In the world of Netaria, five vast continents exist—each separated by perilous seas and great distances, isolated not only by water but by danger, mystery, and history lost to time.
The largest and most populated among them lies to the West—a continent known as Taris. It is the heart of civilization, where humans live scattered across a patchwork of kingdoms, fortified cities, and rural provinces. Kingdoms rise and fall like tides, alliances shift with gold and betrayal, and adventurers carve their names into the annals of fleeting glory. Powerful guilds operate in the shadows, often under the guise of noble purpose. And somewhere within this vast and restless land, hidden between political tension and the clamor of passing caravans, lies the secret base of Eclipse Fang—a guild unknown to most, feared by few, and whispered by none.
To the Southwest of Taris lies the continent of Kraedunn, the smallest of the five. A land of jagged cliffs and scorched earth, dotted with active volcanoes and treacherous canyons. It is a brutal wasteland—dry, barren, unforgiving. No lush forests or gentle rivers exist here. The skies are often filled with ash. It's said to be overrun by monstrous beasts of ancient lineage, and some even whisper of demons or slumbering dragons hiding beneath the cracked mountains. But these are only rumors, as no credible documents or scholarly records exist to confirm it. Most from Taris consider a journey to Kraedunn not an act of bravery—but a guaranteed death sentence.
To the far East lies Akarveil—a land few in Taris have ever seen. Reaching it is a feat in itself: one must survive the treacherous open sea, where monstrous sea creatures dwell and storms rage without warning. The continent itself is steeped in mystery, bearing an unmistakable Eastern aesthetic, from its architecture to its customs. Smaller than Taris but larger than Kraedunn, Akarveil feels like a distant world entirely. Only the most determined merchants, thrill-seeking adventurers, or exiles dare attempt the voyage… and few return.
To the North of Taris is the frozen realm of Norrhask. It lies just beyond the northern seas—remote, frigid, and brutal. Endless blizzards scour the land, and the sun rarely breaks through the gray. Very little is known about Norrhask. Only fragments of old tomes remain, suggesting that it is inhabited by a tribe called the Kaarvek—survivors adapted to the cold, hardened by isolation, and perhaps far older than the recorded history of the other continents. Whatever secrets Norrhask holds remain buried beneath the ice.
And lastly… the most enigmatic of them all—Noxvalen.
Located deep in the South, beyond any known trade route, surrounded by silence and superstition, Noxvalen has no reliable maps. In some forgotten tomes, it is referred to by a far more ominous name: The Abyss. Descriptions vary wildly. Some say the shore is patrolled by grotesque creatures—like snail-beasts the size of houses—oozing across the rocky beaches. Others speak of a landscape that is both frozen and scorched, a paradox of climate, as if the world itself rejected the land. There are no official records, no maps, and no charts. Just one ancient account, allegedly from a survivor driven mad by the journey. Most scholars dismiss it as fabrication. A ghost story. A lie.
And yet... stories persist.
Because in a world like Netaria, even lies often hold a kernel of truth.
At the heart of Taris stands Elarion, one of the largest and most influential kingdoms on the continent. A hub of commerce, politics, and steel, it serves as the central artery through which trade and culture flow. Its stone-paved roads are always busy—lined with merchants, commoners, nobles, knights, and adventurers alike. Towering spires rise above bustling marketplaces, and caravans never rest, bringing exotic wares from distant provinces. But beneath the layers of royal banners and merchant guilds lies something less visible—Eclipse Fang, hidden in plain sight, quietly watching from the shadows of this thriving kingdom.
Within Elarion lies the Adventurer Guild, a sprawling institution with branches throughout the continent. They are the arbiters of missions, the keepers of records, and the unseen hands that balance power between nations and independent mercenaries. Adventurers are not just hired swords—they're assets, and sometimes threats. The Guild administers all official quests, doles out rewards, mediates disputes, and most importantly, ranks every registered adventurer through a strict system.
Each adventurer is categorized under a tiered ranking system, based on their strength, experience, achievements, and potential:
Rank F – Entry level. Newcomers begin here, mostly handling errands and safe-zone tasks.
Rank E – The start of real adventuring. Low-risk combat and basic fieldwork.
Rank D – Intermediate. Cleared for dangerous zones and party-based missions.
Rank C – Competent and reliable. Often lead small teams and handle harder quests.
Rank B – Veterans. Trusted with high-stakes missions and regional threats.
Rank A – Elite. Few make it this far. Many possess rare talents or unique classes.
Rank S – Legendary. Only a handful exist. Powerful enough to shift kingdoms.
Adventurers are divided not only by rank—but by class. These classes fall under two main types: Basic and Advanced.
Every registered adventurer carries a Guild-issued badge, magically sealed to display their name, rank, and current class. To determine one's class, the Guild uses a rare artifact known as the Crystal of Resonance—a magic tool that reveals a person's innate affinities. Few exist. The Adventurer Guild has several. A handful of high-ranking nobles possess one, as do certain royal houses. Creating or recovering them from ruins is difficult and prohibitively expensive.
Most people begin to exhibit signs of their destined class during early childhood. Each individual has up to three potential class paths, influenced by bloodline, natural talent, personality, and life experience.
Basic Classes are the most common—Warrior, Thief, Mage, Archer, and so on.
Advanced Classes are far rarer, sometimes inherited, sometimes awakened through sheer will or training. A lucky few are born with them from the start.
Classes aren't exclusive to adventurers. Soldiers, knights, mercenaries, assassins, royal guards—even certain nobles and craftsmen—may carry classes suited to their roles. Whether in the service of a kingdom or wandering freelance, one's class often shapes the life they lead.
At the Adventurer Guild Meeting Hall.
A grand, vast room wrapped in silence and tension. The air was heavy, serious. Seven chairs were arranged around a long obsidian table—each seat meant for a leader of the top guilds of Elarion.
The doors opened.
Falke, the Adventurer Guild Leader, stepped in. A towering man with a stern gaze, thick beard, and weathered face—his very presence carried weight. He scanned the room.
His gaze swept across the chamber. All seven guild leaders were already seated.
To his left sat the Ironbound Guild — a group of all-male warriors renowned for their brute strength, unrefined tactics, and explosive tempers. They were loud, crude, and lived for the battlefield. At their head was Gorrhan, a towering, dark-skinned man covered in rough tribal tattoos that snaked over his arms and shoulders. Middle-aged and scarred from countless battles, he was a walking wall of muscle. His spiked red hair added to his wild, dangerous look. As an S-Rank Champion, Gorrhan was feared for his ruthless axe techniques — direct, overwhelming, and without mercy. He had a foul mouth, a bad attitude, and was aggressive toward almost everything, often acting more like a brawler than a professional adventurer.
Gorrhan leaned forward with a loud grunt, slamming his thick fingers on the stone table.
"Oi,woman!" he barked across the room at Seraphina, his eyes raking over her legs and chest without shame. "Quit wastin' that fuckable womb vessel of yours playin' house with these weaklings. "
He smirked wide, eyes glinting with crude desire.
"Come to Ironbound. Let me knock up that tight hole cunt. You'd make fine brats with my seed... hell, I'll even toss your dripping cunt to my men—let them pump you full and breed out a whole damn army. "
"You'll be our breedtoy— belly round with Ironbound seed, again and again! Kehahahaha!"
Beside him was the polar opposite: the Silver Aegis Guild, structured, refined, and proud. Their guild held the highest number of S-Rank adventurers — five in total — and were known for their efficient internal hierarchy. Their leader, Elric Vandel, an A-Rank Lightning Mage and heir to a noble house, sat with perfect posture, spectacles perched on his nose, maroon hair combed immaculately. He radiated superiority and spoke as if the room owed him attention. Though only A-Rank Lightning Magician, his leadership was precise, if not a bit elitist.
