Dungeon+Harem+Master

As the collector fell asleep on the sofa in the living room, he pretended to follow the letters lined up in the book at hand, desperately with his eyes. Yeah. I have no idea.

All over the room, the little elves are making a cackling noise. Hilda, who looked after the child well at the monastery, said, "Girls are better than boys by some measure," I guess.

The weather today is rainy. As much as we can't play outside, let's clear up our depression in this room, the kids are running around indoors.

The Pordinas were working on preparing their dinner, meaning that a babysitter's white feather arrow stood on the seemingly most free collector. Lynette, Dorothea, and Artemisia are replacing or refreshing the toddlers' stomachs, but they don't have enough hands.

The collector is not clever, and he doesn't ask me to do anything in particular because he cries when he poorly invests in it. That's what I miss.

Hmm, fine. The fact that the collector is opening the books he borrowed from Rudge had the advantage that when he did this, the toddlers would not come close because the collector seemed to be doing intellectual work.

Normally, against a sleeping collector, he says, "Belly!" "Head Boo!" All the while, he jumps on board, but when he's following the script, he's doing some strange and serious difficult things, and he's mistaken, and he's not in a direct attack. Literacy rates in this world are terribly low. Nelly and Hilda have been teaching their slightly older children how to write letters these days, but at best they can write their names. Therefore, merely turning the book creates an intelligent and unattainable atmosphere. The book was equal-knowledge and a great wall separating civilians from nobles.

But the truth is, the collector can't read the Romless letters of this world. Only the language is automatically converted because it is connected to the Summoner, Princess Octavia of Romles, by means of a crest contract at the time of summons, but the letters cannot be understood by the eyes.

Romless characters are fonts similar to Arabic, but require some guts and effort to master them. The treasurer had renounced his efforts as soon as he had been summoned to the land.

So what he was doing was "stupid college students pretending to be able to read western books" themselves, turning the page pretending to understand how. I'm just looking at the illustrations. It is mostly at the toddler level. I wouldn't know if I kept my mouth shut. To that extent the treasurer turned his wisdom.

Thus the tragedy took place in the time when we were enjoying the rest of the time.

"Ahhh."

"Yah."

"Cracked -"

but, properly, the sound of the ceramics cracking. When everyone looked in that direction, the pot they kept as an interior had turned into an unbroken figure. On the way around, one of the little elves joked and pushed him down. If you look, a child named Leta, who turns four this year, is solidifying with her arms extended. It was obvious who the killer was without having to look at the progress.

"Heh, heh, heh"

"What are you doing!

Short-hearted Dorothea rushed over quickly, punching Leta in the head with a bright red face.

Even now, with the magnitude of what he had done and the shock of being scolded and struck by an adult, Leta glanced, tearing up her eyes, revealing signs of an explosion.

- Don't come, this is...

The collector, when he put the book over his face, immediately pretended to sleep. It's about the women anyway. A sermon you don't even want to hear as a guzzle will be prolonged and drooled with a key-key voice.

Harlem. It sounds good to be a life full of women, but there is a difference between cloud mugging in imagination and real experience when people hear you stupid if you have time and always give top priority to all your stories.

"Yep, eh!

"Shut up! Don't cry!

"'Cause, no, eh?"

"Leta! Before you cry, apologize first. Sorry Ha!"

Dorothea shouts out all the time losing to Leta's crying. Her shortness of mind is enough for the collector to enter the best three as far as he can tell in his life.

"Leta, it's not wazzy. Oops. Wow. Bye."

"Holy shit!

(Leta. Akan. That's the most awkward pattern. First, apologize. Dorothea is convinced. Hin)

What made Dorothea angry was Leta's attitude of trying to make a good escape first, rather than breaking it. The collector tried to praise her for her scolding a few times, but it was hard to pinch her mouth if she said, "A child is not a woman's business." The collector, like me, glanced at Leta and Dorothea's face and twitched restlessly.

