The Heroine's Proper Tit Size 2
S-class hunter Yoo Jisoo.
This should be enough that no one recognizes me… right?
She had pulled her hat down low and added dark sunglasses for good measure. Still not satisfied, she had left her assigned jurisdiction of Seoul entirely and come all the way down to Busan.
The moment she stepped off the train and out of the station, her own face stared back at her from the giant electronic billboards on the surrounding buildings.
S-class hunter Yoo Jisoo. The sturdy shield that protects the Republic of Korea. Our hero.
Looking at those embarrassing slogans inevitably dragged her thoughts back through the years.
It had already been twenty-five years since she fell into this world. An orphan abandoned by a foreign couple who had come to Korea had climbed remarkably far.
At seven years old—when other children were simply attending kindergarten—she awakened to mana, left the orphanage, and entered Hunter Academy. At twelve, her talent proved so overwhelming that she advanced to the upper division and was already treated as a B-rank hunter while still a cadet. Then at fifteen she graduated at the top of her class from an academy that normally only allowed adults to complete it, becoming an A-rank hunter.
The new future of the Republic of Korea. The next-generation hope of the hunter world, destined to become S-class. The brilliant light that would save the world. A monster.
Those had all been her nicknames, and she had lived up to every expectation. At eighteen she became the seventh S-class hunter of South Korea. Now, at twenty-five, the number of people she had protected was beyond counting, and the assets she had safeguarded had long since surpassed one hundred trillion won.
She could never satisfy everyone, but most people were probably content, weren’t they?
Anyway.
Even on the streets of Busan her face was still easy to recognize, so she decided she needed to be a little more careful. She tugged her already low hat even lower and pressed the sunglasses tighter against her face to hide her eyes completely. She was just considering buying a wig to cover her hair color when she looked at the women walking past and abandoned the idea.
What the…
The woman jogging over there—platinum blonde. The café employee ringing up a customer—platinum blonde. Even the office worker walking right in front of her—platinum blonde.
A hair color that was never common in Korea was everywhere here. Not only the length that reached the waist, but even the bangs style was a perfect match. Some of them wore colored contacts that looked a little awkward, yet they still had blue eyes.
Somehow that makes me feel a little embarrassed…
Of course, being Korean, their faces were different and their chests were smaller, so they looked quite different from her overall. Still, two things were clear. Every one of them was acting out of admiration. And she was receiving love rather than hatred even from people of the same gender.
People always wanted to resemble even a single part of someone they admired, and hated overlapping even a little with someone they disliked.
She pressed her left hand against her pleasantly racing heart to calm it, kept her head down, and headed for the department store.
Just as she entered and made her way toward the women’s lingerie section, the voices of male university students drifted from behind her.
“Ah, I wanna fuck Yoo Jisoo so bad.”
His friend immediately scanned the surroundings and hissed that there were people everywhere, you crazy bastard, but the first guy didn’t stop.
“I wanna grab those fucking huge tits as hard as I can and rail her like a dog.”
“Ah, for fuck’s sake, tone it down, you piece of shit. Everyone can hear you.”
…He’s right. The person herself might be listening. Keep it moderate.
If she truly hadn’t wanted to hear it, she could have simply walked away at a brisk pace right then. She didn’t. For some reason, just a little—really, truly only a tiny bit—her lower stomach was fluttering with pleasant little throbs.
She kept her head bowed and bit down hard on her lip. She even subtly adjusted her walking speed so she could keep listening without being obvious.
“I heard she’s never even had a boyfriend. Her pussy’s gotta be fucking bushy, right?”
His friend finally seemed to give up on stopping him and said nothing more, only sighing as if the whole thing was hopeless. So she answered for him.
…It’s not that bushy.
Only in her head, of course.
“Ha, fuck. Just thinking about Yoo Jisoo’s thick bush is making me rock hard. Yanking on that pussy hair while I pound her would feel so fucking good.”
W-why would you yank on it…
For a second she considered fleeing the spot in flustered panic, yet her footsteps never changed. Her heart hammered wildly and she felt a faint dampness below.
But before long she reached a dead end. Her phone rang at the perfect moment; she answered it while continuing toward the lingerie shop. A faint sense of regret lingered as the voice of another of Korea’s S-class hunters, Hwang Jiyeon, came through the speaker.
“Babe, what’re you doing?”
“Shopping.”
