Dungeon+Harem+Master

On that day, a letter arrived rarely addressed to the collector. In this world, he is an almost illiterate keeper. Preliminary reading and writing is now possible as to whether we have begun to see the fruits of enthusiastic studies in recent times, but it is not something teething to the modifier that is a bit intrusive or to the collapsed sentence that nobility alone was supposed to like to use.

Staring at the shadow of the crest in the melted wax, I was worried if I would open it first, firmly confirming only my name, which the cat courier had told me.

The collector, twisting his head just a little, called Pordina, who was sweeping the doorway, to make him read the letter.

Pordina, she is quite a talent even when she looks like this. He was much more learned and courteous than his poor noble daughter, and was proficient in the text.

"The sender is Palme"

"Mm-hmm. That's him"

The collector remembered Palme, a solo adventurer for the beauty of a man he had previously met in a dungeon. According to the text, I haven't seen her in a long time and I wanted to have an old relationship.

Was the sentence succinct and dry and bare, Pordina read out the letter without moving one separate eyebrow?

Pordina is one woman. If it says something obviously glossy, it's really a faint move but it changes the look. If there is no sign of it, I guess I just need to visit it simply without exploring the back too much.

"Right. Sometimes I play with you."

"Welcome"

The collector walks out the front door, waving "goodbye" to Pordina, who drops him off. When I left the car, Hilda, who was interested in chatting with Lacey, stuck her neck out and asked.

"Mr. Klund. Where are you going? No way, you're going to evil cousin again, aren't you? Tell me where you're going, Kitty! Everybody's always worried."

There's no way I feel good about being barked up on my way out. The treasurer frowned openly, and went.

"Uuch. If a big man goes out to play, he can say no to his wife."

The collector peeled his teeth as he pressed Hilda's head with his finger against the wimple. Hilda was also not so quiet as to be told unilaterally and shut up. It will be a reward for the gloriously pointy words.

"Bu bu. It's just that I just heard no. Not really."

"Klund. That's terrible."

Hilda and Lacey protest violently, but where is the wind blowing from the collectors.

- Well, there's no way you can win a verbal fight with a woman. Let's hear it right here. The collector cut and discarded them from the top with his gaze, looking at them with a niggered face.

"Damn. Don't pry. - You're a kid."

When the collector pounded his tongue, a woman sneaking behind him like a shadow went in a cold tone.

"Heh. Look at my face and say that again."

It's Nelly. In other words, it is the natural enemy of the Caveman. Blue icy eyes gleam. When I felt like my heart had been eagled, I ran off on my own. There's only 36 ways to escape. From behind, I hear you scared to wait, but if you stop, it's the millennium. I didn't even turn around and ran. Only Nelly doesn't like it. It's imprinted in the back of my brain that it won't win.

Running out of breath, he noticed that the mansion was far rear.

"Why is he home? I was alarmed."

Weren't you supposed to be working today? For the first time, the collector looked back at the path behind him and put our little shadow in sight, nestled in a far-sighted view.

Rough breathing was prepared as it was brought to the pine trees. Hmm. Come to think of it, isn't it a bad idea to walk to visit the house of Palme, a nobleman?

In this world, the idyllic family members invariably used carriages to travel to and from each other's homes. Returning to the Mansion and being summoned in the ear is still a handicap, but it is not pitiful for Palme to be ashamed of his family by visiting on foot, being weirdly mean here.

When the collector returned to the mansion with his head on, he honestly apologized to the Nellies and decided to use the carriage.

I'm sorry, I honestly apologize. When they came this way, neither the weaknesses nor the women who fell in love could come out strong. Living together for nearly a year is still something we don't want each other to be anymore. It was also a natural flow, with constant small stiffness.

The collector goes on a four-headed carriage. Santos, the old man, was extremely skillful at handling horses. Running down the streets, which cannot even be complimented, as if through water, proceeds. As the collector opened the window and caught a clear breeze, the carriage arrived at the Palme mansion, which was in the letter.

"Oh, shit."

It is a magnificent mansion. That should be it, too. The Brachelle clan, the home of Palme, was not highly qualified, but naturally because it built a grand mansion on the highest land in the city at the dawn of its success, including a gold loan from Palme's ex-husband.

As you get off the carriage and continue along the luxurious carpet, by the front door, dozens of maids line up sloppily, drooling their heads. They all looked so good that they were likely to swallow the saliva, and were so much better beauties that they were likely to put any daughter into the king's harem.

