Dungeon+Harem+Master

After the misconception of the young girl assault was solved, the collector taught what it means to bend over and believe in people by seating Hilda and Lacey both naked in the stripper.

The two, at first, were showing how they regretted their shallowness when they heard the facts from Leta's own mouth, but they repeated "But" and "Because" in a flourishing manner, as the collector expected. Women basically act more heavily on their emotions than on logic.

They said it was the worst thing that the collectors didn't notify them that they were looking into evidence that Leta was the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Edgar in advance. There is no reason for this, but the collectors are very dissatisfied with the part where it was decided to unilaterally attack the young girl.

"Oh, too, I'm persistent. So you're apologizing for what happened, aren't you, Mr. Klund?"

"You said I wasn't, right? You denied it from the beginning, didn't you? Who gave me the drop kick with or without it?"

"Forgive me?

Hilda is cute and flattering.

The collector silently pulled her puffy cheek.

I don't give or take. Hilda's cheeks distort as beautiful as the blue porcelain created by the masterpiece.

"Higi no!

"Yes. It's a good higi. Everybody applaud."

The collector claps his hands with a dry voice. Teary-eyed Hilda roared.

"Klund. So if it was our fault."

It makes no sense to be arguing any more senselessly. Artemisia and Rudge showed up at the stripper as the collectors decided to hit him with their hands and tried to soak him in the bath again.

"Hey, what's going on? In that outfit this late at night."

Artemisia has completely blocked her expression with her eyes and cheeks over her complete military uniform. The only blue eye peeking was cloudy as a starchy lake bottom, and the collector shivered his spine slightly, feeling the strange cold.

"Klund. I told Al as much as I did."

"Oh well. I knew you weren't convinced."

"How did you know I could convince you? Leta, come here."

Little Elf's lettuce, which was a haunted one, stayed in a different way than usual for only a moment, but eventually, as usual, it jumped as he swung the water on his body in all directions. Artemisia quickly embraced Leta with both hands as she immediately floated a soft color in her eyes.

"Where are you going in the middle of the night dressed like that?"

"There was an emergency call from the White Cross Knights. Apparently, the remnants of the Alliance for the Liberation of Slaves beeped up in the west section. The Knights of the Phoenix and will perish in response."

"Hey, maybe Al's going to take Leta."

to Lacey's voice. Artemisia closed her eyes ghoulishly. I don't know. In other words, yes.

"You can't leave me here"

"... and that's why. Klund. Al won't listen to me."

"That's dangerous! What are you talking about?" Hilda makes her mouth an "O" word.

"Al, maybe you're worried that while you're away, we'll do Leta on our own while Edgar's away."

"Because."

Even here. Because, because, because! The collector puffed wrinkles on the head of his nose as he chewed up the bitter worm, still gasping his raw and dry hair. I don't know, I'll look vicious.

The treasurer, in the midst of Artemisia's chest, saw Leta's fright trembling violently, almost yelling at him, and stood at him in this step. The little one is more sensitive to the ambient air than the decent think. Besides, you can talk all you want thinking you don't know anything. They keep abreast of things more quickly than the collectors can imagine. Especially a kid like Leta, who has been scattered around for a decent convenience.

"That's not what we should be talking about here right now. Anyway, leave Leta alone. While you're out, you'll never happen. That's all I guarantee. If it doesn't, I'll show you."

"Cut your belly?

When the collector clasped on the spot, he smiled with a tremendous smile as he stroked his index finger over his kick-ass cracked belly. The barometric women stiffen with an outage.

"Kland. you. What do you mean, cut that belly off?

"This is what men do when they wear jerks in my country. Heh. Even so, the Shimenzo are descendants of the Sangawa samurai"

"No. I can't believe I cut my own stomach... I've never heard of that habit."

Rudge fluttered with a blue face as he covered his mouth with his hands. Quickly Hilda gets up and goes in the side to support him. The collector regrets small, wondering if the medication worked too well for the ill groomed rudge.

"- Okay. Now I'm in a hurry too. But I will never forgive you. That's not true!

The collector nodded deeply and slowly as he bit down the meaning of Artemisia's words. Artemisia gently cheeked and left the spot as she lowered Leta to the floor, removing her cheeks and merciful her mother's newborn baby.

