!”
Yuria came lightly and tried to pull away. I didn’t allow it. Hands locked on her ass, I buried my face deeper, drinking the flood of juices and devouring her.
“Hyaaaaaaaahn!”
Rrrriiiing!
The pocket-watch alarm jerked me upright. Eyes barely half-open, I checked the face. Three in the morning.
I climbed out of bed, half-asleep, opened my door, crossed the hall, and opened the opposite door. Yuria lay sleeping in her bed.
Quietly I slipped under her covers. She was naked. I moved between her legs, settled into position, hooked her thighs against my sides, and pushed my hard cock into her pussy. Squelch. She was already wet, as if she’d been waiting.
I buried my face in her full breasts and began to move my hips.
Squelch, squelch, squelch.
At three in the morning, a man simply has to fuck a pussy.