At Least No One's Around...
"At least it's fortunate there's no one here..."
I slipped one leg of a 20g Night Fairy stocking onto the long wooden stake planted in the empty lot behind the guild.
"...Feels like I've turned into a total fucking pervert."
A burly guy covering a plain wooden stake—not even a doll—with stockings. On Earth, this would've made front-page news as peak degenerate behavior without question.
"So, you want me to test this weird scrap of fabric?"
"Eek—?! W-when did you get here?"
I hadn't heard footsteps or even the door open, but Amelia-noonim suddenly appeared behind me, making my heart pound like crazy.
"Anyway, I just gotta slash at that thing a few times, right?"
"A few more swings, please. There are a couple with different strengths."
"Whatever. Step back a bit."
I backed up a few paces as Amelia-noonim instructed. She stood in front of the stake, swinging her crude sword around like a handful of wild grass she'd just yanked from a field.
"Don't even need a sword for this."
Amelia-noonim reached out bare-handed toward the stake covered in the stocking, grabbed the Night Fairy, and yanked.
Riiip—!!
The Night Fairy (20g) tore apart like paper.
"What sword slash? How the hell was this scrap supposed to perform like armor in the first place?"
"...That one's actually the weakest. There are tougher ones left."
"You mad bastard. Cut the bullshit and set up the next one, asshole."
"Yes, ma'am."
I quickly slipped the Night Fairy (1kg) onto the stake.
"Looks the same to me."
"Appearance is identical, but durability differs."
The material input alone is 50 times more. If the durability doesn't scale accordingly, I'm in deep shit for real.
"Ha. Smith, you do it like... this?"
Amelia-noonim yanked the Night Fairy the same way as the 20g one, but the 1kg version just stretched a little—that was it.
"Hoh. What the hell is this?"
Snap, twang.
"Oh shit."
Veins bulged on the back of her hand gripping the Night Fairy, and with a sound like yarn snapping, the Night Fairy (1kg) tore to shreds.
"Holy shit... They look identical, but the difference is insane. Asshole, what the fuck did you even make this from?"
Unlike my shredded heart, Amelia-noonim tugged at the tattered remains of the Night Fairy (1kg) in fascination.
"Hey, hey, don't look so down. This could easily block a blind dagger thrust or arrow."
"...Noonim. It tore on your hand. How's it blocking daggers? I'm a bit dumb, but not dumb enough to feel good about that."
"You little shit?"
"Gack?!"
Amelia-noonim playfully choked me with the stocking remnants, but it felt like no joke—my airway was closing for real.
"This fucker, huh? Disrespecting your sky-high noonim like that. You know my fist packs more punch than some bimbo's dagger swing?"
"Guh!! Y-yeah, I g-get it, l-let go...!!"
"Ugh, such a wuss."
"Cough cough...!!"
I was legit about to pass out, but she thought it was just play. Scary as fuck.
"Anyway, anything left?"
"One more."
"Hurry up and bring it. At first, I was pissed thinking you were fucking with me, but the second one got me interested. Bring it quick."
"Y-yes, ma'am."
Scared she'd really choke me out if I dawdled, I dashed inside, grabbed the Night Fairy (10kg) mk.3 with 10kg of iron, and came back.
"This is the last one."
I slipped the mk.3 onto the stake, gathered the shredded mk.1 and mk.2, and hurried back. Of course, I didn't forget to decompose the dead ones for a good chunk of pure iron recovery.
"Still looks the same no matter how I squint. Doesn't feel special, stretches nice and taut too."
Amelia-noonim lifted the mk.3 lightly, then bulged veins like with mk.2 and yanked full force.
Crack—!!
"Huh?"
"Whoa."
We both marveled as the stake snapped before the mk.3 tore.
"Holy... ha, unbelievable."
Amelia-noonim swung the sword in her left hand crudely at the fallen stake.
Clang—!!
"...?"
"...?"
The clash of metal on metal sent her sword bouncing back, leaving us stunned again.
"Holy... fuck. What the hell is this now?"
I shut my mouth quick at her fierce glare.
"This is ridiculous. Let's see if it holds up."
She pinned the stake with one foot, raised her sword high. Sunlight glinted orange off the blade as she swung horizontally with full power.
Thud—!!
It was a crude horizontal slash, but dirt exploded around her, the vibration reaching me.
Whoosh. A breeze scattered the dust.
"Damn, this is the real deal."
From the cleared dust, Amelia-noonim emerged holding the stake—mk.3 sliced clean at mid-calf, half intact.
"Holy shit... I swung for real, and it held?"
"...Tough, huh?"
She laughed, slapping my shoulder.
