Dungeon+Harem+Master

"Yah. Still, are you looking like Lord Klund's frog? I wanted to see it - Awkward Monk - I wanted to see it die. Why didn't you call me? I didn't do anything wrong."

"Hey, Martha. You can hit this old man only three times specially. Forgive."

Martha, a blacksmith, a friend of the zodiac, laughed like she had trouble folding the giant.

"Hey! Seriously. Lord Klund, let's not joke like that. This is how I haven't had a drink in a long time. Right."

"Weird, old man. You think I've spent the last few days in such a shitty mood? Thanks to the frog, you can lose your appetite, Liza will try to stick the little cunt she's caught in her mouth, Pordina and Mary will try to squash the sentences that forced her to accompany her, the kids will chase you around with fun. A few others tried to treat you like a toy and make you lick the mysterious Crevasse, which made me a little feminine. Hey, Rebecca. It's not blurry and exaggerated. The liquor is bamboo, the fish is sashimi, and the liquor is gone. Hehe. Oh, you were mundane."

"Mommy, Azuma insults you. Can we get it together and kick it out?"

Rebecca, the widower, glanced at the collector with her eyes like she saw a gelo on the side of the road, making a golden noise to those who had a lady master of butterflies.

"Silly. Seriously, it's a joke. A joke. Hey, hey. If you look at me like this, you're such a bummer. Hehe. Tonight, why don't you put one of my weird sticks in and out of Rebecca's weird hole?

"Ugh, seriously, it sucks. I've never been complained of in my life as a sucker."

"This, Lord Klund. Don't be rude to your wife."

"Uh. Bishop. This Bollocus is like a fool to me."

Marco, the bishop of the Romles, was in jest today, thanks to the rarity and luxury of his funds. Rebecca clings to the nipples from the top of the monk's coat when she is stuck with Marco. Marco was stroking Rebecca's white thighs as she developed an intolerable groan.

"Hey, Lord Lebe. Me and the old man, you have a much different attitude. That's not funny."

"Tochin. This man, the bishop. You're a cunt. Okay?"

"Heh, heh. Awkward monk, I'll take care of Rebecca."

"Keh. You can do whatever you want with the good guys. Mm-hmm. What, Martha? You said you'd go home first because you care about the kid and his wife? I can't help it. Hey, old man. I'm not gonna change the riverbank after I drop Martha off."

"Yeah. Eh. Because of this, Rebecca, I really wanted to unplug the awkward monk's polar staff."

"Bu bu. Klund, stand in the way of my balls."

"Let it be! It's Shimmer today. Ora, it's an account."

"... hey, don't be silent there. No way, you don't have any money or anything over this period. My dairy rubbing cost has been added. Oh, he got away!

The collector jumped off the stool of the counter with a figure of his own that he didn't think was punctuating his stomach at all. For one reason. For he had already forgotten that his wallet had been taken up by his wife, Nelly.

"Wait! Eat and run!"

"Stupid, asshole! I'll be back."

"Silly, I'm not coming anymore! No, just pay for it!

I went on to try to escape, Marco, bishop of Romles, already close to forty. Twenty I could not take the same motion as the keeper there, and when I stuck him from his face into the floorboard, he moaned with a miserable voice. Martha, the blacksmith, jumped right over the back of it with a figure that didn't look great on the giant.

At a somewhat remote table seat, I saw Bastian, a former military man who had just naturalized with Sofia, the shop's mistress, loosening his cheeks for fun.

Tonight, men gathered for a small feast at a drinker named "Walnut” to commemorate the breaking of the curse on the treasurer.

Ments is a rare combination of a collector and a blacksmith, Martha, Bishop of Romles, Marco.

The treasurer had been placed under house arrest in the mansion for about three days because of an inexplicable curse. Rudge said, "There's nothing loco about Klund letting you do whatever you want".

Here the collector guided the sum. A friend, a boy named Marco. This man, regardless of his attitude, was a bishop of the Silver Villago district. There was only one thing in this authority that could not be insulted.

Almost ninety percent of the family of the collectors were Romles, and even Hilda, who knew the person very well, had an almost paranoid sense of relief.

At the same time, Marco also carries with him the disruptive part of liquor-loving women. He was also a great opponent to use as a hideout for collectors to go out.

"Look - because the bishop is here, there's nothing strange about it. Nah!

It is also the pleasure of the city at night to set aside the women who swell and after enjoying the long sense of openness, want to drink in a shop settled in Shime and find the right place.