"Klund! You can't die! If I'm hungry, I'm dead, so be it!

"Whoops! Hey, what the hell?"

Lacey jumps from hanging in and across. The collector asked him to shake his face as he buried himself in his long hair, which turned wet and wacky.

"You can't kill yourself! Promise me. Never, never die!

"Wah. - Okay. Anyway, he asked me to come up from above my face. Up."

Under Lacey's sweaty breasts, the zodiac was slowly rebelling the look of Artemisia he had come up with, making his eyes black and white.

A conjugal relationship consists of trust and affection. But it is also undeniable that it is someone else who has spent nearly twenty years fostering an entirely different land, another ethic or value.

Even with countless skin matches, it can be difficult to tell at the root. The collector jammed his chest in Artemisia's still crying eyes, but still proceeded with what needed to be done steadily. I checked with Dorothea and she obtained testimony that when she retrieved Leta from the slave trader, she was lowering from her neck what would be a "protective bag" that would be the mark Edgar had been saying.

but at the time Joshua Chamber of Commerce took me to the slave ranch, the existence of the bag became stiff. The collector, when he called Loulou, came up with something, and spent that evening without a trace.

The next morning Artemisia, returning from the bandit's crusade, apologized with an indescribably complicated look when she acknowledged Leta's presence in the mansion.

"Ooh."

"I'm sorry. I was wrong about Klando. I'm ashamed of myself."

(What the hell, me? Let's do something a little better! What a poor vocabulary......)

Artemisia's back, pulling up to Tobotobo and her chamber with Leta, seemed shrunk around one and around the lid, so much so that it seemed to disappear in the eyes of the zodiac.

A few days later, a letter came from Edgar's mansion. It is before the building that I want to thank the collector again for the other day, but the fact would be that I want to see Leta's face.

The story of returning Leta to her parents has been endorsed by almost all the women in the mansion. The only person who had voted against it was still Artemisia.

Even though it is a family, the truth is, the number of children in the elves exceeds thirty. No matter how equally affectionate you are, there are limits to it. The physical examination of Mr. and Mrs. Edgar was carried out with care by the Church, and its solid state of management is not to say a bad one.

In fact, there is a good chance that Leta is the real daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Edgar. I preached to Artemisia, to whom not only the treasurer but everyone was concerned, how much more it would be for Leta to live as one of the legitimate merchants' daughters than to live in an almost orphanage meshed princess mansion, but the more I preached, the more applauded was her hardship.

Love is an extraordinary thing, especially for Artemisia, whose emotions are shifting to the point where maternal instincts are strong and unusual, the words spoken sincerely will no longer only sound like murmurs.

Now, Artemisia's mood went visibly bad every time the collector took Leta to Edgar and his wife's mansion for a reason. This is not rational.

And blood, after all, engages. In the beginning, Leta, who was not so familiar, also feels sensitive to it and becomes more and more familiar with it as Florence deals with it with affection. Artemisia's agony. It was painful so that the stomach of the treasurer watching could be burned.

- That's hard. I was just watching.

It is like being cemented into every corner of a joint. but consistently the feelings of the collector remain the same. Strangely enough, that's all the floor together, but none of the wives of the treasurers are going to conceive as one.

According to Victoire, who knows what the reason is, the "child of the treasurer" is controlled by the Princess of the Summoner. This seems to keep the shackles of the brave from being increased beyond what is necessary by making a child when nagging.

but if the chaos of the royal family and the Romless kingdom subsides to some extent, the ban will eventually be lifted as well. That way, the possibility of conceiving the son of Artemisia herself's keeper is inevitable.

You'd think a child who split his own blood would be cuter than being human. Considering when that happens, after all, it is only natural for the child to give it back, beyond the fact that a real parent has been found.

The collector is sick and tired of thinking about this kind of home commotion, but he can't keep turning away from reality in good years. And the treasurer was afflicted with the treasurer.

Thus the AC, which conceived the collapse, proceeded slowly, letting the jittery heat lie beneath its skin.

There were signs.

And it happened for granted.

It was an unpleasant morning when it rained with Sitocito.

The collector looked blurry at the sky filled with lead-colored clouds from the doorway with his body softly wrapped around his coat. It's spring and it's a cold day. Looks like winter is back.