He scoffed, brushing dust off his sleeve.
"Tch. Barbaric idiot," he muttered under his breath, glaring at Gorrhan.
Then his gaze turned to Seraphina, adjusting his glasses.
"Lady Seraphina. I'd like to formally propose a merger—if you were to join Silver Aegis, I'd appoint you Vice-Leader. Your talents deserve refinement under a system that understands them. You'd pair well with my S-Rank formation."
Next to them sat the Moonlight Lily Guild — An all-female guild, led by eight sisters. Their goal: protect and empower female adventurers, especially those mistreated by men.
Their sole S-Rank and leader: Seraphina, the eldest sister and a ForceStriker. A silver-haired beauty with a flawless, hourglass figure—huge breasts that strained her tight tunic, wide hips, and long legs. Her combat outfit left her arms and thighs exposed, and her every subtle movement caused her massive breasts to bounce slightly beneath the fabric.
Despite being a melee fighter, her skin was smooth and unscarred, her body more erotic than any dancer, yet she fought like a graceful executioner. Cold, elegant, and deadly. She hated perverts. But was ironically the number one object of lust among adventurers, much to her annoyance—and obliviousness.
She sat upright, arms crossed beneath her chest, which only pushed up her soft, jiggling breasts more than necessary—unaware of the men discreetly swallowing hard across the table.
Her sharp violet eyes flicked coldly toward Gorrhan and Elric.
"…You dogs should keep your tongues inside your mouths," she said coolly, her arms crossed tightly—pushing up her cleavage even more.
Her tone dripped with scorn, and the subtle bounce of her chest as she leaned forward was lost on no one.
Across from them was the Greyhaven Guild, one of the oldest and most traditional. Once great, now seen as weaker due to having no S-Rank among them. Their leader, Aldros, was a retired A-Rank Knight with snowy hair and a weathered look of content resignation. He had once fought alongside Falke in his prime, and now focused on nurturing new blood, training rookies and overlooked talents with patient hands and worn wisdom.
He raised his hand calmly.
"Enough, all of you. If you want this meeting to end before nightfall, stay quiet."
To his right was the enigmatic Lunacrest Guild. Whispers called them a cult masquerading as adventurers. Their leader, Lady Nyzara, was a C-Rank Enchantress with a reputation that far exceeded her rank. Veiled behind a silk fan, she carried herself like royalty, always smiling, always scheming. She rarely fought, preferring to charm, manipulate, and orchestrate events from the shadows. Though she had only one S-Rank under her banner — a silent, ever-present bodyguard — her influence was undeniable. Rumors swirled of her jealousy toward certain other popular female guild leaders, though she never addressed them directly.
She tilted her head mockingly toward Seraphina.
"Hmph. "Why not just spread your legs for those foul mongrels? Honestly, with a body like that, breeding's the only thing you're useful for."
She fluttered her fan.
Near the end sat the Tempest Guild, a neutral, straightforward organization. Neither scandalous nor overly ambitious. They had three S-Rank adventurers, and their leader, Allard, a Blader, was one of them — a short, cheerful man with an unreadable smile and unnerving calm. He rarely spoke unless needed but had a strange knack for seeing through people. Many underestimated him… only once.
He looked between Seraphina and Nyzara with a bright grin.
"My, my… everyone's getting along nicely."
He sipped his tea like nothing was wrong.
Finally, at the farthest seat, the aura of warmth and reverence wrapped around Sacred Bloom Guild, A guild known for its warmth and supportiveness, yet also one of the most respected.
Their leader: Elysia, a S-Rank High Cleric. A curvy goddess in human form—thick, soft, and unbelievably busty. Her robes could do little to hide the fact that her breasts were easily the biggest in all of Elarion. Her pristine white outfit hugged her wide hips and slender waist, with an open chestline that showcased a deep, jiggling valley of cleavage that bounced with every gentle breath.
She was motherly, soft-spoken, and nurturing to all… but especially popular with young male adventurers—particularly those just entering puberty. Many visited the guild just to speak with her, leaving with flushed cheeks and trembling knees after receiving her warm praise or soft breast-filled hugs.
Elysia, of course, remained blissfully unaware. She couldn't turn off her affectionate, onee-san-like care—even when boys stared at her chest more than her eyes.
Rumors spread quietly, passed among taverns and whispered in bunks: Elysia's enormous breasts could produce breastmilk capable of healing ailments when drunk directly from the source. It was said to be sweet, warm, and calming, and had a miraculous effect when suckled straight from her soft, divine nipple.
Whether the rumors were true or not, young boys constantly lined up, eager to be "treated," flustered and twitching as they left with red cheeks, wobbly legs, and hearts full of forbidden dreams.
Even now, seated calmly at the roundtable, her massive breasts swayed softly with every little shift beneath her robes, catching the glow of the overhead light as her neckline shifted just enough to tease the curves within.
Elysia entered last, her massive breasts swaying gently under her loose cleric robe as she sat down with a serene smile.
"Ah~ sorry I'm late," she said sweetly. "Some of my poor little boys were… restless."
She giggled softly.
"Their poor little things just wouldn't calm down, so I had to lie down, stroke them gently, and breastfeed each one until they finally relaxed."
Her eyes sparkled innocently.
"They released so much… but they still wanted more. I promised I'd come back after the meeting. Fufu~"
No one in the room seemed to hear her words.
Falke slowly made his way to the head of the table, boots echoing in the chamber.
He stood before them and let silence linger a moment longer.
"Now that the top seven guild leaders are here," he said, voice steady and deep. "Let us begin."
And just like that, the meeting commenced — yet another chapter in the delicate balance of power that ruled the kingdom's adventurers.
In the quiet stone halls of Eclipse Fang's hidden base, Gwain walked alongside Merry as the two made their way toward the meeting room. He strolled with a lazy swagger, hands tucked behind his head, wearing his usual smirk.
His eyes, however, weren't focused on where they were going. No, they were… slightly lower—locked onto the hypnotic bounce of Merry's cleavage beneath her tight leather armor, each sway perfectly timed with her confident steps. The way the straps hugged her chest made it impossible not to stare. And Gwain? He wasn't even trying to look away.
Merry, oblivious as always when she was on a mission, marched ahead in her usual tight-fitting leather armor. The chest plate clung snugly around her generous curves—maybe a little too snug. With each step she took, a faint bounce followed, despite the restrictive gear. Gwain, towering beside her, let out a silent whistle in his head, his smirk stretching wider.
"Mm... mornings like this aren't so bad," he murmured lazily.
"Huh?" Merry glanced sideways, missing the angle of his gaze entirely. "What're you mumbling about now?"
"Just grateful,"Gwain replied, not missing a beat."For the morning view… and for you waking me up. That was sweet of you." He flashed a lopsided grin, eyes briefly dipping just below her collarbone. "Hard to complain when the first thing I see is something that, y'know… moves with such enthusiasm."
Merry narrowed her eyes, a faint pink tint rising on her cheeks. "D-Don't get the wrong idea, okay?! I-I didn't do it for you or anything! I just… didn't want you being late to the meeting!" She crossed her arms under her chest—unaware it only emphasized her cleavage more. "Y-You know how the leader gets! And Eri's busy with chores, so someone has to keep you in line, idiot!"
"Oho~ So responsible. You really do act like a wife," he teased, chuckling.
"Wha—!?" Merry turned red instantly, arms flailing. "W-Wife!? As if! Who'd marry a drunk old geezer like you!?"
Gwain grinned, resting his arm on the back of his neck. "Heh, old maybe. But charming, don't you think?"
Merry huffed, crossing her arms under her chest and puffing her cheeks. "You wish. You're just lucky I didn't bring my sword."
