“Alright — we’re buying the shipping company. The WHOLE thing. Split the investment fifty-fifty, us and your company.”
“Come again?!”
The krakens are getting exterminated this trip regardless. That’s settled.
And for the scurvy — I happen to hold the ultimate trump card.
The disease that tormented sailors through Earth’s own Age of Sail.
Honestly, bean sprouts in planters aboard every ship would solve it outright — score one for modern knowledge.
It’s vitamin C deficiency, at root — teeth fall out, resistance to infection collapses, that whole picture.
And my guess is this entire REGION eats a chronically lopsided diet, running a permanent background vitamin deficit.
Stack punishing long-voyage rations on top of that, and scurvy cases explode… that’s the likely mechanism.
Point is: both causes of the shipping company’s collapse are removable.
Remove them, and this lane is a certified gold mine — so yes, we will be taking our cut.
We spent the night at an inn, and the next day—
“The vongole bianco is delicious~♪”
“Spaghetti, yum yum~♪”
“Clam, clam, carrot, clam, carrot~♪”
Leaving the acquisition to Arisa, the rest of us committed fully to sea bathing and clam digging.
The asari clams came up in absurd quantities, so I made vongole bianco with the pasta we’d packed as travel rations.
Essentially: sake-steamed clams meets peperoncino. That school of dish.
Garlic, chili, and white wine — or sake, or cooking wine — and it practically makes itself.
“The garlic really carries it. Delicious.”
That review from Maria — wearing a purple micro bikini.
The lower half is comparatively modest, but the chest situation is critical. One wrong jostle from a wardrobe emergency at all times.
Bombshell succubus that she is, it’s past “sexy” and well into public-menace territory.
Even Atomu-kun — a committed lolicon — kept stealing glances at Maria’s chest, breathing audibly.
“Masterful as ever, Master. Living in the great forest, I never learned to prepare shellfish at all…”
Maria runs soft-curvy; Ouroboros runs slim.
Both, however, are substantially endowed.
Maria’s chest wears the micro bikini; Ouroboros keeps hers properly covered.
HOWEVER — Ouroboros selected a T-back… electing to attack from the rear axis instead.
And once again, even the committed lolicon Atomu-kun kept stealing glances at Ouroboros’s backside, breathing audibly.
“Extra-large carrot spaghetti~!”
Mm, yes — Sonya suits the white school swimsuit remarkably well.
That sweet face really does carry it— wait, HOLD ON.
Why a SCHOOL swimsuit? Why WHITE? …Well, she does spend hours on my phone, so the provenance isn’t exactly a mystery…
For the record, Sonya — appearance-wise middle-to-high-school — falls OUTSIDE Atomu-kun’s range. His code is strict.
“Never mind all that — Boku wants to inspect the ships’ hull construction… also, it turns out Boku cannot swim.”
And here’s the dwarf child in a navy school swimsuit. A confirmed hammer in water, apparently.
Atomu-kun gazed upon Katia with an expression of transcendent, beatific bliss.
“FUHAHA! A micro bikini! How long it has BEEN!”
Maria’s top half meets Ouroboros’s bottom half, is perhaps the description.
—The DEMON LORD, against every projection, claimed the highest exposure rating on the beach.
Also — “how long it has been”?! You’ve WORN one before?!
Well… she did co-run a restaurant with a Japanese-ish person once upon a time, so.
Atomu-kun, for the record, was face-down in the sand with a nosebleed.
For a man whose creed is Yes Lolita No Touch, the exposure levels had simply exceeded rated tolerances.
After we all ate, Maria sidled up with a “won’t you come over to those rocks with me a moment?”
It seemed like something important, so I followed, and…
“Lord Tatsuya?”
“Hm? What is it?”
“Succubi, you see… go into heat when they eat garlic.”
“Which is why YOUR vongole had almost none in it?”
“Also… dressing lewdly excites the spirit all on its own. I endured admirably — but even that trace of garlic has… set the feelings alight.”
“Oi oi, it’s broad daylight—”
And then Ouroboros appeared.
“Fufu — Master? My first-ever sea has left me feeling rather… liberated, as well…”
Ah. This… this is the Bad Pattern.
Both of them have the fully-switched-on eyes.
“No, listen, in the middle of the DAY—”
“Lord Tatsuya…”
“Master…”
And so — “AAAAAH!” — my scream echoed off the rocks and out to sea.
For the record: we got so carried away that all three of us completely forgot about the sun — and spent the following day suffering magnificent full-body sunburns.