Harpy Hunt (4)
Jinwoo approached her with a satisfied smile. Without a word, he circled behind her back, smeared with blood and mud, and roughly seized her voluptuous ass over the latex suit with both hands, as if inspecting his trophy.
"Nhngh...♡!" A muffled moan escaped Chiharu's lips. The sweat- and fluid-soaked latex clung stickily to his palms, producing lewd, squelching sounds. He traced his thumb slowly up the cleft of her ass along her spine to the base. Her body arched like a bow in electric shivers.
"Sharp teeth, and a talent for leading the pack. Beyond expectations." He whispered in her ear while cupping one of her bursting breasts from the side with his other hand. Its inhuman volume and elasticity asserted itself explosively in his grasp. He continued his praise, nibbling her earlobe. "A very useful bitch."
"Ah... ahng...♡ Master...♡" Chiharu lost all reason to his caresses and praise, reduced to moaning in ecstasy. The thrill of her master's approval, the reward etched into her flesh—this was everything she had ever wanted.
[Master. Enough kneading the bitch. Prepare to return.]
[Normally, I'd send you straight back to the magic workshop, but with that wench along, the mana coordinates are unstable. Crossing dimensions with an unfamiliar lifeform is risky—not just you alone. Botch it, and you might get stuck in some random dimensional rift. Annoying, but you'll have to touch that tree like the others.]
"S-sorry... forgive me, Master! This lowly body has burdened you!" Chiharu jolted in shock at the words, slamming her forehead to the ground in apology once more.
"It's not your fault." Jinwoo stroked her head and pulled her to her feet. "The Grimoire's just extra pissy. Let's go." He took Chiharu's hand and headed for the last escape route, the willow tree.
The moment their hands touched the damp bark together, their vision blazed white, enveloped by the familiar sensation of spatial transfer.
"!" When they opened their eyes, no swamp darkness greeted them—instead, the clamor of crowds shouting and sobbing under blinding fluorescent lights. They stood in the middle of an underground train platform.
Dozens of survivors who had just escaped the nightmare were surrounded by emergency responders and police from the 119 calls, creating utter chaos. Some wrapped in blankets stared blankly while weeping; others babbled hysterically about their ordeal. And...
"Over there... it's them!" With someone's shout, every gaze snapped to Jinwoo and Chiharu.
"Crow Sorcerer!"
"Goddess!" The survivors shoved past the rescuers, surging toward them again. Reporters flashed cameras wildly. In the distance, that congressman from before jabbed a finger at a high-ranking police officer, yelling urgently.
Click! Click! Chiharu's keen senses caught a man in the crowd's edge zooming in obsessively on her curves with a telephoto lens.
"That filthy rat...!" Murder flashed in her eyes again. Reflexively, she reached for the quiver at her waist to pierce his camera lens and eyeball in one shot.
"Enough." But Jinwoo stopped her hand first. He had already maxed out the Perception Concealment magic woven into his feather cloak. To onlookers, they began to blur like out-of-focus photos or heat haze.
"No need for a scene here. Follow me." Jinwoo wrapped an arm around Chiharu's shoulders, pulling her under his massive crow-feather cloak.
"Ah...!" Chiharu melted into his embrace without resistance. Beneath the cloak was a pitch-black, cozy void blocking all external noise and light—just for them. Her cheek pressed to his firm chest. His heartbeat, the hot breath seeping through the plague doctor mask, and the cold, intoxicating scent of his mana overwhelmed her senses.
With Chiharu cradled close, Jinwoo slipped through the crowd toward the station's dark corner to evade stares. To the crowd, a massive crow shadow slithered away, dissolving into smoke.
Under the cloak's tight darkness, Chiharu nestled fully against him. The hunt's thrill, slaughter's ecstasy, master's approval—all blended with the absolute security of his arms, igniting a languid, molten arousal that melted her body.
She tilted her head to peer at his eyes beyond the mask, but saw nothing in the void. Only his strong arms and heartbeat filled her world. Closing her eyes, she burrowed deeper, wishing this eternity.
