She marched down the forest road with the confidence of a queen inspecting her realm. Every step echoed with the sharp clack of her heels. The high slit on her thigh had a life of its own, falling away as she moved to reveal a long, slender leg clad in nothing but air and magic.
Dronny buzzed along at knee level, broadcasting the hypnotic flash of the transparent 'Ghost's Touch' lingerie to five thousand viewers.
[Fashion_Police]: Velvet in a forest? Kary, you’ve gone mental, but you look divine.
[Simp_King]: I could watch that slit forever. Donating 500 credits for the Queen’s water!
"Milady," Timmy rasped from behind. His voice trembled with a mix of exhaustion and adoration. "We’ve been walking for three hours. Might I, your unworthy servant, ask our destination? Not that I doubt your wisdom! It’s just... this sword... it feels as though it’s weighted with the sins of all mankind!"
The youth trudged five metres behind. The 'Dragon Slayer' rested on his shoulder, pinning him toward the earth, while the loot-filled backpack yanked him backward. Timmy looked like a beautiful martyr from a Renaissance painting: hair dishevelled, beads of sweat on his brow, and a look of sacred awe in his eyes.
[Gym_Bro]: The lad needs the weights room. He’ll blow his back out with a sword that size.
[Otome_Lover]: Oh, look at him suffer! He’s so pretty when he’s in pain! <3
[Hater_123]: Kary is a proper abuser. Exploiting child labour! #FreeTimmy
"The destination?" Karina stopped and theatrically adjusted a chain on her neckline. "Timmy, you’re thinking too small. We are looking for the Assassins' Guild."
"The... Assassins' Guild?" Timmy turned pale, quite an achievement for a former ghost. He nearly dropped the sword. "But why, my Queen? They’re cut-throats! The dregs of society! They live in the shadows and know nothing of honour! Why would a creature of light such as yourself seek a den of murderers?"
"Because my crush might be there," Kary clipped, setting off again.
"Your... crush?" Timmy repeated, tripping over a root. The word was clearly missing from his medieval vocabulary. "Is it some kind of monster? A beast that must be vanquished? Oh, I am ready! Just give me a few minutes to catch my breath..."
Karina giggled without turning around.
"A monster? Oh yes, in a way. A monster of charisma. He’s a man, Timmy. A man in black latex. He saved me," she continued dreamily. "And then he stole my loot. He didn't even ask for my number. So mysterious... I have to find him."
Timmy froze, struck to the heart. Jealousy, hot and raw, pricked his newly materialised body for the first time.
"A man?" he whispered bitterly. "He stole your... loot? He’s a thief! A scoundrel! Milady, how can you seek an audience with one who insulted you with such disregard? Am I, your loyal page, not worthy of carrying your banner? Why do you need some... latex-clad brigand?"
"Because he’s cool, Timmy. And you..." Karina turned and gave him an evaluative look. "You’re sweet. And you’re very good at carrying heavy things. Less jealousy, more marching! I’m going where my eyes lead me. It’s called 'feminine intuition.' The most accurate GPS in the world."
Timmy sighed, adjusted a stray cuff, and trudged after her, mentally composing a sonnet about a cold-hearted beauty and a miserable knight-page.
They reached a small clearing where the road took a sharp turn. Suddenly, the bushes rustled.
"Halt! Who goes there!" a hoarse, painfully familiar voice rang out. "Hand over your coins, or your life... Oho!"
A trio tumbled onto the road. The skinny one with a shiv, the bald one with a club, and the leader with an eyepatch. The very same 'Merry Stumps' Kary had humiliated at the start of her journey. They looked rough: the bruises hadn't faded, their clothes were torn, and their eyes held the desperation of hungry wolves.
[Old_Sub]: Hahaha! These clowns again!
[Meme_Lord]: Insert 'Curb Your Enthusiasm' music here
[PvP_God]: Kary, they’re walking XP. Farm them!
The leader squinted his single eye, looking Karina over.
"Looky here, lads! It’s that same... nutter!"
"It’s definitely her!" the bald one hiccuped, backing away. "Only she’s posh now. Look at that dress! Must be worth a fortune. Velvet!"
"And no sword!" the skinny one shrieked gleefully, noticing the girl's empty hands. "Lads, she’s empty! And that scrawny git behind her is carrying the rail!"