"Mommy. Alma Mar"

"Oh, were you scared? Are you hurt, Leta?"

Hin Hin Crying Leta apparently sought asylum toward Artemisia, whose mother is equally sweet.

- It's rough. The treasurer killed Ji's breath when he put his hands together on his belly. Artemisia is a mass of motherhood. She spoils the children without a thousand times, but only for a daughter named Leta, she treats my child almost as she does. Always stick around and stay away from me from when I wake up to when I go to bed. Leta seems to be half human and elf, and race is what keeps Artemisia's soul from grasping and letting go. Naturally, Dorothea's half-sparta-style education, which was the original mother's replacement, does not match. As the collector imagined, the two became arguments.

"What about Al, that good grass! Well, then, you look like you're bullying me."

"Dorothea doesn't have to be so angry either. This kid is scared. Hey, Leta."

"Mamer."

"Your lord thinks you should adore cats, too, but that's not what parenting is! When I scold, I scold. Why don't you listen to people properly!

"Isn't that nice? More than that, first of all, shouldn't we welcome the fact that we didn't get hurt by the kids? Things just have to be bought back again when they break"

Artemisia turned her back as she embraced her sobbing lettuce in her abundant breasts, trying to cover her. It is Dorothea who cannot remain silent. Both eyes are wide open in the shape of a young man. Not good enough for this, Lynette, Dorothea's sister, who is an elf, went into a stop.

"Oh, uh. Don't fight, both of you. These kids are crying!

"Lynette, stay calm!

"Hiya."

Lynette sinking into arbitration.

- This is, this is... It's getting more and more chaotic.

The collector niggered at the bottom of the page, determining the sight of the heights.

"It's more or less not a matter of buying it back. Artemisia! Lord, how long have you been my master here? Bye! Only Crand can decide that."

"... Klund would know how I feel"

"Yeah. Interesting. of trying to get Crand to decide which one is justified."

(Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. This guy's changing his wind direction. Unexpected. Unexpected. Uh, which shoulder should I have? If we let Dorothea go, well, this place will fit in. In that case, Al. When he persists, he stares at me like this, jizzy and silent with sad eyes.... That's tight. With Al's shoulder, Dorothea's hysteria is no longer as good as God-forsaken. Whoa. I don't know what to do)

"... and that doesn't mean. The raccoon sleeping man there. Want Wise Judges"

"Giggly."

"Mr. Klund. That's when you can't put it in your mouth."

Lynette sighed at the chisel, saying, "Oh, my God." Has she grown up, too, a little cold lately?

"Klund. I believe," Artemisia said with clear eyes.

Visible. Even with his sight blocked, there is Dorothea, who is benevolent on his back with his fireworks like a king of immortality, and Artemisia, who is holding his fist in his arms and moisturizing his eyes.

With a sloppy, cold sweat on his back, the collector was to unravel the past deeds of the hero in his brain and immediately leap into the abyss of despair, as he could come up with a way to overcome this difficulty. Mindless.

"... Klund?

"Gu."

I responded to Artemisia's trembling voice with my sleep. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm not that good of a guy.

"Wake up. Whoa!

"Go nibble?

Every couch was turned upside down by Dorothea. Here, "So hey, I want to look good on both of you, so I can choose" and so on, it will definitely make a difference between the visions.

Therefore, there is only one option to take here.

"Hmm. What is pretending to have slept in this state? Already, yeah. This is the kind of silly straw that pushed me to make a decision. Ugh, Artemisia. Here, ladies, let's settle this."

"Right. That's the quickest."

- Do you have one? Something's suddenly going awesome. About two battlefield Valkyries have descended on my delightful suite.

"Aww. Oh, Dorothea's bucker, too. Why is that all of a sudden?"

"Hmm. Get out of the way, Lynette. In the first place, wobbles were easy for Al's sweet guidance. If you don't know, you just have to cut it with your fists."