"Well, Martha went somewhere, and the old man went to a nasty mess in a weird store. Nah, I don't know if there's a store that looks interesting."

Humans, when they get drunk, they usually try something they don't do or even flatten things out. Especially when you're drunk, you shouldn't drink one of the new ones.

I wish I had a twat. Because a human being with a relatively good judgment will obviously put a stop to a dangerous place. The collector keeps drinking all year round, and for the Japanese, the metabolic ability of alcohol is excellent, yet the strength of the crest makes it quick to wake up drunk. This time it became a vendetta.

A little off the side-by-side street of the liquor store, it's a land outside the law where outlaws take control.

"Hey, brother. Sounds like a lot of fun. Hey, man."

"We're missing a lot of fruit here. Let's just grace you a little bit."

From a shadow mixed with the smell of filth and dove, it just so happened that three men appeared all the time. Separately, the collector doesn't look wealthy either, but the hair is relatively neat because the women in the mansion are all aligned to take care of her, and since she bathes every day, the smell of her body is equal to none.

Lower people in this world often haven't taken a bath in years if they do poorly. In recent times, we hardly see it in Japan, but the smell of a true beggar is something that is already intense.

He just stands across the street, emitting such an unpleasant stench that he's about to be hit in the eye. The person would have a paralyzed nose because it is constant. Outlaw body odor. Compared to that. Anyway, the level of body odor that Yamano beasts are better doesn't accumulate. The treasurer, though blunt for the price, went down slightly tonight to see if he had drank too much alcohol for a long time.

"Boo-hoo. Bullshit. Whoa."

"Ugh. Oh, my God, this guy threw up!

"Fuck you. Yeah. Eh. Come on, too. Omei, let's go."

"No way, you gelo bastard."

The collector vomited intensely as he crouched in the alley. Vitavita and what I had just stuffed in my stomach spread inside while I was there.

sour and magma-like heat runs up the esophagus and radiates beautifully. The white hot air rose and a wild dog with a tongue nearby barked in surprise.

"Wow, wow. Are you kidding me? I don't know what to do. What shall we do?"

When I was cancering with tears, I heard a young man's agitated voice coming from my back. From the top of the coat, the feel of a boney hand to stroke. Apparently, a stranger is embracing me.

"Shh, I'm sorry. Ugh, bobo eh."

"Hey, I can't help but talk about it. Oh, yeah. Hey, hold on."

The collector was dragged off as he borrowed the man's shoulder and rolled into a nearby store.

Consciousness, a thousand cuts with a putum, lost its power from the body of the whole body.

In a blurry corner of his head, a single amateur sounds like he enjoys himself. Amagael was happily jumping on the worgen for some reason.

"Oh, have they noticed?

"Mm-hmm. A dream..."

Calm, slightly lower quality female voice.

How long have you been losing your mind? When I opened my eyes, there was a woman in her mid-twenties with flax hair and fifteen or six boys who, no matter what, did not leave the boy's range, peering in worried about themselves.

"Damn, I was surprised. When Follis suddenly brought you in,"

"So, it doesn't matter, I'm glad."

The woman named Daisy and the boy Follis. It was the coffee shop right next to the busted alley where the collector was brought in.

It's not a liquor store, so naturally we don't serve liquor, and we don't open until late. Follis was the kind of boy who embodied the typical magician, wearing a thick, burnt brown cloak with a gray robe.

Daisy is a calm looking colorful beauty with her worried eyebrows in eight letters next to her.

The slightly crunchy eyes were crisp, and the hair was slightly crumbly to wake up, but with an irresistible luster.

"But I was really surprised. I can't believe Follis is visiting at such a late hour. For a moment, I wondered if you'd come crawling at night."

"Oh, no, I don't think so. Ha ha."

"What. Don't deny it so strongly. But it's my aunt, and I don't know if I can help it."

"So, no, that's not true. Mr. Daisy's not your aunt. Huh. It's a sister frame."

"Hehe. Yes, thank you. Kland-kun. You can't drink too much because you're young, too. Rest in my shop for a little while before you go home. Hey."

"Oh. That's not nice."

"Here. If you want to thank me, go to Forlis. He's the one who brought you here."

"Right. Forris, I'm sorry. Thanks for your help. Amongst others."

"Kiki, don't worry about it. Hi-hi, hi-hi, as a person, until I did what I deserved."

