"Dronny," she commanded, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Change the track. Give me something... mysterious. A 'Woman of Mystery Heading Toward Her Destiny' sort of vibe."
The drone gave an obedient bleep, and the speakers began to pump out a sultry, noir-style saxophone track—the kind of music better suited to a femme fatale seducing a detective in a smoke-filled office than a stroll through a medieval fantasy world.
"Spot on." Kary slowed her pace, letting her hips sway in time with the music.
The red skirt of her 'Combat Milkmaid' outfit seemed to have a life of its own; with every step, it flared up, revealing the snow-white lace of her stockings and the garter on her left thigh. Dronny, that little AI deviant, immediately dropped lower to catch a 'worm's-eye view'.
[Chat_Bot]: Viewers holding steady: 5,600.
[Legs_Fan]: Give the cameraman a raise! That angle is worthy of a BAFTA!
[Hater_123]: Flashing her knickers again. Are we getting a plot, or are we just staring at lace for two hours?
[Kary_Queen]: Belt up, hater! It’s an aesthetic! Kary, you’re the best!
"There’ll be plenty of plot, sweethearts," Kary purred. "We’re heading into the village. There’s bound to be a tavern where my mysterious hero is lurking."
She rolled her eyes dreamily.
"Just imagine: a dark corner, him nursing something strong... I walk in, all in red. I sit down beside him. Silence. A spark, a whirlwind, madness... and he hands me back my five hundred coins! Or, he pays me back in kind."
The girl giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. Her imagination was already painting pictures of their domestic bliss: the Assassin in his black leather suit taking the bins out at the cottage, while Grandad Ignat taught him how to make borscht with a ladle.
"Speaking of Grandad," she remembered, stepping over a puddle. "I hope he hasn't flooded the house. Though with his talents..." An image of the soaking wet old man in his anchor-print boxers fleeing from a chicken flashed before her. "You know, chat, sometimes I think Grandad is an NPC with a bugged script. He’s supposed to be dispensing ancient wisdom, but instead, he’s at war with the poultry. Still, I love the old nutter. He’s like a Tamagotchi—weird, high-maintenance, but you’d be properly gutted if he died."
The village of Quiet Willows greeted her with silence and the scent of woodsmoke. The nocturnal idyll was absolute. There were no traces of the recent massacre, not a single bloodstain on the cobbles. The houses were intact, the roofs weren't ablaze, and instead of cultist corpses, the streets were home to sleepy goats and a pair of guards with torches.
Upon reaching the village square, Karina headed for the notice board, illuminated by a single lantern around which moths the size of sparrows circled. Leaning theatrically against the stand and cocking a leg, she announced:
"Right then, everyone, let’s choose our destiny! We... er... missed the Ogre. We need something fresh. Something that’ll boost the reach without making me smell a monster’s armpits."
Her eyes skimmed the parchments. 'Gathering medicinal herbs in the marsh'—hard pass: mud, leeches, and a ruined manicure. 'Exterminating rats in the tapster’s cellar'—ugh, cliché; she wasn't Super Mario. 'Delivering a letter to the next town over'—dead boring; she wasn't a postie.
Her attention was caught by a notice on thick, expensive paper with a heraldic seal.
[Quest: The Secret of the Lord Viscount]
[Type: Stealth / Investigation] [Description: Strange things are afoot at the manor of Lord Viscount de Valois. Young maids hired to work for him have been vanishing without a trace. Locals whisper of dark rituals and peculiar guests.]
[Objective: Infiltrate the manor, find evidence, and discover the fate of the missing girls.]
[Reward: 1,000 Gold, 'Night Shadow' Set (Rare), Thieves' Guild Reputation]
"Ooh!" Kary’s eyes lit up. "Scandals, intrigue, investigations! Missing maids? Dark rituals? It sounds like a segment on The One Show!" She ripped the notice down and waved it at the camera. "Chat, this is the one! Detective Kary is on the case! We’ll expose this Lord! Or maybe..." she squinted slyly, "...he’s just a collector of beautiful women? What if he’s fit? And loaded? A Viscount—that’s proper posh, isn’t it? Practically a prince."
[LogicBoy]: Kary, it says 'Stealth'. Your only stealth skill is disappearing when the bill arrives at a restaurant.
[Splinter_Cell]: In that red dress, you’ll be glowing like a Christmas tree. You’ll be nicked in five seconds.
[Tactician]: You need a gear change. Take that corset off, it’s creaking!