"I agree with you. Let's proceed a little harshly in the name of God."

"- Unplug."

"Come on."

It's a little more stylish than that. The collector split into two halfways points, waving his hands as he bounced off the leather black sofa, which was on top of his body.

"Wait a minute! You guys stop! Nah, I wonder why you suddenly move to a beating, too. Whoa. Such a development, who here doesn't want to be alone!

"Out of the way!

"Get out of the way! Or something. Is there any way we can reconcile this?"

"Mm-hmm. Well, for now"

"For now?"

"... how about the three of us get along and get laid?

The collector received intense goops on his cheeks from both.

"It's terrible. Ooh. I just wanted to stop fighting."

"But I think that's my fault too, Mr. Klund."

"Ugh. Lynette devil! Holy shit! Inhuman!

"That's it. Hmm, I don't want to give Mr. Klund a knee pillow anymore."

"Ah. Oh, shush, shush. Lynette, you're sweet. Seriously, angel. Goddess who showed up in the Klund world."

"Already. 'Cause I'm in good shape"

The collector was pretending to be hurt and had Lynette have a knee pillow. She is a rare being who somehow still feels young and doesn't have to worry so much about the gender differences between men and women among the collectors.

So this is how it can be purely sweet. The collector, often youthful, had strawberry talks with Lynette and then stood up roughly and pounded his shoulder joints.

"Wow, it rings a lot."

"I like eating these days. Dinner. Let's go."

"Um, don't you have to apologize to Dorothea and Artemisia?

"Yeah. In the meantime, after you eat the mesh,"

"But those two, we'll meet right away, anyway. You have no idea, do you?"

"Oh, wow."

Lynette was right, and the two of them face-to-face in the dining room looked like bad bats. Regardless, all three, with Rudge in between, the peace negotiations were concluded without any particular problems.

The day after dawn.

The collector had taken Artemisia out to buy out to the city. I don't know, I didn't suddenly have something to go into, but I also apologized the other day, something like that.

Artemisia weaves loose robes rather than the tough armor she always wears.

Naturally, she is taking Leta, a little elf who wasted time following her.

Nico and I smile and walk at a slow pace. The race is the only thing that makes us look like mothers and daughters of history.

"Sometimes it's not bad to walk like this."

"... well, I don't care, this crowd. Don't let go of my hand. Even if you don't, this place is a mess."

"Don't worry. Leta's hand won't let go no matter what. Hey, Leta. Let's connect."

"Yeah. Connect with Mom -"

"Uh, yes, yes."

"And Klund."

"I get it. Hell, this is it."

Leta, put in the middle of Artemisia with the zodiac, enjoyed walking around with a full grin as she deposited her right and left hands.

"Why do they look so good selling them in the street?"

"I need to eat as much as I buy. You won't be able to come in for lunch."

As the collector was cracking his nose at the fragrant smell drifting from the skewer grin, Artemisia took out her wallet with a bitter smile and made the bronze coin grab by the store's jerk.

Maido, eating up on burning meat at the same time as his voice.

(Mm-hmm. Bird today... Sauce is sweet.)

As the collector pounded his tongue drums on the grease that stained every bit he chewed, the lettuce clinging under his knees jumped a pinch as he rocked his beautifully braided long hair.

Elves generally like a dark flavor. The collector reaches out to give Leta a skewer. When Leta opened her cute little mouth just ahem, Artemisia, who had remained silent until then, looked scared and slapped me in the back of her hand. Leta, who thought she could eat, distorts her face sadly.

"Klund. Don't let Leta eat what you bought in the street. What if I break your stomach?"

"No, 'cause you did. You're doing it. Well, I'm eating it..."

"No, you can't. What's in the stall! Mostly, it would be dusty or something and not hygienic!

"Hey, Al. The storefront's in tears. Then I tear eyes, too."

"Mommy. Leta, I want to eat the garlic."

