Dungeon+Harem+Master

"Dorothea, is it"

The collector blinked his eyes with an incredible look.

"No! Who is it, it! Martha."

Ricotte raises both hands to correct the man's name. Or it was someone else altogether.

Martha. I won't forget, she was a former companion of mine who broke Romless First Prison together.

But the collector was totally deloitted from the field of memory. He is a man worthless of friends.

Ricotte said, "Is this really our friend?" I notice a cold gaze poured out.

The collector put a clenched fist on his mouth, and when he coughed openly, he snapped heavily as he pulled his face.

"... yeah, I thought so"

"That's a lie, right?"

"Ha. I tried you. Whoa, Martha! You got big after a while! Ha, ha.... Hey, Martha, what the fuck?

"Why is it doubtful?"

The figure the collector knew about five months ago was an unusual figure for a seventeen-year-old boy.

The boy's back length in his memory has a strong impression that he did not reach one hundred and seventy and was somewhat tense and thin.

But when I saw him now, he was undergoing a remarkable change, as if he were someone else.

Far over two metres tall, one hundred and eighty-three were the size of looking up even from a certain possessor. The thickness of the arms is as dense as the waist of a woman and the reddish body hair is dense.

Almost a gorilla.

On top of that, Martha's entire face is covered in dark mustaches and her expression is unreadable. Let's take it for granted that you're confused. His drawn lips symbolize the strength of the will, and the crease that leaned between his eyebrows reminds him of the elusive philosopher.

The only thing that didn't change was the brilliance of clear, innocent eyes.

As Ricotte approached Martha a little bit, she was listening with a small ear.

"My man,“ Klando said. "It's been a long time! How have you been! It's very familiar!"

"... oh, that's where the interpreters go in. Right. I was fine. But I knew it was too different. Could you have worn another human skin back then?"

"" Whoa. It's been a long time since Lord Dachi. That's not good! There's a lot going on!

I also became a blacksmith in the form of a son-in-law! ""

"Um, its full addition and subtraction. I feel exactly like Martha."

"" Well, that happened, you can't just do a blacksmith in the capital. By the way, I came to this Silver Villago. I thought Goronzo was amazing in this city. Of course, throw away your dream of becoming the best blacksmith in the world!! ""

"Ooh."

"I'm sorry I'm soggy, but when are we gonna be talking so much about Ricotte poking around?

I'm interested, too.

Artemisia and Rudge pinch their mouths as they quietly watched the interaction at the door.

From the side, all of a sudden, a collector pulled into the room and talked to the first woman.

Plus, pregnant women. If I tried it on them, I wouldn't have been able to help but ask.

"Ah, I haven't seen you in a while, thank you for lighting me up. Simultaneous interpretation? Like"

"Who is it? The ones who are making a scene in the sacred Non workplace ahhh!!

"Oh yeah, yeah!! What the hell!

A squeaky voice rang as hard as a copper.

At the same time, a prestigious old man showed up in a blacksmith hut.

Around sixty when I was old. The long golden hair had a mixed and faded color with half gray hair.

Back length is less than one hundred and fifty.

Though he was a little boy, the exuberance of the flesh on his shoulders, which had been removed from his skin, was a medium one. He has a sharp eye like an eagle. The nose is a stunning eagle nose and the long moustache is carefully groomed.

He was one of Silver Villago's finest artists, Noir Smith.

Smith stared together as he put his arms together in a squeaky manner.

"Who is it?"

"That's the line."

"" Hey, hey, hey, hey. "

When Ricotte foolishly translated Martha's words, Smith collapsed off her knees as she was shocked.

"Ri, Ricotte. Again, that's the way you talk to me."

"Uh, don't you have to interpret anymore?

This is my father, Noir Smith.

"You must be doing this on purpose."

"No way."

Ricotte shook her mouth as a letter to. My big stomach swelled to the left and right.

"I don't know what kind of horsebone I grew up with in the cute hand salt of Nong, but I was praised and conceived by a kid like this! Yeah, Noon didn't really approve of your marriage yet!! For the most part, I can't keep my mouth sour when I say no to my new job right now!!

Smith screams as he skipped the corner bubble, but Martha just stood there without saying a word back.

"" Ha. Jizzy, if you get so cool, you're gonna cut off your blood vessels. ""

Interpretation of Ricotte.

Smith cuddled his face with his head.

No matter how you look at it, it's too much emotion.