"Oh, but you did," Gwain said with a wink—then nodded down suggestively. "And if not... you can always borrow mine." His smirk widened as he casually pointed toward his pants.
Merry blinked, following his gesture. "Huh? You didn't bring a sword either, idiot."
He chuckled low. "Oh, it's right here—just hiding inside my pants. Want me to take you to another room so you can try drawing it out yourself?"
Merry froze. Her cheeks turned red as her eyes narrowed in confusion. "Wha—!? W-What are you even talking about!?
They reached the meeting room doors just as Merry let out a frustrated sigh, still red in the face.
"Finally," she muttered, brushing past him with a flustered glare.
Gwain chuckled again, thoroughly enjoying her reaction. "Still cute when you're mad."
"Tch… shut up," she snapped, opening the door without looking back.
But the moment she stepped inside, her whole attitude changed.
Sitting alone at the table was Ragner—quiet, arms crossed, cold gaze forward.
Merry's glare vanished. "Ah, Ragner! Good morning," she said sweetly, walking over with a smile. "You've been here long?"
Ragner gave her a small nod, silent.
She sat beside him with a soft expression, practically glowing.
Gwain raised an eyebrow and followed in, sitting across from her. "Wow, switch flipped fast," he muttered, then winked. "Hey, don't forget about me."
Merry glared. "Tch. Shut it, perv."
Then turned to Ragner again with a warm, gentle voice. "Would you like some tea later?"
Gwain slouched back in his seat, defeated. "…Unreal."
The heavy doors of the Eclipse Fang meeting hall creaked open one by one, the subtle sound of boots and heels echoing through the dark stone corridor.
Fienna was the first to enter, her silver hair flowing gently behind her as she sat in her wheelchair, a soft smile on her lips. Her white lace eye-cover fluttered lightly as Hella pushed her from behind, ever the loyal combat maid. Hella, in her usual short skirt and thigh-highs, kept her expression cold and sharp, eyeing the room like a watchdog. She gave a short nod to those already seated, never one to waste words.
Next came a tall man clad in full steel armor name Dragan. A long, deep scar ran across his cheek, and a massive broadsword hung over his back. A-Rank Warrior—his name was rarely spoken aloud, only whispered. He served as Eclipse Fang's public face, posing as a normal adventurer in the eyes of the world. While officially acting under a "fake" guild registered with the Adventurer Guild, he used every job as an excuse to gather information… especially on those showing signs of becoming Tainted Ones.
Following him was a clanking sound of metal and boots.
A loud, tomboyish voice echoed from the hall.
"Yo! Sorry I'm late! I had to bash a sword straight this morning!"
The blacksmith of Eclipse Fang entered with a confident grin name Sophie. She was tall, built, and curvy in all the right places—large breasts nearly bouncing out of her stretch-tight tube top, her hips snug in fitted pants, and goggles resting on her messy black ponytail. The hammer slung at her side clanked softly. Though often mistaken as some careless girl, she was sharp when it came to gathering intel. Her shop was one of the best sources of rumors and odd behaviors among adventurers. Most customers left with a weapon… and without realizing they'd already been profiled.
Then came two women entering side by side.
The first towered above most—Arla, A-Rank Warrior, built like a goddess of muscleless curves. Her bikini armor clung to her thick, juicy thighs and massive breasts, leaving her midriff bare, revealing faint hints of toned abs. Despite her erotic body, her face looked innocent, tomboyish, and… pretty much like a clueless village girl. Her short, spiky light-greenish hair added to the image.
"Heeeey~ what was this again? A guild meeting? Wait… why am I here again?" Arla asked out loud, scratching her head.
"Unbelievable," A petite girl walking behind her let out a sigh. "Did all that grinding last night wipe your memory? We were nearly late because someone couldn't stay still."
"hehe..." Arla blushed
"Tch… shameless idiot…" the girl muttered, face red as she avoided everyone's gaze.
The woman beside her was Korra, a petite A-Rank Summoner. Same age as Arla, but completely different—petite, sharp-tongued, and dressed in a stylish purple-black short dress with a witch hat towering above her head. Her long hair, light brown with hints of purple, flowed as she walked in.
"I swear, Arla, your boobs may be heavy, but your brain's lighter."
"Huh!? Did you just say I was heavy!?" Arla pouted.
Another figure followed—an icy beauty who drew attention the moment she stepped in. She was tall, sleek, and deadly. Her name is Lynn.
A S-Rank Assassin.
Her tight black outfit wrapped her body like a second skin, every curve of her thighs, hips, and chest pressing hard against leather and straps. Her shirt strained at the chest where her enormous breasts threatened to rip through. Her back was mostly exposed, save for the small jacket draped behind her. Her cold golden eyes scanned the room, emotionless. Her tied blonde hair flicked slightly as she adjusted a small knife at her thigh.
This woman had seduced kings, diplomats, and adventurers alike… only to slit their throats moments later. For her, sex was a tool—used for espionage or assassination, nothing more.
She said nothing, only nodded.
Then came a graceful sound of silent sandals.
A raven-haired beauty stepped into view, her long silky hair flowing behind her. Sharp red eyes framed her youthful, stoic face. Despite her petite waist and large breasts similar to Merry's, her emotionless expression made her seem distant.
This was Rin, a S-Rank Samurai, the only one of her class in Taris—an outsider from Arkaveil, the eastern continent. Her attire was a strange fusion of kimono belt and western short-skirted uniform, giving her an exotic appeal. Her sword, Tsunetsugu, remained tightly bound at her hip.
She didn't greet anyone. Her focus was only on missions, tasks, and—above all—training.
She stepped in quietly, offering a polite bow to the gathered members.
"My apologies. I intended to arrive earlier… but a hurdle delayed my path."
Her voice was calm, formal, with a subtle accent that made her seem even more exotic. She stood silently near the edge of the hall, posture perfect, expression composed—yet clearly thinking about something else.
Korra leaned toward Arla, whispering under her breath.
"She got lost again, didn't she?"
Arla blinked, then nodded with a straight face.
"Didn't we see her heading the opposite way this morning…? Like, really early?"
"Mhm. She circled the same street twice."
And finally, with the clack of heeled boots and the swaying sound of long cloth, the room turned.
Their leader had arrived.
The leader of Eclipse Fang.
She was tall, rugged, and oozed power with every confident step. Long, messy red hair flowed behind her, tied in a wild ponytail, her black eyepatch covering one eye like a battle trophy. Her massive breasts were barely contained by a few crisscrossing fabric straps that clung tightly across her chest, almost begging to break. Her toned stomach and tight shorts exposed much of her thick, voluptuous form. A massive coat flared behind her like wings.
This was Verana—undeniably dominant, unmistakably dangerous.
She looked around the room with a casual scowl.
"Tch. Not everyone's here... but you already know why we're gathering."
She cracked her knuckles.
"Let's get this damn meeting started."
And just like that, Eclipse Fang was assembled.
As the meeting concluded, the members of Eclipse Fang began to disperse—each returning to their own rhythm, their own shadows.
Gwain, as ever, wasted no time.
With his cocky grin and ever-confident swagger, he immediately turned his attention to the many women in the room, his eyes gleaming like a man on a mission.
"Ladies~ the meeting's over, so how about we unwind over a drink or two? My treat~"
But—
Lynn walked right past him without even blinking, her hips swaying with deadly elegance, as if he didn't exist.
Arla and Korra at her side were too busy flirting with each other, whispering and giggling, their arms brushing together playfully as they left the room with zero interest in Gwain's charm.
Rin, eyes sharp and focused, didn't even notice him—already muttering to herself about her next training sequence as she drifted down the hallway like a blade on autopilot.