"Leta. I'll be home soon. It's lunch. Right. Because she's a good girl. What will you do if you break your stomach?"

"Ugh, because"

"If you're a good girl, I'll give you dessert"

"Ugh, yeah. leta hang in there."

"My presence! Am I an inevitable abdominal pain?

"Sir, we're not letting you in."

"Right! Right!

"Sometimes I just don't know what kind of meat I'm cooking."

Oyaji's eyes filled with sadness.

"Healthcare! Get me a health center! Burn this area down. Eh!

When the collector shouted out of breath, Artemisia held up a foolish lettuce, wishing she was "scared," etc. I ordered a second bottle without anger and chewed a thousand pieces of skewered meat at once.

"Mm-hmm. What's all the fuss?

Turning his gaze to Artemisia's voice, the crowd boiled, dodgy scattered.

"It would be a fight anyway. Around here, it's not uncommon."

Artemisia hesitated for a moment because of the child. As the collector alternated Artemisia's and Leta's heads, he stopped at the center of the noise with the skewers hanging.

"What's wrong, Je!

"Anything, a vegetarian merchant got tangled up in a polar monster."

"Heh, that's what happens. Not uncommon. I wonder what you're fussing about!

"That's why Yakuzamon suddenly pulled out Danvira, and the wild horses scattered spiders! I didn't get hurt in my spare time. It doesn't suit you."

When the collector dropped off the young craftsman who spoke the situation with a translator's face, he stopped perfectly in the front row of the circle of people watching how things were farther away.

I see, in the middle of the street in front of me, I saw about four men surrounding a skinny merchant-style man. The outfit wasn't that big, but it was understandable that he was somewhat of an adventurer of the year due to the thin dirty leather breast wrapped around his body and the sheath's use on his hips.

"Look at that! It seems that Temé paid no apologies for the crap, so this is what happened to her. What are you gonna do, Ola, what are you gonna do, Ola? Ah!

"Such tyranny -"

Still, the red Mohican man was rocking his saggy belly, kicking on the legs of a sitting merchant. The eyeballs look around restlessly. I'm sure he's trying to put Keri on early for fear of the emergence of the Knights of Phoenix, who will keep the city safe. The collector chilled his spine thinking of a little berry-short female knight in the back of his brain.

(Mmm. I mean, this intense hairstyle guy. I think I've seen it lately...)

"All right! If you find out how scared these guys are, get your millions of P (pounds) ears together on this occasion right now -"

"Whatever, stop using that unlikely unit to threaten"

"Ha Ugh."

When the collector kicked a defenseless red Mohican man in the back, he slammed his kakato drop into his ass in a chase. The man raised his voice like a dying pig falling from his face to the ground as he drooled a mixed fart of buzzing water.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing? That's you. Ha!

"That. Was it one of them?

"You were young back then -!"

The red Mohican man said so, circling around the scene like a chihuahua with a fire in his ass while expressing a strong fright all over his body.

"What is this guy? Hey, Al. Did you meet him at this guy's place?

"Kland.That's one crack in the Uroboros brothers we met on the twentieth floor. That was last week."

Artemisia stroked Leta's head as she shrugged.

"That's right. You're right about that sister! Young. When, what happened to the brunette then! Look, it's not eye-catching and it's great!

"Could it be Sizka? Then you're not here today."

"Ha. Looks like you've fallen, too. I was unconscious before, but not this time. Thanks to that woman and Temehe and the rest of us, let's get our clans back from scratch! So even if God forgives you, you won't forgive me for sweating and working your ass off every day! Come on, follow the stuff. If you leave me no money, I'll forgive you for half-killing."

"Oh, that's it. By the way, what about your brother today?

"You and that woman have dragged my brother down! I'll pay you back."

I'm sorry to hear that, brothers Mohican.

"Who's the Mohican brothers?"

"There's hardly any of them who got involved with me twice and saved me. Today, you're out. From the big stage of life."

