Chapter 157: Connection 3
Chapter 157: Connection 3
The Tail-biting Hound's incarnation grinned, radiating confidence.
That grin didn't last long before twisting into an awkward smile.
I wasn't even angry at her tiny, flustered murmuring—
because the Heart of the Exiled Serpent's conduct was just that absurd.
"I-I'm terribly sorry... It seems my ability is a little lacking."
She dropped her head in a deep, apologetic bow.
The Tail-biting Hound's incarnation—or more precisely, the woman selected as its representative—was a talent personally dispatched by her Constellation to resolve troublesome issues as a case study in healing.
Obviously, the problem wasn't that a hand-picked incarnation lacked real skill.
'So what the hell does this Snakeheart bastard even do...?'
No, the problem was simply that the Heart of the Exiled Serpent was a spectacular dumbass.
Still, wasn't that assassin supposed to be the Serpent's best card?
How do you send your top incarnation out with absolutely nothing?
The Dream Demon incarnation who'd breached the Academy barrier—caught in the city, of all places—had been captured because the Heart of the Exiled Serpent had given her zero support.
Not a single piece of gear. Sent in bare-handed, and then they didn't even help her while she was being pursued. What were they thinking?
"It's all right. This isn't your fault."
"I'm truly sorry. There is... another method, but..."
Her ability tracked lingering traces of mana, not unlike psychometry.
But having received nothing, there wasn't even a mana remnant to follow.
The only thing she had was the basic Constellation-Incarnation contract.
In stories, when they send a hound to fetch someone, don't they give it a handkerchief or some personal item to sniff?
I'd assumed anyone who could infiltrate the Academy would have gear from her Constellation. With nothing—bare-handed—tracking was impossible. Obviously.
"Um, this might sound... rude."
"If you have another method, tell me."
In the face of this baffling situation, she hesitated and then pressed on. The self-satisfied face from a few minutes ago was completely gone.
Right, this didn't make sense according to this world's common sense either—not just mine.
That didn't change the fact that she'd loudly boasted in front of a Constellation.
She'd been ordered by the Tail-biting Hound and had given Lethargic Nightmare her word. If she backed out now, she'd be—as a mere incarnation—insulting two Constellations at once.
I could let it slide.
I had no idea how the Tail-biting Hound might react.
Which was exactly why she was racking her brain like that, wasn't it?
"If I have no equipment at all, I can pick up a lead from another angle. I am, a Hunting Dog that bites 'tails.'"
The word "tails" came with an audible accent—maybe the Constellation translator rendering a double meaning.
Swallowing hard with tension, she squeezed her eyes shut and went on.
"With your help, Constellation—since you're a Dream Demon as well..."
※
Undergoing an examination naked—rather than being "serviced"—felt strangely novel.
Not the kind of "examination" where a scary middle-aged man shoves bland soup and chili powder at you, mind you.
This was the exact opposite of that scenario.
What stood in front of me wasn't a middle-aged man but a brown-skinned young woman.
"Well then, if you'll excuse me."
Maybe it was because I was in the smaller elf body now, but the contrast between us was even starker.
Skin so pale it looked like it had never seen sunlight, and skin so sun-bronzed it immediately brought dark elves to mind.
She stood a good two heads taller than me, her build more muscular than my girls', yet her slim, tapered waist preserved curves so soft the thought of "masculine" never even entered my mind.
"Fortunately, there are plenty of lingering traces."
She murmured as she stroked my fingertips.
The same fingers I'd used to gouge the Heart of the Exiled Serpent's eye last time.
No, wait—now that I thought about it, that bastard had lost to a Level 150‑ish elf body. I'd always taken beating people up for granted and figured beating a woman was natural, but at the time I'd been half-hypnotized and still in that elf shell.
"Don't hold back. Do whatever you need to do."
"Yes, understood."
She'd been stealing cautious glances at me; now she took my fingers into her mouth.
A warm, slick sound—slurp—as sticky saliva flowed, and with it a rush of heat.
This lewd atmosphere wasn't because of the Tail-biting Hound's abilities.
No, this was the work of the Dream Demon's mana—the nature of the species I share with the Heart of the Exiled Serpent.
The Tail-biting Hound's tracking method was simple. Like any fantasy-world hunter, she perceived mana as a "scent" and tracked her target by following its lingering traces.
In this world, everyone from murim warriors to mages to futuristic sci-fi armored soldiers used mana—which made her a capable incarnation who could track anyone.
A damn shame the mana she had to catch the scent of was Dream Demon mana.
