The Thinking Chair
"Sis, time for breakfast."
"Mm...? Yeah..."
I opened my eyes to Hanbyeol's usual bright, cheerful voice. Ever since taking over this body, I'd been sleeping in a lot more. Not that I had any reason to wake up early before— I'd just lounge around until she brought breakfast-slash-lunch, and eat whatever she gave me. Was I being raised like livestock, tied up like this? The sudden wave of self-loathing hit me, so I cast Purify on myself first and tried to roll over to sit up. It was a habit I'd picked up from living bound like this. Without arms to distribute the weight, sitting up purely with core strength was a pain, so rolling onto my side to use my legs made it a little easier, even if it was more hassle.
But my stomach cramped hard, flashing me back to last night, and I froze midway. Peeking at Hanbyeol's face, I gauged her expression. She didn't seem to care about yesterday at all, casually hugging me from behind to help me up like nothing happened.
"Sis smells so sweet again today."
"Don't say it like that, it's embarrassing... Hold on, Hanbyeol."
"Heehee."
Of course, hugging from behind meant her hands naturally slid forward, kneading my breasts with total ease. The touch reminded me of last night, heat building in my body, but the moment I drew a deep breath, she pulled away. Leaving me all teased and frustrated, I shot her a resentful glare— then realized the others were there and quickly schooled my face. Luckily, no one seemed to notice her little game; they were all staring at the tin pot boiling over the campfire.
"Hanbyeol, last night..."
I wasn't trying to scold her, but her acting like nothing happened after waking me with that teasing pissed me off enough to grumble. She just tilted her head innocently, eyes wide and pure.
"Yeah? What about last night?"
"No, it's just..."
Her utterly guileless gaze made it hard to even bring it up. Did she really not remember? Or had it all been a dream? Had my unsatisfied body, still heated from her groping, just spun some frustrated fantasy? If it was a dream, where did reality end and the dream begin? I couldn't exactly ask if she'd pinned me down and made me cum over and over, so I settled for a casual check-in.
"Was I talking in my sleep or something...? My abs are kinda sore."
"That's 'cause Hanbyeol clung to you all night, Saintess. She even threw her legs over your stomach."
"Ahh! Iris unnie! That was supposed to be a secret!"
"She says it hurts, so I had to tell."
"Unnie's hurting? Are you okay, unnie? Should we take it easy today and tackle the dungeon tomorrow?"
"Whine. Does it hurt a lot, sis?"
Their concern warmed me, but Hanbyeol's innocent act left me dazed. Had it really all been a dream? Confused, I blinked and glanced down. No traces anywhere— on my clothes, the blanket, nothing— from being tormented all over with pleasure by her hands. I'd purified myself, sure, but the only remnant was that thick, sweet scent still clouding my mind.
"No, it's not pain... Just a bad dream, I guess."
"A nightmare? No wonder you were groaning. Should've woken you up."
My face burned at her saying she'd seen me groaning. It had been a dream where I arched and moaned in bliss— if I'd thrashed that obviously... But she just looked at me with pure worry, so it probably hadn't been that bad. Which only stabbed at my heart more. This sweet girl sleeping beside me, and I'd let my dirty mind conjure that filth? Hopeless pervert. What kind of saintess had a body that'd corrupt at the slightest trigger? I shook my head to banish the guilt squeezing me and forced a smile.
"I'm really fine. Let's clear this dungeon quick and head home."
They gave me worried looks before focusing on breakfast. Only Hanbyeol and I hadn't died yesterday, but the others— one death each— showed no aftereffects. They said resurrection caused mental-physical disconnect or lingering pre-death pain shivers, but nothing here. At this point, was I the dead weight? A healer with no self-defense, just insurance. It bugged me that I still got treated like this. Maybe we'd hit a spot needing heals soon. But honestly, fewer heals would be better for everyone. Contradictory thoughts swirled as my tail scooped soup to my lips. Hanbyeol eyed it a bit sulkily— like she wanted to feed me herself. Embarrassing enough getting babied by someone younger. Come to think of it, my panties had slipped off so easily in the dream. No wriggling inner protrusions, just normal cotton feel. Weird how the dream sensations felt so alien, but whatever. Brain playing tricks. Not a biologist; who knows. Anyway, with that tentacle maybe still lodged in my ass, the easy undressing proved it was a dream. No reason to resent Hanbyeol, even if it embarrassed me to look at her. Felt sorry— had to make it up to her. With that, I finished the bowl and thanked them. The guildmates replied with pleased smiles.
Back in the dungeon. Same layout as yesterday. Hanbyeol and Iris insisted on sticking with me; Jonathan the tank for any fights; Jimmy for traps. Really, Iris and I overlapped most, but expecting infinite revives was naive— I had to tag along as backup. Good thing Hanbyeol's gimmick from yesterday didn't reactivate. Iris retrieved what looked like my old priestess robes, her face darkening briefly. She hid it before the guys noticed, then met my eyes with a sad smile.
"You okay...?"
"Just how it happened. No need to worry. You're kind, Saintess."
"What happened?"