"You're not shimmering in a good way! Taste the knife! Cora!"

"Hmm. Ma, no. Call me. And while it's good -!"

"Amgya!

The treasurer unleashed the bamboo skewer that was rubbing against him with his first knife, the red Mohican, and the right eye of Ondshay Uroboros. The skewer succeeded in stopping the man's progression easily when he struck straight into the red Mohican eyeball.

Red Mohican falls, trying to relax from his face again, while keeping his face under control. The zodiac knocked out his thoughts, kneeling in the face of the falling red Mohican.

An awesome scream came along with the sound of the nose columns crushing. Red Mohican groans around on the ground, barking loudly. He provoked as he quickly-bent his fingertips toward the men who stood with a flashing face.

"You're kidding me!

"Make it a blood festival."

Did you just get hired? Until earlier, the men who were laughing and watching the interaction wave down their long swords at the collector. When the collector gave him the stall chair quickly, he took the blade of the sword at the bottom of the sturdy wood.

"Ouch, let it go!

"Ngobo."

When the collector took the man's sword intact with it eaten in, he hit the chair's leg down against the man's head with all his might. A dry sound rings and the man's eyes are opened. When the chair broke and scattered with no legs left, he pruned the man's consciousness. The other one who stays suddenly sticks his sword in with his hands clenched.

"Come on."

When the collector quickly pierced him, he put a foot payment on the man and let him jump straight into the stall. In the meantime, you were frying, and a lot of oil came down from the man's head. Along with a strange bark, the unpleasant smell of meat cooking drifted around.

The one who remained was quite good at survival instincts, fleeing at a glance as he drew the crowd apart.

"That's pretty quick."

Red Mohi's figure had already disappeared when the collector, who had taken out one piece of garbage, looked around.

Apparently, only escape is extraordinarily fast.

"Ha, that helped. What a thank you."

A merchant who had been assaulted by one Red Mohican party thanked as he stood up.

"No, what"

As the collector responded with his nose tipped, the merchant kept his perspective on the lettuce Artemisia was holding, stiff as it was.

(Huh. What. This guy, could he be a super/absolute lolicon bastard? I wonder if I might have locked it on. Seriously, dude. I don't know if I can help you sooner...)

Leta is a girl who has a past of being kidnapped by slave traders because of her appearance, even though she is young, which means she is a coveted thing to humans with tastes of that kind.

In the past, the hair and dirty clothes, which were all you could stretch without even being cared for by Locke, are now so tidy that it is not strange to call them aristocratic children if only by their appearance, thanks to their careful adoration by the hands of the Deceased.

I guess women are more sensitive about this kind of thing. Artemisia immediately hid Leta in her chest to reveal her vigilance.

"No, don't be so vigilant"

Did the merchant also notice his lawless behavior, and when he coughed up small, he smiled at his face as if he was in trouble and took care of it.

The collector instinctively sniffed away that there was no unusual preference in the eyes of the merchant man, though somehow. It's just Yamakan, but the merchant's eyes on Leta felt as warm as a parent's merciful child.

Artemisia, who was in excess, was still trying to hide Leta from the merchant's sight, but when she disagreed with the possessor's "You're Rude," she let Leta down and greet him.

"Hello."

"This is it. Grandpa, it's great to have a good greeting."

The merchant spoke with a soft voice as he broke his knee and aligned himself with the gaze of a short letta.

The merchant's name was Edgar. Age is twenty-eight this year. He was a salt merchant in his generation from his grandfather and helped his brother, who had succeeded the governor in the vicinity of Wangdu until a few years ago, but there was something to think about and he chose Xintian to move to this city. Or goodwill, something like that? In recent times, business gradually began to get on track, so it was up to my husband to take advantage of his pompous free time and be unluckily attacked by outlaws on his own way home to the city bank.

"Usually I always walk out with the offering instead of the escort. No, I failed."

