Pat. Pat. The Overseer's Warning
Pat. Pat. Someone was rhythmically patting my stomach. A faint metallic scent mingled with the soft, squishy sensation pressing against the back of my head. It put my mind at ease.
"If you're coming to, how about sitting up?"
"Ah...."
A clear voice snapped my foggy mind awake, and my eyes flew open almost reflexively. But all I saw was pitch darkness. Nothing. Fuck, did I go blind? A chill shot down my spine, and without thinking, I reached out with both hands.
Squish. Squish.
My hands, which should have covered my face, got blocked midway by something incredibly soft, plump, and full. They wouldn't budge.
"That's my breasts."
"Ack...!!"
No wonder it felt familiar—it was a massive rack. Wait, no, that's not the point.... I kneaded them out of habit before jolting back, palms open wide as I rolled sideways.
"Kek...!!"
"You're falling. So careless."
Before I could even register the plummeting sensation, she grabbed my collar and saved me from tumbling to the floor. Once I scrambled into a kneel, the grip on my neck loosened. Rubbing my sore throat, I stood up.
"Are you alright?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Yep. I'm f-fine....?"
Remembering how I'd blacked out on the sofa, I turned to thank the woman who must've nursed me—and froze.
"Ah... Lady Ardella?"
"No."
The denial was firm. But I had to rub my eyes a few times. Her hair was so purely white—bundled neatly—that it made me wonder if such a pristine color even existed. She sat on the sofa, her expression stoic, eyebrows matching her snow-white locks, and eyes like flawless blue gems, clearer than the sky itself.
It was a dead ringer for the Ardella I knew. But on closer look, the chest in front of me outclassed even Ardella's legendary mammaries by a size... no, two sizes.
"Um...."
"Why don't you sit first? You're making my neck hurt."
"Ah, yep!!"
Her tone was flat, utterly emotionless, but my body obeyed like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"I'll ask again. Any issues with your body?"
"Uh... yeah. Seems fine now."
"Good. Extend your hand for a moment."
"Here, here."
Worried about dirt, I wiped my palm on my shirt before holding it out.
"One hand is enough."
"Ah, right."
Feeling awkward, I offered just my left. She enveloped it gently between her delicate palms.
"Any troll blood in you?"
"Huh? Oh, no. Pure... human."
"Blessed by a specific god?"
"Atheist."
"Understood."
She nodded impassively and released me. I fiddled with my hand, still warm from her touch, then rested it politely on my knee.
"I'm the administrator dispatched from the House of Filoria. Just confirming—you're Smith from the Adventurer's Guild, correct?"
"Yep. That's me."
"Confirmed. Time's short, so let's get to business. Smith, that item you made—the 'Night Fairy,' was it? We've verified its performance via the one Kernax has."
She crossed her arms under her ample bosom, lifting the heavy-looking orbs.
"Kernax wouldn't answer my questions, so I'll ask you directly, Smith. Can you make ones with even better performance than what she's wearing?"
"Well...."
"You can. Impressively straightforward."
She didn't even let me respond before answering for me.
"How many can you process per month at max?"
"Uh, um... 100, easy."
"Your peak effort?"
"Haven't pushed it, so not sure. Probably more."
"I see. Would a personal workshop increase output?"
"Nah. Nice to have, but no big difference."
"No workshop needed means it's not tool-heavy. Tribal secret art or something?"
"...."
"Noted. Final check. Heard 'Night Fairy' uses iron ingots. Correct?"
"Yes."
"One ingot per unit?"
"Uh...."
"Not entirely, then."
For a split second, her gaze sharpened like a blade. It pierced right through me, heart pounding.
"Fine. If it means early supply over other territories, we'll overlook it. Smith."
"Yep!!"
Caught lying like a kid busted by his parents—worse, even. I clutched my racing heart and shouted back.
"We'll supply the ingots. 'Night Fairy' sales at material cost only, as agreed."
"Y-Yes!!"
"Good. First month: ingots supplied, payment next month based on output. Deliveries and pickups on the first day of each month—memorize that."
