Nightmare Pouches Ignite the Gun Debate
Washington D.C. That day too, Jinwoo watched the production process of his new "product" from his workshop. In one corner of the workshop stood a machine that hadn't been there before, operating quietly but tirelessly. It looked like an ordinary 3D printer, but atop it lay not plastic filament, but monster hides emitting a faint glow that he'd collected from nightmares, along with small crystal shards infused with space-warping power.
Whirr—zzzt— The printer, modified by the power of the Magic Grimoire, absorbed the magical materials on its own and ceaselessly spat out dozens of small, black leather pouches from its nozzle every hour. It was an automated production line for [Nightmare Pouches].
Jinwoo watched the scene with satisfaction before approaching the summoning circle on the workshop floor. He reached his hand inside and pulled out a woman from within, as if retrieving an item from another space.
"Mmgh..."
Kim Sea, who had just been drifting off to sleep in the presidential suite of Washington D.C.'s most luxurious hotel, let out a sleepy groan as she opened her eyes to the familiar scent of magic enveloping her and the workshop scenery. She had been summoned to soothe her master's idle cock.
A few hours later, she lay sprawled unconscious on the bed.
Her naked body bore the vivid marks of his relentless, intense "torment" from the past few weeks, whenever he'd called her—traces like a horrific work of art. Red handprints and kiss marks covered her white skin, bite marks stood out sharply on her voluptuous breasts, and between her legs and on her flat lower abdomen, his dried semen formed white stains where he'd poured it again and again.
The Ultimate Subjugation Seal on her lower abdomen glowed with an even more lascivious, vivid crimson, feeding on her master's seed as nourishment.
Having ravaged Sea mercilessly and sated himself, Jinwoo sat in the chair beside the bed, opened his laptop, and checked the world's reactions. The ripple effects of the [Nightmare Pouches] exceeded his expectations. Governments across Europe were racing to contact his "emissary" after seeing America's success. But the most intriguing response came from Korea.
The online communities were ablaze with heated debates on gun liberalization, hotter than ever. Among them, the post with the most recommendations caught his eye.
Finally worked up the guts and got a Nightmare Pouch from the black market. Holding it made me feel like a movie protagonist or something.
But once I had it, I started stressing—what the hell do I even put inside? What I chose was... a survival knife for camping. Huge, razor-sharp, with a serrated edge. Figured this one thing could hack off a monster limb or two.
Then last night, it happened. Walking down the street, suddenly everything goes black, and I'm in some ruined city. Scared shitless, but I gripped the knife in my pouch and told myself, 'Yeah, I've got this.'
Then I run into another survivor. Total white dude, obvious American tourist. We greet each other all buddy-buddy, exchange names... and he pulls out his pouch to show off a Glock 42. Tiny-ass pistol.
That instant, my survival knife felt so pathetic and worthless. And sure enough, a black monster comes charging from an alley. I'm frozen, hand shaking on the knife, while that Yankee calmly yells "Get back!" and pops two rounds—bang! bang!—right into the thing's head.
Monster screams and flees... and the dude looks at me like, "You okay, bud?"
Fuck... reality crashed down hard. I was ready to ass-fuck with a knife, and he's solving everything with a gun. Is this... the power of a developed nation?
We seriously need legal guns in Korea...
Just as he'd intended, the emergence of the 'Nightmare Pouch' had perfectly pried open Korea's most sensitive Pandora's box: gun ownership. The government was trapped in a dilemma, caught between the public's fierce demands and pressure from America.
Jinwoo watched the chaos unfold with a cold smile.
Next, he reminisced briefly about the changes to this villa. Unlike before, it was no longer just a magic workshop. His emissary, Kim Sea, had shrewdly negotiated massive "royalties" amid the global figurine craze and converted the first profits into Korean won as a tribute to her master.
With that money, Jinwoo had legally and physically acquired every unit in the rundown villa. Now, no neighbors or prying eyes existed. The hallways were always empty, and other windows were perpetually shrouded in black curtains. The entire building had become a massive camouflage for the magic workshop—a hollow fortress.
And the fortress's defense system hid in the deepest part of the first-floor parking lot. It looked like an ordinary concrete wall, but when he infused it with mana, a section slid silently inward, revealing a hidden space.
