Katon Village
Three hours later.
Yurpa lay sprawled across the tea table, trembling with a soft gasp as she felt his seed paint the deepest reaches of her womb.
I did it. I… I barely managed to hold back the essence-drain…
A faint absorption through the contact of their membranes had been unavoidable, but she had just barely stopped herself from losing her mind and greedily devouring his vital essence.
Of course, there had been crises along the way.
The first one had nearly been disastrous.
With her mind half-numb from the relentless waves of pleasure, he had suddenly hoisted her into a full nelson and driven into her. Her legs hooked over his arms, her body folded nearly in half, her neck bent at a right angle against his thick forearm until breathing became a struggle—while he pounded into her twice every second. It had felt as though her very soul were being fucked out of her.
I never thought I’d actually experience the “standing full nelson” I’d only ever heard about…
The second crisis had been no less intense.
Right before his fifth climax, after hours of relentless battering had left the mouth of her womb soft and yielding, the head of his cock had forced its way through and invaded her uterus itself.
In that moment Yurpa had felt a pleasure so extreme it seemed her entire body might explode. The overwhelming pain of her womb’s entrance being forcibly stretched open had chemically reacted with every scrap of pleasure that had been accumulating inside her. For a single instant her mind had blanked out completely—yet, fortunately, the Heupjeong instinct had remained suppressed, as though crushed beneath an even stronger, more bestial urge.
A wet, sliding sound.
Having spent every last drop it could, the thick shaft began to withdraw.
Nngh…?!
But her womb, still clamped tightly around the ridge of his glans, was dragged along with it. The terrifying sensation of her insides being pulled outward made Yurpa thrash weakly.
Hhk—honey, wait…! Ah, ahhk?! Aahn!
A soft, wet pop.
Nngh…!
Thankfully, somewhere in the middle her womb and his cockhead finally parted, sparing her the catastrophic fate of a prolapsed uterus.
Had he given her one last mouthful of pleasure because ending it like that would have felt incomplete?
Yurpa slumped off the table, upper body propped against it, legs quivering as she hovered somewhere between the pain of a ruined waist and residual ecstasy, her skin slick with sweat.
And then she found herself staring at the slightly softened, almost cute cock that had been pushed right up to her nose.
You want me to clean it? Heh… honey, you really are… haum.
She had no strength left to stand, yet how could she not adore the cock that had made her so blissfully happy? Yurpa cleaned Hwanin’s second self—still coated in a mixture of her juices and his seed—with her lips and tongue as though savoring a delicious piece of candy.
When she finished and looked up at him with a soft, questioning smile, Hwanin returned a small smile of his own and stroked her hair.
“Good girl. Well done.”
……!
The touch was gentle and affectionate, as though he were petting a younger lover. Even on the verge of collapse, Yurpa felt her heart flutter so hard it ached, and she hastily turned her face away.
This man was dangerous.
Far too dangerous.
Deliberately ignoring Hwanin, she tugged the crumpled tube-top dress that had been bunched around her waist back up over her breasts and smoothed the skirt down properly.
Hnn…
She clenched her hole as tightly as she could, yet the seed still felt ready to spill out at any moment. Yurpa plugged herself with the panties she had discarded earlier and pointed a finger at him.
W-wait. Don’t leave yet. Just a moment! Got it?!
Hwanin simply nodded. Yurpa staggered out of the workshop.
Seated on the sofa, idly turning a blood-red phase stone between his fingers, Hwanin reflected on the physical relationship he had just shared with Yurpa.
Her figure was certainly outstanding.
By his personal standards she ranked right after Ielkata.
Yet there had been no difference in the quality or classification of her spiritual energy simply because she was a classed combatant, nor had absorbing a classed individual’s essence produced any special change in his body. The only distinction was that the amount of spiritual energy absorbed in a single session had been two to three times greater than with an ordinary person.
He had half-expected a classed individual’s essence to feel somehow different, so the result was mildly disappointing—but only mildly. Hwanin quickly cast the regret aside.
That was the moment Yurpa returned.
She had freshened up; every trace of the three-hour ordeal had been scrubbed away, and a faint floral perfume now clung to her.
Did I keep you waiting long?
Hwanin watched her approach with a smile, then calmly lifted the hem of her fluttering goddess-style dress—short in front, long in back.
Hyaat?!
No panties. And nestled snugly against her sex was a jeweled plug.
Yurpa’s face flushed scarlet as she weakly pushed at his hand, scrambling for an excuse.
Th-that… it doesn’t mean anything else. You know I’m Heupjeong-jok, right? I can still draw a little essence even from semen…
“There must have been other methods. Yurpa, you are an unrepentant pervert.”
As he spoke he flicked the jeweled end of the plug with a fingertip. Yurpa flinched and jerked her hips back, thighs clamping together in embarrassment.
A-anyway.
She pushed his hand away, smoothed her skirt, and sat demurely on the sofa.
While I was cleaning up I thought about earlier. Your phase-force rejection constitution isn’t malignant-level.
“So even this constitution has grades.”
