Hanbyeol, This Girl Is Dangerous
Those who received healing from me, half-believing and half-doubting at first, soon started calling me "big sis" and treating me with utmost respect. Their lavish treatment left me a bit flustered. It wasn't like I was healing them mid-battle—what was so hard about patching up wounds in a non-combat situation? A true healer's worth shines in combat, managing party members' life force while juggling your own mana. You need wide situational awareness and cool-headed judgment. In short, PvP and raids weren't all that different. Sometimes you'd precast heals anticipating incoming damage, or burn extra mana on high-potency recovery spells when needed. You'd chip in DPS during firepower synergy windows, and coordinating survival cooldowns with other healers was crucial too.
I wasn't some flower vase healer pampered in a fixed party—I was the kind who'd bounced between random pugs until cancer nearly set in before finally forming my own raid team. What irked me was being fawned over regardless of actual skill by people who didn't get my value. That felt too much like being a queen bee. ...Though saying that, their treatment was so lavish. Even as a mid-level manager, I'd been squeezed from above and below, drowning in stress—but here, I could just bask in it. And that made me uneasy. If I ever returned to reality, the deprivation would hit hard.
So I humbly declined anything excessive, accepting only proper clothes. They were still within the priestess robe category, but unlike real-world nun habits, these blatantly accentuated the curves of my chest, waist, and hips. Still, they beat the previous rags that exposed everything up to my pubic bone with the slightest slip in posture. At least these had skirts covering down to my thighs. I still couldn't take big steps or move freely, but hey, I wasn't some prostitute—what kind of decency lets genitals hang out? They met that bare minimum, so I didn't ask for more. Honestly, I preferred seeing my character in pretty outfits anyway.
With fresh clothes, I asked them to dispose of the previous costume masquerading as priestess robes. I could guess what might happen if I asked a guy, but it wasn't like they'd touch my body—just treat me like a daughter figure. With my broad magnanimity, I could allow that much. As long as they didn't say crap like "big sis gets a pass" to my face. My upgrade from slave to big sis ensured no one dared say it outright anyway.
They even assigned me a room away from the boss chambers. Others seemed to have their own homes, but they clearly weren't ready to let me roam free from this criminal outfit yet, so a decent room in the building would do. I welcomed it. While Daesik and Hanbyeol gathered intel on this world, I could lounge, heal the occasional injured slacker, and call it a day. Thanks to that, aside from evenings when Hanbyeol finished work, chatted with me, and crashed, I had plenty of alone time—blissfully peaceful.
Even lying around, being around people drains mental energy. You can't sleep-talk freely, so you stay tense even at rest. Social etiquette demands it, especially with non-friends. And with our living spaces separated, confronting Daesik grew tricky. Busy merging three factions, he never visited, just sent greetings via Hanbyeol. Going to him first? Two stern guys guarded the door, controlling access. Verbally, they insisted it wasn't confinement—they'd fetch anything I needed, just rest in my room—but the "don't wander" intent was clear.
They probably figured keeping me locked down let them exploit Hanbyeol. Surface reasons aside, why did it feel like Daesik was avoiding me? ...Maybe that vibrator—no, mana vibration signaler—I'd used freely had caught up. Objectively, he likely felt guilty for brutalizing me in front of others. But the saying held: the guilty flinch first. I punched the blanket in frustration.
I had no complaints about this life, but I couldn't live it forever. Either find a way home or, if settling here, scrape by without more punishments. Survival first.
"Sis! Did you have a good day?"
Hanbyeol now wore crisp mage robes instead of that weird maid outfit. They exposed her shoulders and thighs, but she'd bought them herself—I had no room to nag.
"You worked hard today too. Nothing happen?"
"Nope, hehe."
Lolling around all day, seeing Hanbyeol's face was my sole joy lately. Stroking her back as she hugged me casually felt natural now. Her nuzzling into my chest? I accepted it smoothly. Sure, high schoolers know everything, but she was still young, not fully out of parental shelter. Dropped into this isolated world at an age needing family growth, she craved attachment. Not becoming her mom, but playing the role? For poor Hanbyeol, I'd gladly do it.
"Sis, I looked into it—priest healers are all temple-affiliated. Worried those users messing up the world might make temples purge them, but luckily, no family-on-family cleansing. They're safe."
"So... other users really exist?"
"Yeah. Oh, and Daesik oppa's swamped—couldn't visit today, says sorry."
Daesik's real apology wasn't that. A bitter pang hit. Was it just dramatic flair for the merger, now glossed over since I was fine? I didn't want compensation—just "sorry" would've sufficed.