"Hey! This is! You've come to see me a lot, Klando. You're welcome."

"Hih, you're a sashimi. Palme......"

The sawdust finally put his face up in a familiar voice. It's about Palme. I wish I could have seen her casually in the same outfit as before, but her figure slowly descending the wide stairs was so formal that the word "deep-window lady" fits perfectly.

Dressed in a classy looking moss green dress, the light brown hair is up and tied with a large white ribbon.

"Fluffy"

"Haha. Oh, my God, look at me in my dress with my soul pulled out. Ma, you're right. I'm basically a beauty."

Palme showed her white teeth and laughed, holding her hand against the ribbon, twirling and half-rotating.

You really look like a lady. Although it is a biased perspective of the collector.

"Um..."

As we faced each other in the middle of the hall, we saw a pair of men and women staring at themselves from the shadow of the pillars. As the collector tried to get close to him concerned, Palme accidentally looked at him and whispered in his ear.

"Please. A lifetime favor. From now on, just a little. Stay with the farce."

Oh, you know what, I was about half anticipating it. The identity of the shadow men and women was that of Parme's parents. No matter how much they are treated, Palme is my son to them.

Speaking of which, after returning from the dungeon, I met you two several times alone and remembered having tea. It seemed to be in what my parents assumed, for Palme to look at me and whisper, "Thank goodness my daughter is back on the right track".

No matter where Palme cuts, she must still be a noble lady. I preferred men's clothing, publicly proclaimed myself that I was gay, and it was only natural as a parent's affair that I would care if I hung a long sword and roamed the vulgar alley, or even one of the floating rumors.

Are you also refusing to look at each other like this and secretly talk to each other as a sign that your daughter's illness is on the way to improvement, even to your father, wet his majestic moustache and weep.

Now, I wonder what the matter is, as the collector is dripping cold sweat in his heart, Palme's father grabbed at him as he had decided to, and the missed was not to miss, but to eagle his shoulders vigorously.

- Your Highness, why don't you join us for dinner?

It was forceful to say whether or not it was. The collector, looking back on his later life, had never been invited more enthusiastically by a man, and was the strength of a spiritual spirit that could not be pitted to the end in a semi-productive language.

And a less welcoming meal began in his stomach, and by the time it was over, the collector's body was like a rag squeezed into a squeeze.

"Ha ha. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I didn't think your fathers would be as persistent as that. Hey?"

"What is it, dude? Squeeze people up. Oh, not Takano tofu."

The collector sat deeply in the fuzzy chair, stretching his legs out and tongued out.

"Really, I'm sorry. I thought I'd be satisfied if I didn't do it properly. Hmm."

The two spoke face-to-face in a wide, sunny reception room. Far away, clear in the corner of the room at a distance of deafness. About two maids are standing.

Palme moves his face and urges him to leave the room, but he doesn't make it clear and slight, whether he's noticing or not.

"Look at that, Klando. I'm being watched day after day. As always, I don't get opinions about leaving the house and bluffing, but I kind of, on the contrary, feel sick"

"Then why are you dressed like that and now you're in a better mood?"

"Ugh. Is this it? Both my parents pretended that I was dressed like this..."

"You think you are?

"Give me a penny."

When Palme closed one eye and winked, he put up a thin, long index finger.

"You know."

"Well, well. In fact, I used you for a dash. [M] When you're a quiet girl like this, you respond comfortably to the heartless of gold. I think about my daughter's feelings. Kindness is the one. Huh. It's supposed to be a comfort fee that I could use. Restrict it. It would be terrible."

"Yeah. Well, that's terrible..."

The collector had heard the revelations of the divorce from Palme himself, but he had not been able to dongle to its spectacular past and add a bit of a good commentary, and was therefore unable to react in a petty way.

"And well. I tried a little family service today. That's enough volunteers. I can't help pulling it off forever. Let's roll it out."

"The way you speak. I don't think you're a lady at all."

"Mm-hmm. So this is how I should have asked you out. Would you like to go out with me, Mr. Klund? Please."

Palme took the hand of the collector and pleaded with him when he made a worried face. A smooth touch of white gloves with fine embroidery conveys directly.

When the collector could not even illuminate the pattern, he peeled off every finger of Palme to create a flashing face. I don't know. Things are going crazy.

As a collector, he wants to treat Palme only as a friend, but sometimes when he gets stuffed with distance as a woman in this way, he stays. That reaction was interesting, Palme leaked an elegant creaking laugh when he hid his mouth.

