Chapter 531: Pretty Boy Act 2
“C’mon, don’t cry! You actually did well for your first try.” One receptionist who looked more mature than the rest ran to me and held my shoulders, her voice warm and motherly, her hands gentle as she helped me to my feet. “That was a very good attempt. Most beginners don’t even get that close. You have potential, young man—you just need a bit more training.”
I nodded and asked for the next attractio—I mean, contest of strength and endurance, my voice lilting with feigned enthusiasm as I wiped the fake tears from my eyes and straightened my posture.
One of them pointed toward the next station, gesturing at a massive stone block that sat in the corner of the training hall.
The next challenge was for me to pull a heavy stone that had a chain attached to it. The block was enormous—easily the size of a small car, its surface rough and gray, covered in the dust of ages.
And the thick iron chain was bolted to one end, its links heavy and rusted, snaking across the floor toward a marked line about twenty feet away.
The receptionist explained that I needed to drag the stone to that line, demonstrating that I had at least the baseline strength required to handle basic adventuring tasks like moving debris or pulling injured comrades to safety.
Of course I pulled the stone to a certain level—just far enough to show that I wasn’t completely useless, but not so far that I’d raise any eyebrows—before I feigned innocent boy again, letting my face contort with exaggerated effort, my breath coming in short, theatrical gasps.
I should apply for an acting role, truly. I didn’t know I even had this talent.
I stumbled forward, clutching my chest, letting out a small whimper of exhaustion that was just loud enough for everyone to hear.
The effect was immediate. The receptionists rushed toward me in a flurry of concern, their hands reaching out to steady me, their voices cooing with reassurance.
Hahah—!
Hm.
Their breathing started getting hotter with every embrace, and I’m starting to suspect something.
Something about the way their fingers lingered on my shoulders, and the way their bodies pressed just a little too close.
[Hey, ma’am, you’re touching somewhere inappropriate.] I yelled internally, as I felt a hand slide a little too far down my back, fingertips brushing against the curve of my rear.
Anyway, all the attractions and fun gym toys were entertaining; the straight leap, the punching bag which was filled with stone, the running on what felt like sinking sand, among other “tough” requirements to fulfill.
Each test was designed to push a novice adventurer to their limits, to see if they had the physical foundation to survive in the field.
The punching bag was particularly brutal—a leather cylinder packed with gravel and sand, so dense that each punch felt like striking a wall.
The sand pit was deceptively challenging, the loose grains shifting beneath my feet with every step, making progress intentionally slow and exhausting.
I succeeded in most of them before evening started to hit, my performance carefully calibrated to be impressive enough to pass but unremarkable enough to avoid suspicion.
I showed bursts of strength that were just above average, moments of speed that were decent but not extraordinary, endurance that was solid but not superhuman level.
And every time I succeeded—alongside every time I “failed” in a way that was just pathetic enough to be endearing—I got groped through the pretext of comforting me.
Hands squeezing my ass hard, some slithering near my crotch and bodies pressing on me from all sides; it was supposed to feel good, but their manic gazes reminded me of Heka and Silverøse.
That same hungry look, desperate intensity… that inability to control themselves in the presence of something they desired.
I was a piece of meat to them, a pretty toy to be fondled and squeezed, and while a part of me enjoyed the attention—I couldn’t deny that it was flattering—another part of me was kinda uncomfortable.
After the head receptionist kissed me wetly, her tongue dancing inside my mouth, just to deliver the news that I passed the strength and endurance test, Eric had had it.
He stepped forward, his face flushed with maybe anger or embarrassment, or both, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, clearly struggling to find the right words.
No, why was he even watching it occur in the first place?
He had looked uncomfortable throughout the whole ordeal, his eyes darting away whenever the touching got too intimate, his jaw tight with what seemed like barely suppressed frustration.
But that pervert… He might have been enjoying the scene a bit, after all.
Well, I kinda gave the women the opportunity to do this, since they seemed professional beforehand.
They’d been polite, efficient, and businesslike.
The sudden shift in their behavior had caught me off guard a little.
And I do have a highly attractive form to both genders, coupled with the idea that people hardly dislike me when I’m not doing anything.
It wasn’t arrogance; my entire features all worked together to create an effect that was hypnotic, drawing people in and making them want to be close to me.
So I can’t say I blame them.
But what they did was sorta molestation. They’d touched me without permission, kissed me without consent, and pushed boundaries that shouldn’t have been pushed.
And I’d let them… because a (large) part of me had liked it.
Before we left the gym-like place, I stopped and turned to them with a pout, my expression carefully crafted to be more playful than angry, and more disappointed than offended.
“Hey… you know, I just let you guys do all that with me because that’s who I am,” I started in a whisper, my voice flowing just enough to reach their ears but not loud enough to attract attention from outside. “I won’t say I hated it, and Miss Head Receptionist is a damn good kisser too. But what you guys did was wrong since I didn’t give my permission.”
The women widened their eyes, looked at each other for a moment.
They seem to be scared I was angry and was going to report them or something worse. Their faces had gone pale, their hands trembling, their earlier confidence evaporating like mist in the morning sun.
“If I have some free time, when Heka is asleep, I’ll sneak back for real,” I smiled warmly, letting my expression soften into something more inviting and forgiving. “I’m a pervert too, you know. Just promise me you won’t do this to other people again. You might get in real trouble, for goodness sake.”
As I felt the women’s hearts relax and relief returning to their faces—their shoulders dropping, their breaths evening out, their fearful expressions melting into gratitude—we all walked out.
The tension that had been building in the room dissipated like a popped bubble, replaced by something lighter and kinda giddy.
And I think Eric was smiling like his elder brother just won the presidential election. His face was practically glowing, and his eyes crinkled with amusement..
He looked proud, impressed, like he’d just watched me do something incredibly clever and was still processing the genius of it.
But actually, I was pretty mature back there, huh?
I’d handled a potentially explosive situation with understanding and a level of emotional intelligence that people didn’t always possess.
…Or I just blatantly exposed my promiscuousity in front of my would-be admirers.
That was the other interpretation—that I’d basically told them I was available for future encounters, that I’d opened the door for more of the same behavior down the line.
It was a risk, but a calculated one. I’d made allies, not enemies, and that was worth more than a little embarrassment.
Either way, I passed the test and that’s what matters. The strength and endurance portion was behind me, and I was one step closer to my goal. The rest would be easy.
***
I also passed the written test, but I am ashamed to inform you Heka did better than me overall.
The parchment had been placed in front of me in a quiet corner of the guild, away from the chaos of the main hall, and I’d filled it out with careful precision, drawing on my knowledge of this world and my general intelligence to answer the questions correctly.
I wasn’t trying to hold back, but I wasn’t asking Sys for answers as well.
I’d gotten most of them right—enough to pass, and to prove I wasn’t an idiot—but Heka’s score had been perfect.
She’d aced every single question, her knowledge of monsters and safety protocols putting mine to shame.
It stung, just a little.
I was supposed to be the clever one, the one who could talk his way out of anything. But Heka had beaten me fair and square, and I had to respect that.
She’d grown up in a world where this knowledge was survival, where knowing the difference between a wyvern and a dragon could mean the difference between life and death.