"Ugh! Ri, Ricotte. Where did Non's cute Ricotte go? The angel who made Kakaa marvel when he married Non."

"Not since the beginning."

"Ugh."

"Hey, that's not a translation right now."

"Don't ask me"

Artemisia responded with her eyes down like she was tired.

"Ugh, uh-huh! More or less, I can't believe you're here! Don't you dare say no to me, you bastard! Martha! Martha! Martha! I don't know if you know him or not, but he's in a sacred man's office. Do it!!

"Come on. It's not Martha, but if Jii is so cool. Hey......"

When the collector moved his gaze, he handed to Smith every sheath the sword Artemisia had in her hand.

"Mm..."

Exactly the same as the bone marrow. When Smith closed his mouth with pity, he pulled the long sword handed to him out of his sheath. Raptor-like eyes narrow sharply. Smith slowly laid his sword on the platinum-built sheath when he saw and heard the blade.

"... good sword. But it's your daughter. This guy already has a lifespan. I just grinded it back and it won't last that long. If I spare my life, the money won't hurt me, I'll get better. When a swordsman compromises on his gain, it means he doesn't have much more ahead of him."

"Is it that bad?

Artemisia's eyes shake with anxiety.

Looking into sparkling Bi's eyes, Smith slightly avoided his gaze.

"Oh, I'm not talking about it being terrible. You know, you've been pretty bad in the last few months or so. This sword wasn't built to kill anything but humans in the first place. Besides, I don't think the difference in character from the sheath is the same again. You should wear a sword above your stature, this sheath. Yes, this guy is way too out of step. This sheath, this platinum-built guy, it's not as if you're looking for all of the Romeless. Otherwise, the sword and sheath aren't catching up. This guy is not beautiful. Even ugly."

"Right, not so much"

"Father! That's too good."

"Hey, what's up?"

Smith was immediately tempted by his daughter and lagged behind.

Artemisia, on the other hand, was held back by emotion as she stared at her partner, who had received an out-of-combat notice.

Besides, Smith was right about not being able to get along.

The sheath originally used by Artemisia was paired with the White Sword, the Romless Three Holy Swords. Even in a trade, a sword cannot match the sheath of a national treasure.

"Oh, I'm late. My name is Artemisia the Knight. Are you sure this is Lord Noir Smith, who is known for his masterpieces?"

"Come on. Even if you trick me, my ass hole will just itch. Besides, there's nothing you can do about it if you want to look at it properly and give me a bottle or two. I'll say no in advance."

"Why"

"Why? Didn't you hear about Noon's hiding?"

"I heard that..."

"Well, that's a quick story, isn't it? Nona, I've stopped making swords. When I come to the store with the adventurers, I can't use them at all for wanting all the fine swords that don't fit my arms. At the end of the quote, when the crap is all the same, he looks fine and brings it to the store! No matter how many swords are expendable, they're always used like that.

I don't know what Ricotte said to you guys, but I don't really care! If that's what you mean, then you can force Bonkla to do it!

There are already a lot of them!

Smith exploded his anger in a breath as he turned his face bright red like a instant water boiler.

It was a dissatisfaction with the customers that I intended to speak to other than the collectors, no matter what I thought.

The old man, who exposed his anger, opens the door of the blacksmith hut with his big crotch and walks towards his mother's house.

Ricotte uttered an apology to Pocan and the collectors who were dropping him off behind.

"Excuse me. My father doesn't have a good place for bugs these days. Besides, I can't believe I don't like it, but the truth is, I can't help but want to work. Just..."

"Just?"

Rudge urged the conversation to fix the position of the glasses.

"My father was totally hurting his back and he couldn't sit on Locke even if he wanted to strike a sword. The doctor says it's okay to keep working if you can't do it anyway."

"Hmm. Something seems like there's another reason. Ricotte-kun"

Rudge, who was messing with the hammer as he crouched, urged him to continue.

"Yes. Actually, a customer came to see my father recently. Just then, my father was out to his doctor. Customers want to ask Noir Smith for a job anyway, not always at first sight, but at first sight. So, one of us re-sharpened the sword on behalf of my father. This seems to have worked. Besides, it seems that the customer thought of one of us as his father, Noir Smith himself. Yeah, I solved that misconception right away, but it got in my father's ear badly."

"So, Okamura."

