Chapter 16
Chapter 16
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: First Mission Accomplished! Afterparty... Successful?
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The alchemist shop of the witch Nemea had a place that could be called a basement. Lifting up the wide door revealed stairs emanating a musty moldy smell.
Nemea walked ahead with a small lantern, her heels clicking away. I followed cautiously behind her, trembling with anxiety.
It felt like reaching deep into a spider's web.
From the woman walking in front of me came a faint, sweet scent—incense or something I couldn't quite identify. It was like being an ant marching in line after pheromones.
"I haven't been able to clean down here for a while. It might be a bit messy."
Finally, the woman arrived underground and unlocked a thick iron door. It creaked open with a rusty groan, uuuung.
Just as I thought the dark space beyond held nothing visible, she murmured a tiny incantation barely audible.
"Vartema."
Then, torches ignited one after another in the darkness—fwoosh, fwoosh, fwoosh. What emerged were wooden frames, iron tools, and instruments splattered with bloodstains everywhere.
"Uh, sorry, but can I just pretend this never happened and leave...?"
Fuck, anyone could see those were torture devices.
I had no knowledge of medieval torture tools, but the sharp spikes and menacing shapes made it obvious even to a child that they were crafted for torment or murder—overflowing with malice!
That's when I started edging backward stealthily.
"Oh my. You're more of a scaredy-cat than your size suggests. No need to worry. Even I want to get rid of those things, but they're too heavy for me to handle alone."
Swoosh.
Her slender fingers rested on my chest. The thin digits roamed freely over it like a spider, and she chuckled softly, fu fu.
"What a fine body. You must be strong too, right? I'd love if you lent me some of that overflowing power, Samaritan friend."
This witch seemed to want me to move the tools down here. Did she see me as some kind of laborer?
My build was indeed larger than the average around this world. Two years as a slave, enduring all sorts of manual labor and starvation, had honed my body into solid muscle without a trace of belly fat.
Of course, it wasn't anything special. Fuck, anyone surviving two years of basic training either breaks down or toughens up.
"Just move them, right...?"
"You're quite the suspicious one. Like a wild beast. Yeah, just take them outside the shop. The scrap collector said he'd come with a cart."
A half-day gig. Carry the stuff upstairs for 30 coppers. It didn't look like much, and with pure muscle, it seemed doable in about 10 minutes, as the witch said.
Back in my slave days or even in modern times, I'd often earned pocket money with heavy lifting. 30 coppers for a 30-minute simple task felt generous.
So, with the mindset of picking up a side gig for cash, I grunted and hauled wooden frames and iron racks out to the shop's front door.
My strength stat rose by 1, so it wasn't as tough as expected—bonus surprise. Still, heavy loads were fucking heavy. There were solid metal chunks!
"Good, all moved. Now we just wait for the cart."
The witch smiled languidly at the assortment of junk piled in front of her shop.
She'd said it breezily, but the already gloomy back-alley shopfront now looked even less inviting, transformed into a horror show of torture machines.
"Here. Pay for the job, goblin teeth, and the sweat you shed."
Her graceful hand extended a pouch stuffed with clinking coins.
Only after verifying all 80 coppers inside could I finally exhale a small sigh of relief.
"By the way, friend. Any interest in fortune-telling or fate? You seem born under a strange star."
"Fortune-telling?"
"Yeah. I do readings and sense the power in objects. I can tell your karma is unusual. Fascinating."
"If it costs money, pass."
"Hehe. No worries. Normally I'd charge, but your karma's so unique I want to see it myself. No fee."
Fortune-telling for free? For real? A fortune-teller who doesn't ask for cash? Amazing. Quack maybe.
Truth be told, I wasn't into fortunes or that crap.
I hated cults to begin with, and I blamed that damn cult proselytizer I met that day for stranding me in this world, suffering.
But staring at those massive breasts—watermelons or whatever—I couldn't care less.
So I sat on a first-floor chair, facing the witch with a weird crystal ball in the center.
"First, place your hands on this crystal ball. Both hands."
Grab.
The round crystal felt exactly like a smooth, cold, hard glass orb. Nothing more.
I'd half-expected it to hum like that statue earlier or give some mystical sensation—thankfully or not, no such thing.
Swoosh.
But her palm lightly resting on the back of my hand startled me.
What the?
It was so soft and delicate, like she'd never known hardship in this barbaric world. I had to wonder.
As it stroked my hand back and forth, swoosh swoosh, confusion hit alongside a strangely erotic tingle.
Ding.
『Name: Nemea Lv. ??
Status: Chronic Fatigue》 ????》 ????》 ????》 ????》 ????》 ????》 ????』
Fuck, why so many question marks?
The text appeared when my hand brushed my left wrist by chance. Like that one-eyed middle-aged guy at the guild, lots of unknowns.
Question marks keep popping up. Glitch? Or something else?
"You've received grace from a troublesome god, friend."
"Ah."
She detected my blessing? Sensed some magic or whatever. With this mysterious witch, anything was possible.
"More than that, it's odd. Two... three... no, four...? Can't tell. At least two gods inside you. Impossible. And one feels terribly unstable."
"What does that mean?"
"No idea. First time for me. Normally, two gods' powers can't dwell in one body. But you... What are you, friend?"
"Y-Yes?"