Thanks to the potato soup that Pordina made for me this morning, it's warm as if the bottom of my lower abdomen is twitching and setting the fire. I'm a little concerned about the wind of the assault, but it won't matter for me to get on the carriage and travel. Even today, I am invited to Edgar.

- I guess it's time to make a decision.

Regardless, it's about Leta. These days, the salt merchants have welcomed the collectors as much as their families, naturally. We became familiar with each other's houses, but we found that the sicori in Artemisia grew bigger every day.

"Wow. It's so cold. Will you be home this evening as usual"

"Hannah. Thank you for the fucking cold."

"No, it's every day. Besides, I left the most difficult window cleaning to your daughter."

Hannah said so in front of the white apron as she moved her chisel into small pieces. She often notices the part of the mansion that moves around and works in order to fall into the younger category.

(Nevertheless, the temperature is too low this morning. It's close to zero...)

"Brave man?

The collector noticed Hannah breathing in her tiny palm like Momoji. Softly approaching, I wrap her hands around her with both hands and rub her with gossip. It looks small and adorable, but the fruit, Hannah's palms are stiff, with several small scars running.

"You're always trying. Still, you'd want to play. Mm-hmm. You want to throw a wheel with me next time?

"Haha. Hannah is no longer a child."

"What's the matter? Relax. Does it hurt in the stomach?"

"I hope not."

"That's a funny one."

"Yes. Hannah is a funny one"

"Don't go outside today. Try not to get wet."

"... Yes"

"What. It turns bright red. It's a funny one."

"Hannah, have you gone crazy?"

"What the hell, dude?"

When the collector showed his white teeth and laughed, he saw Pordina soaking up with hasty momentum.

"Your husband. There's no Artemisia. Oh, and Leta!

"Oh, my God, oh my God. I thought you were in the bathroom."

Pordina is out of breath, pinning her dog ears up overhead. Are you quite upset that your tail is fluttering and swinging loosely to the left and right? This is a unique expression of the emotions of the Werewolves when expressing anxiety. The face of the treasurer changed to something harsh.

"- Well, I thought it might happen somehow. Hey! Pordina. Get the men in the mansion together and find where the Al's going!

"Yes, sir."

Pordina growls high and runs like a wind flying down the floor. Soon the inside of the mansion became a noise like a hive.

"Karen, I didn't want to see Al and Leta"

"Uh, eh. I'm not looking. Yikes. Liza, what about you?"

"I don't even know Liza."

"Hmm. Speaking of which, I just saw Mary."

"Uh, uh. Hilda, as if I hadn't seen it."

"Damn. What the hell happened?"

"Crand! I'm short one Slapenil. It's the black one."

I could see Dorothea running as she was hit by rain from the stable.

"- You've made up your mind. Dorothea, tell Santos to get his horse out. I'm going after him now. You haven't been that far yet."

"I don't mind that. Is the Lord able to ride the horse?"

"Oh, yes, yes! Hannah, you're a good horse rider."

Thus a line of the possessors followed Artemisia and Leta, who had disappeared, and sprang out into the rain.

The famous horse, the White Star, carrying the Zodiac, Dorothea and Hannah, runs like a wet road. Hannah is the one holding the reins. She only spoke Australian and was good at manipulating horses.

"Klund, I'll leave you alone! Don't touch the weird part of the straw!

"- Bad. You're kidding me this time."

"Mm, muggle. Right..."

Six-legged Slapenil. That was fast. Run inside Silver Villago Castle in a few moments to reach the South Gate. This is the only place you're free in this time frame.

When the collector spoke to the guard who seemed to be free, about an hour earlier, an unimpeachable woman with an elf child rode out of the castle on a black horse.

"Ayatsu. What the hell are you thinking?"

"I guess I didn't have such a deep idea. Probably jumped out impulsively."

"But, brave man. Where should I look outside the castle?"

"The territory where Al's home is located is far north beyond the lake. I don't think I'm going that far. They'll still be there. Oh, my God, there's no need for woods and bushes to hide a little around here."

A great shadow approached me, feathering from beyond the gray clouds as the collectors poked each other in the forehead.

"Look. That's Sizka...!