Sophie, meanwhile, was deep in conversation with Verana, the two walking side by side, their voices low and serious. Sophie didn't spare him a glance.
And just as Fienna turned her head to offer a gentle hello—
Hella rolled her eyes and quickly pushed the wheelchair forward, cutting Gwain off entirely with a curt "Nope."
Within moments, he was left standing alone in the middle of the hallway, surrounded by rejection and silence.
Well… almost alone.
Within moments, he was left standing alone in the middle of the hallway, surrounded by rejection and silence.
Well… almost alone.
Merry remained.
She leaned casually against the doorframe, arms folded under her bust, a sly grin spreading across her lips as she watched Gwain's desperate flirt-fest fail spectacularly.
"Oof… rough crowd, huh?"she teased.
Gwain groaned dramatically. "Jealous, are we? That you're the only beauty left who hasn't escaped me?"
Merry blinked, cheeks coloring slightly."W-What? As if! I-I'm not jealous, idiot! Old pervert…"she huffed, turning her head away sharply.
Her voice wavered just enough to betray the tsundere flutter in her chest.
Gwain smirked. "Heh~ Cute."
But Merry wasn't listening anymore.
Her eyes had already caught sight of someone—Ragner—his black cloak vanishing just around the corner of the corridor.
Her smile vanished.
She let out a quiet huff, cheeks puffing slightly as she turned back to Gwain with a sharp pout.
"Tch… I missed Ragner because of you," she muttered, annoyed.
Before he could blink, she grabbed his arm and tugged.
Gwain blinked, surprised—then smirked. "Oh? Grabbing me all of a sudden? Wait… are you inviting me to spend time in your room? Well, well~ I can show you my—"
"N-Not that, you old idiot pervert!" Merry snapped, face flushing red. She turned her head away sharply, still holding his arm.
"We're going to the dining hall, dummy! Breakfast, breakfast! Ugh, I swear—don't start drinking this early in the morning or I'll drag you all the way there myself!"She huffed again, eyes narrowing. "Your daughter's already waiting, you know."
Gwain just chuckled, letting her pull him along. "Heh~ What a caring wife I have."
"A-As if! Who would ever want some gross old man as their wife? Bleh!"Merry fired back, sticking out her tongue as her face burned even redder.
The warm scent of grilled bread and sizzling meat filled the air as Merry and Gwain stepped into the dining hall.
At the far side, near the long counter, a small figure was hard at work—Eri, already preparing breakfast. Her small hands moved skillfully as she arranged plates, standing on a wooden stool just to reach the surface properly.
Behind her, overseeing everything with a gentle presence, stood Rina.
Clad in a light maid uniform that left little to the imagination—tight around her ample chest, hugging her generous hips, and exposing just enough soft skin—Rina was a vision of calm elegance. Her long grey hair flowed down her back like a silver waterfall, her soft eyes and tender smile giving off a strong ara-ara energy that radiated through the room. Her voice was sweet, like a breeze through silk.
"Good morning, everyone~"she said with a graceful bow."Breakfast will be ready shortly."
Gwain stiffened for a second, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Despite all her beauty, kindness, and the way her body seemed designed by a goddess for sinful thoughts—he just couldn't bring himself to flirt with Rina. She was too soft… too warm. Too good.
So his attention quickly returned to teasing Merry, who still had him by the arm.
"Father!" Eri called, beaming. "Good thing Merry dragged you in here! You were probably going to sneak off for drinks again, weren't you?"
"H-Heeey now! I'm not that bad,"Gwain laughed nervously. "C'mon, give your old man some credit…"
Merry smirked, arms crossed, clearly proud of herself.
"Tch. I had to drag him like a sack of potatoes,"she said. "Left on his own, he'd be passed out next to a bottle by now."
Rina chuckled softly and approached with her usual calm steps.
"It seems most of the others grabbed their meals quickly and left to tend to their duties," she said sweetly. "Please, have a seat. I'll return to the kitchen—there are still things I need to prepare."
She turned to Eri and gave her a warm smile. "You'll be in charge here for a while, alright?"
"Yes, ma'am!" Eri nodded cheerfully, watching her mentor float away like an elegant spirit back into the kitchen.
The three sat around the table.
The mood was light, the food warm, and the teasing inevitable.
Gwain, naturally, leaned back with a lazy grin.
"Y'know… Merry, the way you dragged me in here, scolded me, sat me down... Now if you'd just feed me a bite, it'd really feel like a wife's love."
"W-Wha—!? Who the hell would feed an old pervert like you!?"Merry snapped, flustered.
"Mmm~ still waiting here," Gwain said, leaning forward and opening his mouth like a spoiled prince. "You're not gonna feed me, Merry? I'm all ready~ aah~"
"I'll shove the whole plate down your throat, keep talking," she muttered, face red and twitching.
Eri giggled, swinging her legs under the bench, bright as the sun.
Merry blinked, then leaned forward a little, raising an eyebrow.
"…You're really smiley today, Eri. Something wrong?"
Eri shook her head quickly, cheeks glowing with soft happiness.
"Nothing! I just… it feels nice. We look like a family like this."
She paused, then grinned even wider.
"Merry kinda feels like my mom~ Hehe."
"U-Uh… wha—!?" Merry froze, her face going pink. She forced an awkward smile.
"Eri, I really hope you're joking. I'm way too young to be your mom! And absolutely no way in my right mind would I ever marry this old, pervy man."
Gwain chuckled, stabbing a piece of sausage with his fork.
"Too harsh," he said with that teasing tone, giving Merry a wink.
"I'll hurt more than just your feelings if you don't shut it," Merry growled, reaching across the table like she was ready to throw her spoon at his face.
Eri, meanwhile, was already off in her own little happy world, humming quietly as she nibbled on toast, content just to have them both at the table.
In the background, Merry kept scolding Gwain, her voice rising slightly every time he opened his mouth with another flirt or suggestive joke.
"Stop grinning like that!"
"You were staring at my chest, weren't you!?"
"Ugh! Eat your food and choke on it, old man!"
"You're blushing," Gwain smirked.
"S-Shut up!"
And beside them, Eri just smiled softly again, like this was her favorite kind of morning.
Later that evening, Merry wandered the halls of the Eclipse Fang base, a scowl pulling at her lips.
"Tch… Where did that old man run off to this time?"she muttered under her breath, arms folded beneath her chest as she pushed open the door to Gwain's room.
Empty. As expected.
Letting out a sigh, she turned on her heel and stomped back into the corridor, the sharp click of her boots echoing softly.
As she passed the dining hall, the faint sound of humming reached her ears. She glanced over and saw Eri wiping the counter, her short figure focused and cheerful, standing on her tiptoes.
"Eri,"Merry called gently as she approached. "Have you seen your father around?"
The girl looked up and blinked, her expression pure and thoughtful.
"Father? Hmm… I haven't seen him since lunch."
Merry sighed again, rubbing the back of her neck. "Of course. Gone again, just when we need him most…"
She shook her head, her tone softer this time.
"Thanks anyway, Eri. Let me know if you spot him, alright?"
"Okay!" Eri smiled brightly, returning to her work with an innocent hum. Then, almost to herself, she added with a giggle,
"I wonder what Father did to upset Merry this time…"
She tilted her head thoughtfully.
"He really needs to straighten up if he wants Merry to be his wife someday."
Just a while ago, she and Ragner had been summoned to the guild's briefing room.
Their Guild Leader, Verana, sat in her usual oversized seat, legs crossed, coat flared dramatically behind her like wings. One arm rested casually on the chair's side, while her massive bust, barely held together by the crisscrossing fabric wraps, bounced slightly with each subtle movement.