Follis took a nervous or behaving suspiciously when he did it, grinding his round eyeballs.

(What, this guy Kimmee. But he's funny and he's a good one...)

I have extreme stuttering habits. Sometimes it appears in the faults that some people find annoying or distant, but it didn't seem particularly negative to the collectors.

A boy named Follis has a somewhat pungent feeling, with parts that soothe people. Daisy was used to it, too, and she didn't seem to care otherwise.

"Shh, excuse me. I got nervous that I was the first person I met, and, uh, I couldn't really talk."

"Don't worry about it. Enough, pass it on."

"Hehe. Looks like you two are pretty good now."

"Mr. Daisy......"

Follis turns a bright red face and is illuminated. I couldn't even fit my gaze properly, I was manifesting a strong shyness.

Even the collector, who has a reputation for marginal neglect between men and women, soon found out that Follis in front of him was concerned about Daisy. Daisy ran a coffee shop called "Guignol," and Follis was with regular people there.

Daisy is beautiful and kind to notice. I heard you were old, and it looks like you're twenty-six this year. Nor could it be forced for the kid Follis to get hot.

A girl like a smaller version of Daisy was clutching around at Follis' feet as the collector woke up from the bed where he was put to sleep.

"Oh, Rosa. Are you awake?

I hear the young girl is Daisy's daughter and will look at her this year. Rosa was hugging Follis in a frightened manner when she found the figure of the treasurer.

(Damn, you're not just a regular. You know, family grooming...)

I couldn't see the shadow of a man, even if some well-headed collector looked through the store. When I walked in, Daisy said she ran this store with one woman.

"I'm sorry. I took care of you. [M] Give me a break and I'll be home."

"No, we didn't do much. Hey."

"Oh, yeah, that's right. It's not about me. [M] Duh, guys."

"Adults, anyway, you're a twilight for little kids. Hey, little lady."

Rosa blinked her eyes and hid in the shadow of Follis' cloak as the collector reached out in his boozy breath. Late at night, a strange man suddenly appeared. Naturally, it was a bit of a shock to the little one at the mansion for the hottie's keeper.

"What, did they hate you? Ahaha."

"Excuse me. I don't like this little guy."

You can't stay long forever. The collector shook his head, blurting like a wet rat wild dog, saying thank you to both and inviting them to come to the mansion at a later date. Daisy unfortunately refused to be able to visit because of the store and the babysitter, but Follis nodded with some frightening eyes. It was also the beginning of an odd friendship.

Follis McMahon is a magician. Age is sixteen by the count. The height is less than one hundred and seventy and at first glance I get the impression of being somewhere weak. Ugly man, not the face. Instead, every part was neat, but from the loose eyes, he could not feel the manhood, and was often treated like a grass by a woman.

I don't really care about my personality either. Treat a robe that is familiar to your skin like a piece of skin and only have one replacement. The laundry does not have a particularly tight odor because it is more serious, but there is a strong impression that it is thin and dirty somewhere. The profession is an adventurer. And, in other words, there was no way he could do a decent job, which is inherently clumsy in nature (tachi), and it was an erasure method.

There is no learning. Letters are also barely readable and barely enough to write their own names. Thinking of him as such pity, God gave Forris the magical aptitude.

In this world, there are very few people who can use magic. He mastered most of his magic in a surprisingly short period of time, when he received the magical tricks of the ancient villages as one.

Attributes are fire. In a way, he was one genius to every 10,000 people. Most of all, in my hometown, where I find no meaning other than farming, there was no one who recognized the value of Forris.

He was, socially, vulnerable. And left the village to be chased.

When I had just left the village and came to Silver Villago, naturally, it was made to eat.

It is also a pleasure to have managed to earn Tsutsu and register with the Adventurers' Union (Guild) to find a trusted companion. but Follis' stuttering habits did not heal easily and manifested themselves prominently, especially against first-time women.

The exception was Daisy. Stopped by during the rainstorm, at the coffee “Guignole” he was convinced that he had met the goddess. I couldn't get through for three days and wanted to know anything about Daisy. She is one beautiful woman who has jumped through her head in a neighborhood that is not even superior to this flattery, as she thinks. Naturally, there are many competitors.

She continued to behave thoughtlessly, knowing or not that one of the out-of-the-box follis around had such intense thoughts.

So that night, too, was every arrowhead I was going to make some excuse to visit.

