68

At night—I looked at Ashiru sleeping on the futon laid about a meter away from my own bedding and thought to myself:

“How can she sleep so soundly?” …For a moment, I almost mistook her for someone great, but no, she was just a hopeless boob elf.

Summing up what I had learned about this useless boob today, she was more or less like this:

She had absolutely no survival skills and was basically lazy by nature.

She couldn’t do any proper household chores, dreamed of eating, sleeping, and living comfortably every day.

For that reason, she truly believed she could catch a man with money and power using her body, and thus was needlessly overconfident, selfish, and terrifyingly positive.

Even with me, a monster in appearance, she let her intentions show—“Maybe he’ll support me”—proving she had no concept of pride or dignity.

Her hobby was reading. She liked novels, showed little interest in academic works, also enjoyed comics. Often indifferent to anything outside her interests, she didn’t even know the celebrities of her own faction.

She had no combat ability whatsoever. Her physical coordination was pitiful, her learning ability poor, and overall she was well below the average elf in all respects.

She was bad at magic, only able to use fire and earth. Her firepower was laughable. By the way, her light magic was a “children’s spell” classified as a life magic.

Despite her very large breasts, she still had the slender, almost unfair body of an elf.

If I were to add more, it would be this: she also had “very little loyalty to her nation.”

I held my head in my hands as I looked at Ashiru sleeping soundly beside me.

(…Do I really have to take care of this one?)

To be blunt, this useless boob had a fatal flaw: she could not contribute any labor necessary for survival.

Yes, those ample fruits on her chest did provide comfort, but her uselessness irritated me just as much, meaning I’d need appropriate compensation to balance the scales.

In fact, unless I collected something in return, I couldn’t stand it.

So, I pulled back her futon and clothes to admire her naked body.

Her figure was, of course, superb—but the way she scratched her belly made me sigh.

(Yep. She’s a hopeless boob. I could call her a disappointing elf, but to me she’s not a woman—she’s just a pair of boobs.)

Alright then, from now on I would treat her as “boobs.”

It would take at least several days before the situation in the elf settlement changed.

This was a necessary measure to endure until then.

And so, I spent the night idly messing with the boobs sleeping beside me.

The next morning, since my body required little sleep despite activity, I woke surprisingly early.

I covered the still-sleeping elf’s bare chest with a blanket, got up, and washed my face.

I had no trouble eating meat in the morning anymore, but for the boobs beside me, such a heavy meal would be too much.

So I decided to run to the river—and also retrieve the supplies from the observation post.

In fact, the latter was my real goal.

Not knowing when she might wake, I needed to go and return quickly.

By now, the route to the observation post was worn enough to resemble an animal trail, so travel no longer took much time.

Perhaps I should do something to conceal the path, but I had no time now.

I entered the river, caught enough fish, processed them, and stuffed them into a cooler box before heading back.

On returning, I grilled the fish and went downstairs, but the boobs were still asleep.

So I yanked off her blanket—and her clothes, stripping her bare.

She woke with a scream, saw she was naked, and screamed again.

I shoved a note at her reading, “Breakfast is ready, go wash your face.”

Clutching the stripped-off white coat, she went upstairs.

I checked the fish as it grilled and set out the dishes.

With the fish skewered on long iron rods, the simple meal was done.

Back underground, I collected the useless boobs—covering herself with her arms and thighs—and carried her upstairs.

I handed her the white coat and watched her change while biting into grilled fish.

“Fish, huh…”

Muttering that, she took a skewer.

“I thought you only ate meat, but you eat fish too.”

She bit in, then exclaimed, “Oh, the salt’s perfect,” munching happily on the belly.

She said nothing about the innards being cleaned—pretty careless, this one.

We finished eating in silence. I forced her to clean up, and though she complained, she eventually came back downstairs.

I slipped her a note: “Time for a serious talk.”

She dove under the futon, so I smacked her butt.

Then I dragged the tearful boobs out and sat her on the cold floor, showing another note.

