Hypnotized by Siron's Leggings-Clad Ass
Everything's fine up to the point where I'm so entranced by Siron's ass in those leggings that I even grab my emergency funds and head out of the guild.
"This is about where it was, right?"
The problem is I can't find the damn blacksmith.
More precisely, everyone went to watch today's public execution and closed up early, so I haven't spotted a single forge still open.
"Those goddamn human traffickers!! Screwing me over right to the bitter end!!"
If they had to go, fine, but daring to interfere with making leggings for Siron? Those bitches are beyond redemption.
Anyway, I'm wandering around lost, trying to find the blacksmith I occasionally visited to order bronze badges for adventurers promoting from Apprentice to Bronze rank.
"No, seriously, it was around here, damn it. Did it go bust and shut down?"
I definitely remember it being in a tucked-away corner, not too big compared to the others.
"Tch... gotta hold out until tomorrow?"
Hold out on Siron's leggings until tomorrow? Is this some newfangled torture method?
"Seriously, head back empty-handed?"
"Hey, you got a problem or something?"
I turn slowly at the familiar voice.
There stands the guard captain I met at the east gate, geared up in her greaves.
"Oh, Guard Captain."
"Hmph. I don't recall seeing your type before."
No, damn it. Do I really look that different? Sure, I washed my hair with something like shampoo for the first time in ages, scrubbed off some grime, tidied up a bit—but enough to not recognize my face?
"I'm Smith, the guild receptionist."
"...?"
Look at her, tilting her head like I'm spouting nonsense.
"No, really, it's me, Smith. Didn't you talk to me at the east gate?"
"...The real Smith?"
"Yes. The real deal. See? Voice matches too, right?"
"Hmph. Yeah, voice checks out, and looking closer... yeah, it's you."
Like a temple paladin, she scrutinizes my face for ages before finally nodding in recognition.
"Do I look that different?"
"If not for the hair and skin, you'd pass for some noble house young master."
"And before?"
"Just some simple frontier bumpkin."
No way I'm that different, right? Makes me seriously question how women around here judge men.
"Anyway, didn't mean to pry, but you look lost. What's the issue?"
"Oh, need to hit a blacksmith, but they all closed early."
"Blacksmith? Guild errand? Nah... heard you're Siron's exclusive now. Her errand?"
"...Rumors spread that far?"
"Rumors? Oh, you being Siron's exclusive?"
"Yeah, that."
"Haha, the poster boy of our city? Bound to spread."
Me, Molingta's poster boy? News to me.
"So you're hunting a blacksmith? I can help."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah. Just came from commissioning gear checks for the guards. Unless we chat long enough for a knife fight, it'll still be open."
"Ooh!! Where is it?"
"Ahem."
The guard captain clears her throat awkwardly, avoiding my eyes.
"Off-duty, and sun's setting anyway. I'll take you."
"Uh... sure. Thanks."
I could've said no need, just directions—but she seemed to push past her own embarrassment, so I nod.
"Alright. Follow close."
She glances at her side, shakes her head, and starts walking.
A few alley turns later...
"Here. Still open, lucky."
"Whoa... seriously, thank you."
"Wait here."
"Huh? Oh, okay."
She stops me from entering and goes in first.
"Ahem. Come in now."
"...?"
Didn't wait long, so I nod and step inside.
Swords, spears, axes line one wall; arrows, shields on another. Average-sized forge.
Creeeak.
The door behind the counter opens.
A woman with common blonde hair, face smudged with soot, emerges.
"M-Meris!! Didn't I tell you to change clothes!!"
"Pfft, who cares what I wear in my own workshop."
Ah, got it. That's why the wait—her sweat-soaked white tee clings, pink nipples greeting me through the fabric.
"So? What do you want."
"Looking to buy some iron ingots."
"Ingots? Got 'em. What for?"
"Uh... personal reasons, hard to say."
"Huh."
Meris, the smith—big tits plopped on the counter—stares me down, then stands, leaving a sweaty breast print behind.
"Hold on."
She ducks back through the door, returns with a somewhat rounded iron lump.
"This work? Five silvers each."
"Five... silvers?"