Timmy, seeing the filthy, armed men blocking his Mistress’s path, instantly forgot his fatigue. The blood of noble ancestors (or perhaps the romance novels he’d read) surged in his chest.
"Brigands!" he gasped. "Milady, stand back! Do not soil your sight with the vision of these rogues!"
Attempting a heroic pose, he drew the sword.
"I, Timothy of the House of... er... of the Forgotten Bastion, challenge you! Guard yourselves, you scoundrels!"
He yanked the hilt of the 'Dragon Slayer'. But physics was no friend to his bravado. The sword, weighing more than Timmy himself, tipped him over. The boy pitched forward, stumbled, and instead of taking a combat stance, collapsed onto his knees, face-planting into the road dust. The sword landed beside him with a heavy thud, nearly taking his ear off.
"Oh..." Timmy groaned, spitting out dirt. "That... that was a tactical roll! I’m distracting them! Milady, run!"
[KEKW]: AHAHAHA! Timmy is top-tier content!
[Cringe_Master]: Proper second-hand embarrassment...
The bandits looked at each other and roared with laughter.
"Look at the 'defender'!" the leader spat. "What a clown! Grab the girl, lads! She’s ours now! Strip the jewels off her!"
Karina didn't even flinch. She simply, with the grace of a predator, ran a hand through her hair, smoothing her style.
"Boys," she drawled lazily. "Are you serious? I gave you a chance to go join a monastery or become beauty bloggers. Have you learned nothing?"
Timmy, still lying in the dust, raised his head in horror. He didn't understand. Why wasn't she running? Why was she talking to these animals?
"Milady!" he squeaked. "They’re armed! Save yourself!"
"Shut it!" the bald one barked, lunging at the girl with his club raised.
Karina didn't dodge. She didn't run. She simply remembered that she was now a Level 10 Destroyer. As the bald man entered her reach, she took a step forward and lashed out with a high-kick. The black skirt flared upward, revealing absolutely everything: the long legs, the garters, and the transparent 'Ghost's Touch' lingerie, which in the sunlight looked as though it were woven from morning mist.
Dronny, sensing the moment of truth, dove under the strike, capturing the shot from a 'worm’s-eye view of a goddess' angle.
BAM!
A sharp heel, bolstered by the passive skill [Heavy Step], slammed into the bandit’s chin. The sound was like someone hitting a watermelon with a mallet. The bald man left the ground, did a backflip, and crashed into a patch of nettles, unconscious before he even landed.
[Critical Hit! Damage: 850] [Effect: Knockout. Jaw has left the chat.]
[Simp_King]: SCREENSHOT! SCREENSHOT! I GOT IT!
[Kary_Queen]: Our Queen! Humiliated him and didn't even break a sweat!
[Combat_Log]: Damage is insane for her level. Gear carries.
Timmy’s jaw dropped. He forgot how to breathe. His eyes, wide with shock, darted from the defeated giant to his Mistress’s slender leg as it slowly returned to the ground.
"Oh... gods..." he whispered. "What power... What... technique! That wasn't a strike, it was a ballet of death! She destroyed him without even losing her breath! She is a Valkyrie!" he exclaimed, looking at Karina with even more adoration (though it seemed impossible for there to be any more).
The remaining two bandits froze.
"What... what are you?" the skinny one stammered, backing away. "You were only Level 5!"
"I’m working on myself," Kary smiled sweetly, adjusting her hem. "While you lot are regressing. It’s boring."
She stepped toward the leader. He held out a knife with a trembling hand.
"Don't come any closer! I’ll... I’ll cut you!"
"You’ll only cut the cheese, if your mum lets you," she snorted.
Karina activated the [Intimidation] skill; the bonus from the 'Necromancer’s Widow' gown triggered instantly. A dark aura thickened around her, and for a second, her eyes flared with spectral fire.
"ON YOUR KNEES!" she barked, her voice carrying the echoes of the Ghost King himself.
The bandits hit the deck simultaneously, as if on command.
"Don't kill us!" the leader wailed, dropping his knife. "We’re idiots! We won't do it again!"
"We’ll go to a monastery!" the skinny one chimed in. "A convent! No, a priory! Wherever you say!"