"Tough? You shit!! This is tougher than the greaves the city guard bitches wear."
"Oh shit."
I grinned through the shoulder pain at her praise.
"But you really made this?"
"Yes, ma'am. I swear on Rapitera."
"Holy... you some ancient's descendant or what?"
"Ancients? What's that?"
"Never mind. Anyway, the last one was fucking impressive. That durability beats guard leg armor by miles."
"Oh fu— I mean, then noonim, what about one four times tougher than the last?"
"...Four times?"
Her eyebrow twitched—I swallowed hard, tense.
"Four times this? No non-aura user could scratch it."
"Aura—like what only elite Gold-rank adventurers use?"
"Yeah. Fucking tough."
"Ooh...!!"
Stockings only tearable by rare aura users continent-wide? Stockings are god, I'm invincible.
"Just to check—can you make tougher ones?"
"With enough materials, sure."
"... "
Her eyes sharpened, scanning around, then she grabbed my neck and dragged me into the guild building.
"Guh, gack!! N-noonim, I'm dying!!"
"Shut up."
Like a chicken nabbed on dog-day heat, I dangled from her grip up to the fourth floor in seconds.
Bam—!!
"Gyaak?!"
Thrown onto a bed in some unknown room, I barely avoided a twisted neck and the afterlife express.
"Fuck, thought I was dead..."
I rubbed my throbbing, maybe-cracked neck and sat up. Empty bottles everywhere—this was clearly her room. Easily ten times my place's size? She claimed a third of the fourth floor solo.
"Hey. Smith."
"Y-yes?"
Snapped from zoning out by her unusually low tone, I straightened up.
"You can really make tougher fabric scraps with just materials?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"No one else knows?"
"You're the first, noonim."
"Good. Very good."
p>Her stiff face softened; she crossed arms, righted a fallen chair, dragged it over, and plopped down beside me.
"Smith."
"Yes, noonim? Make yourself comfy."
"You're too damn casual, that's why. If you mass-produce shit ten times tougher than what I tore, bastards'll kidnap you before you blink."
"Kidnap?"
"Yeah... though few crazies'd steal from the guildmaster."
"Pardon? What was that?"
"Anyway, you little shit, you don't grasp the severity. You made some god-tier shit. Got it?"
"Uh... yeah, I get I made something awesome."
Makes dicks hard just wearing it—what else is awesome?
"Question: you made this to sell?"
"Kinda, as gifts and side sales."
"...Won't stop sales. But only up to the second one I tore. No further."
"mk.2—the second you shredded?"
"Yeah. Word spreads, kingdoms and empires'll come crawling."
"That big a deal?"
"Haa~"
She smacked her forehead hard.
"Yes, that big. Stretchy, light, blocks daggers and arrows? Adventurers sure, but lords with frequent teleporting'll hunt you down."
"Ooh... Noonim, just curious—what price for sales?"
"Dunno material costs, but... 25 silver seems fair. Steel greaves or iron boots go for 20."
"Oh shit."
Bought 40kg pure iron for 10 silver—1kg Night Fairy mk.2 worth 25? Mind-blowing.
"...S-Smith, you little shit!!"
"Gyaak—!!"
Flash of light in my eyes, then skull-splitting pain.
"What bullshit you daydreaming?"
"S-sorry..."
Tears welled from the agony.
"So. Sell it, tell me. I'll pitch to branch chief for guild sales. You keep 100% proceeds, no cut."
"Noonim, shoulder massage?"
"Fuck off. You get all that?"
"Yes. Don't overdo or risk kidnapping—stick to your limit?"
"Good. You get it."
"But noonim, personal gifts—can I make those tougher?"
"For Siron?"
"Uh... yes."
"She's tight-lipped, should be fine."
"Thanks. Yours too, super tough."
"Ex-adventurer here—what for?"
"Heh, I'll show you its true value later."
"Free? Can't refuse. Make mine fucking tough."
"No question. Ultra-tough incoming."
"Yeah yeah. How many meals you mooched off me?"
Her tense face had fully relaxed.
"Gonna head to the tavern. Issues? Come to me. Desperate? Guards or witch Vizelin."
"Vizelin?"
"Yeah. But never the temple."
"...? Got it."
"Alright, I'm out first."
Wanted to ask why, but knowing her, she'd have said upfront. No point.
"Oh, my panties in left drawer. Use as you like, return 'em. Kekekeke."
Slam! Door shut. Alone, my eyes drifted to the left wardrobe.
"Sigh... Stealing panties at my age? Nah."
Morning training awaits, Vizelin might drop by—time to move.
Scraaape.
"Sniiiif— haaah."
Noonim's panties smelled like roses. Garter belt it is.