Whee― A Crisp Green Breeze
A cool emerald wind whistles around my body.
"Whoa... that's some neat shit."
With a bit of time left before Siron and the others get out, I'd gone for a light jog and come back, and now I was testing the scroll Vizelin had given me before.
"This thing really delivers."
Maybe because it's handmade by Vizelin herself, it feels almost as good as when she casts the spell personally—nice and fresh, bone-dry.
I stretch out my now spotless body one more time, then head out of the room.
I consider grabbing breakfast-slash-lunch right there, but Siron and the crew are due out soon, so it'd be better to eat together. I make a beeline for the guard barracks.
"Ah, Smith! Good day, sir!"
"You guys have been working hard."
"Heh heh, no biggie. Ah, we'll take you to the captain's office."
Even locked up, Kernax has kept her position as guard captain, so visits have been in her office instead of some dingy cell, just like for anyone else.
I stroll down the now-familiar corridor and plop onto the sofa in the empty office. A short wait, and Siron and Kernax should show.
"Still... they won't fight anymore, right?"
Every visit's been the same—they straight-up ignore each other, not a word exchanged. But hey, that's progress. Considering they leveled a whole district, I'd say they're doing great.
As I'm fretting over their relationship, heavy footsteps echo loud enough for me to hear—
"Smith!!"
"You fucking bitch!!"
Oh boy. Cracks spiderweb across the thick office door Siron once smashed through. They beeline straight for my sofa, grab my shoulders one on each side like they've rehearsed it, and glare at me with fiery eyes.
"What the hell did that slut do to you!!"
"What did Ardella do?"
"...?"
What? What'd Ardella even do? Oh, right, some paperwork. But is that worth this freakout?
"Hold up, both of you calm down. And my shoulders are gonna snap, damn it."
I wince—feels like they're legit about to break—and they finally notice, easing off and stepping back a few paces.
I rub my sore shoulders, grimacing. "Where'd you even hear this crap?"
They hem and haw...
"That bitch said she was... borrowing you..."
"She said it all meaningful-like..."
For a duo that wrecked a district, it's kinda adorable. I can't help but snort a laugh.
"What the fuck!! Why're you laughing, you bitch!!"
"Smith... we're serious."
Judging by that, no worries about any big fights ahead. I get what they're thinking, which just makes me laugh harder.
I mean... can you blame me? When Ardella said she was staying over, I was... yeah, pretty tense. A lot tense.
But yesterday? She really treated me like a little brother.
"No... sorry. Look, nothing like what you're imagining happened. All we did was paperwork in my room."
"...Paperwork?"
"...Work?"
I nod. "Ardella's busier than I thought."
"So...... nothing really happened?"
"For real...?"
"Hey!! Doubting me?"
"N-no..."
"That's... not it..."
I fake some anger while holding back laughs, and they mumble, averting their eyes like guilty kids. Too cute—I wanna tease more, but we're slammed starting today, so I cut it short.
"Anyway, glad you're both out safe and mostly unhurt."
"Ah, y-yeah..."
"...Mm."
I pull them into a gentle hug. They fidget for a sec, then hug back, one on each side. We savor the safe reunion for a moment before pulling away.
"So, Smith."
"Yeah?"
"What'd Ardella offer you?"
"Oh yeah, I was gonna ask too. What the hell did you do to get us out, you punk?"
"Nothing yet—it's stuff I gotta do going forward."
I fill them in on yesterday's deal with Ardella.
"340 gold coins?"
"341."
"...Fucking cunt. Why not call her sis?"
"Th-that's 'cause Ardella didn't do shit, so it's invalid!!"
Kernax yells, Siron wrinkles her nose—"Ugh, petty, so petty. Too gross, not listening"—and sticks out her tongue. Kernax blushes and snorts. Looks like they've bonded plenty in jail.
Good for them.
"So... you paid off our debt to get us out."
"We're so sorry..."
They look genuinely crushed, heads bowed. If I'd had to handcraft those Night Fairies, it'd make sense—but shove in materials, click a few times, done. Their guilt feels a bit much.
I did some quick math on my morning run: Say iron ingots run 10 silver each. One ingot makes at least 30 stockings. Nobody—not even Amelia or Kernax—knows the exact materials. Keep my mouth shut, and 10 silver turns into 300 silver. That's 3 gold. Minus materials? 2 gold and 90 silver profit.