"Got it!!"
"I hope so. I despise those who break promises or schedules. Knights from House Filoria handle transport both ways. Unlikely, but don't pass goods to outsiders."
"Yep!! Will be careful!!"
"Loud voice. Seems your health's fine. And—"
Knock knock knock.
She stopped at the sound from outside.
"Be right out. Prepare."
—Understood.
A low, firm reply came from beyond the door. Her jewel-like blue eyes fixed on me.
"Smith. Avoid relations with women of that race."
"Yes!! Uh, yes, yes?"
I blurted it out reflexively, then stammered, wondering if I'd misheard.
Standing from the sofa, she continued. "It's common knowledge among insiders now. Women of that race drain a man's essence—and vitality—during intercourse. A result of prioritizing individual strength over reproduction. Their numbers have dwindled near extinction compared to the past, but the draining persists."
"S-So...?"
"Smith, your collapse wasn't minor. One of those women is nearby. Continue, and you'll die soon. I don't like losing good partners suddenly, so consider this advice seriously."
She glanced at my face, then turned for the door. Snapping out of my daze at this bombshell, I barely spoke before she opened it.
"Is there... no way around it?"
"Unclear what you mean."
"L-Like... a way I could be fine even after...?"
She paused, hand on the knob.
"Heard there's a method. Don't know it myself. But stay with the guild long enough, and you'll learn it eventually."
"Nothing else?"
"...."
She released the knob and turned, her blank stare unnervingly cold.
"From the desert, right?"
"Y-Yes."
"Which tribe?"
"Huh?"
"I don't like repeating myself."
"Uh... th-that's...."
The air grew heavy. Breathing hurt; limbs shook. Cold sweat soaked my shirt. My heart nearly stopped, lips parched, mind blanking white.
—Use my name.
"The beacon of Rapitera God commands: reveal to no one."
"I see."
The pressure vanished like a lie. She turned back to the door.
"Not vitality, but boosting stamina would prevent collapses like today."
With that, she left the office.
Alone again, I collapsed onto the sofa, legs trembling. No joke—that was the scariest moment of my life. Brushed death's door.
"Whew...."
Palms drenched, back soaked. It hit me anew: in this world of beauties, any could snap me like a twig if they wanted. I'd survived unscathed only because I'm a guy.
"Ugh... So it wasn't just my stamina sucking after sex with Siron. Explains why she's perky every morning."
Her fresh mornings had bruised my male pride a bit, but hey—turns out I'm not the weak one. Smith the man: pride intact.
"Wonder who that Ardella lookalike was."
She mentioned sisters—maybe one? Blood relation for sure.
Knock knock knock.
—Mr. Smith? May I come in?
"Ah, yep. Fine."
I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants and stood. The door opened immediately—Lina entered.
"To the mess hall."
"...Mess hall?"
"Yes. The overseer said feed you hearty there before escorting you out."
Sudden vibe meal? Starving before blackout, but not now. Still, refusing hospitality's rude—light bite couldn't hurt.
Military mess. Not the coziest name.
"This way."
"Yep."
I followed Lina.
"Hey, Lina."
"Yes?"
"The overseer—is she related to Ardella?"
"Huh? No way."
"...For real? They look so alike."
"Alike? Not even a little."
"...Huh?"
"Huh?"
She turned, tilting her head; I mirrored her.
"White hair, blue eyes."
"No? Blonde hair, blue eyes."
"...?"
"...?"
We tilted again. What the fuck? Who'd I been talking to?
"Can I see the overseer?"
"Headed north street—go there, sure. After food?"
"Uh... no. Never mind."
Whatever it was, digging into a disguised person's trail felt unwise. Sure, she pressured me hard, but she nursed me, spilled unexpected intel, even a temp fix.
Grrrowl!!
"Oh my."
"...Ahem."
She has zero tact, seriously. I scratched my head sheepishly; she smiled like I was cute.
"Uh... let's hurry."
"Yeah, better. Hehe."