A voice so cold it surprised even herself came out. If someone asked whether that meant they didn’t get along, the answer was of course no. The two of them were the closest of friends. There had been a time when Jiyeon regarded her as a rival, but at some point she simply accepted it and now called her the best partner she could entrust her back to. That had already been five years. These days, if Jisoo herself had to name her best partner, she would name Jiyeon; if she had to name the person she was closest to, she would name Jiyeon as well.
Anyway, to explain: her voice was simply like that. And her answers were short because she was an extreme short-answer addict who hated speaking at length.
“At home?”
“No. Department store.”
“Oh my, oh my. What’s this? You, of all people, shopping at a department store? But if you’re going, you should’ve taken me with you. There’s so much new stuff out this season that I want to buy.”
“Too far.”
“Hiiing, still. It’s my day off todayyy. We could’ve gone togetherrr.”
“No. Hanging up. Busy.”
“I hate you. Hmph.”
That was the end of the call. She could hear the hurt in Jiyeon’s voice, but she didn’t particularly care. It had been the same routine for the past five years, and if Jiyeon were truly upset she would come find her the way she had last time.
Remembering that moment made the corner of her mouth curl upward. Before she knew it she had arrived at the lingerie corner.
Under the white lighting, pastel bra-and-panty sets hung in neat rows, and seasonal-sale signs were stuck here and there. She was browsing when a clerk approached.
“Is there a particular product you’re looking for, ma’am?”
Facing the full customer-service smile, Jisoo hesitated a moment before asking calmly,
“What products do women in their twenties prefer these days?”
“Ah, would you mind following me for a moment?”
She followed the clerk to a display of light pastel sets. Most were soft cream or pale pink. The colors alone looked far younger than the dark lingerie she usually wore. The designs were also much simpler than the luxury brands she normally bought.
Still, calling them grandma bras is a bit much…
She mentally refuted the comment she had seen yesterday, though she had to admit she half agreed. Everything she was wearing right now—and everything she had at home—was so flashy it practically screamed luxury brand.
She stared blankly at price tags that were less than one-hundredth the cost of her own underwear when the clerk’s voice came from beside her.
“Customers in their twenties do tend to prefer these styles… though of course, given the brand, the price point is a little higher.”
The tone was extremely careful, yet the look in her eyes somehow still managed to look down on her. In the end Jisoo decided to buy every pastel set in the store, plus every other set popular with younger customers.
“That comes to 39,820,000 won in total. How many months would you like for the installment plan?”
“Debit card.”
“Oh my, yes. Thank you so much, ma’am. I’ll carry the paid items for you myself—would that be all right?”
“It’s fine. I have an artifact.”
“Ah. Understood.”
When she carelessly stuffed the underwear into her handbag-sized artifact, the clerk’s pupils shook wildly, but that wasn’t something Jisoo needed to care about.
Back home after shopping, she reached for a pastel set among the underwear scattered across the bed, then paused and picked up a slightly less flashy black set instead. It was because of the black-underwear fantasy that had followed her from her previous life. The contrast of pure white skin against black lingerie made a woman’s breasts look even more secretive and erotic, didn’t it?
Anyway.
…This much should keep them from calling it a grandma bra.
After putting on the black bra, she did exactly what she had done the day before. She turned on the computer and logged into the gallery. The Hunter Gallery might get her identified, so she moved to the completely unrelated Novel Gallery. With trembling hands she spent a full hour debating whether to take the photo, finally managed to shoot herself, attached the picture, and—pressing her left hand hard against her heart that felt ready to explode, face flushed bright red—hit post.
Click.
Soon the views would explode just like yesterday, and the recommendations would pile up. And just like yesterday—and just like those university guys today—crude, lust-soaked comments would come flying at her. Most importantly, today no one would say anything about a grandma bra. She wanted to be treated like an ordinary person, not turned into a laughingstock.
But things in this world never went the way you wanted.
The first comment and the one right after it were pretty satisfying. She covered her mouth with her left hand and read them with a pounding heart—until the next comment appeared.
“…Th-this. Fucking bastard.”
Not once but twice. And the words “grandma bra” had appeared three times. Even some famous pro gamer had developed PTSD after getting hit by the same strategy three times in a row; she felt like she was about to get the same thing.
Grandma bra. Grandma bra. Grandma bra.
“…Fine. I’ll just wear something else. Something else.”
Ignorant, rotten bastards who didn’t even understand the sexiness of black lingerie that even a newborn would know. Would it kill them to just say it looked pretty?
In a fit of anger she roughly stripped off the underwear she was wearing and grabbed a pastel set. The moment she looked down at her chest in a pastel bra for the first time, a notification popped up on the gallery screen still open on her monitor.