"A new mission," Verana said. "The two of you—Ragner and Merry—will head south to Sholham."
"Sholham?" Merry asked, brow furrowing. "That port city? Most ships and merchants pass through there... Why would you send us?"
Verana's smirk widened.
"Because Fienna had another vision."
Merry stiffened slightly. Any time Fienna had a vision, things never stayed quiet for long.
"She saw… something." Verana's expression turned a little more serious."Nothing has happened yet, but she believes there's a strong possibility a new Tainted One will emerge there soon."
She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other.
"Oh, also—bring Gwain with you two."
"Then why bring him?" Merry asked, glancing sideways."Aren't me and Ragner enough for this?"
Verana laughed, tossing her head back.
"As much as that drunk bastard's a walking headache," she said, smirking, "he's still one of our best informants. Nobody weaves through cities and squeezes secrets from shady traders like Gwain does."
"Tch…"Merry looked at Ragner, hoping—begging—for a little support.
But he remained calm and composed, standing like a statue.
"Understood,"he said simply, with that icy, mission-first attitude of his.
Merry puffed her cheeks and crossed her arms."You could at least say the two of us are fine on our own…"she muttered under her breath.
Verana chuckled again, clearly amused by the whole exchange.
"Go find him," she said, waving them off. "Tell him the mission details. You leave tomorrow at dawn."
"Fine…" Merry muttered.
The meeting adjourned.
Ragner turned silently and bowed."I'll return to my quarters. I'll prepare."
"I'll go find that drunk idiot," Merry grumbled, turning in the opposite direction with an angry huff.
Merry wandered the city streets, irritation mounting with every step. She checked one tavern after another, pushing through smoky doors and enduring the stench of cheap ale and sweat, but no sign of that old pervert anywhere.
"Ugh… if I find him passed out under a table again, I swear I'll tie him up and drag him back by the belt…"
As she passed a narrow alleyway near one of the rowdier pubs, a sudden crash echoed followed by a loud yell.
"Don't you dare touch my wife again, you damn drunk!"
Merry turned just in time to see Gwain get literally tossed out of the back door of the tavern, landing on the cobblestone street like a ragdoll. He rolled once, then flopped onto his back with a goofy grin on his face.
"Ehh… don't worry, man… It was just a welcome gesture…" Gwain slurred, waving lazily from the ground.
The man—large, red-faced, and fuming—stepped forward, fists clenched.
"Welcome gesture, my ass! Get lost before I break your jaw!"
Gwain only laughed, still too drunk to care, staring up at the clouds as if they had all the answers.
Merry arrived beside him with an exhausted sigh, brushing past the angry man.
"Sorry about him,"she said quickly, trying to salvage what little dignity they had left.
The man scowled at her but paused when his eyes landed on her face—and her figure.
He blinked. "Tch… Girl, you should keep a better eye on your husband. Can't believe you let a guy like him wander around harassing women like that."
Merry froze."H-Huh…?"
His eyes narrowed a little as he looked her up and down.
"What's a guy like him feeding you to land such a pretty, young thing for a wife? Damn…"
"Eh—!?"Merry's mouth opened, ready to protest, but she stopped herself.
Her lips twitched into an awkward, forced smile.
"Hehehe… yeah… funny, right…?"
She just wanted to get this over with.
The man grumbled something under his breath and stormed back inside the tavern, slamming the door behind him.
Merry turned back to Gwain, who was now sprawled out like a drunk corpse, his chest rising and falling slowly with the faintest snore.
She rubbed her temple and groaned.
"You unbelievable old idiot…"
"Ugh… get up, old man…" Merry grumbled under her breath, crouching beside the collapsed figure of Gwain, who lay sprawled on the cold cobblestone like a discarded sack of potatoes.
She nudged his shoulder. Nothing.
Again—harder.
"C'mon, Gwain. I don't have all night—get your drunk ass up already."
His eyelids fluttered. A dopey grin spread across his face as he stared up at her, pupils glassy and unfocused.
"Ohh~ what's this?"he mumbled, voice thick and syrupy.
"A pretty angel… visiting me this late at night? Hehe… did I die and go to heaven?"
"Tch. You'll wish you did once I'm done dragging your ass back," Merry muttered, tugging at his arm. He wobbled slightly but still didn't budge.
Then his hand caught hers.
"A kind angel like you…" he murmured, his voice suddenly softer.
"You deserve a reward… for being so sweet to a guy like me."
Before she could react, he pulled her down.
And kissed her.
"Eh—!?"
Merry's eyes widened. For a moment, her mind went completely blank.
His lips were warm and firm, though the kiss was clumsy, uncoordinated—dripping with the scent of wine and mischief. But then, his hands cupped her cheeks with surprising gentleness. His tongue slid past her lips, tangling with hers in a deep, messy kiss that made her knees wobble.
The world spun. Her body trembled.
She gasped softly into the kiss as it dragged on, saliva mixing, the lewd sound of their lips echoing faintly in the dark alley.
Her face burned, bright red as steam clouded her thoughts.
When the kiss finally broke, a thin string of saliva still connected their mouths.
Merry knelt there, dazed, panting softly, her lips glistening—her mind lost somewhere between fury and fluttering confusion.
"W-What the hell just…?" she whispered.
Gwain blinked at her slowly, clearly mesmerized now.
"Damn…" he murmured. "You look... dangerous tonight."
Then he pulled her in again.
"H-Hey—mmmn!?"
Another deep, sloppier kiss, full of tongue and heat and alcohol-laced breath. His arm slipped around her waist, tugging her body close to his as if claiming her right there in the shadows.
Merry squirmed, but not very hard. Her thoughts were all over the place. Her lips were melting again into his—saliva dripping down the corner of her mouth as her body went warm, weak, confused.
A few meters away, someone passed by at the end of the alley. He paused, catching the sight of a hot young girl being passionately kissed by a drunk man on the ground.
He sighed, muttering to himself.
"Damn… lucky bastard."
Then, he walked on, leaving behind only the soft, sticky sounds of kissing in the alley.
Gwain was relentless.
His lips crashed back against Merry's in another deep, sloppy kiss, his arm locking tightly around her waist like he was trying to claim her right there in the alley. It wasn't just a kiss—it was possessive, hungry, overflowing with heat and alcohol-fueled passion.
Their mouths moved messily, tongues entwined, lips smacking lewdly as Gwain groaned into her mouth. Saliva spilled down the sides of their lips, dripping from Merry's chin as their kiss grew more intense—wet, loud, completely unrestrained.
Merry could barely keep up.
Her face flushed scarlet, body weak and shaky, and since Gwain was a bit taller than her, she found herself tiptoeing—pressing up just to reach his mouth, her arms trembling, her fingers clutching at his sleeves.
"W-What is this…? What's happening…?"her mind screamed, caught between panic and something dangerously warm.
"A kiss...? N-No, this isn't…!"
But her body wasn't listening. Her lips moved on instinct, responding unconsciously as his rough, clumsy affection overwhelmed her.
The deep kiss lasted longer than she realized, until at last, Gwain slowly pulled away—a thick strand of mixed saliva still connecting their lips.
Merry stood there, cheeks burning, chest rising and falling with every shaky breath. Her lips were red, swollen, glossy with spit—her own drool trailing messily down her chin. She wiped at her face clumsily, her knees barely holding her up.
"P-Pervert…!" she gasped, voice cracking as she staggered backward.
She furiously scrubbed at her lips with her sleeve, but it was no use—the kiss had already left its mark, both physically and mentally.
"A-And you reek of alcohol, damn it…! It's all over my mouth now…" she muttered, her voice trembling, equal parts furious and embarrassed.
Her whole body trembled, not just from anger—but from something she couldn't quite name.