Biggest worry was marketing and customers—Ardella's deal solves both overnight. She said five cities under her rule? At least 5,000 pairs needed. I sit pretty, rake in 400 gold easy. Minus 30% rebuild cut (100 gold), that's 300 gold in pocket.
Money printer go brrr. I'll tell Siron and Kernax eventually. Not right now.
"If you're that sorry, lemme stay like this a sec."
"Wh-wh—!!"
"Smith..."
I bend down and bury my face in their tits. Left cheek: Siron's rack. Right: Kernax's. Perfect squish against my face.
"I-I haven't showered, it'll stink..."
"Yeah... at least after a wash..."
"Nah, now's good. Gotta be now."
Ignoring their embarrassment, I rub my face all over, inhaling deep. Sure, a bit of sweat and dust like they said, but Siron's floral scent and Kernax's minty freshness win out. Just good, period.
"Ngh..."
"Hah..."
Can't see their faces buried like this, but those ragged breaths? Faces flushed, staring down at me all hot and bothered.
Wanna rip pants off and ravage 'em right now, but this office ain't private, and I've held back a while—once I start, no stopping. So I savor and stop.
I unwrap my arms from their waists, pull my face out. Just as I figured: eyes burning with lust.
One word like "let's fuck" and they'd strip and pounce. I steer clear of even joking.
"I get what you both want, but you know our situation, right?"
"...Tch."
"...Ngh."
They groan pitifully, fanning their faces.
"Plus, bad spot for it. Or... you two okay sharing?"
"..."
"..."
What? Don't tell me, you bitch Smith, you fucked up with your mouth again?
I watch them glare, swallow hard. But no explosion like I feared.
They nod once, turn to me in sync.
"If you're cool, we are."
"Exactly. Whatever you want, we're ready. Even if one goes first, no bitching—we promised. Don't mind us."
"Whoa..."
Didn't see that coming. Thought Siron'd flip her shit. Guess jail changed things. Their bond's tighter than I realized—honestly thrilled.
"Wait. Kernax's place got blown up too?"
"Yeah... it did."
"What? Why stare at me, cunt? Your fault for picking there."
"Who said anything? Why snap solo?"
"Huh?"
"Hmph."
Unpredictable duo. Tension's rising—gonna fistfight again. Emergency measure: both hands grab those plump asses tight.
"Ngh..."
"Kh, ahem."
They shut up like pacified babies. I knead those addictive, firm cheeks.
"Kernax's house is toast too... so for a threesome, wait till it's rebuilt?"
"Ngh♥ R-room... Bambino Gar—"
"Whoa!!"
"Kyaa~♥"
Siron moans lewd despite Kernax right there, nuzzles my shoulder.
"S-Smith..."
Damn, punishment? Can't resist those pleading eyes—I squeeze Kernax's ass hard too.
"Eek♥"
She leans into my other shoulder. Anyway.
"We wrecked shit, rebuild's ongoing—fancy inn? What'll people think?"
"...Jealous?"
"Siron. On purpose?"
"..."
She blushes, looks away. Cheeky. But cute.
"Bottom line!! I'm dying to, but no sex till rebuild's done."
"The fuck kinda rule is that, asshole!!"
"Smith... even I think that's a bit..."
"Hey, whose fault is this!!"
"Haat♥"
"Ngh♥"
Oh, right—mine? Whatever, who cares now. Point is, these beauties' soft tits hugging me have my little buddy stirring awake.
Whoa, down boy. Not now. Anyway, no.
I steel my discipline, suppress it, release those luscious asses. They sigh sharply—voices dripping sex now. I step back quick.
"Gotta hustle on Ardella's delivery starting today. Plus prep for other stuff."
"...Sorry."
"Sorry..."
Whew, dodged getting jumped here.
"Don't sweat it. I'd love to roll around now too, but holding back. So... hustle the rebuild. Then I can be busy without sneaking—"
I poke their lower bellies with both index fingers.
"Got it?"
"G-got... it..."
"Under... stood... fully."
Enthralled, they swallow hard, nod vigorously.
"Good. Shame, but lunch then back to work for a bit?"
"...Fine."
"...This is responsibility, huh."
Faces fall, but they get it. I do too—missed 'em bad. But incident was huge. Gotta mind the victims.
"C'mon, don't mope. I'm not going anywhere."
"Who said..."
"Not... moping."
Pouting like kids. I chuckle inwardly, pat their asses to soothe, and finally head out for lunch together.