Timmy, finally twigging that his Mistress didn't exactly need a bodyguard, scrambled up, brushed his knees, and dashed over to her side, trying his best to look useful.
"Did you see that, milady?! How they grovelled!" he prattled on enthusiastically. "Your sheer majesty shattered their spirits! You didn't even have to draw your steel! Let me finish them off!" He clutched the small dagger at his belt—the only weapon he could hoist without risk of a hernia. "I shall wash away the insult in blood!"
"Simmer down, Timmy," Kary cut him off. "Blood’s a nightmare to get out of velvet. And don't go overboard with the theatrics."
She walked over to the trembling leader and, with the toe of her slipper, tilted his chin up.
"Listen here, one-eye. I need information. Where’s the nearest big city? Somewhere with an Assassins' Guild, decent shops, and, ideally, hot running water."
"S-Stone Hill!" the bandit babbled. "The capital of the barony! It’s got everything! Guilds, markets, bathhouses—the lot!"
"Is it far?"
"T-two hours’ yomp down this road! Straight on, can’t miss it! Just don’t hit me again, please!"
"Two hours..." Kary winced. "Bit of a trek. But fine. You live."
She stepped over them as if they were nothing more than roadside litter.
"Timmy, grab the gear! We’re heading to Stone Hill. Big things await us there. And hopefully, a clearance sale."
"At your command, my Queen!" Timmy, seemingly invigorated by the sight of her 'combat lingerie' and her sheer power, hoisted the massive sword back onto his shoulder. The weight no longer felt like a burden; it was the sacred duty of a goddess's servant.
"I’d follow you to the ends of the earth!" he puffed.
He threw a contemptuous look back at the bandits:
"And you, you pathetic worms, thank your lucky stars for her mercy! You aren't fit to wipe the dust off her slippers!"
Two hours later, the forest finally gave way. The winding road led them to the crest of a hill, offering a view that made Kary stop in her tracks, forgetting her aching feet for a moment. Below, in a wide valley, sprawled the City. A proper, massive medieval metropolis. Towering stone walls with crenelated turrets encircled hundreds of houses with terracotta-tiled roofs. Smoke rose from thousands of chimneys. In the centre stood a white stone keep, surrounded by a huddle of temples, market rows, and craftsmen's quarters. The gates were open, with a steady stream of wagons, riders, and folk on foot flowing through.
"Whoa..." Kary exhaled. "Talk about scale. This isn't 'Quiet Willows' with its three cows. You could actually make a scene here!"
"Dronny, get a panorama! Frame it so I’m in front of the city, wind in my hair, gaze fixed on the future!"
[Graphic_Whore]: The city textures have loaded in. Looks lush.
[RPG_Fan]: Finally, a proper hub world! Bring on the quests!
Timmy stood beside her, leaning heavily on the sword like a cane. His eyes lit up with recognition.
"Stone Hill..." he whispered. "I heard legends of it back when... before I became a page. It’s the heart of trade and intrigue. They say you can buy anything there: from wyvern venom to an earldom. And it’s dangerous, milady. Properly dodgy."
"Dodgy is my middle name," Kary smirked, touching up her makeup and checking her reflection in the blade of the sword Timmy was holding. "My first name is Style. I’ll find info on my Assassin there for sure. And new shoes. Definitely new shoes."
She took the first step down the slope, heading toward the noise, the scents, and the lights of the big city.
"Right then, Stone Hill." She flashed her signature, dazzling smile—the one that made Timmy’s knees go weak and the viewers' credit cards groan. "Get ready. Kary’s here to cause a stir!"
The street leading from the gates into the heart of Stone Hill was like an anthill that someone had dumped a bag of sugar into. Wagons creaked, hawkers bawled about "mandrake root potions for the balding," and a church bell chimed in the distance.
Kary moved through the crowd like an icebreaker through the Arctic. The black velvet of the 'Necromancer’s Widow' gown drew attention like a neon sign. The locals, used to grimy tunics and boiled leather, practically gave themselves whiplash.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
"Milady!" Timmy whispered reverently, walking a pace behind and buckling under the sword. "Do you see? They’re all gawping at you! That blacksmith dropped his hammer! And that flower girl... nearly ate her own rose out of spite! You shine brighter than the sun! Your beauty blinds this grey city!"
