Ficool

Chapter 3 - c3

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Translator: penny

Chapter: 3

Chapter Title: Affair Vibes Before Even Getting Married?

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Getting affair vibes before even getting married?

The carriage traveled along the road for quite some time.

Bump! Thud! Rumble!

'...Fuck.'

A forest path that didn't even qualify as a road.

My ass was getting sore as hell because of it.

'They said we'd meet halfway. But damn, this is taking forever.'

The long-lived races lived completely cut off from humans.

Because of that, there was hardly any information about them.

Not even where they lived was known.

'They block their territory with magic so humans can't even see it.'

So how the hell do you meet a race like that?

Just like this.

"You've had a hard journey."

The carriage came to a stop in the middle of a dense forest.

In the underbrush so thick you wouldn't think anyone could pass through.

A woman was standing there out of nowhere.

'Whoa... she's pretty hot.'

A beauty with striking purple hair.

Complete with full breasts and hips.

'Purple hair is a trait of the witch race.'

Short bob cut, expressionless face.

Her neat suit gave off a cold impression.

'...But why's the middle button undone? Is she tempting me to stick it in?'

It was covered by her tight blouse, but I could tell.

She had insane potential under there...!

'...Is this really a witch?'

I'd expected some ancient hag from a long-lived race.

Seeing a smooth-skinned beauty instead threw me off.

For now, I got out of the carriage and greeted her.

"...Excuse me. Are you from the witch clan?"

"Yes. You must be Kal Mars. I've been tasked with guiding you to our territory."

Whoa~!

I cheered inwardly.

I'd thought long-lived races were all just old crones.

But there were young, pretty women like this too?

'Of course, the Great Witch I'm marrying is over 300, so she won't be like this.'

Still, having a woman like this around wasn't bad.

Affair vibes before even getting married?

"Um, so..."

"One moment."

The witch ignored me and approached the horse.

"Hey? Careful. A horse without a coachman can do anything."

I'd been instructed to come alone, even in this forest.

So as a noble, I'd driven the carriage myself without a coachman.

"Fine horse."

Snap!

The woman snapped her fingers at the horse.

"Now go home."

Clop clop.

The horse started walking as if entranced.

Following the exact path we'd taken to get here.

"What... what did you just do?"

"I cast a return spell. It'll make its way back to the territory on its own."

She added that it seemed like a good horse worth keeping.

'Controlling the horse? Is that... even possible?'

Issuing remote commands to an animal.

And even influencing its intelligence to retrace the path on its own?

'I've never even heard of magic like this.'

Even I, called a genius in a mage family, couldn't fathom the principle.

"How did you do that? Is it some unique witch incantation?"

"...This surprises you?"

The woman tilted her head.

As if she was genuinely shocked that this shocked me.

Seeing that utterly 'mage-like' expression, I felt it.

The gap between races born from completely different roots.

'...Long-lived races are all monsters, every last one.'

If a young witch sent to pick up an outsider was this strong.

How insane must a 300-year-old Great Witch be as a mage?

'Fuck. What if she just hypnotizes me and messes with my head?'

The urge to stay on this witch's good side welled up.

"Haha... Humans like us don't have magic as advanced as witches'."

"As expected of the pathetic human race."

"Pardon?"

"My apologies. My words slipped."

What the hell? Her personality's already grating?

'No. Don't jump to conclusions from the start.'

So what if her personality sucked a bit.

Under that arousing face were tits ready to burst.

Beautiful women get forgiven for anything by default.

Strip them, and even a shitty personality turns into conquest-fueling charm.

"I'm Kal Mars."

"Yes."

"I was tired from the trip, but seeing a beauty like you has me thrilled."

"Yes."

Damn it. Does this woman only know how to say 'yes'?

I offered my hand for a shake, but she didn't take it.

Just ended the greeting with a curt reply.

'Cold doesn't even begin to cover it. She's ice-cold bitch incarnate.'

But with my broad-mindedness, I decided to let it slide.

'Turning a cold woman like this into a moaning mess in bed is even hotter.'

It wasn't like I was scared of this witch.

She might be a tad better at magic than me.

"Um, may I have your name...?"

"Medeia."

"Beautiful name."

"Yes."

How do I deal with this yes-machine?

Even if I squeezed her tits and begged to cum inside, she'd probably just say yes.

Guess I'll find out later.

"So how do we get to the witches' territory now?"

"I've prepared transportation."

Snap!

Medeia snapped her fingers.

A carriage appeared that hadn't been there before.

"...Why didn't I notice this until now?"

"Perception hindrance barrier."

"Perception hindrance what?"

"Yes."