"What the hell was that!? Ugh, gross! W-We just kissed—deeply! Twice! You drunk old bastard!"
Her voice was trembling more than she wanted it to. The more she scolded, the more her face turned red.
Then, without warning, Gwain slumped forward—arms looping lazily around her as he buried his face against her shoulder.
"H-Hey!? W-Wait! Don't just hug me like that! Idiot!" she yelped, stiffening.
His body was heavy, drunk and warm, practically melting into her. She panicked, hands hovering awkwardly in the air, unsure where to push—or pull. Her brain was short-circuiting.
"I-I'm not ready to take that kind of step yet, you stupid old man…!"she whispered under her breath, face steaming.
"I-I'm still too young for this sort of thing! I'm pure! Innocent!"
She squirmed, cheeks blazing, and muttered even softer—barely audible, like she was trying to convince herself.
"B-Besides… I already have someone I like…"
But then, she noticed the soft sound of breathing against her shoulder.
She blinked.
"…Wait."
She leaned back slightly.
Gwain was completely out.
He had passed out—snoring softly like nothing happened, using her shoulder like a warm pillow.
Merry twitched.
"You've gotta be kidding me."
There she was, face ruined with blush and drool, heart racing like a drum—and he'd gone and fallen asleep like a baby.
"Urrgh…!" she groaned through clenched teeth, looking around the alley in horror.
"We're not even back at the base yet! What am I supposed to do, drag your pervy corpse home!?"
She glanced down at him, still slumped against her, dead weight.
"Too damn heavy…"she muttered, kicking the ground.
And yet, despite it all, her arms slowly wrapped around him to steady his body.
"…Idiot."
Merry stumbled back into the Eclipse Fang base, the weight of a fully passed-out Gwain slung heavily over her shoulder. Her cheeks were still tinged pink, her lips slightly swollen, and strands of her braid stuck to her damp face from the earlier… incident.
As she pushed open the main hall door, she blinked in surprise.
"Eri…?" she murmured.
There in the low light stood the little girl, still fully awake, sitting patiently near the front entrance like a tiny guardian. Her bright eyes lit up when she saw them.
"Merry!" she hopped up. "You're finally back!"
"You're still up? It's way past midnight, you know?" Merry tilted her head, trying to hide the nervous edge in her voice. "Kids should be in bed by now."
"I was waiting for you and Father," Eri said sweetly. Then her eyes flicked to the man hanging like dead weight off Merry's body. "Looks like he went drinking again and passed out… sigh."
Merry awkwardly adjusted her grip, trying to keep Gwain's hand from slipping where it shouldn't.
"Not surprised, honestly," she muttered.
Eri stepped closer, tilting her head curiously.
"Merry, your face is red… and kind of messy… Did Father do something weird to you?"
"E-Eh!?" Merry jolted, heat rushing back to her cheeks in full force. "N-Nothing happened! W-What are you even thinking, Eri!?"she laughed nervously, waving her hand while trying not to remember the deep, alcohol-laced kisses that still made her lips tingle.
"Hmm… I hope not." Eri gave a tiny sigh."Father always says he's gathering information, but it's just an excuse to drink again."
Merry grumbled under her breath. "He sure gathered something alright…"
"Still, thank you, Merry." Eri looked up at her with those honest, wide eyes. "Without you, I don't think I could handle him. You really care about him, don't you?"
"Wha—!?" Merry's entire face lit up like fire.
"N-No way! What makes you think I care about this old, drunk, perverted man!?"she barked in full tsundere fashion, puffing her cheeks.
"I-It just happens that we're on a mission tomorrow, that's all! I didn't do this because I care or anything!"
Eri only smiled."Even so… thank you."
With a giggle, she helped Merry carry Gwain toward his room. They struggled a little with the door and nearly dropped him once, but eventually got him on the bed.
"There," Eri sighed in relief."That should do it."
She turned to Merry. "Will you be okay handling him from here?"
"I've handled worse," Merry said with a little smirk, brushing her bangs from her damp forehead. "Besides, it's late. You should really go to bed now, Eri."
"But Merry," Eri tilted her head, voice soft and low, "aren't you also still young…? I mean, our age isn't that far apart…"
Merry blinked. "Huh?"
"N-Nothing!" Eri quickly smiled, brushing it off. "Goodnight, Merry. Goodnight, Father."
With that, she turned and quietly shut the door behind her, leaving Merry alone in the room with a very unconscious Gwain snoring softly on the bed.
Merry watched as Eri gently pulled the door shut behind her, the wooden click sounding soft but final in the quiet room. The warmth and worry from earlier faded quickly, swallowed by the thick stink of man-sweat, cheap alcohol, and something stale hanging in the air. Merry didn't move at first—just stood there beside Gwain's bed, hands on her hips, lips twitching in disapproval.
Her eyes slowly drifted to the snoring mess sprawled out in front of her. "Hahh... seriously, what a disaster," she muttered, turning her head fully toward the bed.
There he was—Gwain—sprawled on the bed like a dead drunk ogre. His snoring was loud and rhythmically stupid, mouth open, lips twitching, one boot still halfway on his leg.
"Disgusting," she muttered, pinching her nose as she walked closer.
Empty bottles littered the floor, some still dripping. A plate of unfinished dried meat sat on the table, and a pair of used shorts—whose, she dared not ask—was tossed over the back of a chair.
"You're in a lot of trouble, Mister Pervert." Merry glared at the snoring man, crouching down and flicking his forehead. "Can't believe your little girl's the one worrying about you at this hour. Really, you're hopeless."
She blew her braid away from her face with a puff, then glanced at his exposed chest under the open leather vest. Her eyes narrowed.
"Tch... if you stay like this, you'll catch a cold and delay tomorrow's mission," she murmured, standing back up.
Still grumbling, she reached down and began unfastening his top, trying hard to avert her gaze. Click, slide, peel. One buckle after another came undone. Then the shirt came off. She was doing her best to stay professional—at least, she thought she was.
But then her eyes slipped.
"Eh...?" She froze.
Underneath the old raggedy clothes was a surprisingly solid body—lean but defined. Muscle lines traced along his abs, his chest still firm and moving gently with his breath.
"Tch... T-This guy still has muscle? When was the last time he did anything even remotely athletic?!"
Her fingers twitched.
She stared.
She swallowed.
"...No way."
Her hand hovered... just for a moment... just for a feel... just a single graze...
She caught herself and quickly yanked her hand away.
"What am I doing?! W-Why would I want to touch this old drunk's abs?! I'm not into this kind of thing!"
Her face flared red and she looked around in a panic, as if someone might've seen her shameful hesitation.
Flustered, she turned away and headed to the small wooden closet in the corner to look for fresh clothes for him. Just as she knelt down and opened the creaky door, clink!
Clatter.
"Huh—?"
An arm swung wildly from the bed behind her and smacked an open bottle resting on the nightstand. The golden liquid inside sloshed upward and...
"SPLASH!"
"...Argh—! You drunk IDIOT!"
The cold, sharp scent of alcohol soaked across her side, drenching part of her clothes. She jumped and stared at her soaked shirt in horror.
"Ughh... this was my favorite outfit!" she barked, standing up and throwing a deadly glare at the still-snoring man. Her hand curled into a fist, ready to punch his unconscious face—
But then she sighed, letting the tension out of her shoulders.
"It... wasn't his fault," she mumbled. "Still... ugh, this stink's gonna stick to me all night."
She stared at herself—her leather chest armor was soaked on the side, and worse, her tight shorts were sticky and cold.
There was no way she was walking back to her room like this. She didn't want the entire hallway thinking she spent her night getting wasted in his room.
"...Fine."