Karina merely gave a mysterious smile, occasionally adjusting her neckline so it "accidentally" revealed a bit more.
"It’s nothing, Timmy. It’s called charisma. And a proper cut."
She subtly flicked her hand to bring up the menu. The [Log Out] button was still stubbornly grey. A prickle of fear touched her heart, but Kary didn't let it show on her face.
"Don't panic," she told herself. "Mascara will run. Smile and wave. It’s just a bug. The admins will sort it. Until then... I’m a star."
The city was beautiful in its rough, medieval way. White stone houses huddled together, leaning over narrow alleyways. The jettied upper floors created a cosy twilight below. Signs for taverns and shops creaked in the wind: The Drunken Gnome, Swords & Ploughshares, Magic for Dummies.
But players were everywhere. They were distinct from the NPCs—not by their clothes (though many wore flamboyant, glowing armour), but by their eyes. The weary, cynical gaze of people who had seen it all in this world. They stood in groups near the auction house, sat on the bank steps, whispering. As Kary passed, conversations died down.
"A newbie?" someone hissed. "Level ten? Where'd she drop from? Look at the gear. That’s Epic. Where’d she farm that? And the lad with her... is that a pet? Or a servant?"
Kary felt the stares. Evaluative, envious, sometimes predatory.
"Timmy," she said quietly. "Keep close. I don't like the way that elf is eyeing my backpack."
"Fear not, milady!" Timmy tried to straighten up (a feat with an eighty-kilo sword). "I shall cut down any who dare look at you askance! Or, at the very least, I shall scream very loudly! I can hit the high notes!"
They emerged onto the market square. The smells of roasted meat, spices, and unwashed bodies merged into a thick cocktail.
"Ugh," Kary grimaced. "I need a scrub. Now. I feel... less than fresh. And a queen cannot be anything less than fresh. A queen must smell of roses and success."
She looked around and spotted a sign: a wooden tub with steam rising from it, and the words: [Royal Bathhouse. Hot water, soap, and zero orcs.]
"Bingo!" she exclaimed. "Timmy, we’re going for a soak!"
The page turned red right to his ears. "A s-soak? Together? Milady, that’s... that’s... improper! My heart won't take it!"
"Don't be a numpty," Kary snorted. "You’ll be guarding the door. And the sword. I’ll be the one enjoying myself."
The bathhouse was surprisingly decent. Stone floors, wooden tubs, and steam smelling of birch and mint. The attendant, a sturdy woman with rosy cheeks, handed Kary a sheet and a bar of lavender-scented soap.
"That’ll be ten sovereigns, sweetheart. And another five if you want a birch-twig massage."
Kary paid without haggling. She left Timmy in the dressing room, ordering him to guard her things "upon his honour."
"I shall stand like a rock!" the youth promised, clutching the dress to his chest (the one she’d shed behind a screen and handed over). "None shall pass! I shall inhale the scent of your raiment and find courage!"
Kary entered the steam room. It was empty. She dropped her sheet. Dronny, who’d snuck in (because "content waits for no man"), soared to the ceiling, filming the girl’s silhouette through the clouds of steam. Her damp skin glistened. Droplets of water trailed down her back and hips. Kary climbed into a massive wooden tub of hot water.
"Ooooh..." she groaned, leaning her head back against the rim and closing her eyes. "Bliss. Pure, distilled bliss."
The water was hot, exactly how it should be—on the verge of scalding, but melting away every ounce of fatigue. Her muscles, knotted from hours of forest trekking and battling the local fauna, relaxed gratefully. The steam, smelling of steeped wood and mint, wrapped around her like a soft cocoon.
"You know, Chat," Kary whispered, lazily trailing her hand through the water. "This world isn't all bad. If you ignore the monsters, the lack of sewers, and that rude bloke in the latex... you could live here. Especially if you're pretty, you've got the levels, and there's hot water."
At that moment, the door creaked. A silhouette appeared through the steam. A young girl peeked timidly into the room. She looked no older than sixteen: two tight blonde braids, a snub nose dusted with freckles, and a simple linen shift that was already sticking to her body from the humidity. She held a wooden pail of suds and a bundle of bast.