"Depends on your embarrassment"

Rudge tilted his neck slightly with his finger over his thin jaw when he looked at the collector like he was in trouble.

Artemisia also came by if she was unconscious, clouding her eyes.

If this workshop belongs to Smith, there's nothing he can do about it as long as he's bending his navel.

There was no persistence amongst the collectors to fool them forever that nothing could be done about it.

Let's go home.

The speed of decision is picky. Artemisia reached for the shoulder of the man returning his heel.

"I thought I'd go home. Kland. okay? Well, I'm not sure what's going on, but I haven't seen you in a long time, so I guess. We'll go home first, so why don't you just take your time?"

"And so she goes back first. Why don't we take it slow?"

"You..."

"I'm kidding. Don't be so obstinate, you."

"Um, ahem! If you're working, there may not be anything you can do, but at least why don't you join us for dinner alone? We'll have a lot to talk about, too, with Mr. Klander."

"Well, I came all the way here and I'm going to eat about rice. Goddamn it, Martha!

Martha waved left and right with the key in her hand silently.

And the treasurer remembered the leftover rice porridge of the prison, which he had eaten with his spoon, and looked up.

"Oh. No, that was that mesh muzzle. That was muzzle. Remember that? You tried to leave my food behind. Anyway, you can expect your kami to cook."

Martha was as silent as ever, but her eyes peeking behind her long haired hair were no different than they were back then, showing a strong glow that seemed mischievous.

The mother house was divided into two rooms, and the collectors were put through to a room with a large table.

The back room, which leads from the guest room, is quiet with its doors closed.

The day had already fallen, and the world was painted with black darkness.

Ricotte made a loud announcement that he was able to eat in Smith's back room from time to time, but the old man who bent the tweezer is stubbornly unanswered and locked up.

"Already. If I were your father, I'd be like a child. Because I'm a customer."

Dinner prepared by Ricotte was a simple but heartfelt handicraft.

Soup and vegetable salad with plenty of seafood for grilling a bird's salt kettle.

It is chocolate mousse with dessert in white bread.

Martha went through a silent row while sitting at the table, but if you get used to it, that wasn't even otherwise uncomfortable. Anyway, Ricotte, the wife, talks twice or three times as much as a person. In the meantime, there were similarly aged figures of Artemisia and Rudge on the table today. It is a good thing that three women should come. What they talked about was sloppy and inconclusive. The brains of the collectors, who only listened to the woman, had just enough limits to withstand this.

Smith crawled out of the back room as Artemisia and Rudge gradually slipped their tongues and prolonged their pointless everyday endings such as what and how they could talk so enthusiastically if they tried from the collector.

Ricotte doesn't even look particularly concerned, and the tongue reheats the meal with it moving.

Smith remained only face-to-face, making them athe and starting to drink.

Naturally, the three remaining men were dressed to begin serving alcohol. When Smith handed the cup to the collector while still on the tannic side, he added alcohol to it. The look of Smith softened slightly when the crowd went out and the strong liquor keeper left it alone.

Martha drinks so that she doesn't look fit in her physique and licks it. Smith glanced sideways at Martha, who had the cup, trying to shrink her big body and tongued lightly.

"The good thing about this guy is he's silent. I don't know how a man can belabel an extra thing."

"It looks like it."

"But weak. It's too weak."

I was certainly right about Smith. Martha had already blushed her eyes tightly, even though the little bird had only dried her liquor to the point of stumbling. He seems so vulnerable to alcohol.

"Oh, sure. Er. But, Mr. Jii. He can't help it. There's a personal difference between strong and weak liquors."

"Personal difference, huh? What a pity for a man. At his age, he used to drink like a shower every day."

"That's too much to drink. Your uric acid levels are rising."

"Ugh! This level of booze is for a big man. Oh, water. It's like water. Yikes. I mean, this guy's got a big figure, but he's really motivated. Eh? She's also my daughter, and to the extent that she licked it, she turned her face bright red. Oh, pity. Yeah, and you're a bit of a handsome mouth. I don't think there's much more to talk about than being across the street from Shimodo for drinking."

When Smith stripped his bright white teeth out, he tried to chew the boned meat apart. Squeeze out the extract by chewing on the flesh and bones in the mouth.

Then, let the cusp spit out onto the plate.

"Dad, it's filthy," cried Ricotte, watching it.

When Smith looks a little bumpy, he empties his cup all at once under the guise of a wind he doesn't care about. Apparently, he was very weak for his only daughter.