With a deep breath, she started peeling off her soaked clothes. Her face was flushed even though no one was there. First came the armor, then the damp chest strap, her sleeves and neck fabric. She tossed them aside, all dripping slightly. The cold air hit her bare skin and she shivered.
"...T-This is not what it looks like," she muttered to herself, now wearing nothing.
"This isn't weird. This is not weird. I just don't want to smell like alcohol. That's all!"
She tiptoed to Gwain's closet again, rummaging through the hanging shirts until she found one that looked... relatively clean. She slipped it over her head quickly, pulling it down.
It draped over her body like a curtain, clearly a size or two too big. But as she looked down—
"...Kuh—!?"
The fabric stuck gently to her chest.
She pulled it away.
It stuck again.
Her face turned bright red.
"No... underwear either... it's all soaked too..."
She hugged her arms around herself and slowly turned to glance at the snoring man again.
"You... I swear... you're just sleeping, but I still wanna punch you."
Still glaring, she walked over and grabbed a plain shirt from his closet to dress him. She muttered curses under her breath as she crouched beside him, pushing his arms through the sleeves, buttoning the shirt down—half by force, half by awkward tsundere care.
"...If you weren't such a troublesome guy..." she whispered, staring at his face.
She found herself leaning closer.
"Maybe you'd have found a wife by now. You've got a cute daughter... someone has to care for her, you know?"
Her lips trembled as she looked down at his sleeping expression.
"And she's always worried about you... You dumb old man."
But before she could pull herself back—
His arm suddenly shot up.
"Eh?!"
With drunken strength, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her downward with a strong, sloppy motion.
"Wha—?! H-Hey—!"
Merry's eyes widened as she fell onto the bed, his other arm wrapping around her midsection as he pulled her flush against his body.
"Y-Y-You—!"
"Drink... drink... on me..." Gwain murmured in a drunken half-conscious dream, pressing his cheek to her shoulder and snuggling into her like a warm pillow.
Merry's entire body froze. Her face was on fire.
"Y-Y-You perverted—IDIOT! Let me go!!"
She squirmed in his grip, kicking a leg and flailing her hand, but Gwain's drunk strength was absurd—he held on like a stubborn old bear.
"I'm gonna kill you...! Nnngh! Let! Me! Gooooo!!"
But no matter how much she struggled, it was useless. Her cheeks puffed out in frustration.
Merry was still squirming, trying to pry herself free from Gwain's drunk bear-like grip. But the old man's absurd strength held her tight—like a vice made of warmth and whiskey.
"Tch… Damn you…!" she hissed under her breath, face bright red. "Y-You're seriously gonna make me scream at this rate…!"
But just as she shifted her weight, trying to wiggle free—
"Mmgh…"
Gwain stirred.
Without warning, his body rolled on top of her, heavy and warm. Merry let out a choked squeak as her back hit the mattress, eyes wide, heart racing.
"W-Wait, what are you—?!"
Then his lips crashed into hers.
Sloppy. Deep. Hot.
Merry's mind blanked in a white-hot explosion of panic and heat. His mouth was warm, wet, and—
"...!?!"
Her eyes fluttered open in shock as she felt his tongue—clumsy, drunk, and completely unaware—press against hers. Their mouths locked, their breaths mingling, and her body went rigid.
Her face lit up in deep red as their lips parted momentarily, only to be pulled back together in another unintentionally deep kiss, wet and messy.
His mouth reeked of alcohol—strong, bitter, dizzying. She shivered, half in flustered rage, half in confusion.
"Uurghh… your breath stinks of alcohol, you pervert old man…!" she screamed in her head, face burning.
But Gwain, completely asleep, kept kissing her like he was dreaming of a lover long lost. His tongue lazily tangled with hers, sticky with spit. The sound of their lips smacking echoed through the room in obscene wetness. Saliva trickled down her chin. Her hands balled into fists, but her strength was gone—drained by the surprise, the shock, the stupid heat blooming inside her.
She could feel it—his weight, his warmth, his breath tickling her cheek.
Her body trembled.
"H-Haaa… ahh…"
Her mouth opened with a shocked gasp—but it only gave his tongue more room. Their lips squelched and sucked, his clumsy movements producing lewd wet sounds that echoed in the small room. Spit began to drool down the corners of her lips, dripping onto her chin, then her neck.
She trembled under him, arms twitching at her sides. Her hands hovered, unsure whether to shove him off or slap him silly. But her body was frozen—caught between the absurdity, the shock, and that creeping, unspoken heat crawling down her spine.
"I-Idiot…! Th-this isn't how it's supposed to happen…!" she whispered, breathless.
Her breathing came in fast, heavy gasps as the kiss finally broke. Gwain gave one last snort and rolled slightly off her, lips glistening, a trail of spit still clinging between them.
She lay there, stunned, chest heaving, cheeks an explosive crimson. Her entire face was drenched in fluster and confusion. Her legs were weak, her mind hazy.
And then—
Fwump.
His arm flopped across her chest.
"Ack…!"
Her entire body jolted as his forearm rested atop her modest bust—bare beneath his oversized shirt, which hung loose on her petite frame. Her thighs instinctively clamped shut under the fabric, knowing she had nothing underneath.
Her lips quivered.
"Y-You pervert… You stupid drunk old man…"
Her voice was barely a whisper now.
She gave one last attempt to shove his arm off.
It didn't budge.
"…Fine. F-Fine. Whatever."
She grumbled and laid still, trapped in the drunk fool's arms. Her heart was pounding too fast for her liking.
"It's useless... might as well wait. Maybe he'll lose feeling in his arm. T-Then I can make my escape..."
Her eyes closed for a second.
She sighed softly, her breath tickling his collarbone.
"...Stupid old man..."
Her voice faded.
Eventually, her breathing slowed. The room fell quiet, save for the sound of his snoring and the gentle ticking of the clock.
...Until Merry's own breath began to match his, rising and falling in reluctant silence...
An hour passed.
Gwain groaned awake, sprawled sideways across his bed with his shirt halfway up his chest and his pants barely clinging to his hips. His head throbbed like a war drum, pounding mercilessly. The ceiling spun lazily above him.
"Ughh… damn…" he muttered, rubbing his temple. "What the hell did I drink last night…?"
He sat up with a groan, blinking blearily around the room. It was his—definitely his room in the Eclipse Fang base. But he had no memory of how he got here. His mind was a hazy soup of flashes—cheering, mugs clanking, the scent of perfume… and lips.
His brow furrowed.
He remembered… kissing someone?
A pair of lips. Soft. Wet. Warm. A little sloppy. But who? A tavern girl? A pretty barmaid? Did one of the guild girls sneak into his lap for fun?
"Tch. Must've been some random chick," he snorted and shrugged it off, shaking his head and fixing his hair. "Happens…"
Still half-hungover, he threw on a wrinkled coat and trudged out toward the dining hall, yawning like a bear.
The warm aroma of eggs and soup greeted him as he entered the long, wooden-floored room. The morning sunlight filtered gently through the sheer curtains, casting gold across the table where several plates were already being set.
"Aah! Father, you're finally up!" came a small, pouty voice from across the room.
Eri, still in her sleepwear, stood with a wooden spoon in hand, her cheeks puffed in frustration as she glared at the lump on the bed. "You were all stinky and heavy last night again! You drank too much, didn't you!?"
She stomped her foot and pointed the spoon at him accusingly. "Merry had to carry you all the way back, you know! She's not a donkey!"
Gwain winced and scratched his head, sitting up slowly with a sheepish grin.
"Uhh… I thought one of the guys brought me back… Wait, that was Merry? Heheh… oops…"
Eri let out a loud huff, crossing her arms as she puffed her cheeks more. "Geez! Grown-ups are all the same! Drinking and stinking and sleeping like pigs…"
"Good morning, Sir Gwain," came a much gentler, soothing voice behind her.