I stared at Medeia, realized this question style wasn't working, and rephrased.

"Why cast magic like that?"

"Because if someone sees us, it's a big problem."

"In a deserted forest like this?"

"Yes."

"...I don't think anyone's peeking. Is it really necessary?"

"Yes."

"Your security is top-notch."

"..."

'Talking to this witch is hopeless.'

Her impression was stiff as a board at first glance.

Anyway, I eyed the carriage curiously.

Was this why the witches' home wasn't known?

'Hide it like this, and humans obviously can't find it.'

Even if they did, it wouldn't matter.

What could humanity do against magic tech decades ahead?

Plus, this carriage wasn't ordinary.

'No horse.'

Instead, it had some special power source underneath.

Magic replacing the horse entirely.

'Just this carriage alone would go down in human history books.'

"Get on."

I boarded under Medeia's guidance.

The carriage glided smoothly through the forest.

'This ride comfort is unreal.'

Not jostled at all in this terrain.

Good thing witches were a race with low fertility.

If their numbers tripled, humanity would've been conquered.

'...Not that I should say that when I'm being sold off to one of them.'

Realizing my situation made me sigh.

'Even a robot like this woman would make marriage bearable.'

And that's not all.

Running the baby factory every day? Totally doable.

With that body, just seeing her skirt hug her ass every morning would get me hard.

'Come to think of it, are these long-lived ones all old too?'

She looked younger than me, though.

"If I may ask, how old are you among the witches, Miss Medeia?"

"...I'm one of the youngest in the clan. Still just a half-baked novice who can't handle my share."

"I see."

I'd hoped for a bit, but no.

She was just young.

'Even if she looks young, she's definitely an adult. If she's the youngest in the clan, the rest are obvious.'

And the Great Witch was the top among them.

A 300-year-old hag...

"Haa..."

Sighs kept escaping at the approaching reality.

Especially with this perfect beauty with birthing hips right there.

"Um... excuse me, but I heard the Great Witch is in her mid-300s."

"..."

"Ah, don't misunderstand. It's not that I hate it."

Of course I fucking hated it.

Marrying a 300-year-old hag?

"I just thought I should know a bit about my wife-to-be."

"...I see."

Medeia nodded slightly.

"It seems the Great Witch's age has been misreported."

Oh, really?

Well, no way a granny like that would marry a guy in his twenties...

"She's exactly 342 this year."

"...Ah."

"Eight years younger than the average 350."

"...Right."

'I said mid-300s just in case it sounded like I was badmouthing her age.'

It wasn't down, it was up.

By 42 years from 300.

'Humans call a 20-something fucking a 50-year-old middle-aged guy a slave whore.'

Was I really getting pimped out as a boy toy to a 342-year-old grandma?

Good thing I'd at least graduated virginity.

"...Are you going to keep making that face?"

"Huh?"

Medeia suddenly spoke in a cold voice.

"The bride would love seeing the groom's face rot like a corpse on day one."

"Was my face like that?"

"If I had to describe it, a withered skull?"

...The skull's your pervert Great Witch, you bitch.

I got what she meant.

But you can't just flip a switch on feelings.

"Got it. I'll be careful."

"..."

Medeia stared at me, then suddenly sighed.

"Haa... No helping it."

A small, white hand reached toward me.

Between my legs.

"...?"

Rub rub.

Medeia's soft touch rubbed my dick under my pants.

'Fuck. Feels good... no, what the hell is this.'

Had she already used some long-lived seduction magic on me?

No. I'd been watching for that.

"Miss Medeia?"

"Yes."

"What are you doing right now?"

"Rubbing your dick."

...So why the fuck?

Surprisingly, an answer came without asking.

"Women service men to cheer them up when they're in a bad mood. That's common sense in the human world, right?"

Hearing that, it hit me.

Just as we didn't know witches, they didn't know humans.

'Their cultures are completely isolated, so it's natural.'

Plus, witches were an all-female race.

Which meant.

'They have shit knowledge about sex.'

So that's why she was doing this to the groom.

'No, but what technique... ohhh...'

Until moments ago, she'd been expressionless and ice-cold.

A witch even stronger than me had her hand on my dick.

That fact alone was plenty arousing.

'Fuck. Thought she was a bitch, but her tits are saintly and her personality angelic?'

I hadn't even seen the bride yet.

And the secretary picking me up was already a step ahead?

No matter how you slice it, that's...

'Fucking awesome?'

She was the office beauty type you'd bang during overtime in modern times.

I leaned back, hand on head, enjoying the touch.

This much was fine before getting eaten by the 342-year-old grandma, right?

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