Chapter 79
Chapter 79
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 79
Chapter Title: [Reality] Romance Connects
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A languid afternoon in the coffee shop.
Across from me, basking in the air conditioning, sat Marie-noona.
She didn't look it at all—hell, it was hard to even believe—but she was a 27-year-old half-dwarf.
"So I told him! This isn't just some stupid hunk of metal! It's art! No, you're not even listening to me, you overgrown anchovy bastard! I really wanted to smack him upside the head, but I held back."
She wasn't just sitting there; those tiny lips of hers were flapping nonstop.
She was in full rant mode.
"Good thing I have a nice personality, or if it were my mom, she'd have smashed his skull right there with her hammer!"
"...Yeah, you held back well. You're a saint, noona."
"Right? Isn't he insane? Do you know how much I slaved over this? Sweating buckets in front of that blazing fire, hammering away, over and over!"
What time was it?
Checking my smartphone felt a bit rude, so I glanced at the wall clock instead.
It was almost 5 p.m. already.
Thirty minutes had passed since we'd ordered coffee and sat down.
And yet... Marie-noona hadn't stopped talking for a second.
How did she have so much to say?
For someone like me who didn't chat much normally, I could feel my energy draining in real time.
It was nothing like gallery trolling or game chat.
It felt like I'd wandered into a salon.
"Yeah... must've been tough."
I gave a vague response and slurped my iced Americano.
The clear plastic cup was nearly empty now—just ice and a tiny bit of black liquid at the bottom.
Usually, people sip coffee slowly while chatting in a cafe.
But I'd been chugging it like a stamina potion for mental recovery, and it was gone already.
"And that's how I built up all this muscle in my arms. Look! Wanna feel? See, rock hard, right?"
She thrust out her forearm naturally, like I had no choice but to touch it, so I reached out and gave it a light squeeze.
The skin pinched easily between my thumb and forefinger, feeling incredibly soft—no muscle at all, unlike a guy's.
It was so smooth, like fine powder might rub off on my fingertips.
Warm from her slightly elevated body temp, and so slender—if I spread my hand and wrapped around it, her whole thin forearm would fit right in my palm.
No idea where the "hard and thick" part came in.
Marie-noona's eyes sparkled as she sought my agreement.
Her big pupils practically screamed, Right? See?
Thinking back on why I was even doing this, I figured I should just say what she wanted to hear.
Or she might refuse to sell.
"Uh, yeah. It's... firm...?"
"I knew you got it!"
Her delighted squeals were cute and all.
'No cap, my ears are about to bleed...'
This was exhausting.
Was buying one weapon really worth this?
Well, I was enduring because I liked it that much.
But it was getting heavier by the minute.
Coffee gone, no more potion to protect me.
Time to crunch some ice at least.
Chewing something relieves stress, right?
"Hey, you listening?"
Spacing out and munching ice, Marie-noona asked.
"Huh? Yeah, I'm listening. Your mom's forging techniques got dissed, and you're upset, right?"
"Good, you were paying attention. Thought you were ignoring me."
Her face brightened instantly with a hehe grin.
Thank goodness she was so pure.
I hadn't actually heard that part.
But after 30 minutes of the same story, even I couldn't miss it.
Eighty percent gripes about ignorant people and unfair treatment, ten percent mom stories as a dwarf, and ten percent love for her work.
Her passion came through loud and clear, at least.
Couldn't empathize, though.
"Phew... sorry, I got a bit worked up."
"Nah, it's fine. Makes sense. Lots bottled up, huh."
"Tons. Fucking tons. Anyway, glad you appreciate it. If not for you, I'd be on the news today."
"News? What do you mean?"
"Was gonna bring a bomb home. Teach 'em what real art is."
She giggled hi-hi, but it didn't sound like a joke.
[27-Year-Old Half-Dwarf Marie M. Detonates Bomb at Hunter Market Branch...]
[Loneliness Toward Public Who Can't Appreciate Her Art...]
As those headlines flashed in my mind.
Marie-noona leaned in suddenly.
"Anyway... what do you like?"
"Me?"
"Yeah, you said you like big stuff too, right? Big, thick, heavy—that's your romance. Feels like I'm monologuing."
She grinned sheepishly—self-aware, huh.
"Big is good. Love it."
"So what specifically? Tell me."
Specifically.
What should I say?
Brain freeze.
"I'm an expert on that stuff, y'know."
She cleared her throat dramatically and thumped her chest.
"Expert?"
"Damn right. I research every night. How to make it bigger, harder, stiffer. That's all I think about."
"Uh..."
"But at first, it doesn't work well. Temperamental—won't grow just from rough handling. Gotta heat it slow, bit by bit, then bam! slam it in at the perfect moment."