"It's out of the question that rich people wander around the stadium, not just to these people. You're more of a leek than a bad woman walking around."

"I have no words to give back, Mr. Klund."

"From what they can tell, you just look like you're walking with your hands and feet growing in your purse. It's much safer to kidnap the sweet little rich man in the guard than to assault a woman. We all know that women and booze should be enjoyed with the money they take away."

"It's not nice."

Edgar laughed happily off with her short, beautifully pruned golden hair. He is, at first glance, also a first-class decorator wearing clothing fabrics. In other words, it is the upper class. Generally speaking, merchants with objects, etc., have a high temper. Even if Pa seemed to be helped by a collector who only looked like a Gorotsky companion, he would abominably only want to pay and just leave the spot, but Edgar didn't break his attitude of heartfelt gratitude.

"So, with that advice, I'd like to ask you a favor."

When Edgar caught a nigga and a cheek, he asked the collector to accompany him to the mansion on the spot. Apparently, the contents of his purse, which is a city bank return, are quite heavy with copper coins. It is the leading merchant who falls but does not wake up for free.

Speaking often, "I'm fine with this," he spotted the character of the keeper, and he even had the sagginess to hold a properly impromptu baton.

Edgar's mansion was quite large enough to show how well he was feeling and how well his business was going. He begged me to be sure to thank him, and the collectors were put through to the reception room of the mansion.

"Wah, bah, bah, bah"

"Leta. You mustn't jump. Hey."

Artemisia is smiling at Leta for fun on the fuzzy couch. The collector was sipping the tea served while keeping his back in a luxurious cushion.

(Mm-hmm. The maid who brought the tea belongs to class A. And your butt, pouty and cute)

The collector was desperately enjoying the look of enduring humiliation as he stroked up the maid's butt pelt, which had carried tea in chic shades of attire, unnoticed by Artemisia.

(I want to. I want to blame my facial maid from behind for not killing that bug either)

It is free to imagine. Edgar appeared along with a modest knock as the collector was spreading his mocking wings of annoyance wide. Look, I have a young woman with me. She was a narrow elf tribe.

"No, I'm sorry to keep you waiting. I really wanted my wife to say hello. It took too long to make up, and I'm still scolding you."

"Nice to meet you, Cland. Just like Edgar's wife Florence..."

The lady's face froze as she lowered her eyes with a gentle expression. She shook her entire body violently as if it had strangled her, nailing her gaze at Leta, who was jumping on the couch.

"Seeli...... It's Seeli!

"Nah! Hey?

Florence let go of her close to screaming voice as she hugged Leta in her chest, who was on the couch when she kicked the floor. Leta is hardened in Florence's chest, like she doesn't know what happened.

"Stop, stop! I hate Leta!

Edgar, her husband, peeled off his wife and jumped as Artemisia barked.

Artemisia is not so different from the keeper and back length. That means you're strong. He has muscle bones that he has worked out in martial arts and is so powerful that he is not a warrior in line. However, there is no way to take the merchant's wife by hand. Her long, strong arm instantly snatched Leta back from a woman elf named Florence.

Artemisia looked at her parents' enemies, and when she glanced at Florence, she hugged Leta in her chest, not again.

Maternal instinct exposure in such cases is considerable. Artemisia became royal and loud on the spot while dissipating more temper from her whole body than when she was relative to enemy monsters in the dungeon.

"How innocuous if you wait because you want to thank me...! Excuse me!"

"Wait, wait! Give me back my seali!

"Calm down, calm down, Florentine."

Edgar desperately holds her back, but Florence keeps shaking her hair and vomiting her unspoken voice. The collector farted loosely as he couldn't keep up with her too much change of shape and got a bit on his mid waist.

"Please don't. What are you talking about? This is my daughter Leta!

Artemisia walked away from the spot like the wind as she shook off Florence leading up to the robe. The collector left his silly mouth open on the spot like a vain, just blurry looking at Edgar, who was winging his wife next door.