by Hirukuma,
Hulemy, you shouldn’t hold up underwear so casually like that. Everyone can see. Lammis is embarrassed—I can hear her making noise from the cart.
“This is amazing! They’re perfectly white!”
Mishuel yells out excitedly when he sees the washed clothes. He grabs my washing machine body, then shakes it violently. Uh, he’s more enthralled by all this than I expected him to be.
“Let’s wash our other dirty clothes, too! I’ll put everything in but my armor. Everyone else, please give me whatever you need washed!”
Without any time for me to stop him, Mishuel takes dirty laundry out of his backpack and starts throwing it inside the washing machine. Even Hulemy undresses inside the cart, then pokes her face out—she’s in a single piece of underwear at the moment—and throws the rest of her clothes into the washer.
She has only a blanket covering her, but still, she doesn’t seem conscious of the fact that Mishuel is a member of the opposite sex.
The Band of Gluttons have their jackets peeled off by Mishuel and are left standing there in just their shoes in dazed confusion. They can’t keep up with the situation.
“The process of cleaning the dirt off is just great, isn’t it? Tidying your room works the same way, but isn’t seeing clothes get clean the best feeling? The maid at my house almost never lets me do it, so I’m having a lot of fun now.”
Ah, so that’s why he was watching the inside of the washing machine with his eyes sparkling like that. I’m happy he’s happy. His remark reveals the fact that he has at least one maid in his house, which means he’s high enough on the social ladder to employ them, right?
Still, even though only the tightly wound Mishuel is present, how are the young girls faring with their healthy bodies stripped down to their underwear and exposed? Lammis is half-naked right now, isn’t she? It looks like she feels too crappy to notice it, though.
Mishuel has taken up a position where he can’t see inside the cart, but I can see them quite well.
This is a good opportunity, so why don’t I observe them in their underwear? If it clues me in to their fashion sense, I might be able to use that to expand my selection of products in the future. Underwear is a product, too, and I’ll probably end up selling it to Shirley at some point. That’s my only goal here—no ulterior motive in particular. No ulterior motives whatsoever. Not a scrap.
Well, I said “observe,” but unlike modern Japan, the underwear here doesn’t come in elaborate designs, either.
On top, what she’s wearing isn’t a brassiere but rather a blue cloth wrap.
For such a small frame, Lammis’s two fiendishly giant breasts are no match for gravity, and they’re being crushed against her chest. They’re always being compressed by her leather armor, so they’ve never given such an intense impression until now. But with her not wearing much anymore, they pack one heck of a punch. She’s lying on her back, but you can still tell at a glance that they’re extraordinarily large.
“Lammis, did your breasts get bigger again?”
“Did…did they? I don’t really know.”
After staring hard at the weakened Lammis’s chest, Hulemy’s gaze moves to her own before she gives a short, defeated sigh.
She only has a black cloth wrapped around her chest, and it’s close to perfectly flat. Her shapely lower half is sufficiently thick, but it looks like her chest is more concerning for her as a woman.
Personally, big or small—it’s not a problem for me. But male instincts do tend to dictate that your eyes are drawn to the big-breasted women first. I guess it’s natural women would care about it.
In this situation, a man should be excited and happy—but I’m a vending machine, so what do you want me to do? Or rather, a washing machine at the moment. There would be problems if I had too much libido in this form, so complaining about it would be a strange proposition.
After the washing and drying is done, everyone puts on their freshly cleaned clothes, satisfied at the faint scent of detergent as well as how they’re warm to the touch.
“Why don’t we take the day to rest?” suggests Mishuel.
“Good plan,” agrees Hulemy. “It’s only a little past noon, but a day off once in a while is fine, right?”
It looks like they decided not to move for the rest of the day out of consideration for Lammis’s health. The Band of Gluttons proceed to lie on the ground and bask in the sun.
Mishuel’s appetite for washing hasn’t seemed to disappear yet, and he wonders if he could remove the covering from the cart and wash that. Hulemy seems to be reading a book, peering over at the sleeping Lammis every once in a while to make sure she’s fine.
Okay then, what should I do? For now, I’ll go back to my usual vending machine form. Oh, and now Mishuel is making a clearly disappointed face.
Right—now that I have a surplus of points, I could also test out what kind of effects status changes will have.
My vending machine stats are durability, toughness, strength, speed, dexterity, and magic.
I don’t need to verify at this point what durability and toughness do. Speed makes all my functions go faster, so I could increase that more in the future.
The problem is what’s left over: strength, dexterity, and magic. Magic, at least, won’t increase even if I spend points, so I rule that out.
Which brings me to strength. What would “strength” be for a vending machine? At the moment, I don’t have any vending machine forms that require physical power. If I learn how to sprout arms and legs and move under my own power, then the stat might be essential, but I don’t think there’s any use for it right now.
That leaves dexterity…which I don’t really understand. Will it make me able to do more precise things? Right now, I can’t find any features that would require precision, so I don’t feel any need to increase that, either.
Both need ten thousand points to increase by ten, so it would be a waste to dump them into stats I don’t know how to use.
In the end, all I do is think about it. The rest of the day goes by without me increasing any of my stats.