Rina stood near the kitchen entrance, dressed in her usual modest uniform. She offered him a soft smile while folding a cloth napkin.
"Please try not to drink too much next time. It makes the morning feel a little less peaceful, doesn't it?" she added, her voice calm as water.
"Y-Yeah, yeah…" Gwain chuckled awkwardly, scratching his stubble. "Don't worry, Rina… next time, I'll drink just half a keg…"
"Half a keg is still too much," Eri barked.
Rina smiled patiently, as if she'd heard this exchange a hundred times.
As Gwain made his way to the table, his eyes landed on a certain redhead sitting nearby. Merry. Her arms were crossed, her legs propped up on another chair, and her glare—sharp and fiery—was locked onto him like a dagger to the heart.
Her crimson braid hung over one shoulder, swaying slightly as she tapped her boot on the chair.
Gwain swallowed.
"Oh… uhh… morning, Merry," he said with a lopsided grin, trying to charm his way out of the obvious tension. "You uh… you looked real pretty last night. Or maybe I was just drunk~"
She didn't respond.
She just stared.
Her eyes burned with a mixture of irritation and something else… Was that a blush?
Her cheeks were pink.
"Merry?" Gwain asked, tilting his head playfully. "You sure you didn't kiss me last night~? I got this vague feelin'…"
Before he could finish, she slammed her fork into her plate.
"Old. Drunk. Man."
Her words came out tight, flustered, and fast. Her face turned red—not from embarrassment alone, but something more complex. "I didn't do anything, alright?! You're imagining things!"
Gwain blinked. "Wait, so something did happen—"
"Shut up!" Merry snapped, flustered, and turned her face away with a bright blush spreading down her neck. "Why would I even—"
A dry cough interrupted them.
Sitting alone at the far corner of the table was Ragner, silently chewing his food with slow, mechanical precision. His cold, sharp eyes glanced briefly at Gwain.
"Have you reviewed the mission briefing yet?" he asked, voice low and emotionless.
Gwain blinked. "Eh? What mission?"
Ragner turned his gaze to Merry.
"You didn't tell him?"
Merry puffed her cheeks, then let out a small sigh as she scratched her head.
"I tried, okay? I found him outside the tavern, but he was already wasted—like, couldn't even tell which way was up."
Ragner simply nodded and pulled out a sealed document from his cloak, setting it gently on the table and sliding it toward Gwain.
"It's urgent. A Tainted One has been detected… though we haven't identified it yet. We'll need your skillset for reconnaissance. We leave at dawn."
Gwain blinked, looking from the document to Ragner, then Merry—who still wasn't looking him in the eye.
Before he could ask more, Rina's gentle voice broke through the tension again.
"Please. No mission talk at the breakfast table."
She poured a pot of warm tea with quiet grace, her expression as calm as always.
"Eat first. Talk later," she said with a gentle smile.
Everyone went quiet.
The clinking of utensils returned.
Gwain scratched his head awkwardly, picking up a spoon. "So uh… where's everyone else?"
Rina answered without looking up. "They've already left for their assigned operations. For now, only the four of us remain."
Gwain glanced around the table again.
Eri was still scowling at him while eating toast.
Merry was angrily stabbing her egg.
Ragner was back to being a silent shadow.
And Rina, ever serene, continued to smile like nothing had happened.
"…This is gonna be a weird day," he muttered.
After breakfast, the trio finally split up to prepare for the mission. Merry gave Ragner a quick wave and stuck her tongue out at Gwain before disappearing down the hallway. They would be leaving at dawn, so everyone had their own things to take care of.
Back in her room, Merry let out a lazy sigh as she stretched her arms over her head, her toned body twisting in the tight-fitting leather armor she'd already changed into earlier that morning. As her eyes drifted toward the small basket by the corner, she spotted the crumpled heap of clothes she had tossed there last night—meant to be washed before they left at dawn.
She wandered over, crouched down, and picked up the top of the pile: her sleeveless shirt from last night. She brought it close, giving it a sniff—and immediately jerked her head back.
"Ugh... damn, that's sour..." she muttered, grimacing as she fanned the shirt. "Smells like someone poured a whole bottle of beer on me..."
Tossing the shirt aside, she picked up her shorts next. They felt stiff—too stiff. Her fingers pinched at the inner fabric, and her brow furrowed. There were darkened, crusted spots along the gusset, with trails that had dried in a strange pattern.
"…What the hell…?" she muttered under her breath, turning the shorts inside out to inspect the damage. "Did I sit in something? Or—wait…"
Her face turned a shade redder.
The fabric along the inner seam was discolored—still faintly damp in spots, too focused around the gusset to be just alcohol. Merry squinted at it, then blinked, her mouth twitching into a crooked, mortified frown.
"…Wait—did I…? No way…"
Her fingers pinched the shorts cautiously as she leaned closer, sniffed, then instantly jerked back.
"Oh gods, it smells like—ugh, don't tell me I peed myself?!"
She rubbed her face with both hands, groaning in utter humiliation.
"If I ever see that smug idiot again, I swear I'll knee him where it hurts…"
Then she noticed.
"...Wait. Where the hell's my panties?"
Her eyes widened as she bent down, flipping her sheets, lifting her spare clothes, even checking under the bed.
Gone.
Absolutely gone.
Her cheeks turned red, and her brows twitched.
"You gotta be kidding me…" she muttered, covering her face with her hand. But the more she tried to think about it, the fuzzier everything became. Last night was hazy—damn that alcohol—and all she could clearly remember was the sensation of lips, tongue, and saliva sticking to her lips like glue. Her legs even clenched subconsciously at the thought.
"Ughhh! That perverted old man…!" she hissed, her voice turning into a growl. "Idiot old pervert!"
She crossed her arms and pouted, glaring toward the wall as if Gwain could feel her rage through it.
Meanwhile, on the other side of that very wall…
Gwain plopped himself onto the bed and sighed, still scratching his head.
"Why was she mad again…?" he muttered, completely lost.
But even as he complained, there was a dumb smile creeping on his face. He liked seeing Merry angry sometimes—it was kinda cute in its own way. Her eyes flared, her nose twitched, and her voice dropped a note lower. She got all pouty and stomped her boots a little harder. He couldn't help but chuckle.
Then he saw it.
Right near the edge of his bed, almost like a hidden prize left by fate, was something small, soft, and lacy.
"…What the hell?"
He leaned forward and picked it up.
"Panties?"
Not just any panties. Lacy, black, slightly damp, and had the faintest lingering trace of alcohol.
His brain stalled.
He didn't remember any girl last night—he was sure he came home alone. Even if he had flirted at the tavern, he would never be stupid enough to bring someone to the guild base. That was a fast way to get assassinated by the Guild Leader.
"Wait… did I... buy this…?" he mumbled, sniffing it before blinking hard. "Nah. This one's… still warm. And kinda smells like…"
He trailed off.
For some reason, Merry's face came to mind. That pouty glare. Her hips swaying when she stomped off this morning. The way she turned her face after their sloppy, noisy kiss last night. And how she stormed off without looking back.
"…No way, right?" Gwain murmured.
He looked at the panties again, now dangling off his finger.
"…Nah. Can't be."
With an awkward cough, he folded the panties neatly and shoved them into the back of his closet, placing them carefully beside his collection of "lucky" charms—dice, old quest tokens, and a necklace from a woman who once kissed him on the cheek after saving her cat.
"This one might bring me extra luck," he smirked to himself, shutting the closet door with a soft click.
Back in their own rooms, the three were now preparing their gear—checking weapons, folding maps, counting potions and gold. Dawn was only a few hours away.