Harvesting Sea (3)
Her voice was sweet as honey yet cold as a blade. "Your first onahole... I will personally package her with the utmost care and deliver her straight to your altar."
Jinwoo read the perfect obedience in her words—and the cruel resolve hidden beneath—and a satisfied smile curved his lips. He rose from his seat and fetched from the wall of the workshop the very same garment he wore in nightmares.
"You can't go out dressed like that."
He tossed her his outer cloak, a mantle forged from hundreds of black crow feathers, darker than the abyss of night itself. "Drape this over yourself."
"M-Master...!"
A moan escaped Chiharu's lips, verging on a scream of rapture. This was no mere tool like her bow. That had been a gift for her use. But this mantle was his very shell—his power incarnate. No comparison to the worn shirts her mother had proudly washed and mended. This was a sacred garment, steeped in his mana, his very essence.
Her fingers trembled as if in seizure, her breath hitching as she received the feather cloak. The touch at her fingertips was like chilled silk, yet alive, reacting faintly to her own mana. The moment she unfurled it and draped it over her body, her senses exploded.
It was no simple act of donning clothes. It was immersion—total submersion into his world, his being, a flood of overwhelming sensation. His scent pierced her lungs first. Not mere masculine musk, but the dust of the magic workshop, the blood of nightmares, the ozone bite of torn space... and at its core, the arrogant, absolute musk of a dominator.
As it enveloped her completely, her legs buckled; she nearly collapsed, deluded into feeling his naked embrace. The lewd mark on her lower belly blazed, soaking the space between her thighs once more with hot, sticky need.
The mantle dwarfed her, its hem trailing past her shoulders to drag on the floor. Yet its weight was no burden—it was the heft of responsibility and trust bestowed by her master, filling her with haughty pride. She was no longer the fox-masked huntress. She was the crow mage's shadow.
"One more thing," Jinwoo's cold voice shattered her ecstasy. "The 'perception concealment' magic woven into that mantle is attuned to me. You won't wield it with my perfection."
"It'll fool the eyes of ordinary vermin... but the government hounds prowling that house? Their trained senses? That's less certain."
It was a warning—and a test. Chiharu's mind snapped alert. Ecstasy in her chest hardened into steel resolve. Her master had granted her the greatest honor and the greatest trial.
Corax's red eyes, staring from the basement, flashed in her mind.
Mother... she'll just sniff worn underwear in the safe temple, waiting for Master's return.
Koharu... she'll just pray innocently, begging Master's mercy.
And that first bitch I'm harvesting... sobbing cluelessly in her room corner.
That crow... Corax. The only variable. Another tool of the hunt, crafted by Master's own hands. Weak and young now, but one day it might rule the skies—and rival me.
But I'm different! Right here, right now!
I'm donning Master's shell, exuding his scent, charging to the front lines swarming with his enemies! He trusts me with this perilous mission!
I'll evade those pathetic government hounds, complete the task, and prove it! To that sky-rat, to the other bitches in the temple!
That I alone deserve to be Master's true partner in this harem!
She gathered the cloak's hem, vanishing perfectly within its folds. Beneath the jet-black feathers, her latex suit, her impossible curves, her fox mask—all erased. Only a single black shadow remained, an extension of her master's will.
She knelt before Jinwoo once more, her submission profound and absolute. "Master. I shall become your shadow."
Her voice no longer wavered. "No hound's nose, no watcher's gaze will perceive your great shadow. I will... execute your command flawlessly and return."
Clad in her master's sacred garment, Chiharu melted into Korea's shadowed city like the veil of night itself. The massive travel case and magic bow floated weightless on her mana, unhindered.
She reached Sea's officetel neighborhood but held back, concealing herself in the deepest darkness atop the opposite building's rooftop to survey her hunting ground.
The scene matched her master's description: a grand circus. At the officetel entrance, views-hungry newtubers and journalists camped with tripods, exhausted but stubborn for that potential scoop. Their clamor and camera flashes periodically shredded the night's quiet.
But Chiharu's gaze skipped them. Her enhanced senses pierced the noisy crowd to detect alien, chilling presences—just as her master had warned. One feigned smoking in the alley shadows; another loitered on a delivery scooter, pretending to scroll his phone. And most damning: the black sedan in the parking lot corner, engine off yet leaking faint radio signals. Their command post, the nexus of surveillance eyes.
NIS. The government's hounds.
Ordinary humans... but annoying.
The mantle concealed her presence near-perfectly, but instinct told her: these were trained. A sloppy move, and they'd sense her wrongness.
She pondered. A frontal assault was folly. Then... divert the hounds' eyes elsewhere. The most effective way: sow unpredictable chaos they'd perceive as a threat.
Her gaze locked on the weathered utility pole's transformer near the NIS car.
That'll do.
With her plan set, she focused her senses on the target—Kim Sea's window—to confirm her state. The lewd mark beneath her latex suit glowed faintly, pushing her hearing and senses beyond human limits.
The brother's room: deep, rhythmic breaths. Dead asleep.
And Sea's room... The sounds conjured a sneer of contempt and strange thrill on Chiharu's face.
"Hngh...♡ Ah... Ahhn...♡"
Desperate, rhythmic creaks of a protesting bed. Sticky, hot moans leaking between, forcibly muffled yet drowned in pleasure.
She closed her eyes, honing in. Her keen nose caught faint particles seeping through the window cracks: days-old stale air, sour sweat and tears beneath, dominated by the thick, sweet-fishy musk of a bitch in heat, desperately leaking.
Miserable slut... even without me, you've been this horny.
Chiharu knew: Sea was clutching the "master's proxy" she'd been gifted, lost in frenzied masturbation. Locked in a self-made prison of ecstasy, oblivious to reality.
Perfect timing.
All conditions aligned. Chiharu vaulted silently from the railing. Her body floated down feather-light, landing without a sound on the emergency stairs below. She flowed like shadow to the officetel's rear, toward the utility pole.
From beneath the mantle, she extended one finger at the transformer. A tiny spark of mana danced at her fingertip.
"Die."
Bzzt-crackle!
Her low whisper sent the mana flame lancing into the transformer, frying its circuits.
BOOM!
The explosive roar shattered the transformer, spewing sparks. The entire block, officetel included, plunged into blackness.
Blackout.
"What the—?!"
"Power outage?!"
Newtubers and journalists erupted in shouts, milling in chaos. As Chiharu intended, the NIS agents reacted instantly. Sedan doors flew open; suited men piled out, yelling, "Terror possible! Secure the area!" They bolted toward the blast site.
Their focus locked perfectly on her diversion.
In that instant, Chiharu moved. No longer skulking in shadow, she became the darkness, ghosting through the panicked crowd unseen, unfelt.
She reached the officetel's locked electronic door. Without hesitation, she slapped her palm against it.
Click!
Its circuits fried; the lock released. She bounded up the stairs to Sea's door.
Her enhanced hearing caught the slick sounds inside, now crystal clear.
"...Hah... Hah...♡ Master...♡ Deeper...♡ Deeper still...♡"
A cruel smile twisted Chiharu's lips. She destroyed the front door lock the same way and slipped inside without a sound.
Into that dark, lewd prison—and her new plaything.