Mishuel
“I’m sorry for causing you trouble, everyone.”
When morning comes, Lammis looks quite a bit better. The first thing out of her mouth is an apology, and she bows her head deeply.
Everyone was preparing for breakfast, but Lammis climbs down from the cart and prances over to us.
“Oh, you’re feeling better? Still, don’t get too ahead of yourself.”
“Y-yes, please don’t force yourself. Look, Boxxo gave us some fresh sponech.”
Incidentally, sponech is spinach. A lot of the vegetables here aren’t any different from the ones in Japan; the names are the only things that diverge. I give them canned raisin bread, too. I’ve heard raisins are one of the best sources for iron.
“Everyone, I’m sorry for not telling you I wasn’t feeling well.”
“So that was why I smelled blood. I thought you were hiding raw meat on you,” states Mikenne, tilting his head. His companions nod in the same way. I knew Tasmanian devils had a sharp sense of smell, but I never thought they’d be able to sniff out someone’s period.
“Women are already at a disadvantage when it comes to the hunting business. This ain’t a job we need to rush, so take it easy.”
“Th-that’s right. We’re all here for one another.”
“Thanks. I’ll remember that.”
Huh? It’s still somewhat suspicious, but Mishuel’s taking part in a conversation without adopting his usual cool-guy mode. Has hastily taking care of things and washing the clothes without giving his social anxiety a chance to activate lowered the barriers around his heart a little?
Watching the three talk allowed me to notice something. Doesn’t it look like Mishuel has the perfect harem setup? Two beautiful girls and soul-healing beast people. I’m a vending machine, so I guess that makes me the magic item of the group.
If not for me, it might have been the ideal fant
asy party.
After Lammis’s moment of embarrassment, Mishuel took the chance to loosen up. He even began eating with everyone else, and by the time another week had passed, he’d gotten quite used to it.
It’s delightful that he’s gradually getting over his social anxiety…Mm-hmm.
“I have to say, Boxxo is a very talented magic item.”
“Isn’t he? His food and drinks are tasty, he gives us lots of useful tools, and he protects us with Force Field. He’s great!”
Please, you’re embarrassing me with all this praise! Lammis isn’t saying that just because I’m nearby; she really means it, which I guess makes her who she is.
“I’ve personally seen many magic items, but this is the first time I’ve seen one like this.”
“I’d bet. Far as I know, there’s no magic items recorded in any literature that are like Boxxo. If he could talk, we could get information, too…but there’s no point asking for the impossible.”
“Still, it’s amazing just that you can understand one another. Isn’t it, Boxxo?”
“Welcome.”
I’m glad Mishuel is receiving me so warmly, too.
Now that he’s gotten closer with Lammis and Hulemy, I’m starting to get suspicious that things might evolve into love affairs, but I also can’t shake the feeling that that won’t be happening anytime soon.
One handsome-looking guy and two beautiful women. They paint a pretty picture, but they don’t seem interested in one another. Their daily conversations are so dull that it makes me think they each have their hearts already set on other people.
Over two weeks have passed since we began our periphery investigation, but other than Lammis’s physical issue, nothing out of the ordinary has happened. We’re poised to make a full revolution without even running into any other creatures.
There weren’t any tears or damage in the labyrinth’s walls, so it looks like our quest will end as a simple safety check. By Hulemy’s calculations, we should arrive at the Labyrinth stratum settlement in another three days. I’m glad this will end without incident.
I’ve provided them food at fairly low prices, so I haven’t accrued much in the way of points, but I still have five hundred thousand or so. There’s no need to rush.
The three talk cheerfully among themselves. Since he’s wearing jet-black armor, a quick glance would paint him as an attractive yet imposing warrior, but when you look more closely, you’ll realize Mishuel is short—he looks like a little brother accompanied by his two older sisters.
I guess our trip is going to end without any lovey-dovey developments; they just ended up becoming friends.
Come to think of it, he mentioned having an older sister, so he was probably little-brother material to begin with. It would be natural to have an interest in women at that age, but he hasn’t shown a single sign of that yet.
Normally, even for someone lacking any ulterior motives, it would be natural for him to feel his eyes drawn to Lammis’s prodigious bust, but that didn’t happen at all.
I’m in awe of his self-control.
“Hmm? …Hold up, everyone!”
Mikenne, who was in the lead, stops walking. He bares his fangs and makes the buar cart stop.
I look and see that the other Band of Gluttons members are wearing drawn-back expressions, too, and their noses are twitching, like they’re sniffing something.
“Pell, can you pick out the smell?”
“Um, it’s a human smell coming from ahead of us. Really smelly. They must not towel themselves off. Four or five human men. It doesn’t seem like there are any other animals or monsters. Short, can you hear them?”
“Yeah. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but it sounds like men’s voices.”
Pell seems to have a sharp sense of smell, and Short’s listening ability is excellent. Mikenne nods to them as he hears what they have to say.
“Hulemy. I don’t know what their goal is, but it looks like five people or so are waiting for us up ahead.”
