All the Eroge Saintess's Ero Stats Were Level 1

The air inside the tavern was far heavier and more humid than outside. The sharp scent of alcohol wafting from every direction, mixed with the greasy smell of snacks. And piercing through it all, the gazes of dozens of eyes. I bit my lip hard, barely keeping my legs from shaking.

Calm down. This is just a game world. They're only NPCs.

I tried to soothe myself like that, but reality was merciless. Rolling my eyes to find the "snoring old man" Barga had mentioned, I realized there were more geezers in the tavern than I'd expected. From the white-haired elder tilting his mug in the corner to the one passed out face-first on the table.

"Hey, check it out. That's the saintess."

"Look at that ragged outfit. If she runs into a slime like that, it'll be a hell of a show, heh heh!"

Crude laughter battered my ears. Every time the tight fabric clung ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to my chest, outlining its shape, the men's eyes filled with beastly greed. I instinctively crossed my arms to cover up, but that only made the taut cloth rub my nipples more.

Don't act like an idiot, Sodohui. This is an eroge. If you chicken out, it's game over.

I let out a deep breath and stepped toward the counter. The tavern keeper was wiping grimy mugs with his hairy, burly arms on full display. His gaze lingered not on my face, but on my sweat-slicked cleavage.

"……Um, excuse me."

I tried for a dignified tone, but it came out a mosquito buzz. The keeper set down his mug and eyed me sideways.

"Ah, the saintess herself? What brings you to a dump like this? Collecting donations? Or…… selling something else?"

"……!"

His insulting words burned my face. In real life, I'd flip him off and curse him out, but right now I was Saintess Dea. Or rather, just a disgraced college freshman who'd tanked her rep posting naughty pics. Intel gathering? Spying? I'd seen that in movies, but no clue how to actually do it.

What do I do? Buy him a drink or something?

I racked my brain. Game tropes said ply informants with booze or gold. But could I casually buy rounds amid these starving wolves? One wrong move, and they'd spike my drink and drag me to an alley.

"Um…… I'm looking for an old man who knows about the castle's underground passages. Barga said he's here."

My voice trembled. The mercenaries around started turning chairs, staring. Was it my imagination, or were their crotches bulging more?

"Old man? Haha, we've got plenty of those. Hate to say it, saintess, but info ain't free. Sit with me for a drink in the corner, and I might remember something."

The keeper grinned sleazily, reaching for my wrist. I jerked back in shock. The guys behind laughed.

"Saintess, ask me instead of the barkeep! I know more!"

"Nah, sit on my lap and I'll tell you for free!"

Blatant sexual harassment poured in from all sides. My mental armor started cracking. I'd never learned how to extract info in a place like this.

Who is it…… just tell me who the old man is!

Tears pricking my eyes, I scanned the room. Amid all those lecherous stares, I had to spot the real source.

"Hey, enough already!"

I yelled, swallowing my surging shame. But my cry dissolved uselessly in the steamy tavern heat. Worse, my heaving chest made their eyes gleam hungrier.

Are they insane? They know who I am, right?

My head spun. By lore, I was Dea, the saintess off to slay the demon king and save the world—the kingdom's hope, humanity's sanctuary. But reality?

"Hahaha! Feisty voice on the saintess!"

"Saintess or not, you'll spread for monsters on the road anyway. Might as well share with us first—it won't wear out!"

The NPCs spewed harassment like casual banter, zero guilt.

Is this okay? Demon king slaying and all! Why the shitty treatment?!

I gripped Holy Sword Erilos with shaking hands. But the game's lore backstabbed me. In Saintess Dea’s Erotic Journey, morality was tossed out. Saintesses weren't noble—they absorbed men's "essence" for mana, purifying the world in return. Basically, official cumdumps.

Oh yeah…… that's the setting here.

What I'd laughed off on my monitor as "insane lore" now stabbed like daggers. To them, I wasn't a holy figure—I was prime "prey" to devour.

"Alright, alright…… don't scare the saintess, guys. So, drink with me? Or try that snoring lump 'Lucas' in the corner. Tsk, doubt the geezer'll talk though."

The keeper nodded toward the darkest corner. There, shrouded in a musty cloak unlike the others, a figure snored.

"Lucas…… sir?"

I hurried over before his slimy hand reached again. Each step, the mercenaries' filthy talk felt like it grazed my ass. But that old man was my only lifeline.

Please, please be normal……

But knowing eroge rules, I already sensed he wouldn't spill easily. Gulping, I reached tentatively for his shoulder. The tavern door jingled as someone entered, but I had no time to look.

"Um…… excuse me, sir."

My desperate plea barely made him crack one eye, annoyed. Yellowed teeth peeked through filthy whiskers. Any hope his gaze met mine ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shattered in seconds—it slid past my face to my barely-there chest under the rags.

"Tch……."

He clicked his tongue openly, turned away like he'd seen trash, and dove back into sleep.

"That geezer……!"

Rage boiled. Sure, I was "slender" in real life, but ignored like garbage? I had womanly curves, perky enough in this tight outfit!

I'm Sodohui! I've got followers!

I screamed internally, but his snores mocked me. Face red with wounded pride, a cruel semitransparent window popped up.

"……This is driving me nuts."

