Dungeon+Harem+Master

"That's why I'm Fulcanelli Carlier, Meryandale's brother."

Meriandale's brother, Fulcanelli, introduced himself again, exposing his uncontrolled smile to defenselessness. One below Meryandale, he was fifteen.

The clan of Fulcanelli has a total of twenty.

In the midst of acting as a pure adventurer, he found a woman in crisis and went in to help.

The collector also initially considered it to be Meryandale's ex-boyfriend or something, but this way he had a lot in common that could not be good with others if he stared seriously in front of the bonfire.

In other words, if Fulcanelli entered the rescue with a pure act, he comes to the conclusion that it is an anomaly for a collector to be so exaggerated with about a kiss.

If you haven't seen your sister or brother in a long time, it would be a good idea to kiss her instead of saying hello.

In general, there are verses in which the Japanese take too much heed for kissing, which is a European and American custom.

For the Japanese, kissing fell within the realm of intercourse, but there was only a good cultural difference anymore.

Even in the modern world, in the Arab system of the Middle East, an old man who accumulates a mustache in greetings sends his mouse to mouse kiss with affection and sometimes even his tongue.

(Was I a much cleaner character than I thought...)

"Never mind. Because each ethnic group has its own differences in habits. Hey, Meriandale."

Meriandale, sitting side by side next to Fulcanelli, did not speak a word from earlier. He lays down his face nagging.

For the first time in a long time, I thought it was illuminating to see my brother.

I can't help it. It's somewhat embarrassing to introduce someone you know to your own family.

"Hey Mary, what's wrong with you? Just be shy. Hey, my brother."

"Ha, this is what Meriandale has been like for a long time. Where there are so many people I don't know, I kind of get acquainted. Hey?"

Meryandale is standing there making an ambiguous smile when he finally looks up. Fulcanelli turned to the Zao without looking particularly concerned.

Often, chatter abruptly.

Fulcanelli came up with one suggestion when he switched the story from chatter to pragmatic.

"By the way, so far we're aiming for the seventh hierarchy as one divider. Here, there's something you should know. What do you think, if only Klund could stick with you as an impromptu party?

"Oh, there's nothing wrong with Mary's brother. Hey!"

"Ugh, yeah."

"What. Just shut up. Could it have been any injuries?

"Oh, that!... Yeah, it's nothing."

"Well, I mean yes to rendezvous. Let's do one thing."

"Oh! I'm sorry I was about to hit you all of a sudden earlier. And thanks for saving Mary!

"No, because as a brother, it's only natural to help my sister."

Fulcanelli smiles with a cloudless smile.

The silence of Meryandale, who, by contrast, leaned down in darkness, was the treasurer who was strangely concerned.

The clan and the collectors of Fulcanelli rendezvoused, making a party of twenty-two for all.

Either way, it's an impromptu party limited to the seventh tier.

For the first time, the collectors acted mixed with a large number of people, but the large area was more convenient.

Interpretation, real power does not form a single clan, etc.

You always have to pay attention to the lead, Meriandale, and if you match it to a woman's foot, you don't earn that much distance.

On the other hand, Fulcanelli's party could really afford three leading roles (mappers), ten attacking roles (attackers), five defensive roles (defensemen) and two overall aids.

Fulcanelli is probably an alchemist and won't join the fight, but he's mainly around the support of everyone.

Even though the young leader wanted to come forward for self-assertion, Fulcanelli was not the same type.

Everyone doesn't want to take the lead in the less visible departments of achievement, but he was a person who could see the whole thing in one big cohesion.

The collector also talked to a party member on a street, but no one was so mentally broken that he seemed to be able to communicate minimally.

Most importantly, there were a few guys who didn't seem to care about it, but there was no choice. I didn't even have to force myself to talk to you, it was just a matter of distance.

One thing that caught my eye only slightly was that a few of the members of Fulcanelli, especially those who seemed to be galloping badly, had an indescribable look every time they saw Meriandale.

Instead of blatantly scorning it, it was something negative, like being forced to bite off an indescribable laugh.

The collectors either wanted to communicate with the members of the defensive role (defense), but they were all monks (monks) and covered their mouths with a mask to hide them with a deep wimple on, and they were depressed. There's only one reason we want to get along. Because she is a woman. It was a truly understandable principle of behavior.

Fulcanelli said he was in a silent line due to doctrine. Doing something about religious problems will draw tail later. I tried to act like I forgot.

"Whatever, it's still easy to be around a lot. That's why Momochan is here. I knew people shouldn't judge you by your looks. Isn't your brother a great one?

The collector tries to talk to Mary, who has lost her energy altogether since the party rendezvous, but she has been leaning down and sinking deeply.

"What's the matter, suddenly you're not well. Look, if you need anything, you can tell me. I'm your partner for once."

"Ha ha. Oh, nothing. I'm perfectly fine. Don't be worried! Hahaha."

"Sort of."

Obviously it was a laugh pretending to be impossible, but the collector let go. It seems that we cannot cheer up the air, because it is evidence that we are indeed here. If your mouth is smart enough to make you smile even if you're lying, they still think you're fine.

But I don't know. I wonder why Mary's suddenly started falling off.

For one thing, I am distracted because I was interrupted in my two exact hours with the collector.

Two, rendezvous with a large number of strangers led to the explosion of the people-friendly mode and hiccups into his inner space.

Mitsu, Furukanelli was actually tooth decay, so I'm worried about getting infected.

The collector raised the factor as much as he did, and dismissed it as if it were different.

Together, the third tier, the fourth tier and the speed of the offense were fast enough to keep an eye on them.