[Simp_King]: Don't you dare! The corset is sacred! Vote for stealth! I want to see Spy-Kary!
"Vote time!" the streamer announced. "Option A: Go kill rats (for the boring lot). Option B: Infiltrate a rich bloke’s mansion and rummage through his dirty laundry (for the elite)."
The chat exploded. Option B hit 98% in three seconds.
"I knew you lot were clever!" Kary blew a kiss. "It’s decided! Operation Sex-Espionage is a go!"
She accepted the task.
[System Message: You have accepted the quest 'The Secret of the Lord Viscount'.]
[Warning! This is a stealth mission. Direct confrontation with the guards is highly discouraged. Guard Level: 25+. Discretion is advised.]
"Discretion is my middle name," Kary huffed, accidentally clanging her massive sword against an iron post supporting a canopy.
B-DONG!
The sound rang across the sleeping square, waking several dogs.
"Whoops." She bit her lip. "That was... a diversionary tactic! Let’s move!"
The journey took about half an hour. The manor was situated, as any proper villain’s home should be, in the most picturesque and inconvenient spot—atop a jagged cliff overlooking a black, mirrored lake. It was a scene worthy of a Gothic oil painting: a massive moon hung directly over the spires, reflecting in the water; a jumble of towers, gargoyles, dark windows, and high walls choked with ivy. The only path led across a narrow stone bridge guarded by sentries.
"Mmm, the architecture is very 'Dracula-chic'," Kary commented, hiding behind a briar bush and trying to make sure the thorns didn't snag her tights. "But the view of the lake is stunning. Perfect for a bikini photoshoot... Dronny, zoom in on the guards!"
The camera zoomed. Two figures stood motionless at the gates: full plate mail, halberds at the ready, faces as stern as bailiffs.
[Manor Guard. Level 25. Elite]
"Level twenty-five..." Kary frowned. "I can’t take them. Not even if I crank the charm to the max. Their helmets are closed; they won't even see my eyes, let alone my cleavage. I’ll have to hop the fence. Like when me and Lenka used to nick apples from the neighbour and he’d threaten us with a hose. Except here, it’ll be crossbow bolts. Or fireballs."
Pushing through the thorny bushes, she circled the perimeter.
"Ow!" she whispered-shrieked. "My skirt! It’s linen! It’ll crease!"
[User_Bot]: Kary, pipe down! You’re snapping branches like a herd of buffalo!
Finally, she found a suitable spot: the stone wall was a bit lower here, and an old, twisted tree grew nearby, its branch overhanging the inner courtyard.
"Right, here’s the plan," she whispered to the camera. "I climb the tree. Gracefully leap onto the wall. Then I jump into the bushes in the courtyard. And I’m in! Easy peasy! As for the sword..." She looked at the Dragon Slayer. "It’ll get in the way."
She tried to put the weapon into her inventory, but the System threw an error: [Unable to unequip item in 'Combat Ready' mode near hostile territory]
"Oh, you’re taking the mickey!" Kary fumed. "Fine. I’ll climb with it. It can be a counterweight. Right, let’s go."
Climbing a tree in a mini-skirt and a corset is not for the faint-hearted. Kary jumped, grabbed a lower branch, and hauled herself up. Her skirt, naturally, hiked up immediately to her waist. Dronny, hovering below, broadcast a close-up of her white lace knickers and the little bow to five thousand people.
[Simp_King]: GOOD LORD, I LOVE THIS GAME!
[Panty_Shot_Expert]: 10 out of 10. The lace texture is perfectly rendered.
[Moralist]: Scandalous! But I’m watching.
"Don't look!" Kary panted, scrambling higher. The sword on her back was catching on branches, and the corset made it impossible to breathe. "I feel like a panda! A clumsy, fat panda!"
After a fair bit of mucking about, she finally reached the right branch and shuffled onto the wall. The courtyard below was a pit of darkness.
"Bit high, that..." she muttered, gauging the drop. "Five metres, at least. But there’s something dark down there. A haystack, probably. Games always have a haystack for a 'Leap of Faith'."
Steadying herself on the wall, she spread her arms wide (the sword was pulling her back, threatening to tip her into the lake) and struck her best assassin’s pose.
"Leap of Faith! Do it for the content!"
And she jumped. The flight lasted a second; the landing felt like an eternity. Instead of soft, rustling hay, Kary slammed into something metallic, clattering, and very, very hard.
It was a cart full of dirty dishes. Hundreds of copper pots, ladles, lids, and basins waiting to be scrubbed.