"Clando! We'll find Al from above"

Sizka and Rudge on Grizzi the Griffon with the eagle's head and wings winged in the universe. That said, they rose to the sky again.

The collectors, riding the White Star again, rushed out as rain struck the grassy deserted earth.

- Wait, Artemisia.

She is cornered. The collector himself, I imagined it blurry, but I didn't think Artemisia would go so far on a clear offensive measure in reality. So much less, Sizkas, who were flying in the sky, told me the fact that the black horse had crossed the grass and entered the forest zone.

"I'm done, Klando. This is not where Locke takes care of us. Even horseback riding isn't that fast. When Al comes along at all, squeeze in plenty of oil and you won't feel good!

Dorothea.

"What is it, Hannah?"

"... don't worry."

"Heh, heh."

When Dorothea told Hannah to do so, she dyed her white skin pop red and twisted her face in the direction of the morrow so that she could see clearly even in the dim forest.

Sizka and Rudge rendezvous as the collectors walked off the horse for a while. It is a deep forest belt.

Neither does the rain, which is a drop, fall, blocked by thick leaves folded over several parts of the tree.

It was primitive itself, and there was no demand for a man in the woods as far away from the villages.

"Shit. Then I don't know which way Al and the others went."

"No. Look. There are signs that divided the trees. In this direction."

Dorothea, kneeling for a while, finds a faint grassy aftermath and walks out. Human beings do not end up as elves in this kind of out-of-the-box tracing ability.

Go even as you scratch the dark green mummy smelling leaves. Were the collectors also more in a hurry than they thought? Gradually, I could see the situation around me. Although only slightly, the direction Dorothea chooses feels the soil at her feet is ripe. This means that, at first glance, it's as if this unpopular forest, too, used to have humans stepping in.

How long would you have walked? When the dampness of wet clothes stopped bothering me so much, something like an abandoned cabin appeared in front of the collectors. Decades would have passed since it was no longer in use, based on how it was about to decay. It's not a strange antiquity to collapse at the next moment.

Next to the abandoned cabin, the Black Dragon was quietly connected to a tree. As Sizka approaches, the Black Dragon clicks his crushed eyes and pulls his nose over. As the collector approached the cabin and softly cleared his ears, he heard a faint voice. Peek in unnoticed from the rotten walls.

There was Artemisia singing a lullaby while holding Leta back. Sunlight inadvertently plunges in from the overhead periphery. Her figure, smiling in the abandoned house, was the Virgin Mary herself imaginable by the zodiac. Rustic verse lullabies stained my ears.

Then, an emotion unwittingly wrapped around the chest of the collector, uncontrolled. I don't like it and let Leta out of the mansion.

At the same time, I felt terribly inferior to imitating myself taking Leta away from Artemisia, who was more than my real parents' affection.

My mother's face, which I only know in the photograph, was violently brightened in the back of the possessor's brain.

A fierce flame of emotion is going to burn this body down. How could I be in a place like this? Why can't you slap him on the shoulder just because he's okay?

My throat dries up and I'm thirsty for karakara. I don't know, he's making noises and ringing like right after his heartbeat rushes around. My back, it got cold or hot, and a waterfall sweat erupted.

The lullaby stopped. When the collector left the abandoned house, Artemisia, with her robe on, grabbed the spear and gently came out. My face is blue and black. My lips were sharply tied to the letter to, but the color of my eyes was frightening.

"Artemisia, go back to the mansion."

"Say no."

The voice was trembling. Artemisia set the Virgin's spear, trembling. I could see Sizka and Dorothea laying their hands on the sword silently. As the collector took a step forward like nothing, he confronted Artemisia.

Was that spear so big and long? Artemisia's weapon, which usually seemed reliable, is now pointing this way. I'm the one who made you do that. Looks like my heart is crappy.

"Don't come! You can't see this spear! I mean it!

"Artemisia"

Usually it seems that Rin's body has grown slightly smaller.

She looks like a frightened rabbit.

I stepped on damp soil and packed the distance.

The tip of the spear began to tremble in detail with a blurb. A carefully polished silver blade shines like a mirror.

I stretched my fingertips and picked them gently.

"No, don't -! Don't! I mean it. I mean it!

"Al."

When the collector gasped his chest with his left hand, he took out a small bag and showed it. Swing upside down. From nothing, a bright red ring as cute as a little juggle spilled and rolled to the ground.

