Kary was perched on the branch of an ancient oak, swinging her legs carelessly. From below, the angle offered the viewers a breathtaking view: white stockings with red bows, a sliver of pale skin, and the teasing edge of lace knickers illuminated by the hovering drone.
"Where is he, then?" the girl drawled petulantly, checking her manicure. "The System promised a nocturnal predator, but in reality, he’s a lazy git. I’ve already had time to fix my makeup twice and tell the story of how I was banned from the school disco because of my skirt length."
[NightOwl]: Kary, maybe hop down? The angle from below is top-tier, obviously, but if he jumps... [Tactician]: Ogres don’t jump; their agility is in the bin. But they do lob rocks. And trees. [Simp_King]: Good god, those bows... I’d bloody die for those bows.
"No need to die, darling, just need to donate," Kary replied instinctively. "As for hopping down..."
The earth shuddered.
At first, the vibration felt like a phone buzzing in a pocket, but a second later, the oak shook so violently that acorns began raining down.
THUD. THUD.
Heavy, wet footsteps. The crunch of snapping branches. And the smell. That stench, which had made her eyes water during the day, had now thickened, as if someone had uncorked a bottle of perfume called Essence of the Tip.
"Ugh, minging," Kary pinched her nose with dainty fingers. "Here we go. Dronny, lights! Camera! Action!"
A mountain of flesh tumbled out of the cave. Bone-Cruncher the Ogre was awake, and he was in a foul mood.
In the combined light of the moon and the drone’s spotlight, he looked even more nightmarish than before: massive, swamp-green, with crooked yellow tusks jutting from his lower jaw. Small, vicious eyes glowed crimson. In his hand, the monster gripped a colossal club made from an uprooted tree.
A health bar flared above his head—long, red, and thick as a Cumberland sausage.
[Bone-Cruncher the Ogre (Elite Boss). Level 15] [Status: Peckish. Irritated.]
"HRAAAAAGH!" The creature’s roar sent a shower of leaves cascading down.
Kary leapt from the branch. The landing was textbook—a perfect superhero pose, one knee down, head bowed. Her red skirt flared out like a parachute, revealing everything beneath it for a split second, right down to the size tag.
[Chat_Bot]: Clip "Victory Knickers" created by user xX_Perv_Xx!
"Alright then, gorgeous," Kary straightened up, drawing her giant sword. "Have a nice kip? Brushed your teeth? Because you smell like you’ve been snacking on... erm... other ogres?"
The ogre swung his massive head toward the voice. His gaze focused on the tiny (by comparison) figure in red.
"MEAT!" he roared. "SWEET MEAT!"
"Oi!" the streamer protested. "I’m not meat! I’m an influencer! And I’m on a diet anyway—I’m nothing but bones and charisma!"
The monster didn't stop for a chat. He simply wound up and brought his club down right where the girl had been standing a heartbeat ago.
CRASH!
The ground exploded in a fountain of dirt and splinters. But Kary was already gone. Activating the [Wind Step] skill, she blurred to the side, leaving an afterimage behind.
"Too slow!" she shouted, appearing at his flank. "You’re far too big and clumsy! Like my ex trying to do the robot!"
She swung her sword. The heavy blade traced an arc and slammed into the green ankle.
CLANG!
The sound was like hitting the armour of a tank.
[Damage: 45 (Blocked by thick hide)]
"What?!" Kary’s eyes went wide. "Forty-five damage? He’s got four thousand HP! I’ll be chipping away at him until the next patch!"
The ogre bellowed—not from pain, but out of sheer annoyance—and tried to kick the pestering midge. Kary dodged with a roll. Her corset strained dangerously, and her chest swayed with such amplitude that the chat momentarily forgot the battle was even happening.
"Right, change of tactics!" she panted. "Kiting! Hit and run! Dronny, keep the angle steady; I don’t want them seeing me sweat!"
The fight turned into a lethal dance. The ogre smashed trees, ploughed the earth with his nose, and screamed as he tried to catch the nimble girl. Kary flitted around him, landing quick, stinging blows. She felt like an anime protagonist: wind in her hair, adrenaline in her veins, and a scrolling bar of donations before her eyes...
But there was a snag. Every time she found herself in front of the ogre, her eyes instinctively slid downward. To the loincloth.
Yes, in the heat of battle, the "morning marquee" had vanished. The fabric hung loose now, flapping against the monster’s thighs with every movement. But Kary remembered.