CLANG!!! CRASH-BANG-WALLOP!!!
The racket was loud enough to suggest a symphony orchestra had just dropped their entire percussion section down a rubbish chute. Kary was sprawled across a mountain of metal, a massive basin covering her head like a giant's bowler hat. The Dragon Slayer sword landed right on top, providing the final, resonant chord.
BONK.
[System Alert: Stealth failed. You have been spotted.] > [Noise Level: 120 dB (Jet Engine)]
"Ow..." came a muffled groan from beneath the basin. "My bum... my tailbone... That wasn't hay. I’ve been stitched up!"
Dronny hovered over the wreckage, filming a pair of slim legs in white stockings twitching nervously as they poked out from the pile of pots.
"Alarm!" someone roared nearby. "Intruder! There’s a spy in the courtyard!"
"A spy?" Kary moaned, trying to heave the basin off. "I'm not a spy, I'm... I'm an intern pot-washer! I just tripped..."
The thud of dozens of armoured boots shook the ground. The courtyard was instantly flooded with torchlight. Kary scrambled out from the debris, smeared with leftover soup and grease. Her "Just-rolled-in-the-hay" hairstyle was now a hundred percent accurate to its name. Her blouse was askew, exposing a shoulder, and her skirt was twisted halfway round.
Stolen story; please report.
She was surrounded: ten guards, spears levelled at her chest.
"Don't move a muscle!" barked the Captain of the Guard, a moustachioed bloke waving a torch. "In the name of the Lord! Who are you?"
"Me?" Kary tried to strike a seductive pose while leaning against the mountain of pots, but she slipped on a greasy plate and nearly went down again. "I’m... er... pizza delivery? Did someone order a Pepperoni with extra cheese? No? Oh, I must have the wrong house..."
The guards exchanged looks.
"Pizza?" one asked. "Is that a new kind of poison?"
"It’s a slice of heaven, you berk!" Kary huffed. "Look, lads, can we reach an agreement? I’ve got..." she rummaged through her inventory, "...milk! A jug of fresh milk!"
While the guards (and Kary herself) were distracted by her attempt to bribe them with virtual dairy, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye near the wall she’d just plummeted from. Two silhouettes flickered in the shadow of the tower. They moved silently, smoothly, as if the darkness itself had taken shape. No clanking, no crashing.
The first silhouette looked achingly familiar: tall, athletic, in a skin-tight suit.
The Assassin! Kary gasped internally. My crush! He’s here!
Beside him glided a second figure—shorter, slimmer, wrapped in a grey hooded cloak. They deftly slipped through the open gates—as the guards had all run to watch the circus in the pots—and vanished into the manor's side entrance.
Kary stood there, mouth agape.
"They... they used me!" the realisation hit her. "I'm a diversion! I'm the aggro tank while the DPS carries the flag!"
"Those absolute gits!" she blurted out. "I’m out here making a fool of myself, covered in grease, and they’re going to nick all the loot?! Without me?!"
"Silence!" the Captain bellowed, having missed the shadows entirely. "Enough babbling! Seize her! She’s an accomplice to the kidnappers!"
"Oi, watch the hands!" Kary shrieked as two brutes hauled her up.
They snatched her sword (it was so heavy it took two of them to carry it, huffing and puffing).
"Don't touch the corset! It’s worth more than your life! And don't crease the skirt!"
"To the dungeon with her!" the Captain commanded. "The Lord will deal with her in the morning. For now, let her sit and think about her life choices."
"What dungeon?!" Kary protested, kicking her legs in the air. Dronny flew behind, filming her futile attempts to heel-kick a guard. "I'm claustrophobic! I'm allergic to mould! I demand a lawyer! Or a manager! Get me a manager!"
They dragged her across the courtyard, past beautiful flowerbeds and fountains, to a nondescript, massive door at the base of the tower.
"Lads, come on, why the rough housing?" Kary shifted tactics, hanging limp in her captors' arms. "Maybe I could dance for you? Or run an exclusive stream? Just for you?"
"Quiet, witch." The guard was unmoved. "Your charms won't work on us. We’ve been promised a bonus for catching spies."
"I’m not a spy, I’m an influencer! There’s a difference!"
The door creaked open, exhaling a scent of damp, rats, and despair.
"Not a cellar!" Kary wailed. "I hate cellars! My cellar at home is flooded, I'm not going in there!"
Ignoring her protests, they shoved her inside.