Mm. The worse the symptoms, the more violently the body rejects phase force. In severe cases even the faintest trace is refused. Eating food steeped in phase force can trigger violent nausea, and temple-made potions can actually harm you instead of healing—because they use phase force to catalyze the mixture.
Yurpa moistened her mouth with the long-cold tea before continuing.
But your constitution rejects strong phase force strongly and weak phase force weakly. So… here.
Hwanin watched as she produced small flasks from something like a wallet—four red, three green, three yellow. Ten in total.
Four general-purpose high-grade recovery potions, three high-grade detox potions, and three high-grade disease-cure potions. These contain absolutely no phase force; I made them myself from pure herbs. Even someone with your constitution should receive the full effect.
“Thank you.”
From the moment he had first learned of his constitution, Hwanin had worried about precisely this. Temple potions were said to be infused with phase force; he had wondered whether they would even work on him. The lily-of-the-valley he had gathered in the forest-type labyrinth had proven effective, so he had already planned to secure herb-only potions. This was perfect.
You’re actually in a pretty good position, you know? Your resistance reaction when you ingest phase force isn’t severe, and external phase force simply slides off you according to its strength. And right now? You don’t feel drained or hollow at all, do you?
“No. I feel no different from usual.”
Thinking it over carefully, I barely absorbed any of your essence at all. There were a few moments when I almost blacked out and the drain should have kicked in hard—yet here you are, perfectly fine. I think that constitution of yours blocked the essence-drain too.
“Hmm…”
Anyway, even temple potions should work on you to some degree. Keep that in mind.
“Is there any way to… do something about this constitution?”
It was an ability with clear strengths and weaknesses, and like anyone else he preferred to keep only the strengths. When he asked whether a method existed, Yurpa smiled slyly.
I called it a constitution for convenience, but it’s more accurate to think of it as a talent. And because it’s a talent, with enough effort you might be able to turn it on and off.
“……”
He waited for the rest, gazing steadily into her eyes. Yurpa’s cheeks pinked and she looked away.
I-I can’t quite think of how right now. Maybe by tomorrow something will come to me.
The intent was blatant. Hwanin huffed a quiet laugh.
“You think something might come to you, or you know something will come to you?”
……It will come to me.
Sensing that a vague “maybe” would not fly, she chose the firmer answer and inwardly sighed in relief at his reply.
“Good. I had no intention of wasting time on uncertainties. Then I shall visit again tomorrow.”
Really? …You can come first thing in the morning. No—tonight is fine too. I’ll leave the bedroom door unlocked.
“It is already late tonight. I will come tomorrow morning.”
His tone was gentle but absolute. Watching his back as he left the workshop, Yurpa felt a faint pang of disappointment.
…A few potions as a gift was a bit sparse, wasn’t it? Tomorrow I’ll prepare something better.
As she began pondering what that gift should be, every thought of the transmission technique vanished completely from her mind.
Leaving the magic-tool shop, Hwanin returned to the annex of Kantwi’s mansion and took out the magic tool he had purchased. He slipped one of the first-grade phase stones he had kept rather than sold into the coin purse. A soft thrum vibrated through the air, then settled.
Opening the purse revealed a dim interior. When he pushed his hand inside it swallowed him up to the elbow before stopping as though blocked.
“Not bad.”
He first sorted the gold, silver, and thermal-silver coins into ordinary pouches and placed those inside the magic purse, then poured the copper and iron coins straight in, along with a pouch of jewels worth roughly fifteen gold. The weight vanished almost completely. What had felt like carrying five kilograms of rice against his body was suddenly gone.
I have six first-grade phase stones left. I’ll just insert one whenever I need the function.
After sorting the coins he set the newly bought magic tools beside the travel bag in Isilite’s room. A white brassiere and panties peeking from a small clothing bag caught his eye—one of the three sets he had bought her the day they arrived in Wayford.
“……”
They looked a little worn. When he lifted them he could feel the careful hand-washing, yet also the unmistakable signs of constant use.
He realized that while he himself had bought multiple sets and changed daily, Isilite had been living with only three pairs for months.
Over two months already. I should take better care of her from now on.
He returned the undergarments to their place. A presence approached the annex entrance, followed by a cheerful Kueet~ from Emergency Food and the sound of flapping wings.
Ah, wait—I’ve got blood and fat all over me! If you stick to me you’ll get dirty too, so don’t!
Kuu? Kuhung.
Opening the door, Hwanin found Isilite just about to step up onto the veranda. Her eyes widened at the sight of him emerging from her room.
Master, were you looking for something?
“No. I bought a few things at the magic-tool shop that will be useful for travel. Organize them later…”
He trailed off, looking her over. She wore ill-fitting brown work trousers, a slightly yellowed round-neck linen shirt, clumsy leather work gloves, and a tattered apron. The clothes she had left in that morning were clutched in her hand; clearly the workshop had provided the workwear.
Isilite squirmed, embarrassed by her current appearance.
“Wash up and come out. We’ll go out for a short while this evening.”
Yes, Master.
Without another word she hurried into the annex bathroom.
While she bathed, Hwanin played with Emergency Food and received successive visits from Kantwi, Luararda, Asen, Mundoer, and Storey.