Nothing, we didn't get along so intimately as to make each other's houses look good. I'm proud that Daisy's daughter likes her, but Follis is after her mother.

Well, I want to do it when I smash it. It is instinct originally equipped with an organism called virginity to be brushed down in a nasty way by an older good woman, but what Follis is looking for was not just a simple desire for meat, but specifically beyond.

I want to know the warmth of my family. Specifically, I want to be with Daisy. If we become husband and wife, we can do it without feeling comfortable with anyone else.

No, no, you're not, I'm bored. It's not just carnal desire. He also wanted spiritual fulfillment. She's a good cook, and as you can see from the cleaning of the store, the chores are perfect. My daughter Rosa, who is connected to herself, is cute, and she is a stone's throw away from the hassle of having a child.

Follis looked at Daisy and Laura with a family she never got. It is the ideal fruit, that no matter how much you practice witchcraft, you cannot get it. I tried to apply for anything social, but I really don't have the courage. I was sick of my cowardice additions and subtractions.

That's when I met a man named Shimen Zao. To a tough flesh to see, an attitude that doesn't scare anyone. Age, though not so different from myself, had a unique style.

Follis was keenly interested in discerning his physical and graphic spirit. It was a coincidence that I helped him get drunk, but something attracted me to wonder.

His profession was an adventurer, but the leader of the clan himself was so lukewarm that when he told him he couldn't go exploring for a short while, he said, "Oh? Okay, okay. You're busy with a lot of things, too," he said, happily accepting the vacation.

If you tell other people, the leader is obsessed with adoring his young daughter-in-law, but it was convenient for him.

Well, I am a familiar person on top of my inertia. Without such an opportunity, there would be no opportunity for new connections, on the contrary, to speak up intimately with others. Follis was now, for the first time in his life, trying to act actively. Call me.

I think it's okay. Myself and the man who named me Klund are just thin connections that led me through what really intoxicated me.

(That may have just been said in a social decree, but oh, what the hell are you doing here? I can't help it. Hey, this shit I am. Or what if they think about it? You'll die in three seconds, I will. Oh, and that guy, he was unleashing some sort of outlaw-like rear-charged aura. More or less, meeting and eating. It's too high a level. Oh. What, I even got a break and I'm visiting a scarecrow. Yabe, I'm getting a stomachache...)

It was even an unknown experience to be invited to a human home that was not familiar to King of Botch Follis, who had a strong stuttering habit and who, even in the clan, could only perform almost administrative tasks and was somewhat unfamiliar after more than a year.

(But I already wrote to you by Chanko courier first. Oh, come on. If Mr. Klund's mom and dad had a home-party support or something, we'd have a little bit of confidence to have a good conversation. Ugh, I want to go home. I want to go home. At least I should have had Mr. Daisy come with me if I couldn't)

While immersed in the swamp of anxiety, the Tsuji carriage arrived ruthlessly at the designated mansion. When I descended with gratitude, a spicy aristocratic mansion stood in front of me.

It was a much more dignified building that even the countryman Follis could see at first sight. Colors and building materials are top notch, with some feminine finesse.

The Tsuji carriage I picked up in the city said the destination's commonly known as the Princess Mansion was second-hand, so I imagined a much more bollockable building, but it was extravagant enough to betray my expectations by two and a half revolutions.

From the gate columns, lined with regularly laid cobblestones, the gardens with far-sighted vistas, whether the gardener's hand had just come in or even cuts of trees and flowers, sparked a blue, luminous glow. I'm in the wrong place. I'm sick of my stomach. Let's run. You can run, right?

"Um, is that you, Follis?"

"Ha-ha-ha"

Turn around. As soon as I did my right, I was called from behind and my heart was about to pop out.

Looking back doggily, there was a young maid there like a flower fairy popping up in reality.

"I'm leaning back for guidance from my husband, Klund. This way, please."

Twelve or three when I was old. What a fun, cheeky girl she was. Her eyes, large and bright, smelled sweet and vibrant like freshly fruited when she approached her side, and her cheeks turned hot.

This is it. Follis, on top of his extreme people-to-people acquaintance, goes up when he puts a woman in front of him, making him almost speechless. Crushing her toes, she scratched her galloping hair with her hands behind her head. Once again, you notice your actions that are rude and your muscles become unnecessarily stiff.

What are you doing, me? Absolutely, they thought you were a freak.

"Master Follis. Don't be so hard and relax - Relax, relax."