"Sit tight and cool off," the guard smirked. "In the morning, the Viscount will decide what to do with you. Maybe he'll send you to the kitchens to wash pots. Seeing as you love them so much."
The door slammed shut. The bolt slid home.
Darkness. Cold, clammy darkness.
[Quest Updated: Prison Break]
[Optional Objective: Find your gear]
[Failure Penalty: Execution or Forced Labour]
"Execution?!" Kary squeaked, pressing her back against the cold masonry. "Are they taking the mickey?"
Dronny clicked on his spotlight. The beam swept the cell: a straw mattress in the corner, a bucket (presumably the 'facilities'), and a barred slit of a window high up near the ceiling.
"Well, that’s just grand," Kary slid down the wall to the floor, no longer caring if her skirt got dirty. "Here I am. In prison. No sword. No milk. And my fit Assassin is swan-off somewhere upstairs with some... person in a cloak." She sniffled. "I hope it’s a bloke. Because if it’s a woman... I’ll claw through this door with my bare nails and throw such a tantrum the castle will collapse faster than my self-esteem."
[Prison_Break]: Kary, find a spoon! Dig a tunnel!
[Simp_King]: Poor girl! I’ll start a crowdfunder for her bail!
[Hater_123]: Ahahaha, serves you right! "Stealth Master." Sit there and have a long think, babe.
Kary sighed, hugging her knees.
"Right, chat. No panicking. This is part of the content. Drama. Tragedy. The hero’s journey through suffering." She looked into the drone camera, pulling her most piteous 'Puss in Boots' face. "But honestly... I’m scared. And I’m freezing. I want to go home to Grandad. I’d rather watch him chase a chicken than sit in here."
Somewhere deep within the manor, a muffled scream rang out and was abruptly cut short. Kary jumped.
"Assassin..." she whispered. "You’ll come for me, won't you? You won't leave a lady in a fix? I mean, after you’ve nicked everything valuable?"
Silence was the only answer. Only the monotonous drip-drip-drip of water echoed in the corner. Exactly like in her real-world cellar, cut off from the world by burnt wiring. But Kary didn't know that yet, still hoping for a miracle that, in this world, only arrived for money or massive view counts.
The silence in the cell was stifling, like an awkward pause in a live stream when you've forgotten your ad integration script. Drip-drip-drip. The rhythmic sound was shredding her nerves. For the tenth time, Karina jabbed her finger at the air, trying to force a virtual button to appear.
"Let me out!" she shrieked. "My mascara isn't waterproof! My grandad hasn't been fed! Please!"
The [Log Out] button remained treacherously grey. Dead. As lifeless as a Facebook pokedex.
[System Message: Error. Unable to exit the game.]
[Status: Incarcerated. You are in an isolated zone. Leave the location to restore server connection.]
"Oh, you’re having a laugh!" Karina kicked the bucket in frustration. It clattered into the corner, splashing murky liquid everywhere. "What do you mean 'status'? I’m a VIP user! I want to speak to the manager! I’ll write a one-star review! 'Appalling service, fed to rats, no exit, 0/10, would not recommend!'"
The System remained silent. Dronny gave a mournful beep, hovering over his mistress and illuminating her ruffled hair with his spotlight. Karina slid back down the wall, hugging her knees. Her red skirt was hiked up, revealing the lace tops of her stockings, but she wasn't in the mood for fan-service right now. Well, almost. She did instinctively shift her leg so it looked slimmer in the frame.
“Right then, Kary, pull yourself together,” she whispered under her breath. “You’re not some little crybaby. You’re streamer of the year... well, nearly. You finished The Witcher on YouTube! I mean, you watched the playthrough. That definitely counts”.
She sniffled and, for the first time since arriving in this bizarre world, decided to do what normal players do at the very beginning: she opened her character menu.
“Let’s see what we’ve got... Inventory... graphics settings... donations...” She scrolled through the usual tabs. “Ah, here. ‘Character’”.
Karina never really bothered with the numbers. When she created her avatar, she just picked whatever sounded posh. She assumed she’d chosen a class like ‘Princess’ or ‘Battle Diva’—something with a bit of glitter. She unfurled the attribute scroll.
- Level: 8
- Class: Destroyer
“What?!” Her eyes went as wide as saucers. “Destroyer? What kind of name is that for a lady? That’s for sweaty blokes with sledgehammers! I thought it meant ‘Heartbreaker’!”.
She gave an indignant huff but kept reading. It turned out that while she’d been gallivanting through forests and fields, the System had been automatically assigning skill points based on her playstyle (which mostly consisted of waving an eighty-kilogram sword around like a nutter and accidentally smashing everything in sight).
