The old woman indirectly offered me a blowjob, like a grandma handing over candy... but the candy is traumatic.
Anyway, it reminded me of this joke:
A man goes into a brothel.
He says to the madam, "Hi, I'm a traveling salesman, I've been on the road for eight weeks. I'll pay 100 dollars for the worst blow-job in the house."
She says, "The worst? For 100 dollars you can have the best blow-job in the house!"
He says, "No, it's all right, I'm not horny, I'm homesick."
Tragic. Beautiful. Haunting.
Anyway, I had to reject the woman. Politely. Like a gentleman rejecting poison with a smile.
Yes, I pitied her. But that didn't mean I wanted to dive headfirst into a pile of expired raisins.
I had to preserve my sanity, my soul, and most importantly—my wood.
So I did what any modern-day leader does in times of crisis:
I sacrificed someone else.
"If any of the Heroes behind me are interested in this fine woman," I announced like a corrupt auctioneer, "step up and claim your limited-time elderly offer."
I basically listed her on eBay with 'no returns' policy. Some poor soul was gonna take the bait.
But then she pointed her liver-spotted finger at me.
"But I want you, Hero King," the granny said with thirst in her eyes and arthritis in her knees.
I raised my hands like I just got caught with weed at airport security.
"I'm sorry, madam. Even if I agreed, I wouldn't get hard. My poor fella would collapse out of sheer confusion. Let's not disappoint each other and settle for someone else."
She stared at me, mouth agape, like a dying fish processing betrayal.
Before she could go full Karen on me—
THAM!
Someone jumped in front of me. Dramatic as hell.
He stood tall, proudly.
Who was he again?
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Ted Bundy."
"Ah. No wonder you took this offer."
This man was born for questionable decisions.
"I'll fulfill her wish, my lord," Bundy declared.
"Just make sure you don't literally take her breath away."
"I'll try."
"That's the most I can hope for."
Bundy turned around and faced the old woman with Shakespearean elegance.
"My lady, would you grant me the honor of your company?"
Okay wow. This guy had riz levels Shakespeare would envy.
"F*ck that noise. Just come to my hut and get this over with," she replied.
Straight to the point. This grandma wasn't here for poetry—she was here for the pipe.
"Alright then, I'll take my leave, my lord."
"Go. And may the horny spirits protect you."
With that, they vanished—like two disturbing spirits bound for purgatory.
Now I could finally breathe again.
"What now, my lord?" Erect asked.
I turned to the rest of the Heroes.
"All of you—back to your countries. This broadcast is over."
They nodded and took off like children fleeing an awkward family gathering.
Erect stayed back, being the local Hero of the K-Cup Country.
I looked around the area one more time and everything was as good as new.
I repaired everything.
"The aliens will attack next month, my lord. You can rest in the castle until then," Erect suggested.
But I shook my head. The castle is not safe.
"No. That hairy man or Beater might trespass into my bedroom like a discount Bigfoot. I can't risk that."
"Then where will you stay?" Erect asked.
I smiled. The kind of smile that makes people nervous.
"At your house."
He flinched. Hard.
His face went pale. His hands instinctively covered his chest like I just proposed something out of a yaoi manga.
"I-I'm sorry, my lord. But I—I don't deserve you…"
I sighed.
"Not everything is about sex, Erect. Relax. You're not my type. I just need a bed, not a boyfriend. If I wanted what you're thinking, I'd have gone with the hairy man."
"Oh. Then you are welcome at my abode. Hosting you would be an honor."
"That's more like it. Show me the way."
Erect moved ahead, leading me like a waiter escorting a bomb to a dinner table.
I followed him, observing the scenery.
At this point, I should probably describe the world.
But I'm terrible at worldbuilding. So let's go lightning round:
There are carriages. Horses. Big houses. Small houses.
No kings other than me. Just peasants and vendors. Just weirdos.
One god—Supreme Man.
No temple. No priests. Just vibes.
There are schools, playgrounds, training grounds, trees, and a lot of things I'll make up later if the plot demands it.
While walking, I saw kids laughing and running around—pure, joyful energy.
Children. So innocent. So pure.
So wholesome…
Until one kid shouted:
"Your d*ck is the size of a peppermint! Hahaha!"
Bro…
Who raised this demon?
I expected the other kid to cry.
Instead, he replied:
"That's why your mom's breath smells so good."
…
I gave up.
I'm the Hero King, and I still wouldn't mess with these little gremlins.
If I wasn't bound by duty, I'd recruit that peppermint kid as my comedy coach.
The first kid started crying.
Good. He needed that character development.
Anyway, we kept walking until Erect finally stopped in front of a massive mansion.
I nodded in appreciation. That was a good house. Suited for the right hand man of the Hero king.
"Let's go, Erect." I said, walking towards the entrance of the mansion.
"One day, my lord." Erect said. He was still standing.
"One day what?" I asked.
"One day I will buy this mansion for sure."
Excuse me, what the actual fck?
"This is not your house?" I asked.
"Nope."
"Then why the hell did you stop here? Don't give me false hope, man."
"Sorry for that, my lord. This mansion is my goal. My real house is just across the street."
He pointed at the real one, and I swear I got Vietnam flashbacks.
I gathered the courage to look.
...Okay. Not a mansion. But not a mud-hut built by three depressed pigs either. A modest house.
It would do. It had a roof, four-ish walls, and probably fewer rats than emotional traumas.
I stared at it, and suddenly the door creaked open.
Someone walked out, looked around, and the moment their eyes found Erect—
They sprinted toward him. Full anime opening energy.
My heart thudded like it owed money to the mafia.
Why?
Because this someone wasn't a muscular dude, or a grandma, or a genderless goat creature.
It was a girl. A beautiful, real girl.
Thank you, Supreme Man. For once, you're not trolling me.
I immediately fixed my posture.
Ran my fingers through my hair like I was auditioning for a shampoo commercial.
Activated my internal "cool boy" mode.
My face was trying so hard to look chill, it probably resembled a constipated statue.
But was she coming towards Erect. Is she his wife? I hope not.
"Brother! You came back!" The girl said and I was relieved. She was Erect's sister. But Please no. Please not an Alabama situation. I'm not ready for incest politics.
Though… I'll still try my best.
No laws against trying. Only consequences.
After their family hug finished, she turned to me and bowed respectfully.
"Nice to meet you, my lord," she said.
I nodded. Because if I opened my mouth, my voice would've leaked out like a broken faucet.
Girls? Talking? To me? Uncharted territory.
But I had to confirm some critical information first.
I glanced at Erect.
"What's her name?"
Before he could speak, she answered herself.
"I am Sophia."
Sophia?!
Yo, Supreme Man, you absolute legend.
I asked for Sophia Leone, and you handed me a budget version with no filters and zero OnlyFans subscription.
I could cry.
But one more question. The most important question.
"How old is she?" I asked.
Age was not just a number. It was a legal boundary. A spiritual line. A cliff with police sirens at the bottom.
She smiled.
"I am fourteen."
…
You Supreme mother—
"I see," I said, channeling every ounce of disappointment into my bones.
My soul left my body and filed a restraining order against my thoughts.
"And what's your name?" she asked sweetly.
Time slowed.
Modern problems require modern lies.
This ain't Earth.
There's no driving license here. No passport. No FBI.
So with the calm of a seasoned liar and the guilt of a Catholic schoolboy, I smiled and said:
"Grake."