We're talking weapons, right?
Not... something else?
"Lube's key too. Too dry, it snags going in. Gotta slather it thick so it slides right in and fills you up tight. You know that feeling? Full and packed."
"...Ahem. Not really."
"Yeah? Newbie, huh? Changes once you try. Once it's broken in, nothing beats it. That tight grip inside, the thrust of it... ugh, just imagining makes me shiver."
She shuddered in ecstasy.
My head was spinning.
Crunch, crrrunch.
Munch ice to calm down.
She was older, but that babyface...
Less sexy, more like overhearing something naughty.
Even at the Hunter Market earlier.
"Slam it in," "slather thick," "fills tight," "tame it."
Why pick those words?
'Is she doing it on purpose?'
Saying lewd stuff with that innocent look to fluster listeners.
Some weird fetish for reactions?
But her pure, crystal-clear eyes said no.
So unintentional.
Am I the pervert?
Twisting normal talk because my mind's in the gutter?
"So? What's your favorite? Sword? Axe? Spear? Long, big, hard—you like 'em all?"
"Sword...? Seems nice."
Yeah, no.
Still sounds wrong no matter how I slice it.
Makes me paranoid others are listening.
"Why stare? Something on my face?"
"Nah... just, your descriptions are so vivid, noona."
"Right? Mom said blacksmiths gotta pour soul into their work. Means descriptions gotta be bold too!"
Yeah, soul's great, but spare a thought for the listener's soul.
Blasting lewd lines from that cute face so casually—tough on the receiver.
Unaware makes it scarier.
"What else? Favorites?"
"Hm..."
Thinking, then it hit me.
She likes big? She'd love this.
"Robots, maybe."
"Robots? What's that?"
"Uh... like steel giants?"
"Golems?"
"Kinda, but different. People ride and control 'em."
"Ride and control? Powered armor?"
Marie-noona tilted her head.
I pulled up robot pics online; she lit up.
"Cool! People pilot these?"
"Yeah. And huge."
"How huge? 3 meters? 5? Empire powered armor was about that."
"Psh, that's nothing."
Time for the tale that sets any guy's heart ablaze.
"Starts with robots head-sized. Then they combine, getting bigger. End up building-sized, then mountain-sized."
Classic hot-blooded robot anime.
From way before I was born... super old comic, but I loved it.
About 40 years old.
"Mountain-sized? Bull. How's metal that big not collapse?"
"Setting thing. Just roll with it. Powered by magic or whatever. Combines more, grows. Goes to space ship-sized, then bigger than the moon."
"Bigger than the moon?"
"Yeah. Moon's chump change. Then galaxy-sized. Stomps galaxies fighting. Power blasts suck in stars universe-wide, punches holes in space."
I ranted otaku-style without realizing.
Too into it? Sheepish glance.
"Whoa..."
Marie-noona stared like a kid hearing Santa first time, eyes sparkling.
Blown away.
"Stomping galaxies? Punching space? Epic."
Comic gets flak for pointless scale creep.
But she was hooked.
Makes sense—bigger the better for her.
"Right? Epic romance. Keeps growing, no limits."
"Dude, that's insane. How'd they dream that up? I top out at building-sized. Engineering a giant like that? Joint stress insane, magic circuits how...?"
Blacksmith's a techie, huh?
Digging weird details unlike me.
Muttering about structure and design—serious and cute.
Then sudden huge sigh.
"Jealous... wanna read that."
"Never have? It's famous."
"Dwarf autonomous zone blocks human stuff. 'Ruins dwarf purity' or whatever. Stuck-up old farts. Tell us to hammer all day; books? Kindling."
She pouted and grumbled.
Other-race zones more closed-off than thought.
Most can't even enter.
"Just left the zone recently, so human culture's new. But that robot story sounds awesome. Show me sometime."
"Will do. Masterpiece."
"Promise?"
Marie-noona stuck out her pinky.
Dwarves do this?
Childhood thing—can't remember last time.
Kinda embarrassing.
"Hurry up. No promise?"
"Nah, promise."
Urged, I hooked pinkies.
Her tiny, soft pinky matched her frame, intertwining with mine.
Felt like holding little Ia-rin's hand as a kid.
Thumbs touch.
Press prints like stamping...
Squish. Squeeeze.
Her hands were tiny, yeah.
As that thought hit, she pulled away.
"Promised. Show me later, got it? Break it, you're dead."
"Yeah, will do."
No house explosions, thanks.
"Alright, chit-chat over. Business time? You wanted my sword."
Finally.
Long-ass wait.
"How much?"
Arms crossed, Marie-noona hummed thoughtfully, peeking at me now and then before speaking.
"Ten million won?"
Did I hear that right?