Name: Lika
Role: Trainee Bath-maid
"P-pardon me, lady..." she squeaked, keeping her eyes on the floor and blushing furiously. "The mistress told... told me to help you. Said a lady of your standing has delicate skin; wouldn't be right to scrub it yourself."
Kary cracked one eye open and evaluated the service.
"The mistress has a point. Come on in, love." She turned her back, arching elegantly so the drone’s camera caught the perfect line of her spine disappearing beneath the water. "Just be careful. My skin is worth more than this whole tavern."
Lika, trying her best not to stare at the naked guest (though her eyes kept betraying her, darting to the shoulders and the bust barely hidden by the water), stepped closer. She scooped up some soap suds—thick, fragrant, and smelling of meadow herbs—and began to lather Kary’s back. Her movements were timid but diligent. The rough bast sponge glided over the skin, geting the circulation going.
"Ooh..." Kary exhaled. "Yes, just like that. Between the shoulder blades. Harder. Don't worry, I won't break. I’m a tank now. Well, nearly."
"You have... such skin, my lady," Lika whispered in awe. "Smooth as silk. And not a single scar. Are you perhaps a princess? Or a sorceress?"
"I’m an influencer, darling," Kary purred. "It’s magic of the highest order. The magic of skincare and filters."
Dronny, sensing content, began to circle the tub. The angle shifted: now the viewers saw the peasant girl’s slender fingers sliding over Kary’s lathered shoulders, squeezing the sponge as white suds trailed down her collarbones.
[Yuri_Fan]: OH MY GOD! BEST PART OF THE STREAM!
[Simp_King]: I want to be that sponge... No, I want to be that girl!
[SkinCare_Guru]: I wonder what soap that is? The texture looks organic.
[Donator_Top]: 10,000 coins! Have her wash the feet!
"Feet?" Kary read the donation that flashed before her eyes. "Lika, my legs are throbbing. I’ve run a marathon in stilettos today. Do you know how to give a massage?"
"I do, my lady!" the girl nodded eagerly. "I always rub my father’s feet after he’s been out ploughing."
"Well, comparing me to a ploughman is a bit of a backhanded compliment," Kary smirked. "But go on then. Get to it."
She lifted a slender leg out of the water, resting it on the rim of the tub. Water cascaded down her calf, dripping onto the floor. Lika took a small jug of oil, warmed it in her palms, and began to knead the foot. Her fingers pressed firmly on the pressure points, moving along the arch, over every toe, and up toward the ankle.
"Mmm..." Kary threw her head back, a moan escaping her lips that sent the chat into a frenzy of fire and aubergine emojis. "Oh yes... right there... God, you’re a marvel. You’ve got golden hands, Lika. Quit this hole and come with me. You’ll be my personal masseuse."
The girl turned even redder, her hands trembling as they slid a little higher up the damp calf.
"I... I would love to, my lady! It’s just... I’m only a simple..."
"Simplicity is the new trend," Kary declared authoritatively, her eyes still closed. "It’s all about the technique. And your technique is... oh... divine."
Dronny descended almost to the water’s surface, filming a close-up of the maid’s hands kneading the tender skin, the oil glistening in the lamplight, and Kary biting her lip in pleasure.
[Admin_Bot]: Warning! Eroticism levels exceed acceptable standards for a daytime broadcast!
[Kary_Lover]: Admin, sod off! We want to see this!
[Feet_Expert]: 10/10. Perfect feet.
"Right, that’s enough." Kary lazily pulled her leg back into the water, drenching Lika in the process. "Or I’ll fall asleep and drown. And being a drowned corpse isn't a good look; it ruins the complexion. You’re dismissed, sweetie. Here..." She reached into the air, opening her inventory (to Lika, it looked as though a coin appeared out of the steam), "...a gold sovereign. Buy yourself a ribbon. Или whatever you lot buy here."
Lika caught the coin mid-air, her eyes wide.
"A gold sovereign?! My lady, that... that’ll last me a year! Thank you! Thank you!"
She bowed so low her forehead nearly hit the tub and scurried out of the steam room, clutching her treasure to her chest. Kary remained alone, sinking into the water up to her chin and blowing bubbles.