Hanbyeol asked worriedly at the vibe, but I shook my head. Best to let it go if Iris said not to worry. We passed the first section fast, spotting the second anomaly quick: a blatant door and a chair. Just a chair would've been "Huh, random," but with restraints on the armrests and legs?
"Looks like someone sits bound to open the door."
Jimmy said after scouting for other puzzles. Hanbyeol nodded.
"Mana links the chair and door. Not offensive— trigger condition."
"Can't Hanbyeol just smash it?"
Offering someone up felt iffy, but they all looked negative.
"Messing with these wrong usually goes bad."
Decision time. No death fear meant no one shied from waiting bound. Just worry over the unknown— bored restraint time at least. Iris pushed: "For emergencies, Hanbyeol or I should stay with the Saintess." Agreed— if respawn changed and someone died, I'd need to revive. I was sidelined; one of them guarded me. "Rearguard escorting unnie's efficient. Leaves inquisitor and us two— one stays."
Tank. Assassin/trap scout. Healer/DPS. Least vital: Iris.
"Normally I'd stick with you, Saintess, but I trust Hanbyeol and the rest."
Iris tucked my old robes at her waist and sat. Hand on armrest— clank, cuffs locked her wrists; chains snaked over thighs and legs, pinning her. Bands cinched waist and chest, looking oddly sexy. I swallowed hard and looked away.
"We'll clear the gimmick quick and rescue you!"
Chains over her red inquisitor robes had the guys averting eyes awkwardly; Hanbyeol waved brightly. Feeling guilty, I glanced back— she smiled reassuringly.
"No pain. Good luck."
Her smile stabbed my conscience harder. I'd felt my heart race at the sight. Not attraction— wondering if being bound like that felt good. Imagining my character writhing helplessly already stirred my groin; I clamped my legs. Stockings whispered against knees; breath quickening, I snapped to. Ashamed and grossed out that my body overrode me. Felt like slick liquid might leak between thighs, so I fidgeted back behind the group. Natural for a healer.
"What kinda dungeon is this? Revives and kicks you out, but re-entry's fine."
Hanbyeol's musing cleared my head a bit.
"Yeah. Maybe game-like system? Gotta clear these to go home."
"Hm. Makes sense— quests send you back after completion."
She perked up at my shot in the dark. Felt plausible now.
"Any dungeons that revive guides
Guys ahead shook heads.
"None. Resurrection's high cleric taboo."
Level-unlock skill, but not a game here. I probed: "Maybe god-like being made this?"
"Sudden spawns like this, yeah— not monster or dark mage digs. Super strategy er-friendly, though."
"Evil too— drops all gear, forcing re-entry."
"Better than dying."
True. But the pre-death agony? "Doesn't hurt. Pass out first."
"Really...?"
Not exsanguination? Illusory damage? I eyed Hanbyeol meaningfully; she shrugged.
"Possible. Illusion overlays don't cost much mana."
"So Hanbyeol not ejecting 'cause..."
Level cap? Old Hanbyeol/Ivy booted; new max-level Hanbyeol stayed. Others low-level. Fit, and gear damage suggested real physics. Whatever— Rome wasn't built in a day; we cleared last gimmick, press on. Soon, another chair-door. We all eyed each other knowingly.
"This means..."
I started; Jimmy nodded. "Yep."
"What? What is it?"
Jonathan blinked cluelessly; Jimmy explained: "One-by-one sacrifice progression. Who goes first? No clue how many needed. Tricky dungeon."
"Haha, oh well. My turn. No mobs, shield useless. Take it if needed."
Jonathan sat without hesitation— bound like the rest. Guy bound? Not my thing. "Back soon," I said, averting eyes and crossing without looking back.
Another door-chair. Choice again.
"Last one reaches end? Tests trust..."
First was too. Frontliner tanks hits; sequential sacrifices; last touches button to clear. I'd have joined, but Hanbyeol's level let her tank and touch.
"Or picks off one-by-one."
"Wouldn't revive then."
"True. Fail, restart anyway."
Hypothesis set. Prove it. Decide order; next stage regroups anyway.
"Order doesn't matter."
"Yeah. I'll go first."
Jimmy strode to the chair— clank, bound. Just Hanbyeol and me left. As we passed, I glanced back. We had the torches— they were in dark.
"...Hanbyeol. Torches left behind?"
"Nah. Jimmy-oppa's bag maybe, but none lit. This is all."
"Won't they be scared in the dark...?"
"Haha, sis. They're not kids. Fine."
"Yeah...?"
Next chair quick. She moved to sit; I stopped her, offering my back.
"I'll do it. Legs and ankles hurt..."
"Okay? Rest then. I'll grab the key or whatever, free you quick."
"Gotta untie me first, right?"
"Oh, yeah."
Hanbyeol untied my arm ropes trustingly. First freedom in days— no numbness, perfect. Stretched, then sat, waving her off.
"Good luck."
Chains cinched body, locked limbs. Door opened; Hanbyeol vanished with the torch. Pitch black. Nap time. Already tired from that weird dream.