“You serious, Mikenne? Hunters on the outer perimeter…? It can’t be. There’s no reason to hang out in this creature-less wasteland. If we assume they’re friendly, they’d be messengers from Director Bear, but…”
“Maybe an emergency came up?”
Something may have happened that suddenly required our talents. But if it was urgent, there would be more than just people on foot. Normally, they’d use a buar cart or horses—I don’t know if horses exist here—but in any case, they would have some sort of way to move faster than walking pace.
Besides, if their only purpose was to tell us about something in a wasteland that contained no natural threats, they wouldn’t need four or five people. This is starting to get suspicious.
“Uh, this might not be good. That many people wouldn’t be coming on foot just to convey a message. Unless they get lonely easily or they’re super-cautious.”
Hulemy shares my opinion. If we assume they’re hostile, their aim would be me, a magic item. Or perhaps they’re slave traders after Lammis and Hulemy because they’re pretty.
Now that I think of it, the Band of Gluttons are a rare species, and they’re adorable—at least when they’re quiet—so they’d probably be popular with people who dealt in exotic animals. In an illegal way, of course.
That’s about all I can come up with. If they came to an empty stratum and kidnapped someone, people would assume they had died in the labyrinth, and that would be the end of it. That raises the question of what they’d do about transfer circles, but maybe there’s a way to bypass them.
“I must apologize to you all. It’s likely the people waiting for us are connected to me,” says Mishuel bitterly, his face clouded.
Now, that’s something I hadn’t considered. We don’t know for sure yet, but he must have a clue as to why they’re after him.
“I’ll face them alone. I can’t cause trouble for any of you.”
Mishuel snaps back into his handsome-guy mode and begins to walk off without waiting for an answer—when Lammis grabs his shoulder.
“We don’t know for sure yet, do we? Besides, if it’s dangerous, we can’t let you go alone.”
“Please, let go. If you’re with me, your life will be in…”
He tries to brush her hand away, but there’s no way he’ll escape Lammis’s iron grip on his shoulder pad. He’s like a kid flailing and trying to get away from a parent.
“Oh, calm down,” says Hulemy. “Are you at all willing to tell us why they might be after you?”
“No.”
He flat out rejects Hulemy’s question. The quick response seems to indicate he has a secret.
I wonder if it’s complicated family issues. If his only secret was his social anxiety, there wouldn’t be any problem—well, that is still a problem, but it’s not as serious as whatever this other thing he’s hiding is.
“I know you’re concerned for our safety, but you don’t need to worry,” says Hulemy. “Not as long as Boxxo is with us.”
“Yeah. With Boxxo by our side, we don’t even have to worry about getting hurt.”
They both put their absolute trust in me, so my answer is obvious.
“Welcome.”
I’m confident that if they stay close, I can protect them with Force Field.
Mishuel doesn’t seem convinced by our exchange, though. He stares at me with narrowed eyes, holding his tongue. Well, the facts will speak for themselves.
I wrap everything in a Force Field, including Lammis, who is carrying me right now.
“What in the world is this blue light?”
“This? It’s Boxxo’s Blessing, I think. Hulemy says it’s called Force Field. It’s an unbreakable wall that can deflect any attack. Apparently, it even blocked a stratum lord’s attack.”
Oh, Mishuel just frowned. He’s staring closely at me, as though suspicious of what he’s seeing. I guess it’s only natural he can’t believe it.
“You can’t trust it—I get where you�
�re coming from. As a test, try hitting it with all your might. If your attack doesn’t get through at all, you’ll let us come with you. How does that sound?”
“Are you sure? Will you promise not to follow me if it can’t block this?”
His eyes sharpen, and I feel a tight, tense mood coming from him. I’m fully aware that Mishuel isn’t saying all this because he hates us. He’ll persist with his cold attitude if it means distancing us from danger.
But Lammis is a big softy who carries a vending machine. That’s not enough to make her waver.
“Yup, that’s okay,” she says. “If that sword gets even a little bit through the Force Field, we’ll stay here for the entire day. I promise.”
Unfaltering in the face of his icy stare, Lammis looks him right back in the eye.
Mishuel seems to sense a strong willpower from her eyes. He unsheathes his greatsword from the giant sheath on his back. The grip has an intricate design, with an engraving that looks like a dragon’s body. Above his hands gripping it is a dragon’s head in place of a guard, and a translucent red blade extends from its gaping jaws. It looks like raging flames bursting from the maw of a black dragon, and it’s so imposing that just seeing it is enough to make me shudder. It’ll be worth using Force Field for this. I’ll never let it pass through—I have to meet Lammis’s expectations.
“I won’t hold back. Here I go.”
He shoulders the blade and lowers his posture. His stance is so cool… But now’s not the time to entertain such carefree thoughts. Come on, now—whatever you hit me with, the Force Field will block it! Do your best, Force Field! You can win, Force Field!
…I get excited and cheer it on, but now I’m kind of feeling a little embarrassed at relying so heavily on the Force Field.
“Haaaaahhhhhh!”
Mishuel sharply exhales, and the red blade comes crashing down. The tip travels along a slightly sunken path, and the edge closes in on me—but by that time, it’s already collided with the Force Field.