“Right, skills...” she muttered, tracing her manicured finger through the air:
Two-handed weapon proficiency: Boring.
Charm: Obviously innate.
Steel Skin: Ugh, sounds like a bad dermatological condition. I need a peel, not steel.
At the very bottom of the list, under ‘Utility Skills’, sat an icon of a fist punching through a wall.
Skill: Door Breaker Rank: Novice
Description: A Destroyer doesn’t look for keys; the Destroyer is the key. Once a day, you can kick down any locked door (lock level must not exceed Strength x2). Guaranteed success. 100% chance to stun anyone standing behind the door.
Karina blinked. She looked at the massive, iron-reinforced oak door of her cell, then back at the skill description.
“Are you serious?” She giggled. “Just kick it in? No mini-games with hairpins? No searching for a key in a guard’s knickers?”.
She stood up, brushing off her skirt. Her mood was skyrocketing.
“Chat, did you see that?” She winked at the camera. “Turns out I’m not a noob. I’m a hidden powerhouse! Dronny, get ready. This is going to be MythBusters level content, only much prettier”.
Outside the door, voices drifted in. “...so I says to her, ‘Darlin’, my sword’s longer than your future,’” one guard guffawed. “And what’d she say?” the second snorted. “She says, ‘Well, your helmet’s got more horns than your wife’!”.
Both of them burst out laughing, their armour clanking.
“Right then, boys,” Kary whispered, approaching the door. “The jokes are over. You’ve got a delivery. A delivery of pain!”.
She struck a pose she’d seen in some action film: feet shoulder-width apart, one hand on her hip to accentuate the curve of her corset, the other clenched into a fist.
“Camera! Action!” she commanded. “Special move: ‘Knock-knock, who’s there? Death!’”.
Kary wound up. Her small, delicate fist—more used to holding a makeup sponge or a glass of prosecco—glowed with the faint reddish light of the System. She struck.
KABOOM!!!
The effect was beyond her wildest dreams. The door didn't just open; it flew out of the frame along with the hinges, chunks of masonry, and centuries of dust, like a champagne cork that had been shaken for half an hour. The massive oak slab whistled through the corridor and, with a sickening crunch, pinned both jokers to the opposite wall.
Critical Hit! Door Damage: 600
Effect: Pancake (Enemies squashed)
Karina stepped gracefully out of the cloud of dust, coughing and waving her hand in front of her face.
“Cough, cough... Ugh, the dust! This place hasn't seen a duster since the Inquisition!”.
Before her, squashed between the door and the stone wall, were the flailing arms and legs of the guards. One of them was feebly twitching a finger.
“Oh.” Kary pressed her hand to her mouth. “Did I break them?”.
[Door_Mat]: AHAHAHA! THAT WAS EPIC!
[Physics_Teacher]: That momentum violates every law of physics, but I’m hitting ‘like’ anyway.
[Simp_King]: Kary, your skirt flew up when you hit it! I got a screenshot!
“I hope they’ve got insurance,” the streamer said with a shrug. “Anyway, no time for pity. I’m on a mission!”.
She stepped over the fallen door (and the fallen guards), trying not to tread in a suspicious-looking puddle.
“Where’s my sword?” she asked, looking around.
The Dragon Slayer was leaning nearby against a rack of halberds. Apparently, the guards had grown tired of lugging the heavy thing and just dumped it there.
“Come to Mummy,” Kary cooed, grabbing the hilt.
The familiar weight of the weapon was comforting; she felt like a heroine again rather than a prisoner. As she emerged from the tower into the courtyard, she saw pure panic: people running, orders being barked, torches flickering.
“Right, I need to find evidence...” she remembered the quest. “Missing girls, rituals, blah-blah-blah...”.
But then her eyes caught a movement by the gate. There, on the edge of the light and shadow, two silhouettes flickered. One was tall and powerful in a skin-tight black suit that highlighted his... assets. It was the Assassin. Beside him was a second shadow in a cloak. They slipped silently through the gates, vanishing into the night forest.
“He’s leaving!” Kary gasped.
A switch flipped in her head. Quest? What quest? Missing maids? They could all get married off to orcs for all she cared! The love of her life (and source of loot) was walking away!.
“Stuff the maids!” she declared firmly to the camera. “I have to catch him! Our date isn't over yet! He owes me... an explanation! And that shiny stone he nicked!”.