Palm-sized chunk costs more than two months' pay? Nearly faint.
"Cheap as hell. Workshop bulk price. Retail solo? Eight minimum."
Even with her vouching, the price shakes me—feels like these two beauties are scamming me.
But skip it? Give up Siron's leggings? No way in hell.
"Two, please."
"Wait up."
I pour silvers from my pouch; she nods, fetches another, vanishes inside.
"Guard captain's right there—no thief's that bold, but just in case, free pouch service."
She stuffs both into a spacious leather bag, hands it over.
Thud. Heavy.
"Urk...?!"
"Pffft!! Heavy for a guy, huh."
Meris cackles as I buckle under it.
"You okay?"
"F-Fine."
Lie. What the hell weighs this much? Fist-sized lumps—five times a full water barrel. Insane.
Amazed at Meris hefting it like a brick.
"Hey, Kernax. 'Fine' doesn't mean fine. That's why you're still a virgin at your age."
"Wh-What?! Why bring that up here!!"
"Shut it and take it. He'll snap his back."
Wanna yell no need—but yeah, lugging to guild? Waist snaps for real. Can't refuse.
"Ahem. Gimme."
"Th-Thanks."
I bow deep as she snatches it one-handed—what I barely lifted two.
"Thanks? Buy dinner at guild cafeteria. Your leftover cash covers it easy."
"If you're cool with it, sure."
"..."
She glares at Meris.
"...Simple. Just simple meal."
"Got it."
Meris giggles at our exchange.
"Now scram. Back to work."
"...Guard gear check. Don't forget like last time—be there on schedule."
"Yeah, yeah. Scram."
Meris vanishes through the inner door.
"Let's go."
"Y-Yes."
We leave the forge.
Murmur murmur.
Adventurers whisper, cooking up juicy tales as she climbs stairs with me to drop off the goods.
"Hmmm..."
I'm chill, but she's bothered.
"My room."
"R-Right."
Third floor, farthest corner. Door opens to my spartan setup.
"...You live in this shoebox?"
"Heh, perfect for solo."
Bed, wardrobe, desk, window. Bed's rock-hard, but ideal otherwise.
"Ah, just drop anywhere."
"Got it."
She sets the pouch, scans room, backs away subtly.
"I'll head out."
"Wait? Dinner downstairs?"
"No... uh, got evening plans."
"...For real?"
"Y-Yeah."
Obvious lie, but I don't push. Not a total asshole to hassle a helper.
Probably the whispers got to her.
"Guard Captain. Rain check—dinner soon."
"Rain... check?"
"Yeah. Not just today."
"Right... not just today. Deal."
"Yes. Thanks again today."
"No prob. Later."
Click.
Door shuts. Alone at last.
"Lemme see. First..."
I open the pouch wide, touch the lumpy iron.
Holy Artifact Storage
Whoosh—no joke, that's the sound.
"Damn, that's wild."
The iron vanishes clean with a whoosh.
"How do I check storage? Ah, this."
I tap the (?) on ◎Material Storage(?).
"What? Bug?"
I rub my eyes. No change.
"Two fist-sized lumps = 41kg?"
Mind-blowing. Anyway, materials in—time to use 'em.
Heart pounding after ages, I steady myself.
"Holy Artifact Creation."
Holy Artifact Creation
You have used the support ability for the first time.
Congratulations on becoming a true God Company employee.
As a congratulatory gift, all support ability functions are unlocked for the first use only.
All Holy Artifact Creation functions unlocked (temporary).
📐 Digital Blueprints unlocked.
└ Dyeing unlocked.
= All colors unlocked.
└ Material Slots unlocked.
= Freely change materials.
└ Model Slots unlocked.
= Reuse same Holy Artifact without recasting.
└ Temporary Save unlocked.
= Preview artifact samples.
└ Detailed Settings unlocked.
= Specify thickness, width, length, all details.
└ No upper management approval needed.
= Management fully trusts you.
Creating new blueprint for Holy Artifact Creation.
Untitled – Blueprint
A barrage of text floods my vision, then fades.
A pristine white hologram appears before me.
The window...
"Photoshop?"
Yeah. No mistaking it—straight-up modern Photoshop interface.