Inside crouched a military unmanned ground vehicle (UGV), like a sleeping beast. It was the latest reconnaissance and assault UGV recovered from Self-Defense Force wreckage in Masakado's nightmare. Its heavy treads were bolted to the floor, and atop the chassis loomed a machine gun capable of thousands of rounds per minute and a small grenade launcher, still menacingly mounted.
But it was no longer a mere machine. The UGV's surface pulsed with faint light from dark-red runes etched by the Magic Grimoire's power. Now it was a faithful guard dog infused with its master's will.
The sensors no longer detected just heat and motion—they were magically tuned to sense hostile intent, especially the filthy aura of outer gods. If an uninvited intruder, particularly an outer god's minion, approached the villa, this steel hound would silently roll out on its treads and rain merciless steel upon them.
Yet even in this cold fortress, a strange warmth lingered—Aki's touch. On her master's orders, Aki visited periodically through dimensional gates to manage his sole sanctuary perfectly. Not a speck of dust marred the workshop or living room; his clothes were always impeccably laundered and hung.
The biggest change was in the bedroom's massive refrigerator. Jinwoo closed his laptop and opened the fridge door. A cool chill wafted out, carrying the bizarre yet sweet scent of the landlady's utmost devotion.
On the top shelf sat neatly stacked lunchboxes freshly made every morning. But his gaze went to the lower shelf. There, clear glass bottles brimmed with fresh, milky liquid. Breast milk.
Not ordinary milk. It was the crystallized desire and obedience milked from her voluptuous breasts every night as she yearned for her master—kneading them, sucking her nipples, squeezing amid peaks of ecstasy, bottled reverently.
Beside it, a small plastic container held pure white "ice cream" made from her own milk.
He pulled out a glass bottle and drank deeply, like milk. Warm, sweet, utterly free of any off-taste—perfection. Her body heat, scent, and pleasure were infused wholly into the liquid. For Jinwoo, born an orphan and never knowing a mother's love, it filled his empty past in a twisted way with the taste of "maternity."
Jinwoo drained every last drop of Aki's devoted milk. Setting down the empty bottle, he picked up his smartphone and issued a new oracle to his faithful shrine maiden.
After sending the message, he looked down at Kim Sea, still deep in unconsciousness on the bed.
Jinwoo reached out and pinched her stiff, erect nipple hard with his fingernail.
"Hyaaang!♡"
Her sleeping body convulsed with sharp pain and pleasure, crying out in ecstasy. Her brown eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused.
"Awaken, my emissary," Jinwoo whispered coldly into her ear. "The time has come to open your kingdom. You, my hounds, and I will head to the hunting grounds tonight. Go first, open the door, and prepare to receive us."
"Y-yes... yes, Master..."
Still reeling from the aftershocks of pleasure, Sea stumbled off the bed and obeyed. She dove into the darkness at the center of the magic workshop, like plunging into water. Her vision went black, and soon the familiar yet wondrous sensation of spatial transfer enveloped her.
[Washington D.C., Presidential Suite of the Finest Hotel]
Pop.
The lid of a pristine white carry-on in the middle of the suite's living room burst open from within, revealing Kim Sea.
She pressed her forehead briefly, dizzy, then swiftly composed herself and tidied the surroundings. This was no longer a temporary stay—it was another temple to receive her master.
On the living room table, scattered papers were replaced with top-shelf wine and glasses for her master. The bedroom bed was impeccably made without a wrinkle, and the bathroom held his favorite bath products neatly arranged. Everything was perfected to welcome him.
Leaving the carry-on lid wide open, she knelt before it, awaiting her master's descent.
Moments later, a dark-red flash erupted from the carry-on's shadowy subspace, and Jinwoo emerged. He stepped out and surveyed his new temple with satisfaction.
Following him from the Yamashita residence basement summoning circle—through the carry-on subspace—came fully armed Chiharu and Corax perched on her shoulder.
Chiharu froze briefly at the sight. A lavish, luxurious hotel suite incomparable to their own dank, dilapidated shrine. Outside the window, Washington D.C.'s nightscape sparkled like jewels.
And there, that brown-haired bitch serving the same master stood as if she owned the place, greeting him with composed poise.