Although the hierarchy has already been attacked, the direction of travel of the leading role (mapper) was precise without dust gaps.

The two men, supposedly in their late twenties, were fairly seasoned adventurers.

If you ask me, they're also getting a broken gala because they tend to that with their hired mouths separated by periods.

But notably, he was an elderly man who would lead the two.

The unfathomable man was towing the party along such a sophisticated path that he wondered if he was seeing through the labyrinth.

For the first time, the collector learns the importance of a leading role (mapper).

Sometimes known miscellaneous fish emerged, such as amoebagel and civilematango, but even if the collectors didn't lay their hands on them in particular, the avant-garde men compete to get rid of them.

The collector was glad that the women of Monk (the monks) raised their healthy voices, "No," "Ugh," etc., and just stared at the heavy staff from behind.

"Ha ha! Great party!"

Meryandale, by contrast, lost more and more energy, but didn't get that far into adding or subtracting too much ease in the dungeon offense.

Occasionally, I saw Fulcanelli and her talking seriously, but the followers were getting rougher and more desperate about how to get along with members of Monk (Monk Soldier).

It happened at a resting point about two days after joining the members.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!

When the collector waved his tip and cut Shizukuishi, he punished his proud filial son with his underwear.

"Whoops! Hey, hey, hey. I almost got hit."

The collector whistled as the pooled excrement gently shrugged on the brink of his right foot. Today, he drank a little too much.

In my head, I think of the bodies of Arianna and Liliera of Monk (Monk Soldier), whom I became friends with.

(Oh, I guess. Hey, you're physical. Those guys. But you're pretty hard on the guard. All I could finally hear out by attacking this much was the name or something)

I hadn't changed and described it, but the possessor was an extreme boob fetish.

Outdated big ship cannonism.

Large combines small.

Man rub big tits.

Flirting with a thousand bird feet, he remembered that, uh, there was no sign of Meryandale at the liquor plaza. I notice that there are several tents set up that can be from a ballroom that is abundantly burning fire. I didn't turn my legs especially consciously. Reminds me that some of the attackers were out of their seats unknowingly.

All right, this was just after I was forced to pull one out of the tent and unnecessarily distracted to teach him how to drink.

"Hmm. But I don't know where you are. Well, as to make sure from one end. I don't know which one."

"Better not go to that tent over there"

"No!?

I get a voice from where I thought no one was, and I get my buttcake on.

While I was rubbing my ass, a man with a voice set fire to the lantern.

I heard a noise and the red flame burned hard.

Man's face. Gradually, the facial contours became clear.

Around forty when I was old. His face was sharp angled and somewhere his eyesight fainted. She has stretched her blonde hair and twitched it. The rusty low voice was impressive.

"Sure, is that Ranger Kirishima?

It was a rare name for a Romless person, so it was relatively easy to remember. Not responding to the words of the collector, Kirishima was staring at the void with cold eyes.

"Oh. I'll give you some advice. Better not go to that tent over there. If you want to feel good."

"... what do you mean?"

"You're young. You must be the type to overlook your feet a lot."

"What do you want?"

When Kirishima was silent, she put her hands together as she sat on the rock.

You mean there are no more words to speak?

I wake up drunk rapidly.

Disappeared men.

And an invisible partner.

An unpleasant hunch brings a gnarly head in my chest.

If you noticed, you were already running out. Sweat keeps blowing out of my back.

I found one man in front of a rather large tent.

I tie my long hair back unconstructively. Around twenty-five when I was old, he looked rough like he had scraped out a rock wall. Was he engaged in outdoor work for a long time, and his face and exfoliated upper body were tanned black? I remember calling him Boris. He was an understandable warrior as he looked. Boris sat in his chair with his eyes that did not reflect his emotions, grinding his first knife with a grinding wheel. I hear sharp, stone and blade together. I wonder how many people hate it, I never saw this guy talking to other members.

"Hey, you. Sure, it was Boris. Merry, have you seen Meryandale?"

Boris keeps grinding the knife silently. The neglected dressed collector kicked the stone at his feet when he glanced at his face and spit on the ground.

"Hey, don't ignore me. Or are you deaf?"

"... I hear you"

"Well, get back to me."

"Oh."

"Didn't you see Mary?

"I haven't seen it. Can I ask you a question, too?"

"What, you can catch the ball of conversation properly? All right, listen up."

"You, too, use an array?

"Huh? What the hell is that?"

"It's not a good thing. At least not in my tribe. fundamentally wrong in the first place."

"Well, you're not a Romless man."

"Yes. I'm not good at what this country says. I wasn't born in this country."

The zodiac barely felt uncomfortable having a conversation, but Boris was a rare yellow race in this country. Most of the people living in the Romeless kingdom possess qualities close to whites. The man in front of me used to create an atmosphere close to Eskimo and Mongolia that I saw in pictures and movies.

Even sub people, the basic parts are close to white people. Boris was the second person, except for Sizka, who seems to be of Oriental descent to whom the zodiac met for the first time on his journey.

"You look just like me. So I thought I'd give you some advice."

"Oh. Right. Actually, I wasn't born here either. I'm a little upset to see your face."

There was an unspeakable air between the two men. I also felt like talking a little more, but now I was concerned about what was happening in the tent asexually. Waving his hand and putting his hand on the tent, he heard Boris twinkle.

"Don't be confused"

Looking back, Boris had a polished knife in his hip sheath.

Stand up slowly from the chair and walk away.

Something like black anxiety brings my head.

The collector breathed heavily when he never laid a hand on the entrance to the tent, putting his strength at his fingertips.