"Ah, haha. Sh, shubbing."

"Haha. Excuse me, but you seem like a fun guy. Here it is."

There was no colour to scorn myself for the maid-dressed girl who laughed with her hands on her mouth. Horribly, following in silence, he was put through the doorway.

"Whoa."

Surprisingly, it was now a welcome for the maids, across the dozens of people. They bowed their heads simultaneously, lining left and right. The matching attire was dyed out in an elegant black monochrome with an indescribably mellow luster.

What's more, most of them were young daughters, like Forlis, who wasn't even Lori, would soothe. Most would not be under five or six years old.

Notably, all of them were rarely elf species. I can't look at it directly because I'm laying on my face, but I'm such a beauty bearer of superior appearance that it seems that every one of them will eventually become an extinct beauty at the dawn when they grow up.

Follis, confused, made the maids refrain from the left and right, and once felt royal aristocracy.

- Mr. Klund. What kind of person are you?

The house of Klund, which was behind Follis' brain, was taka that at best it would have enlarged the mansion of the rural people, which is precisely aristocratic.

The fright grows with the dong. I was allowed to go through one room without any involvement in that. Also, this room was so elegantly covered with white wallpaper that it was not thought to be between refraining.

(Ahhh. Mr. Klund, please come out quickly. I miss your thin, dirty outfit and your bearded face. This place is too far out of place)

Immersed in his dreams, the door was lightly struck with a ton. Follis lifted his hips out of the chair with a faint voice, he said.

"Excuse me."

The young man, who appeared with an elegant voice, was such a lady as had no place to lose.

It matches a black piece with a white blouse. The cuddly tight waist was incredibly creased and the slurrily stretched legs were incredibly long. He wears heeled shoes. As he approached with the tips and the floor rattling, his sensible face became even clearer.

The eyes peering through the silver edge glasses made of a thin frame were blue and glowing. Just watching, barely pressured by its overwhelming beauty, Follis moaned low, nothing more and solidified on the spot.

"I'm going to see you for a snack. I, Rudge, wife of Kland. After that, get to know me. It will take a while for my husband to support me, so I will keep you company."

"Ah. Please be polite..."

Rudge sat down at the table opposite him as he quietly thanked him. No more, that's all Follis should do. I rush to pull the chair and face each other. mutually silent. Only the clock needle sounded ticklish and loud.

(Yeah, eh. Hey, hey. Were you married? Ahhh!? I mean, I didn't ask. Whoa. All of a sudden, talking to your wife for the first time, it's too high a hurdle. Whoa. I can't, I can't, I can't. I don't know what to tell you. Yeah. It's too painful. Whoa!? Yeah, why would I want to try something so reckless? I will leave you in heaven, O God. Immediately. Please remove this presence of me from the earth. The task of waving the subject to such a super-smart wife and killing time, for example, is a more impossible mission than hunting a dragon. Hey, eh!

Waterfall-like sweat dots my forehead. His eyes moved out naturally and in all directions, and his cheeks pulled like a tick-sickened patient.

"What's up? Are you in the mood?

"Yes, no. Oh, never mind."

Follis searched all she could for stories that seemed to like women in her brain with as much momentum as she had been since she was born, and eventually gave up.

In the first place, excluding Daisy, you wouldn't have had less than a few minutes of conversation in your life with a young woman. Even in my hometown, I had no daughter who liked something intimate and mouth-watering to a magical maniac man who was regarded as a lowlife and had no money. The ability to communicate with women is Mijinko-like.

"Monsieur Forris."

"Ha, ha"

Looking under the table, he grabbed the hand he was reaching for. White, crisp, fresh snowy touch. I thought it was just the beginning of a hot phase, and I looked up. There was an adult woman with her eyes narrowed and a sincere look.

"Thank you for embracing my husband as a stranger. I hadn't told him yet. Thank you so much."

"Ma'am..."

"I go somewhere as soon as I really look away. The other day, even though I just had a terrible eye for it, this time I also caused trouble to people. But really, because you're back safe. Oh, I turn again to the first person who doesn't make sense..."

Seeing a fine tremor in Rudge's shoulder that seemed to break somewhere, Forris felt the pittance and sweat stop. Oh, this man is leading Mr. Klund from the bottom of his heart, he said.

At the same time my heart dusted, for some reason I felt a sense of alienation towards the world that others wouldn't understand sprang up from the wrinkles and soles of my shoes.