Slipping through shadows like phantoms, Jinwoo evaded the pursuit entirely and returned to the magic workshop's cool silence, still holding Chiharu. He removed his plague doctor mask, setting it on the desk. Chiharu shed hers too, steadying her ragged breaths from lingering excitement. Her body was caked in blood, mud, and sweat, but her eyes gleamed with triumph and euphoria.
"Bathroom." At Jinwoo's curt command, Chiharu eagerly began stripping his hunting gear. With reverent skill, as if lifelong practice, she unbuckled and reverently took his feather cloak. Ignoring her filth, she followed him, focused solely on purifying her master.
In the steam-filled bathroom, Chiharu seated her master on a small stool. Kneeling like a priestess before a god, she began the sacred rite of washing him.
She wetted his hair first. Her slender fingers delved gently through strands matted with nightmare residue and hunt blood. Lathering shampoo, she massaged meticulously, as if cleansing not just filth but fatigue, anguish, and worldly hatred from his scalp. Each soft nail scrape eased Jinwoo's furrowed tension unwittingly.
"Ahh... Master..." Worshipful whispers escaped her. "Your wisdom rivals the abyss... your wrath shakes the world like a storm... To wash this sacred head housing your great spirit with these lowly hands... my greatest honor...♡"
Jinwoo closed his eyes, silently accepting her service. His soul, abandoned by the nation and seething with hatred, found strange comfort in this blind, pure devotion. Unlike the hot, sticky carnal pleasures at Yamashita Temple, this was cool, serene satisfaction from absolute dedication solely to him.
She rinsed thoroughly, then moved to his body. Sponge laden with body wash foamed richly under her touch. She scoured his firm chest, faint battle scars on his back, every inch of his powerful arms and legs.
As her hands cleaned his callused palms, she revered the strength they wielded. Washing his legs, she soothed the lonely paths they had trod. Her praises followed each caress. "These arms... shattered my weakness, granting new power... These legs... led me from hell... All of you... is my reason for being...♡"
Shower done, she fetched a large towel, kneeling again. She dried him meticulously from hair to toes, pressing to absorb every drop. Water from her hair dripped onto his feet, but she ignored it. Only her master's purity mattered.
Service complete, Jinwoo languidly opened his eyes. Donning a robe over his clean body, he stroked Chiharu's head as she prostrated at his feet. "Well done, my huntress." Satisfaction colored his voice. "You've proven your worth perfectly today. Return to your temple and rest."
"Yes, Master! Thank you for granting this bitch... rest!" Chiharu replied in tearful gratitude. Hunting with him and washing him were supreme rewards, but "your temple" swelled her heart with belonging.
Jinwoo opened the basement portal. She bowed deeply one last time before vanishing into the light.
Chiharu's feet hit the Yamashita Temple basement floor. As if sensing her return, two figures appeared atop the stairs: Aki and Koharu. Dressed in their most alluring, lewd silk slips, perfectly groomed, they awaited the master's return.
"Chiharu...?" Aki's voice held less relief at her daughter's safety than sharp wariness scanning her state. Her gaze raked Chiharu: damp hair not fully dry, flushed cheeks from pleasure and thrill, and... the intensely thick scent of their master wafting from her entire body. Not a mere brush—this was the deep imprint of one who shared his space, touch, and time.
"Sis!" Koharu rushed over, burying her nose in Chiharu's body like sniffing for master's traces. Envy and jealousy swirled in her eyes. "Master's... Master's scent... Sis, what did you do with Master...? This isn't just from being nearby...!"
Chiharu felt their scorching glares on her skin, a thrilling superiority piercing her fatigue. Wordlessly, she brushed past to the bathroom. Her gait carried newfound leisure and arrogance of the chosen.
"Kinda tired. Gonna wash first." That casual dismissal ignited fury in Aki and Koharu. It screamed victor's poise. Chiharu was no longer just another "bitch" like them. She had joined master's hunt, touched his body—a privileged perch.
Bathroom door shut. Before the mirror, Chiharu studied her reflection—transformed from yesterday's self. She caressed her body slowly. His touch, voice, scent lingered everywhere. Eyes closed: This... is what it means to be chosen.
A role neither mother's cunning nor sister's blind faith could claim—hers alone. She knew now: the true harem war began here. And she held the high ground.
A cruel, beautiful smile bloomed on her lips.