"See that?" she winked at the camera. "Kindness will save the world. That and a good massage. I feel like a new woman. The anxiety’s gone. Even that exit button not working doesn't bother me anymore. I’ll get home," she thought, looking at the ceiling where shadows danced in the steam. "I definitely will. And I’ll be rich. Famous. I’ll buy my own spa centre. I’ll hire Timmy as the butler and Lika as the Head of Feet. Until then... I’ll keep playing. And winning."
She smiled. Life was looking up. Even the absence of the Assassin didn't feel like such a tragedy anymore. After all, she had an entire army of viewers who loved her (or her feet, which was also fine). As for the Assassin... well, he wasn't going anywhere. All roads lead to Rome. Or Stone Hill. It was so pleasant in the wooden tub that Kary almost forgot which world she was in. Her body relaxed, her thoughts flowing lazily like honey. She didn't even notice the stream breaking another concurrent viewer record as she slowly rose from the water. First came her shoulders, glistening with oil and moisture. Then her chest, barely veiled by suds trailing down her skin in white rivulets. Dronny, buzzing with effort, took a low angle to capture every droplet.
"Right then, lovelies," Kary whispered sultrily, standing to her full height. "The wet t-shirt show... or rather, wet me show, is over. Time to get dressed and conquer this city."
She reached for the sheet hanging on the hook. And at that exact moment, the door to the steam room was kicked off its hinges.
THWACK!
The wooden leaf flew across the room and crashed into the wall, narrowly missing the drone. In the doorway, shrouded in clouds of steam, stood Him. Gareth. The Knight of Vengeance. In full black plate armour, adorned with spikes and skulls. His helmet’s visor emitted an ominous red glow. Standing there amidst the wooden tubs and the scent of lavender, he looked like a tank in a china shop. Behind him, clutching Kary’s dress to his chest with his eyes squeezed shut, was Timmy.
"M-milady!" the page squeaked. "I tried to stop him! I threw soap at him! But he’s... he’s made of iron!"
Gareth stepped inside. His heavy boots creaked on the wet floorboards.
"Woman," he boomed in a voice that made the water in the tub ripple. "We need to talk."
Kary froze. She was stark bollock naked, covered only by a few patches of foam in strategically important places.
"You?!" she shrieked. "What do you think you’re doing, you tin can?! People are washing here! Get out this instant!"
"I care nothing for nudity," the knight replied indifferently. "Flesh is but dross. I need information. How did you leave that world?"
Dronny, delighted by the unexpected plot twist, flew toward Gareth, filming Kary’s naked reflection in his polished pauldron.
[Simp_King]: OH MY GOD! IT’S HIM! THAT LOONY!
[Drama_Alert]: Kary, run! He’s a psycho!
[Nude_Hunter]: Reflection in the pauldron! Zoom in, lads!
Kary saw what the drone was doing, and her panic turned to fury.
"Dronny, off!" she barked. "Stream’s over! Now!"
The drone gave an offended bleep, flickered its red eye, and went dark. The blackness of the screen covered thousands of viewers, leaving them alone with their imagination and screenshots of a shoulder-piece.
"Right." Kary grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around herself like a toga. "Now you. Get out! Let me get dressed! Or I’ll call the guards! Or... or Timmy will bite you!"
Timmy, hearing his name, peeked out from behind the giant.
"I... I can try to bite his boot, milady! But I fear I might break a tooth!"
Gareth slowly turned his helmet toward Kary. The red light in the slit flickered.
"The guards do not command me. Your servant is a non-entity. Get dressed. I shall wait outside. If you flee, I shall find you. I have your scent."
He turned and walked out, leaving a trail of cold and the smell of iron behind him.
"My scent?!" Kary fumed. "I smell of lavender, you berk!"
Ten minutes later, she emerged from the bathhouse. She was back in the 'Necromancer’s Widow' gown, her hair tied in a messy bun (wet locks were a whole vibe, too), and her face set in an expression of "I am a queen, and you are all dirt." Timmy scurried beside her, lugging the sword and casting fearful glances at the knight standing by the entrance with his arms crossed.
"Well?" Kary put her hands on her hips. "What do you want? An autograph?"
"Food," Gareth grunted. "And a conversation. I know a place. Follow me."