I wanted to tear my hair out. Yeah, this game was that game. One reason Saintess Dea’s Erotic Journey blew up was its unique Ero Stats body custom system. Earn Ero ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Points (EP) from combat or…… lewd acts, invest to reshape heroine Dea's body in real-time. Go hyper-busty bombshell or absurdly thicc thighs, player’s choice.

Problem: This twisted world treated your "figure" as qualification and power.

Lucas…… won't even talk unless Breasts Lv.5?

The geezer was a hardcore titman NPC first, informant second. My flat(ish) chest couldn't satisfy him or clear the quest threshold.

"Haa……."

Sighing deeply, I glanced down. Nipples poked defiantly through the rags, but to him, kid stuff.

One path: Level up, farm EP, mod my body sluttier.

What kind of insane system is this?! Need armor, so why bigger tits?!

I wailed internally, but choices loomed: Hunt slimes outside for levels in this state, or whore out to the tavern beasts for points……

"Water, please. Cold if you have it."

I dragged back to the counter, exhaustion plain. The keeper leered at my chest but took my coins, grumbling, and shoved a rough wooden cup of lukewarm water.

Gulp gulp. It soothed my burning gut a bit. Staring blankly at nothing, mug down.

Breasts Lv.5…… how huge is that?

Double? Triple? Shoulder-straining, chin-bouncing jiggle monsters? Dizzying, but without that armor, monsters outside would wreck me.

Do I really need it? Can't just bail?

Frustrated, I muttered inwardly.

"Status window."

"……Haa."

A sigh escaped. The "(Sodohui)" by my name stung. This bizarre world mocked my origins. Stats? All 10s—mockingly low, like the dev sneering, "Good luck crawling from here."

Frail enough a stray dog bark chips HP. Defense 10? Just the rags' bonus—naked as jaybird.

"Charm 10……."

In this eroge, that screamed "easy prey for all."

Barely-legal co-ed tossed in with nothing but her body.

Attack 10 to slay demon king? Slimes maybe?

I clutched Erilos's hilt. Cold steel steadied my palm, but shakes persisted. With these pathetic stats and shameful body, I'd navigate this lewd hell.

No, maybe……

Clinging to faint hope, shaky fingers swiped tabs. The game's true core—my downfall gauge.

"……Ha."

A hollow laugh. Worse than base stats—all 1s.

Curious, I tapped "Breasts." A blueprint exploded with freakish details.

"What the hell…… insane."

Jaw dropped. Nipple color, shape, even weight—EP lets you sculpt to taste. Real life? Millions for surgery, impossible feats. One tap here.

Thought it was a joke on screen……

No wonder maniacs binged it. Not a game—a dollhouse for base desires. Saggy nips or thigh-slapping ass, whatever.

But for me? Curse, not gift.

All 1s means……

I eyed my silhouette through the rags. By this world's standards, less appealing than roadside gravel. Now I got why Lucas tsked and slept.

"Fine. I admit it."

I slammed the window shut, reeling. Bluntly: I was trash. Pristine, innocent, thus extra easy trash—unprecedented in eroge history.

"Hoo…… now what?"

Gripping the mug tight. Level via fights or "that." But Attack 10 outside? Suicide. Hand stats to these sweaty beasts? Vomit-inducing.

Then, a slimy voice from behind shattered my thoughts.

"Saintess, staring at your status won't help. Need points? Big bro can assist. Whaddya say?"

Turning, the rough mercenaries who'd eyed me earlier now encircled me. Gazes licked my Lv.1 chest obsessively.

"Eek!"

I curled defensively, back hitting a rickety pillar. No escape.

The leader—scarred face—chuckled, approaching. He slapped the skinny, creepy-eyed youth beside him, pointing at me.

"Hey, saintess, don't freak. Our baby bro here's been drooling over you. Pants about to burst."

The "youngest" stepped forward. His stare skipped my face/eyes—locked beast-like on my hidden flat chest.

It burned. Like his gaze would pierce the cloth.

This guy…… what's his deal? So fixated?

Usually, eroge mobs lunge at big tits. Lucas ignored mine—this kid ogled my Lv.1 like rare treasure.

"……Why stare like that?"

Shame shook my voice. He swallowed dryly, voice rusty-wet gross.

"Saintess…… so small and pathetic…… it's more stimulating. That slight swell under tight cloth…… drives me crazy."

"Eek! Pervert!"

I crossed arms over chest, but his eyes drilled the gaps. Chills beyond disgust.

Flat-chest fetish? Not just titmen like Lucas—niche pervs everywhere.

"Hahaha! See? Baby bro's tastes are unique. Everyone hunts watermelons; he picks plums. C'mon, saintess, you need points bad. Quick fun with him in the back yard, and EP stacks up?"

Leader's rough hand reached for my chin. I whipped away.

No way, absolutely not! Can't lose my first to these extras!

Game body or not—soul was Sodohui's. No opening stats to stinky mobs for scraps.

"G-Get away! I need to talk to Lucas!"

I shoved through their gap with all my might. But the youngest blocked, grabbing my shoulder roughly.

"Where ya going…… saintess. Be good and earn those points?"

His ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hand slid down, grazing my chest's curve. Electric revulsion prickled my skin.