Chapter 88: 82: Encounters

Several feelings rush through you when you see Epsilon. Excitement, relief, suspicion, anxiety...

You have enough common to resist the urge to just run to the bunny girl and give her a warm hug with teary eyes. First of all, you have no idea if your [Submission] is even active on her. You did die after all. What if it removed your spell’s effects from everyone? That would be horrible, to say the least, though it’s nothing you can’t fix. Either way, the bunny girl is not standing still, and you don’t want to lose her. Where is she going anyway? You decide to follow her to find out.

You never have been much of a stalker, but keeping enough distance and hiding in the crows of the busy town street seems manageable. You have no way of guessing where Epsilon might be heading, since you have no idea what is located where, and you get the feeling that Epsilon doesn’t know either. She keeps looking around herself self and her walk seems aimless, without a clear direction. She takes a turn here, a turn there. You follow while keeping your distance.

After one such turns, you barely notice in time Epsilon turning again into a narrow street. You hurry ahead not to lose the bunny girl and, after waiting a couple of seconds, turn the corner, and almost fall over backward in surprise, when you nearly run straight into Epsilon who is waiting for you, with her whip in her hand. Before you can even say a word, Epsilon unleashes it in a swift motion, looping around your torso and binding your arms, then Epsilon tackles you and pins you to the ground. She holds you down and presses you into the stoned pavement with more force than you’d expect from a girl of her build.

Shit, did [Submission] stop working after all? Was it because I ‘died’? Do I just cast it again? She’s not trying to kill me. Is she just confused? Better not wait for her to do anything worse. You cast [Submission] on the bunny girl and order her, “Let go of me at once! I am your master! Have you forgotten?”

The reaction is not instant, but you notice her expression change to a more neutral one and she does get off you and loosens the grip of her whip so that you’re able to get it off.

“That’s better,” you say as you stand up.

“So, you were alive after all,” Epsilon says and rolls up her whip.

“Same goes for you,” you parrot Epsilon’s sentence as you try to regain your composure. “I was wondering if any of you managed to survive. What happened? Where are the others?”

Epsilon sighs and says, “So you don’t know either? Everything is such a mess. That giant wolf attacked us, he nicked me, but mostly I was fine because his claws were lodged into your body… How did you survive? I was sure you’re dead, so when I noticed someone follow me that looked like you… I’m sorry.”

“I cannot be killed that easily,” you say, trying to embellish what actually happened. “You would do well to remember that. What happened after the initial attack?”

“What happened? Well… It all happened so fast. You were bleeding all over the place, the dire wolves attacked, but with Alpha’s swift reactions, that orc’s brutish strength, and then the ice walls… I was separated from the others. Running for my life from the wolves… By the time I lost the wolves, I lost the others as well.”

“I see,” you think for a moment. “If you did survive alone, overall this is good news. It’s far more likely that the others survived too.“

“Then we’ll go searching for them?”

“Not now. I’ve already arranged for the town watch to do it for me, I’ll check on that later. This town is bigger than I first expected, so it would probably take too long just for us two. And also, both the human girl and the orc were wounded, so they’ve might have not even reached this town yet.”

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“Then what do we do now? Just wait?”

“Of course not! There are two reasons why I came here. And there’s a chance that I might be able to kill two birds with one stone. I’m going to the local brothel.”

“… I see.”

Right, I never did say why I needed the brothel in the first place. She’s trying not to question me too much? Good. I shouldn’t have to explain everything.

“Follow me,” you say to the bunny girl and set out to find the brothel of Ranville. Well, ‘follow me’ is a strong word, since you have no idea where the brothel is, but after a few innocent inquiries with the locals, you arrive at your destination. You kind of expected it not to be some seedy building in a dark ally, but this is honestly impressive. Far from being run-down or seedy, the façade of the two-story building is far more impressive than that of its neighboring buildings. The walls have decorative pillars and two marble statues of naked women with… enticing forms. Under every window, you see a box with blooming colorful flowers. It looks like some rich barons mansion.

You walk up the three marble steps to the door, which has almost comically simple wooden sign hanging on it, that has “CLOSED’ written with capital red letters. Not feeling like waiting for them to open, you try turning the doorknob. The door is not locked, and you push it inside. When you open the door a bell rings above your head as you walk inside. Your mouth slightly opens at the sight. Not of the girls—there’s not a single one in sight—but of the spacious interior.

Warm colors in all shades of yellow, orange, and red dominate the reception room you’re in. Positioned against the walls are several cushioned red sofas with rainbow-colored pillows neatly placed against their back. They look more comfortable than the ones you used to have back home. You gently touch the arm panel of one of those sofas and it sends chills across your arm just from the softness of the fabric. You barely resist the urge to just jump onto it and take a nap.

Next to the sofas, as well at the windows and the carved oak reception desk you spot at least ten or more lush potted plants. Some taller than you are, in healthy spring-green colors, not a single waning leaf in sight. The entire floor is carpeted and looks so pristine that you feel bad even stepping on it. You take off your brown shoes, though it probably helps very little since your legs aren’t exactly fresh out of the bath either.

“Is it too much to ask for you pigs to know how to read?” you hear a voice coming from behind two dark-red curtains hanging from a gold-painted rod, each eight feet high, six feet wide. The curtains are swung aside with a single swift motion and an imposing figure approaches the four feet high reception desk.

You instantly understand why the curtains and the opening behind the desk are so wide—they have to be to allow the woman to walk through without hitting her wide, sleek, pointy dark-red (bordering on purple) wings growing out of her back. The wing connection to the back is narrow, barely the width of her skinny arms, but grows exponentially wider. Not a single bone or feather is visible, they seem purely aesthetic, though even then, the wings must be propped up by magic to hold so effortlessly behind the woman.

The woman has pink skin, clearly distinct from human color, with a touch of red. She has wavy pitch-black hair, reaching all the way to her butt. Out of that hair, two dark-red (bordering on purple) horns are sticking out, curved backward, as well as two long, pink pointy ears, like a typical elf. She has big eyes with the changing color of glowing embers. Her lips are red and full with an especially prominent lower lip, that somehow manages to still look natural. Back in your world, most girls would kill to find a surgeon capable of doing a job that good. And that’s not even talking about her breasts.

The woman wears a cut red jacket that ends with a leather belt just below her ample, perky bosom. The cleavage is cut all the way and narrows only at the belt, and is about as wide as possible without revealing a glimpse of the nipples or having the breasts fall, though even that might be work of some higher powers. On the arms the jacket is roughly cut just below the shoulders, showing off the smooth skin of the woman’s thin arms.

Below the navel of the woman's narrow waist, as low as decency permits, another belt is tightly holding a red skin-tight miniskirt which, combined with thigh-high leather boots, creates the definition of absolute territory.

In her arms, the woman holds an absurdly long and thin handle of a smoking pipe. She puts it in her mouth, draws, and then lets out a puff as she scans you with her glowing eyes. She looks at the two of you like a pair of cockroaches in her kitchen. Without even attempting to hide her annoyance she again draws deeply from her pipe, puts it out of her mouth, and says, “A big-chested bunnykin not good enough for you anymore? My girls are resting. If you fall to your knees and beg me for forgiveness, I might not charge you stupidity tax when you come back tonight.”

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