"Well, Martha's still young, and I don't think she stepped on so many places."

The collector drinks the distilled liquor raw at his discretion with a loser.

Reaching for the hard cheese that had become like the stone at hand, Artemisia stopped by and immediately cleverly cut it apart. Smith slams the poker's shoulder as he loosens his eyes so as to snort. The cup in my hand swayed and I went down to a plate with stir-fried beans.

"Young? Even when you're young, this guy will be past thirty."

"That's not true. Sure, it was way below me. Martha should still be seventeen this year."

"Haaaa!?

"Yep!!

Smith grated at the words of the collector, and even Ricotte, who had been interested in chatting, shouted unchangeably.

"Ah. Because then, I'm six years older."

"... this guy still got that kind of kid"

"You know, Mr. Jii, Ricotte is my husband's age anyway. Isn't that a good idea?"

Smith was severely shocked that Martha's real age was unusually lower than he thought, and the space to empty the cup grew faster and faster.

The time is already around, late at night. The collectors also recommended Smith and were to rent an overnight lodging. Ricotte and Rudge moved to the bedroom early, but Artemisia, who was forced to hang out, slowly rowed out the ship on the table.

"Sleepy, Al. Sleep tight."

"Uh-huh. But I'll stick with you till the end."

"No, because you don't have to. Look, can we get to bed?"

"Um, somehow"

Artemisia was squeezing her temper and answering, but she stuck it on the table with a slight glance. Her long golden hair now flows radially. A scarlet is running like a white cheek lit by fire. It took away the men's eyes, and there was a faint colour.

"Damn, I can't help it"

The collector gently held Artemisia, who fell asleep when he took his seat.

It is a so-called princess.

Of course I won't forget to rub my milk in the guise of kindness. Move your left hand cleverly and squeeze your heavy breasts. Artemisia's cherry blossom-colored lips trembled into a chop.

Smith, who was scratching the dried meat, makes an unproductive laugh. Martha moves her eyes slightly when she moves only her neck. That was his willingness.

The collector and Artemisia were about the same height, but the weight still varied considerably.

No, should I simply say that I came to this world and my collector's arm strength was worked out abnormally?

(Light. Was this guy so light)

"... it is. The armor, the weight....... hmm"

"What kind of sleep is that?"

She, who lacks daily training as a knight, is still only one woman if she strips off her armor.

Evil springs naturally as I hold my mucky hips and feminine backs. Still, it's not like there's enough common sense in your first visitor's house to extend to indecent behavior.

"Um, get down, get down. It's my fault."

When the collector distracts himself from the blue impulse that gushes with muck, he uses his head to push open the door of one of the chambers of the redeemed mother house. It's a simple room with only a sleeping area and a small stationery. As I lay Artemisia's body next to the crushed rudge at one toe, I slightly enlarged the fire that was lit on the candlestick.

"Whoa."

Two beautiful women illuminated by a shimmering red light appear in the retina.

As the collector approached the two of them to rest soundly, he sipped his saliva and gently drew his face closer.

All right, let's just rub it another time. Where? That should be forgiven.

Gently reach out your arms and touch Artemisia's chest, which is lying on your back.

"Huh."

Her firm, heavy breasts kept adequate heels even when she fell asleep. Open your five fingers and eagle the meat. Good elasticity creates a luminous backlash.

"Again, you have a good one. When that happens, you can't have a buddy hassle."

For a reason I don't know, the collector rubbed Rudge's chest all the time.

Even, I dragged my long legs out of the blanket and peppered.

"Whoa, I'm freaking out!!

The collector ran his eyes blood and jumped on the sleeping table.

It wasn't a bit on the level already.

He is a fine sex offender.

The entrance door opened unexpectedly when the possessor, completely on fire of passion, loosened his underwear string to take off his pants.

"Um, you're still awake - Mr. Klund"

He had eyes like Ricotte seeing dirt at the door.

Naturally.

He chewed his pants down with his mid hips and had the attitude he deserved for a man who was half-assed and stiff.

"Nyah, nya."

I couldn't stand even Ricotte's cold gaze and imitated the cat's ringing.

She stays face-to-face.

The collector shrunk himself, then flipped over and pretended to be dead.

Of course, that wasn't the sweet opponent that worked.

After this, he was preached snuggly until near dawn, when the eastern sky began to smudge.