- Admittedly, she's a good woman. Palme doesn't seem very man lucky.

At the moment, they only have someone like themselves who can speak with a crack in the belly. Half the time, blinded by gold and honor, the parents who took the form of selling their daughter would now be switching hearts and guiding Palme ahead.

The collector had the power to sharply discern the feelings of good and evil toward himself, which were strangely hidden to the bottom of people's consciousness.

Her parents' eyes on the treasurer during the meal were not bad.

When the story came together and he left the mansion, Palme's father took himself to the gate and grabbed the hand of the collector, "I asked for it," he said, with such uncut eyes.

Buy it. I'm not like that.

And, I think, it was somewhat, heartbreaking for a keeper who didn't have anything nasty enough to smash the leaves of a tree to sweep the feelings of his parents wishing more than his heart for the choice of his daughter, who is now returning to the right path.

"Bye. What do you say? This is the version for the lady on the go. Come on, let's go. Let's go. Wow. Surprisingly, you have a good carriage, Klando."

When Palme whistled lightly, still dressed for a fully luxurious outing, he boarded one foot with his young maid.

(I was thinking about going for a drink with Palme. You can't dress like that)

When he realizes, Santos, the shrewd, approaches him with a heavy leather bag in his hand and nibbles.

If you ask, it meant the butler of the mansion handed it to you silently. Needless to say. It's an implicit message from Parme's parents. I thought I'd poke it back, but I thought about it.

The collector is not so much a dirty man in gold. Without it, I enjoy my life, but if I run the gold bag back here unhindered, I will crush the mentes of her father, the nobleman, and I can predict that it will be a lot of trouble.

"Santos. Just get it. Hmm? What, that face?"

As Santos distorted his wrinkled face, he sharply met his glove-like thick palms with bread.

"Yes! I know, sir. Yeah, I know! When I was younger, I meant to ring on this road, but for your wife, I'll make it work. That's right. In the first place, you're young, you don't play well enough. Non has been working for your nobility for a long time, but Haa, my husband needs to do more extreme roads, and the amount of equipment will not grow greatly. A man plays a lot when he plays. I'm ashamed that Noon still rang quite a bit when he was younger. Oh, my bitch. Shut up. No!

Apparently, from Santos' eyes, the collector looks like a clumsy man with little female play against all the depths of the mansion. Somehow, it was a "complicated mood..."

He left himself to Santos, who manipulated the carriage in a spirit, to move to the city. The collector accompanied Palme on a carriage to a seemingly elegant coffee shop on a large riverside.

Santos says, "This is a great place to provoke your lady's feelings," right? Indeed, it is a hidden café that the high-quality upper class seems to prefer. When the collector took his seat in an excellent place with a clear view of the stream, he turned to Palme and relaxed.

It is early summer. The sun is strong, but unlike Japan, the heat is not so bitter if you expose it to direct sunlight in an unusually low humidity. Take your lady for light dessert and tea in an open terrace seat placed under a large umbrella. In his seat, he saw a chillaphora and an idle Madame-style beauty enjoying a relaxing afternoon.

"Hey. Kland. that lady on the right. You're an absolute lover of that face, aren't you? If I asked you out, I'm sure you'd follow me wheelie. Plus, those old puffy breasts and valleys. Wow. That's amazing. Seeing as my husband isn't around, man, sunshine is the one. Ugh. Why don't you give me one voice? I think you can drop it easily."

You're this asshole, the collector thought.

but Palme has no spare time for Madame's reputation while breaking the cake. Sure, there doesn't seem to be any madness in her person selection eyes. The gorgeous wife, supposedly thirty years past, creates a charm with a lusty gaze when she meets the collector, crawling her pinky fingers on her slightly thick lips and sending her flushes.

As soon as I floated my hips just a little concerned about it, the sound of dropping things to the ground and the voice of a young woman not in the field sounded in my ear.

"Alexei!

"Yeah......"

Face a familiar voice.

There he took the paper bag off to the ground, shivering as he sifted, and Castella Castelmanho, a knight of the Knights of Phoenix, who had just met him before, just to remember, stood with a pale look as she rocked the drop-shaped earrings.

"While there is something called me. I don't know about that woman. What the hell kind of relationship is that? Explained. Depending on and depending on…"

Castella is moisturizing her eyes as she bites her upper lip as if she could still cry out with such expressions as "betrayed". The collector retreated, rattling the rattling table.