He led them to 'The Golden Griffin.' This wasn't a tavern; it was a restaurant. The doorman at the entrance—an elf in livery—gave Gareth a disdainful look, but seeing the level above his head (55), he wordlessly opened the door. Inside, live music played, tables were draped in white cloths, and the clientele consisted entirely of high-level players in shimmering sets. Gareth walked to a corner table, ignoring the whispers and sideways glances. Kary sat opposite him, while Timmy perched on the very edge of his chair, terrified of marking the upholstery.
"Order," the knight said, tossing a leather-bound menu onto the table. "My treat."
Kary’s eyes lit up.
"Oh, well, if you’re paying... Waiter! I’ll have the lobster in wine sauce, the phoenix egg salad, and... what’s your most expensive dessert? The 'Dragon’s Tears' cake? Make it two! And for my assistant as well. Milk. And a bun."
Timmy nodded gratefully, his eyes fixed on the rolls on a neighbouring table. While they waited for the order, Gareth removed his helmet. Kary had expected the face of an orc or a mass of scars. But beneath the helm was a perfectly ordinary man. Pale, with dark circles under his eyes and a harsh crop of grey hair. He looked to be in his forties, and he appeared deathly tired.
"Speak," he said, without touching his food. "In the village, you vanished. Dissolved into thin air. The exit button worked. How?"
Kary popped a piece of lobster into her mouth and blissfully closed her eyes.
"Mmm... Divine. Look, I told you. I had an exit. I just pressed the button."
"I haven't got a button," Gareth said hollowly. "No one has. We’ve been trapped here for three years. Why can you leave and we can’t? Are you an admin?"
"Me? An admin?" Kary laughed, nearly choking. "I’m an artsy type! I can’t even reinstall Windows!"
She set down her fork.
"Look, I don't know. Honestly. I found a PC at my grandad’s. Old, dusty thing. I turned it on—and ended up here. And there was a button. But now..." She sighed and looked at her interface, where the button remained stubbornly grey. "Now it’s not working. I’m stuck too. So we’re in the same boat, Mr. Doom-and-Gloom."
Gareth watched her intently. His dark eyes seemed to be scanning her soul—or looking for a lie.
"Your grandfather’s computer..." he repeated. "Old hardware. Perhaps it’s a 'backdoor'. A developer’s entrance. If it’s broken... then the way is shut."
He fell silent, pondering something.
"You’re strange," he said at last. "Daft. Noisy. But you... you’re an anomaly. And anomalies can be keys."
He stood up, tossing a pouch of gold onto the table.
"Eat. I’ve paid."
"Oi, where are you going?" Kary asked, surprised. "What about dessert?"
"I need to think," the knight replied, donning his helmet. The red light flickered back to life in the slit. "I’ll find you later. Don’t disappear. And... wrap up warm. The nights are freezing in this world."
He turned and strode out of the restaurant, leaving Kary bewildered—and with two portions of cake.
"What a... peculiar man," Timmy commented, finishing off his bun. "Milady, does he frighten you? I thought he looked at you with... interest."
"I don’t know, Timmy," Kary said thoughtfully, poking at her 'Dragon’s Tears' with a fork. "He’s a bit of a bore, obviously. Но he pays for the food. And that’s half the battle in a relationship."
She looked out the window, where the black figure of the knight was dissolving into the twilight.
"Right then. Food first. And then... then we find my Assassin. I’ve still got plenty to do in this city."
As soon as the door closed behind Gareth’s broad back, Kary snapped her fingers.
"Dronny, we’re on! 'Food Porn' mode. Warm up the lighting so my skin glows and the food looks like something you’d sell your soul for."
The drone bleeped, swapping the lens for a macro-objective, and the broadcast resumed.
"We’re back, lovelies!" Kary purred, leaning over the table so the chains on her neckline jingled melodiously. "Sorry for the break, a... pesky fan turned up. Had to give him an autograph just to get rid of him. But now... now for the real magic."
She picked up a silver fork and pointed at a dish radiating a heavenly aroma.
"Just look at this. 'Crystal Lobster in Moon-Wine Sauce'."
Kary speared a piece of snow-white, succulent meat, dripping with thick, golden sauce. She didn't hurry to eat it. She held the fork up to the camera, teasing the viewers, then slowly, looking straight into the lens, let the food touch her lips.