Kantwi had come simply to confirm Hwanin was unharmed. The others had come with proposals.
Lord Hwanin. Would you not form a party with me?
“I am sorry, but I must decline.”
…That was a rather immediate answer. Might I ask the reason? If I may list the advantages of partnering with me first: while my nature prevents me from entering underground labyrinths, in outdoor or open-type labyrinths my racial traits can guarantee both safety and every convenience.
He explained how easy it was to find paths and destinations from the sky, and how his flight could secure game for abundant meals during travel—yet none of it tempted Hwanin.
“I intend to form a party of my own. That party will of course enter underground labyrinths as well, and I am aiming for sixth-class and above.”
Sixth-class and above…
Luararda’s beak clamped shut. His feathers drooped as he muttered,
I see. So you too entered the tournament to find companions… But the young lady who serves you does not look ready for sixth-class work.
“I plan to help her build her strength until then. And even if not…”
…That young lady will have her uses. As a porter, or party support.
Luararda sighed. There were many points he could have argued, but as a third party it was not his place.
After Luararda left in something resembling acceptance, Asen arrived with a similar purpose—though with one difference.
Hwanin, will you let me join your party? I’m a tracker-hunter. Exploration, stealth, and trail-following are my specialties.
“A tracker, then.”
Yes. I’m confident in combat too. One-on-one I can take a third-class magic beast.
“With that level of skill, would it not be wiser to seek a safer party? At present mine consists only of myself, Isilite, and Emergency Food.”
Just you and I could clear a third-class labyrinth in our sleep. Recruit a few more and fourth-class would be easy. With my detection ability I can handle labyrinths full of tricky, annoying traps.
Not “a piece of cake,” but “in our sleep,” was it? Hwanin kept his expression mild as he refused.
“I am sorry. Your goal and mine are similar, yet different.”
What is your goal, then?
“Exploration and adventure in labyrinths of sixth-class and higher.”
Asen’s face filled with incredulity. Sixth-class? Was he serious?
…You know that from sixth-class onward they are no ordinary labyrinths. Just entering one often requires the patronage of a great house, and the required party standards become extreme. And yet…
Faced with Hwanin’s calm expression she closed her mouth, then simply stared at him where he sat on the edge of the veranda.
…What a shame. I sensed considerable ability in you… Ahh, why are all the people I like so damn capable?
She grumbled that the parties she liked never accepted her, while the ones she disliked pursued her relentlessly.
Hwanin had not ignored the matter of labyrinth traps. He knew that in capital cities and major hubs there were organizations formed by labyrinth explorers, and that famous parties—much like online-game guilds—kept rosters of skilled members and formed squads as needed. But those were people who already had foundations and bases of operations.
Hwanin was not yet ready. For the time being he could handle traps, scouting, and searching with his own abilities. Labyrinths known for heavy traps could simply be avoided, and he could temporarily draw in spirits for short-term reconnaissance.
Even setting all that aside, Luararda and Asen are not the ones.
The image of the companion he sought had long since shifted from “someone with potential who can pull their own weight” to “someone who can withstand my full-power attacks for at least five minutes.” Taking a non-melee combatant whose abilities could not even endure his own assault into a fifth-class or higher dungeon was absurd.
Thus Luararda was out, and Asen likewise. She might be a tracker-type hunter, but no matter how excellent her search and trap-detection skills, her combat capability sat only between second- and third-class. Given that trap difficulty rose with labyrinth class, her trap-detection and disarming levels could be roughly estimated as well.
After them came Mundoer and Storey.
Will you party with us?
“I am sorry.”
Understood.
A short question, a short answer, and they left. It had felt less like earnest desire and more like a casual probe.
Once Isilite had washed and changed, Hwanin took her to the village shopping street and bought several more sets of undergarments for her at a high-end clothing shop. Her figure was the sort that turned even ready-made goods into custom pieces, but he still remembered the measurements from when he had bought her clothes and lingerie in Wayford, so the purchase did not take long.
“This one and this one, and those two over there as well… that one looks fine too. Please wrap them all.”
Thank you for your patronage~!
The shopkeeper beamed as she packaged the ten sets of premium lingerie sold by Hwanin’s decisive selections.
Th-thank you very much…
Isilite hugged the bag containing the ten pairs to her chest, face burning red.
The reason was simple: Hwanin himself had pointed them out and bought them for her.
Does Master want me to wear only the kinds of underwear that suit his taste?
The pieces Hwanin had “chosen” were expensive—one silver each even in this shop. And the more expensive women’s lingerie became, the smaller the coverage or the more ornate the design. To Hwanin’s eye they were ordinary lace trims or ordinary low-rise panties; to Isilite and the shopkeeper they were rather bold.
Thus Isilite’s misunderstanding deepened—yet the truth was different. Hwanin simply held the not-quite-prejudice that women took forever to shop, and having no intention of spending long on lingerie, he had abused the fact that Isilite never questioned his decisions.
By the time we return, dinner should be ready.
He imagined how dejected Isilite would look if she ever learned the truth.