"Oh, hey? Who is this Berry Short lady?"

He is gracefully carrying an ivory white cup to his mouth and watching as he begins to have a good leisure time to reach Palme.

The collector was in a hurry.

(I mean, I'm not Alexei. I'm sorry, Castella. I was lying)

I apologized in my heart, so let's do it. Reality is not good.

"I, Castella Castelmanho! Alexei and I are sworn to be knights of the Knights of the Phoenix! Let me start by telling you your name."

- I didn't swear. I mean, what's going on with the contents of his head, and the keeper stunned his mouth and puckered.

"Yeah. Alexei, that's right. This is a polite greeting that hurts. I am a man named Palme Brachelle, who is obsessed with Alexei. Always, he seems to take care of you. I'd like to thank you instead."

When Palme took his seat, he gave a gorgeous toast as he pinched his skirt.

Castella, often blinded by its graceful behavior, eventually leaked a groan and turned to an immediate counterattack.

"Oh, keep up! Don't lie to me. Alexei and I are friends who have sworn a firm vow for the future. The other day, we saved our lives on each other's backs. But what do you know about the players?

"Heh -"

Palme's eyes were the "playmate" part, and it narrowed. Did Palme have anything to think about in Palme? The teasing signs disappeared and there were signs around that they were going to be mutilated just by stopping by.

"You call me a playmate. But you don't even seem like a playmate."

"Oh, hey!

The collector tries to pull off Palme from creeping in a snake-like motion, but she skilfully seals this motion and weighs in more and more.

Castella regretted the teething as the boiling iron bottle was heated by Cancún, letting the water out of her head.

"Ha, get away! Get away from my Alexei. This, uncanny."

"I don't like it."

Does one piece of reason remain, Castella raises a tall voice with a few tears of remorse, although she doesn't just pull out the white blade.

From around, upper-class people who had spared time were surrounding them with sparkling eyes. The wives of any upper class whisper in a whisper as they hide their faces with cooling fans.

Palme, in a conscious movement of the audience's gaze, puts more effort into the arms that he turned for the first time. It is a vicious cycle that stretches naturally and beneath the nose to the feel of a chunky breast pressed against the shoulder, but makes Castella simmer even more angry when she sees it "regretful regrets".

"That's why. You're blind, so could you just walk away from here?"

"Yes, I don't like it. I'm not giving up Alexei when I'm dead."

"I'm persistent. You said you didn't like persistent women either, Alexei. I'm a poorly informed person. Hey, Alexei."

- I climbed up to my throat saying I wasn't Alexei or something, but Palme whispered, "I'm going to rose," and the keeper couldn't resist anything and turned it into a vault.

The confrontation continues between Palme and Castella, wrapped around the body of the collector like a snake. I didn't think I'd do it, but while overwhelmed by the air on the field, the collector defended the silent line.

I also felt like I didn't care enough to fool the name when I thought about it, but now it's not a good place to put it out. That's just about understandable.

"Yeah. So you're really not willing to pull it off. Well, it's a ladylike place, so why don't you settle for Alexei?"

"I want to take on that fight."

Castella responds with a trembling throat without even asking what the battle was about. The collector was definitely in the mood to side with Castella, but with his nails up his throat. How dare the lady not allow it. As the collector stared firmly at Castella, Palme gently kissed her cheek to provoke her.

"The way to compete is to fight tea. It would be great to decide which one is right for him."

Fighting tea is.

It is an aristocratic play, such as tasting a cup of tea served literally and striking its origins against each other.

In ancient times, it was simply the best Romless tea on the continent and something else to drink, but match formats branched out in a wide variety of ways depending on the times and regions.

This time, what Palme and Castella do was to take place in an extremely simple format.

This means identifying the origin of the three types of tea leaves served, putting each piece of paper with a written down answer in an envelope, opened by a neutral third party and determining the winner.

If that were the case, the higher-level travelers who had no time to spare couldn't possibly be watching the idle madams in silence.

They didn't even ask for it, but they ran their squire on all sides to set the scene, and prepared what they had bought for tea leaves from somewhere, so they were fully prepared.

"Well, I don't know, this sitter is here to serve you."

The nobleman, an old man of good taste, called his name Jonas Ashley Moon, and stood between them with his staff poked.

- And I don't want you to do anything extra, the collector thought.