[LogicBoy]: Kary, you’ll fail the mission! The penalty is execution, remember?
[Love_Guru]: Go for it, darlin’! Love is more important than XP!
“Exactly!” Kary agreed with the Love Guru. “Execution can wait, but men have a shelf life. You’ve got to grab them while they're fresh!”.
She hiked up her skirt and bolted for the gates. Running over gravel in high heels was a nightmare, but motivation worked wonders. Kary flew as if on the wings of love, leaping over flowerbeds and trampling Lord Viscount’s rare roses.
“Dronny, full throttle! Keep up!”.
Bursting through the gates, she raced toward the forest where the shadows had gone.
“Oi!” she shouted, out of breath. “Wait up! You forgot to give me your phone number! I mean... your nickname!”.
The forest greeted her with coolness and dark. The trees were dense, their canopies blocking out the moonlight. Kary slowed down, trying to catch her breath. Her corset was crushing her ribs, and her heart was pounding in her throat.
“Phew... they’re fast...” she whispered. “Are they using speed hacks or something?”.
After another fifty metres, pushing through branches with her sword, she called out: “Yoo-hoo! Mr Assassin! Mr Fit Glutes! Are you there?”.
Suddenly, the shadows ahead thickened. Right in front of her, as if woven from the gloom, a figure appeared. Kary opened her mouth, ready to launch into a pre-prepared speech about destiny and joint farming, but the words died in her throat.
It wasn't him.
Standing before her was a girl who looked nothing like the local peasants or the stuck-up ladies. The stranger wore a bizarre mix of tactical gear and fantasy armour, like she’d just escaped a cosplay convention. A black bustier top hugged her chest, leaving a flat, toned stomach exposed. On her hips was a complex arrangement of straps, ropes, and black fabric that revealed more than it hid. She had lithe legs, long black hair blowing in the wind, and a predatory, cold gaze in her almond-shaped eyes. In her hand, she held a long katana in a black scabbard. She looked dangerous and, to Kary's immense annoyance, incredibly stylish.
“Oh...” Kary managed, scanning her rival from head to toe. “And who are you? Part of the fan club? Or...” a horrifying thought struck her, “...his girlfriend?!”.
The stranger tilted her head. Her face remained as expressionless as a mask.
“You’re too loud,” she said in a quiet voice that was as sharp as a whip. “You’re in the way”.
“In the way?!” Kary fumed, hands on her hips. Her chest heaved indignantly in her corset. “Listen here, darlin’, I’m creating content! Who do you think you are? And where did you get that top?”.
[Fashion_Police]: Kary, steady on! She’s got a katana!
[Simp_King]: Oh god, a new waifu! Kary, move over, let me see!
[Weeb_Lord]: It’s a kunoichi! A ninja girl!
The stranger didn't appreciate the fashion critique. Stepping forward quickly, she whispered: “Piss off”.
And before Kary could lift her giant sword or even let out a shriek, the girl in black struck. Not with her katana, but with her fist. A short, precise left hook straight to the solar plexus. A proper gut-punch.
“Urgh...” was all Kary could manage.
The air was instantly sucked out of her lungs. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. Her corset, already making breathing difficult, became an instrument of torture. Karina folded like a cheap deckchair and collapsed to her knees, gasping like a fish out of water. A bright flash of pain pulsed through her stomach.
“Ugh... you cow...” she rasped, her forehead pressed against the grass. “I’m... I’m reporting you...”.
Struggling to lift her head through tear-filled eyes, she saw the girl in black turn around. He—the Assassin—stepped out of the shadows to join her. He didn't even look at the writhing Kary. He simply nodded to his companion, and both vanished into the dark forest as if they had never been there.
“Wait...” Kary moaned, reaching out to the void. “You... you forgot... to kiss me...”.
She rolled onto her side, curling into a ball on the damp grass. Dronny buzzed piteously above her, filming a close-up of her dirt-smudged cheek and trembling shoulders.
Quest Failed: The Secret of the Lord Viscount
Quest Failed: Catch the Crush
Status: Humiliated and Beaten
“Well, that’s it then,” Kary sobbed, looking into the camera with glazed eyes. “I’ve been beaten up. And dumped. And she didn't even tell me where she bought that top. This is... the worst stream of my life...”.
But deep down, through the pain and resentment, a new thought was forming: “She hit me. That means I’m a threat to her! She’s jealous! Ha! I knew it! The battle for the Assassin’s heart is only just beginning!”.
But for now, she just needed to lie there. And perhaps die of embarrassment.