"Gods are jealous. They hate their champions mingling with others'. But you... Hmm, maybe my reading's off. I'm tired lately— not accurate."
She lifted her palm from my hand and the crystal. The floating text faded.
Tired, huh. That chronic fatigue status must be affecting it.
More importantly, two gods' powers in one body is impossible? I had two blessings, clearly from different gods.
"Uh, mind if I ask what happens to someone with two gods' graces...?"
"Hm? Simple. Those with multiple divine patrons, either achieve unbelievable karma... or picture a frog with kids pulling its arms both ways. Have their guts spilling everywhere, their bones crunch."
She described gruesome facts in a drowsy drawl. Fuck, can't just rejoice at two rare blessings. Am I screwed?
"Anyway, this is fascinating. My reading might be wrong though. Haven't been long in this city, Sodomora. Stress piling up— haaaaa."
Nemea yawned hugely, mouth agape. On anyone else, it'd look vulgar, but on a beauty, it seemed like an endearing vulnerability, full of humanity.
"...I know a massage good for fatigue, if you're interested."
Maybe that gap, or the ongoing skinship softening me up. I mustered courage to offer.
"Massage?"
"Yeah. If it's not rude, could I have your palm...?"
"My palm? Hng. Asking for my hand for a massage. Such a classic flirt."
Her eyes narrowed slyly. Used to cold disdain from women, I berated myself for getting carried away.
What if she snaps like Daphne, "Pervert! Trying to grope me!"? Atmosphere would be wrecked. Dumbass horny Hassan.
"Sure. Whatever. Juts using my palm's fine, just my right hand?"
Fuck, an angel!
Her slender palm extended toward me. I glanced at it carefully.
I'd glimpsed it with the crystal earlier. Red spots mottled her palm.
Several, not just one—odd, but anyway, not my imagination.
"Staring like that, do you see something?"
"Oh, just, you know..."
"Heard Samaritans have shamans reading fate from palm lines. You too?"
Palmistry? Samaritans do quack shit like that? Fuck, preconceptions about that Samaritan wilderness I never visited piling up.
But useful info for me.
"...Something like that. Hold still, touching now."
"Oh? Touching, huh. Naughty. Go ahead."
I tried ignoring it, but her teasing made my ears burn with embarassment.
Keeping calm, I fixed my gaze on her fingers and palm, slipping my pinkies and ring fingers between her thumb-index gap and ring-pinky gap.
Dad called this the basic basic of palm massage.
Deep down, some medical term probably, but quack knowledge taught by Dad, I just mimicked. He probably didn't know either.
"What're you doing?"
"Uh, pressing now."
Squish.
I spread her palm wide by pulling left and right, then thumbs dug into the dip just above the wrist, where thick flesh met.
Knew this spot good for chronic fatigue. Red spots too.
"Hn, hngh!"
Squish.
Pressing hard, she let out a soft moan like a scream. Spot vanished, my dick swelled. Yeah, dick growing.
Why's my dick growing? Fair question. Young guy denied even jerking off for ages.
Handling a stranger woman's soft palm with bursting vitality—dick not swelling would be weirder.
"Tingly all over. Amazing. Samaritan secret art? Not quite a blessing."
"K-Keep going?"
"Yeah, not bad. Kinda shivery... Eek?!"
I kneaded hard the red spot on her thumb. Good for feet? Feet tired tires whole body.
Squish, squuuish.
Side-eyeing for effect—
"Feels like leg cramps. Why's pressing palm tingling my feet?!"
Perfect results. Riding the vibe, I pressed and circled every spotted area: middle finger tip, ring finger, etc.
Her body shivered, lips leaking fun sounds: "Hngh." "Ahh."
Ding.
『Cured Nemea's Chronic Fatigue.』
『Karma Value +10』
Last spot gone, familiar text appeared.
But no wasting the chance—I kept kneading her palm.
Soft, squishy, warm; fragile yet resilient. Attractive.
Hehe, mochi.
"Whew. Amazing. Messy mana sorting itself. That's enough, friend."
Fatigue gone or noticed my sleazy moves? She called to stop. Fuck, it was too obvious!
Couldn't keep groping. I regretfully released her hand. Her warmth lingered on my palms. Probably 98.6°F.
"Feels so refreshed. Mmm, it was cool and addictive. Haven't felt this in ages. But careful, friend. Since Clepsigo got zapped by lightning, unapproved medical acts are taboo."
"This massage counts as medical?"
"Gods decide those. Simple rubdown's fine, but yours seemed... not simple. You know mana flow structures?"
Mana? Can't even feel mana, much less card tricks. Stunned, she chuckled.
"Anyway, bring the good stuff next time. I'll pay well."
Groped a pretty girl's hand to my heart's content—should I pay her? Scared she'd charge, I bolted.
As I left, her soft farewell followed.
"Oh, twin full moons tonight. Watch for light, Hassan. Weeks with twin moons bring bad fortunes."
"Huh?"
Turned to ask—door shut, she gone.
What? Did I tell her my name? It was too hectic, so I can't recall.
I looked up as the sun set, and the sky is darkening. Better hit the bathhouse, then tavern where everyone's waiting.
But that shocking experience just now blanked the tavern name I was supposed to go to. Was is the Nymph's Tail Inn?