Palme and Castella stared hard at each other across the round table. The spectators, too, lurked their breath in this battle and were so serious that they could not beat themselves.

"I won't lose. Alexei, if the thought of you leads to everything, absolutely!

"Phew. Use that poor tongue at best. I still don't like tea."

Sir Jonas waves up one hand, and the two slip the amber liquid from the boy with the cup in their hands.

The surrounding audience has extraordinarily pleasantly deduced where and what would be produced if it were a hissohisso voice, but it was as if the knowledgeless keeper of tea had completely left it behind.

(And, I mean. What about running away at this moment......)

For a moment, an uncanny thought came to my mind, but I realized it didn't make much sense because Palme knew my address. In the first place, if you crack your ass in this situation and run away, you have no idea what kind of backlash will hit you from my boy in front of you.

If you do poorly, there's a good chance you'll take Castella to the Mansion and make this any more problematic. Shouldn't we let Palme feel better about one thing here?

Fighting tea progresses in real time, independently of being trapped in such self-preservation painted thoughts.

When Palme finishes his three tea tastings with a cool face, he is sending wind into his open chest using a fan.

In contrast, Castella was furiously bored with the look of a whole-heartedly carrying world misfortune with wrinkles between her eyebrows.

Palme finished his answer when he wrote down the slack and answer on paper without any hesitation. In comparison, Castella managed to finish filling in as she showed stray to the last moment, shivering to the tip of the pen.

"You've got both answers. Let me now announce the outcome of the battle."

I don't care anymore. It was the desire of the collector to leave this place as soon as possible.

Sir Jonas took the contents and read them out with his saving fingers as he put them on and let his squire carry the envelope.

Palme stands in a relaxed manner and Castella strengthens her whole body as she blues her face.

"At first sight. Both, meet. The birth is Wangaseek."

I don't want Palme to be slight. Castella sweats all over her face about to fall, and the palms she puts on the table can be seen grabbing the cross hard.

The first battle is a draw.

"Second clothes. Both, meet. It's league hilde."

The second war is also a draw. Now the victory or loss was entrusted to the last piece of clothing.

My hand with the Palme fan stopped.

Castella prays with her hands together as she lays down her face. The air is quiet. It was creepy the other way around that so many people were gathering around but not one shudder.

Unexpectedly, a shadow fell to the ground. I could understand that a cloud ran into the sky without moving my eyes.

The wind flowed through the dry space from the river.

The unique smell of water blurred my nose tip and I feel kind of dazzled.

The collector blinked at the contrast between the crusty skin of the old aristocrats and the whiteness of the smooth paper as he swallowed the raw spit. My tongue sticks in my dry mouth.

"- Third suit. Conformity, only Palme. The birth is Etria. This battle, the victory of Palme"

The roaring cheer echoed. The gentleman throws the hat he was wearing and the ladies gently step and dance as they twirl their umbrellas. When the collector confuses the signs into the crowd, he devotes himself to cutting off any distractions. Shadows. Shadows.

"Oh......"

Castella sighed deeply, crawling on all fours on the spot. That was all the collectors could confirm.

"What. Is that you? Heh. That's right. I'm not going anywhere anymore. Mine, loser."

The voice of a cuddly castella. It had lost its moisture like desert sand.

"Hey, are you sure that's all right?"

"You can't go. Ugh. I liked it. I really fell in love with Alexei. What made you feel this way when you were born? But..."

"You. Like Castella. Face up."

"What. Are you going to make me look like a fool anymore..."

"It's not. I tried you. Let's see if we can be a family we can spend the rest of our lives with."

"Huh? Huh? What does that mean?"

"As you know, noble wives are not confined to one person. Then you'll know the answer."

"But, but. All I know is that, unlike you, I was armed. And noble qualities..."

"I'm going to teach you that. Hey, Castella. You are a pretty one. [M] He's very manly, refreshing and dependable. Can I call you my sister?"

Palme, with his mercy, speaks. A grunting sniffle sounded. Castella is, uh, leaking a little whimper. Did you cry, the sound of several handkerchiefs sniffing?

"Sister. May I call you Sister Palme?"

"Hehe. Looks like we're gonna need to spend some time discussing what's coming. So, where did he go?

"Ah. Right. Alexei, where are you?

The collector stuffed his breath under the tablecloth to kill the signs, and continued to escape from reality by pretending to delay in a far-reaching philosophy of where people came from and died.

- Come on, next time Hidden Bob's a little awkward.