"Loulou's been looking for me at the slave ranch. Leta is definitely that couple's daughter."

"So what! Until today, I've been taking care of you! I will continue to do so. Leta, Leta, I'm gonna make it look good, and I'm gonna make it look good, okay? Forgive me. Please. Please, Kland-! Hands off, hands off."

"Sorry, I'm sorry. I can't do that."

I put more and more strength into my fingers gripping the tip of my ear. I see. Horribly well cut. I've always been saved by this guy. On top of that, I'm feeding you more cracks this way.

Someone came. That my mother's love is free. It is higher than heaven and deeper than the sea. I think the collector. Those must never be understandable to me that my mother has never loved me. But if you have a real parent and a child who split the blood, it's a good decision to put it back together.

"Excuse me. I'm sorry. Artemisia, I can only apologize to you."

"Klund"

A dull noise rolled the spear she was holding onto the ground. The collector held Artemisia on his chest with a flashing face as he embraced her directly from the front. As she always did to Leta.

The next day, Leta was officially taken to Mr. and Mrs. Edgar. For a few days Artemisia didn't speak a word like she died.

After a few more days. The collector took the fallen Artemisia and gently visited Edgar's mansion. No matter, don't say anything directly to Leta. Because her heart will follow.

Driving through the carriage, on the way, Artemisia's eyes were gradually getting back alive. The collector knows so that her feelings are in her hands. Isn't Leta crying without herself? The troubled Edgar and his wife said, "Actually..." and said, "I wonder if Leta will come back into her own hands again.

Actually, that didn't happen. The girl I saw in the bustling garden of the lawn where spring sunlight descended with her was still filled with happiness laughing down along with her parents who looked very similar.

"What, with"

Returning home. Artemisia, who was jittery as a figurine in the carriage, asked in a voice like a deceased echoing from the Yellow Springs.

"I wanted to bring Leta back."

"That's..."

The collector answered Al's question.

- Mr. Florence scolded Leta. Just the day you didn't go to the mansion. Leta's used to the Edgars a lot, too. Oh, my God, I was kidding. The decorative plates were shattered with majesty. Not yet, when I hadn't decided to officially put Leta back on track. That guy never said no to me in front of him, and when he peeled Leta's ass off, he hit him with a horseback whip. Naturally, I would have added or subtracted it. Normal. In that case, humans will be in a good mood. But that's unforgiving. When I asked why, Mr. Florence said this. Even if Leta doesn't come to us, she says it's scarier to grow up in the wrong place like this. She was in tears every time she hit Leta. It's not a tear of lies. Oh, this guy really thinks about Leta. Leta, when you do something wrong, you go right ahead. There are a few of us who haven't been able to fix such bad habits. It's hard to honestly admit mistakes. This has been particularly true since it was long. Orthopaedics have to be done in children. Al. It's not going to be that easy for you to at least ghost your mind and hit the lettuce.

"Ah, haha. Oh, my God. Then I'm simply humanly immature..."

Artemisia gripped her fist so hard that her nails devoured it that she placed it on her lap when she looked far from the window of the car. A collector holds her head over her shoulder silently.

"Oh, that?

She couldn't do it anymore. When I look wide open into Bea's eyes, tears flood me with tears.

Artemisia withered her voice and cried. No body, no world. I covered my face with both hands and cried. Just wondering if this is still the case. I cried all the time that I didn't have a drop left from my whole body to squeeze out my grief.

That's why I sang.

The collector held the head of the woman covering her face next door under her knees, stroking her hair with a clumsy hand, diligently remembering, thinking and singing the lullabies she had only heard once. Artemisia stumbled and raised her face, trying to say and ask again.

"Hey, will that kid forget about me, everything"

Eventually, after a long time. That is the flow of nature. But I think the collector.

"It could be. But even after I forgot everything, I'm sure I remember somehow. The warmth and softness that Al embraced..."

"Well, good."

Artemisia floats weakly with an enlightened smile.

The collector felt sincerely glad he loved this woman.

- The burning of peaches or their glory.

- I don't want this kid to go back to his house.

"Ha. I kind of feel like I let my daughter marry me."

Grab the chest. Just a little lighter.