“After strict evaluation, it has been determined you have no value aside from your breasts. Furthermore, the value of those breasts is uncertain. Therefore, we must discuss your future treatment.”

Reading this, she turned her face away.

When I pushed the paper in front of her again, she shut her eyes.

I pinched her head, adding pressure.

“Ow, ow! It’ll crack! My head will crack!”

Opening her eyes, she saw the paper right before her.

In broken elf tongue, she muttered, “I… no understand Furon language.”

So I wrote it in elf tongue.

Now she clung to my legs in tears.

“Wait! If I go back to the village now, I’ll be killed, right!? You said you’d shelter me! Was I just a plaything to you!?”

She fabricated promises I had never made.

So I struck her with the truth:

“I never said that. Also, you lack the intelligence to be a plaything.”

She blinked at the note in confusion. What was even going on inside her head?

“Wait… are you looking down on me that much?”

Waving her hands and laughing, the Oppai elf asked.

To finish her off, I added a math problem I remembered from higher education and handed her a pen.

She froze.

“Hmph… You just scribbled something unsolvable, right? Do you even know what you wrote?”

Her smug face irritated me, so I solved the equation neatly, reviewed it, and handed over the answer sheet.

Her face went blank.

“Ah, I see. You just memorized it. Wow, good memory.”

She ruffled my hair, but her voice wavered and her eyes darted nervously.

I carefully wrote out six sheets, step by step explaining the solution.

Then, with mock politeness, I asked, “Do you understand now?” for the third time.

Expressionless, she kept her head lowered, motionless.

Maybe the shock was too much—but knowing her, she was probably thinking, If I stay silent, he’ll misunderstand and let things slide.

So I wrote a new note with options and handed it over.

-Present your own value.

-Return to the elf village.

-Live on your own.

-Emergency rations.

After staring at it, the boobs stood, went straight to the bookshelf, and brought back a book.

She sat, opened it, and presented it.

(So she had found it after all.)

It was one of the porn mags I had hidden. Now, I was excited to see what theory she’d spin.

She opened a page showing a curvy woman posing nude and, with a serious face, began explaining.

I nearly burst out laughing right there.

From halfway through, she started praising herself. To summarize:

“Books like this, showing women’s naked bodies, are valuable. The model’s looks and body shape greatly affect their worth. Therefore, as you can see from the size of my breasts, I have value worthy of praise. The proof is that most of the top models here have large breasts, and mine are even bigger.”

She spouted this nonsense proudly.

So I tilted my head, picked up the porn mag, pointed at the model’s pose, then pointed at the boobs.

The model was kneeling with both hands behind her head, chest arched, gaze seductive.

Do it—that was my intent.

Snorting, she copied the pose.

But with her white coat still on. So I showed her a note: “Clothes.”

She clenched her fists, teeth grinding—but then stripped off the coat and posed nude.

“Your expression is stiff.”

I wrote, showing her the model’s seductive face.

Every time she complained, I countered. Again and again she redid the poses.

By the end, she had done over thirty poses. When I checked the time, it was already noon.

(Well, that was a good way to kill time. I missed Number 6’s show, but it was a fruitful day.)

I nodded, convinced this was the right way to handle her, and sighed at the exhausted boobs collapsed on the floor.

Well, this way, I could put up with her for a few more days.

I planned to send Ashiru back to the settlement soon, probably to Number 6.

But owing her would be dangerous.

So I’d frame it like this:

“You dumped that dead weight on me, didn’t you?”

Words were everything.

I wouldn’t be entrusting Ashiru, I’d be returning her.

That way, instead of owing, I’d make it seem like I was owed—because of how useless she was.

Pleased with my own genius, I burst out laughing, “gagaga.”

As for her evaluation, I left it at: “Still unclear. Try harder tomorrow.”

Which meant tomorrow would also be fun.

Checking the south would have to wait, but sometimes, a break like this was nice too.