Her plump lips closed around the meat. Kary shut her eyes and let out a quiet but distinct moan of pleasure, which the drone’s high-sensitivity microphone delivered into every earbud of her five-thousand-strong audience.
"Mmm..." she drawled, chewing the tender flesh. "God, this is illegally good. This is the taste of wealth, girls. The taste of power."
[Food_Gasm]: I’ve just drowned in my own spit.
[Simp_King]: I want to be that fork... No, that lobster!
[Diet_Enemy]: Kary, have some mercy! I’m on a diet!
She continued her meal, completely unashamed. Aristocratic manners? Pfft. Kary ate with passion. She bit into the 'Phoenix Egg', and the runny, fiery yolk trailed down her chin. Kary didn't bother with a napkin. She slowly, provocatively licked the drop away with the tip of her tongue, eyeing the camera with a predatory squint.
"Spicy," she exhaled, licking her lips. "Hot. Just how I like it."
Timmy, sitting opposite and modestly nibbling his bun, froze with his mouth open. He watched his Mistress dismantle the food with reverent awe. "Milady..." he whispered. "Your... your appetite. It’s... it’s magnificent! You eat like a dragon! Only a very elegant dragon!"
"Energy, Timmy," Kary said pointedly, popping another piece into her mouth. "Beauty requires calories. You think it’s easy carrying this much charisma around?"
When the main courses were finished, the dessert arrived. 'Dragon’s Tears'. It was a chocolate fondant with a hot cherry lava centre. Kary plunged her spoon into the fragile crust, and the crimson syrup erupted.
"And now—for the sweet stuff," she whispered.
She ate the cake, rolling her eyes. Chocolate smudged the corners of her mouth. She licked the spoon from every angle, turning a simple dinner into an erotic performance. By the end of the second piece (yes, she ate both!), Kary leaned back in her chair, letting out a heavy, happy sigh.
"Phew..." she exhaled, resting her palms on her stomach. "I think I’m going to burst. But it was worth it."
And then, the inevitable happened. The 'Necromancer’s Widow' gown was tailored perfectly to her figure. It hugged her waist like a second skin, creating that 'hourglass' silhouette. But you can't cheat physics, even in a magical world. After the lobster, the salad, and two desserts, Kary’s perfectly flat tummy... was no longer flat.
Beneath the black velvet, a soft, rounded little mound was clearly visible. The fabric was stretched to its limit, the chains on her cleavage were taut, and her silhouette in profile gained a cheeky roundness at the waist.
Dronny, the little traitor, immediately took a side-on angle, showing how the tight corset of the dress was biting into her well-fed body, highlighting the protruding tummy.
[Fat_Shamer]: Kary, suck it in! The dress is about to pop!
[Chubby_Lover]: OH GOD, THAT’S SO CUTE! A little tum! I want to pat it! 10/10!
Kary noticed where the camera was looking and glanced down. Seeing her small, full belly bulging under the velvet, she panicked for a second. "Nightmare! I’m fat! I won’t fit the frame!"
But then she remembered the golden rule of streaming: every bug is a feature. She didn't reach for a napkin to hide. Quite the opposite. Kary lazily stroked her full tummy with her hand, like a contented cat.
"What are you lot writing? Fat?" she snorted, stretching lazily so the belly became even more prominent. "Sod off, you lot. This isn't fat. This is a strategic mana reserve. Besides," she winked, "there’s no such thing as too much of a good woman. And a very good, well-fed woman is even better. It’s called a 'Food Baby', and we’re very happy together."
She patted her stomach, and the sound was dull and satiated.
"Timmy," she commanded, struggling to rise from the table (the dress gave a piteous creak but held). "Pack it up. It’s time. I need to walk off these 'Dragon’s Tears' before they settle on my hips. Mind you..." she glanced at her reflection in the window. "They don't look bad on the hips either."
Timmy jumped up, grabbing the sword.
"You are magnificent, milady!" he assured her fervently. "That... er... roundness gives you a certain majesty! Like a statue of a fertility goddess!"
"Don't go overboard with the 'fertility' bit," Kary smirked, leaving the restaurant with the gait of a well-fed lioness. "I’m a goddess of destruction. And now we’re going to go and destroy this city. Well, or find my Assassin. I hope he likes girls with an appetite."