Yes, I'd directed my Authorities toward nightmare-handling because I had Dream Demon in mind, but I couldn't do anything about the innate traits of the Dream Demon species itself.
Think of it like a game: you pick your class, but your racial passive is locked in.
That's Dream Demon mana—the kind that mesmerizes people and drives them into heat.
Sniff it as a scent and inhale it deep—there's no way you stay normal.
"Hh, haah, hhaah..."
The result was the woman in front of me.
All that bold self-assurance was gone.
In its place: a female in heat, ready to pin a man down and ravish him.
Not that I had any reason to be upset about it.
For her, as an incarnation, it was beyond rude—it was probably a life-or-death gamble she'd thrown out there.
But when a healthy, sun-bronzed woman throws herself at you naked, a man who dislikes that has to have extremely niche tastes.
"The... the mana's scent..."
Her eyes had already gone hazy—her head clearly scrambled. What else could you expect when you convert Dream Demon mana—the kind that feels lewd from mere skin contact—into a fragrance and ram it deep into your lungs?
Maybe telling her to do as she pleased had lit the fuse.
By the time I registered what was happening, I was laid out neatly on the bed.
'What the—fuck.'
I'd been sitting in a chair, looking down at the Hound's incarnation.
I felt my licked wrist get seized—
then my vision whirled, and I was staring at the ceiling.
'Did she just flip me from the chair onto the bed?'
It was like some throwing art closer to magic than technique. Given how my visual field had spun, I'd definitely been flipped—head down—and thrown a full rotation, yet the wrist she'd grabbed didn't hurt at all.
Inside this dainty little elf shell was a guy, so seeing martial skill that could do me in without me even noticing made my heart pound just a little.
While I was off on that tangent—
a deep, sharp inhale—hnngh—came from somewhere out of sight.
'She's... she's okay, right...?'
She'd said it was her first time with Dream Demon mana, that she might act disgracefully, apologized left and right for it ahead of time—and looking at her now, all that excessive humility made perfect sense.
Slack lips and a single trail of sticky drool leaking over them. Nostrils flaring nonstop. Half-lidded, glassy eyes.
No matter how I looked at her, that was the face of someone drunk or drugged.
She'd been burying her face against my fingertips in a daze; now, like a scent-tracking dog, she inched upward, nose twitching.
Sniffed from the tips of my fingers to the back of my hand, nuzzled her cheek against it, then pressed her nose to my wrist and worked her way up my shoulder, the tip of her nose brushing bare skin.
Shoulder to the nape of my neck, back down to my chest, lower, lower—eventually that ticklish breath made me stand rigid, and she kept nuzzling and sniffing her way down until her cheek pressed squarely against the stiff length of me.
Put ears and a tail on her and I'd have suspected she was beastkin.
"Hnn, hhaaah..."
The way she buried her face in my crotch and gulped down breaths made her look less like a beastkin and more like a plain animal.
After kneading her firm cheek against me and rousing me to full hardness, she stayed face-down for a long while before finally lifting her head.
Her eyes were clearer now—some presence of mind had returned.
"As I thought, there are two scents mixed together. One very strong, and one faint."
"You can tell them apart?"
"Y-yes. It just takes a little time."
So she really was competent.
Just as I was thinking that everyone I'd met at the Academy was impressive, she picked up where she'd left off after that long, shuddering breath.
"So, to accustom my nose to your mana... if you'll excuse me."
"...?"
I didn't understand what she meant, and after a few soft chuckles she took a long breath and explained.
"A nose is sensitive. If it gets drunk on a strong scent, it can't smell it anymore."
I knew that one.
Wasn't that why you couldn't smell your own body odor?
Or how your nose grew numb and adapted to even foul smells if you kept inhaling them.
"So if I keep getting intoxicated by your mana, Constella—hnnh."
As she was explaining, she grabbed my ankle.
No, for fuck's sake—I'd guessed as much from the gender role reversal, but why was she sniffing my foot of all things?
Granted, I had touched a foot or two during a nice, atmospheric bit of foreplay myself, but still.
My slender ankle was caught and lifted.
My leg, raised while I was on my back, spread apart; her waist slipped neatly into the space, and I found myself pinned beneath her.
Not her sitting on me with just her hips; the alien sensation of someone sitting squarely on my rear.
Pinned beneath a much larger noona in such a small body, I felt an odd mix of discomfort and anticipation.
"Once I'm completely drunk on it, I think I'll be able to filter out whatever faint traces of that Constellation's mana are left."
She let out an animal-like hrng of a laugh and lowered her hips.