Hanbyeol plopped beside me, chattering about her day. They were sorting users from the basement prison for later guard jail transfer and breakout ops. Daesik's group would pin their old slave-trading kidnappings on the wiped-out orgs. The city demanded proof his group wouldn't threaten it—subjugate the anomalies popping with these "otherworlders."
"Anomalies? Like gates opening?"
Popular fantasy trope flashed. But this wasn't modern Earth; fantasy world, so no need for gates. Step outside, slimes everywhere. I mused this wasn't me talking, and Hanbyeol predictably shook her head.
"Not instant dungeons—just mutant mobs on the field. Big ones, though."
"Hm..."
Raid time, basically. Term from military ambushes, gamer-evolved to multi-player boss challenges too tough solo. Key: team comps covering weaknesses.
"Familiar mob too. Y'know those newbie-zone trees blocking roads, spawning periodically? Trade halts 'til raids clear 'em."
"Possessed trees...?"
Annoying mechanics: no instakills, but slows, roots, gear durability drain. Barely profitable, guilds bountied raids. Aggro-pullers, snagging newbies to death; buggy overlaps trapped respawns 'til cleared.
"Yup. Daesik oppa took the quest for image rehab."
Armed groups draw suspicion—less if aimed outward. Smart.
I got it, nodding. "Priests temple-bound, limited outings. Hard to recruit new healers quick, so they need me."
"Right! Daesik oppa asked me to check, but you guessed."
"You explained well."
"Ehehe."
I'd accept the role easy, but worries crept. Game: dodge patterns, DPS bar down. Here? Blunt weapons might not dent thick bark. Axes for logs take skill along grain; moving tree? Nightmare. Their gear: swords, occasional blunts/bows. Cold iron effective? Firebombs needed?
Doubt cleared quick. Hanbyeol: mage, elemental attacks. Daesik maybe grabbed it to level her XP. Rest meat shields; me lifeline healer. Brutal, but I nodded. Better than pre-upgrade sneers—Hanbyeol unhurt mattered most. Daesik? Apologize later, reconsider.
"Raid schedule set?"
"Soon as you're ready—tomorrow even. But sis, aren't your clothes cold?"
"Huh? Fine now, but yeah, colder soon. Won't get longer ones though. Knees covered would be nice..."
"Hehe."
Hanbyeol rolled beside me, pulling black fabric from her pocket, unfurling it. Silky drape made me gulp, instinctively leaning back as she scooted closer.
"Never tried stockings?"
"When would I...?"
"Game designs: nuns and stockings = canon. You're priestess-style robes anyway. With your face, body, those clothes, black stockings..."
I got it—ex-man here. Stockings over bare legs, my taste. But wearing them? Different.
"Still, stockings cover legs—no bare skin, so short skirts less embarrassing?"
"Th-that so?"
Priestess robes: side slits to hips, needed added skirts—all short, annoying. Her pitch tempted; I took them. Silky-rough texture: another gulp.
Hanbyeol knelt behind, grabbing my leg to "help." "Like this. There."
Sounded like she was sis, me little sib—odd vibe. But focusing on learning, ignoring stray thoughts. Slipping legs in: lewd friction quickened breath. Tight silk hug, whispering slides on skin... her breath on my nape tickled; I shivered.
Stockings on both: instinctively crossed knees. Standing straight, untouched thighs brushed, sparking tingles.
"Suits you! Rip 'em, I'll get more."
Her cheery whisper snapped me; apologetic: "Y-you bought this...? How much?"
"No biggie—sis hasn't got paid. Free later, buy me food."
"Thanks."
"Sleepover tonight?"
Bombshell—heart dropped. My legs' stocking allure had me heated; her here? No solo bliss time. I hemmed excuses, but she was firm.
"B-but okay? One bed..."
"What's wrong? Girls together? Gonna pounce me?"
"Wh-who'd pounce!"
"Made myself pretty cute. Won't? Sis impotent?"
"No, you're underage..."
"So? Fine if it's you."
"Don't say that lightly."
Old-man lecture deserved, but she giggled, hugged my waist from front, peering up.
"Hehe, that's why I like you. Fine, we'll share."
Outmatched by this sly kid. But girls—should be fine. She seemed unworried. Just tonight. Frustrations? Later. Kept stockings on slyly, lying down. If asked, "forgot"—dressing my char satisfied me.
"Sis, hold hands to sleep?"
"...Dangerous words."
"Why?"
"Just don't."
She summoned pillow via magic, lay innocent-eyed. I gave my right hand; we shared the blanket. Under covers, stroking stockinged thighs: inwardly thrilled.