TFN C57

Chapter 57

“Is the job quest difficult? Ah—you mentioned it was expensive.”

“That, I won’t know until I try… but just reaching the seventh floor of the Tower means I’ll need to take a bus.”

Cheongmun tilted his head at the phrase.

“Bus?”

“Yes. That’s what they call it when you hire people to carry you through a dungeon or climb the Tower like a tourist. The Tower right beside the National Cemetery—you know, the one that pierces the sky? I need to reach the seventh floor and meet an NPC there. But going alone would be impossible, so I’ve been saving money to commission a guild. Luckily, talismans have been selling well lately. I’ve almost saved enough, so soon I’ll be able to lift the penalty.”

Though no bank would ever grant loans for his line of work, Wonhyo had resolved more than once that he would borrow against his living expenses if he must, to scrape together enough. The specter had already recognized him; if it appeared suddenly, and he transformed into an animal in the wrong place, he might not even survive.

“If you don’t absolutely have to go with someone else, then go with me.”

“Go where?”

“The Tower.”

“What—wait, huh?”

For a moment Wonhyo nearly blurted yes, caught by the offer, then faltered.

“Don’t government officials have rules? You can’t take money for outside work, can you?”

It wasn’t that paying Cheongmun would be wrong—he already had the bus fare set aside—but wouldn’t it look like bribery?

As he stammered, Cheongmun’s lips curved faintly.

“I meant I’ll accompany you without cost.”

“…Why?”

“Well, let’s call it repayment for all the talismans you used in today’s dungeon.”

“Ah… right. That.”

Wonhyo remembered the charms he had burned through as if they were water. Luckily he’d bought extra paper yesterday, or he would have been stuck waiting until he found proper sheets again. His mother’s shrine could have lent him some, but those were for yearlong prayers, far too precious for ordinary exorcisms.

This wasn’t simple charity then—Cheongmun meant to settle the debt already owed. That made it easier to accept.

“But is it really fine, going with me? Aren’t you busy?”

“After returning from a Tower or dungeon, I’m always granted leave. It’s fine.”

Wonhyo’s tail wagged. So that was it. He recalled now that when he’d first gone to the Special Authority, they had said Cheongmun was just back from the Tower and on leave. Though… hadn’t he been at work anyway? Perhaps it was flexible hours.

“When would be best to depart? What time do you usually wake?”

Cheongmun glanced at the clock—it was already past midnight. Wonhyo frowned in thought.

“Morning’s impossible. Around noon, maybe. But the penalty won’t lift until tomorrow, so I can’t go during this break.”

Checking his status, he answered. Cheongmun tilted his head.

“How much time remains on the penalty?”

“…Seventeen hours.”

“In that case, wouldn’t it be better to use a restorative item? Free yourself from the penalty, and we can go by morning—or at least by midday.”

Hic! Wonhyo hiccuped, eyes darting nervously.

“W-wouldn’t that be asking too much? And you need rest too—we’ve just come back from the dungeon. Plus, you’ve got work the day after tomorrow. You’ll need to verify evidence as well. The quest might take long, so you can’t take leave just for me.”

His rambling excuses only deepened Cheongmun’s gentle smile.

“I’ll be fine. Rest in the morning, and we’ll depart at noon.”

“Th-that soon?”

“Do you have much to prepare?”

“…Don’t you need to prepare for the Tower?”

Cheongmun shrugged as their route neared Wonhyo’s neighborhood.

“To the seventh floor, no preparation is needed. Just bring water—two bottles, perhaps. Wouldn’t do to go thirsty mid-incantation.”

“Nothing else?” Wonhyo blinked, startled.

“I heard it’s brutal if you have no combat skills. I’d be useless…”

“No problem.”

The curt reply came as Cheongmun pulled the car to a stop.

“Then. Ah, one more thing—may I confirm something before we part?”

“…What is it?”

Wonhyo muttered, voice shrinking. Cheongmun leaned forward and gathered him into his arms.

“When transformed, you said the miasma stopped accumulating. I wonder… if contact with mucous membranes also makes no difference.”

“W-what are you trying to—?”

Wonhyo squirmed, twisting toward the passenger seat, but Cheongmun’s palm closed firmly around his body, holding him fast.

“May I lick you?”

Cheongmun lifted him level with his eyes.

The pup’s pale pink belly, the faint blush of skin—exposed and vulnerable in midair. Wonhyo froze, wondering if he’d misheard. He had not.

“What exactly?!”

He clamped his hind legs together in desperation—not that they were long enough to shield anything.

“Your belly.”

…His belly? That… still didn’t seem—

“No!”

Wonhyo flailed, pressing his paw against Cheongmun’s face. It landed squarely on his lips.

Cheongmun did not refuse. He pressed a kiss to the soft paw pad, then parted his lips and ran his tongue slowly upward.

“Ugh!”

“Well?”

Wonhyo writhed, squirming with the ticklishness.

“Just tickles?”

“Y-yes!”

Relieved no status window had appeared, he nodded firmly.

Cheongmun accepted the result with no trace of regret and promptly produced a restorative item. A fragment, larger than a bird’s feed pellet, broke off.

Wonhyo gulped deeply, steeling himself, then crunched the bitter morsel like crushed valerian.

For a heartbeat, his vision spun. Then suddenly the world dropped beneath him—his body shot up in size, weight crashing down. The driver’s seat squealed in protest.

Realizing he was sprawled naked across Cheongmun, Wonhyo flushed scarlet.

Cheongmun’s hand threaded into his hair, tugging his head back. Their lips met.

Wonhyo gasped, instinctively yielding. A hot tongue slipped past his teeth, sweeping his palate.

His arms wrapped tight around Cheongmun’s shoulders. Heat pooled low in his belly, spreading fast. He trembled, his hips twitching as a gloved hand traced slowly up his back, pressing along his waist.

“Nngh!”

The kiss deepened, swallowing his moans. Fingers sketched lines over his skin, making him arch helplessly.

He jolted when he felt the hard length pressed against him, swollen and undeniable. His knees buckled.

Cheongmun’s tongue thrust deep, relentless. Wonhyo shuddered, nipples aching, his cock leaking clear fluid that dampened his abdomen.

Panic flared—if they went further, he’d spill himself right here, on Cheongmun’s clothes.

“W-wait—ah!”

His plea was broken by another wave of sensation. Breathless, he finally forced the words out.

“Enough… I want to stop here.”

A plea, ragged and trembling. Cheongmun’s half-lidded eyes softened.

“…As you wish.”

With one last lingering breath against his lips, he withdrew. From his inventory, he produced a blanket and wrapped it snugly around Wonhyo’s quivering body.

“Your shivering… I should have turned the heater higher.”

That wasn’t the reason, but Wonhyo couldn’t bring himself to correct him. He tried to ignore the rigid heat still pressing between them, tried to erase it from his mind.

“My clothes, please.”

His voice was strained, but he could not remain perched astride Cheongmun forever.

Expression dry as ever, Cheongmun handed over his garments. Wonhyo crawled awkwardly into the passenger seat, dressing piece by piece—loose traditional trousers, simple undershirt, outer coat.

His flushed skin still burned with memory, but at least he was covered.

“…I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Forcing a polite bow, he slipped out of the car.

The night air hit like knives, cutting through the haze. He hunched against the chill, hurrying to his door. Once inside, he collapsed face-first onto the cold floor.

“Ahhh…”

A groan, long and low, rattled from his chest.

If he stayed there, perhaps he’d freeze to death in peace.

Only when the floor stole enough warmth to dull the sting did he drag himself upright, trudging toward his room.

“Damn cold… really damn cold.”