Good lord, he’s massive, flashed through her mind as she ducked another swing. What if he... uses it as a weapon? What if he’s got a "Third Leg" skill?
These thoughts were wrecking her concentration. Instead of watching the club, she was squinting at the hairy hide between the enemy's legs.
"Ugh, Kary, pull yourself together!" she scolded herself aloud. "You deviant! You’re fighting a monster and you’re thinking about... about..."
The ogre, meanwhile, was starting to flag. His health bar was slowly but surely creeping toward the red zone.
[Bone-Cruncher the Ogre. Health: 15%]
"Go on then!" the chat cheered.
[Tactician]: He’s about to enrage! Berserker phase! Don’t stand in front of him!
"I can see that!" Kary shouted, jumping back.
Bone-Cruncher froze. His skin began to flush a deep crimson, and steam literally started puffing from his ears (just like a cartoon). He tossed his club aside.
"Oh, is he giving up then?" Kary asked hopefully, lowering her sword. "Have we won? Dronny, give me a close-up on my victory face!"
"SMASH!!!" the Ogre roared. He hammered his fists into the ground.
[Boss Skill: Seismic Slam]
A ripple of shockwave force radiated outward. Kary knew this pattern—you have to jump. She’d seen it a thousand times in other games. But at that exact second, the Ogre, bracing for the jump, spread his legs wide.
The loincloth fell open.
There were, of course, some rough leather undergarments beneath it (the System’s censorship was working, though only just), but in the moonlight, Kary thought... she thought she saw the Abyss. And the Abyss winked back.
"Oh, bloody hell..." she exhaled, freezing on the spot with her mouth agape.
The thought of what that could do to her paralysed her more effectively than any magic. The shockwave reached its target.
BANG!
Kary was tossed into the air like a ragdoll.
[Status: Stunned (5 seconds)] [Damage: 300 (Critical)]
She slammed down onto her back, hitting the roots hard. Her sword flew from her hand and vanished into the bushes. Her head was ringing; stars and debuff icons danced before her eyes.
"Ow..." she groaned. "My hair..."
Her attempt to stand failed: her body wouldn't obey, her legs felt like jelly, and her arms refused to lift.
"Get up!" the chat screamed.
[Simp_King]: Kary! Leg it! [Healer_Ivan]: That’s it, GG. Threw the match because she was ogling the boss’s crown jewels. Classic.
A shadow fell over her. A massive, stinking shadow. Kary struggled to focus. The Ogre was looming over her. He didn't look funny anymore. He looked terrifying. And very, very big.
"Girl..." he rasped, breathing heavily. Drool dripped right onto her new blouse. "Pretty girl... smells tasty."
"Don't eat me!" Kary squeaked, trying to scramble away. Her legs kicked at the dirt, hiking her skirt up scandalously, but that was the least of her worries now. "I’m not tasty! I’m half-silicone! You’ll get proper indigestion!"
The Ogre reached down and scooped up his prize. His palm wrapped around her waist entirely; the corset creaked under the pressure.
"Aah!" Kary shrieked as the ground vanished from beneath her.
The monster lifted her to eye level. She dangled in the air, kicking her legs in their white stockings. Dronny, faithful to the end, circled around, broadcasting the humiliation to the entire world.
"Bone-Cruncher not eat," the Ogre declared, inspecting his trophy. "Bone-Cruncher take to cave. Bone-Cruncher... play."
His eyes gleamed with a greasy light. Kary’s heart sank. "Play"? With this? With the backup club?
"No!" she screamed, hammering her fists against a green finger as thick as her arm. "Put me down! I’ll complain! I’ll write to tech support! This is harassment!"
The Ogre merely smirked and began marching toward his lair. Kary dangled in his fist like a keychain.
"Crap, crap, crap!" she panicked. "I need to bail! I need to log off!"
She frantically summoned the menu with a gesture (which is quite difficult when you're being shaken like a cocktail). There it was, the blessed [Log Out] button. Grey, but usually functional. Kary jabbed it with her finger.
[System Message: Error. Unable to exit the game while in combat.]
[You are currently in a 'Restrained' state. Please free yourself to leave the world.]
"What?!" Her eyes filled with tears. "What do you mean 'cannot'?! I’m a VIP! I’m on a rigged rig! Grandad, do something!"
She jabbed the button again and again.
[Error.]
[Error.]
[The enemy is holding you. Logout blocked.]
The Ogre entered the vaults of the cave. The darkness closed in, and the stench of rotten meat and unwashed body became unbearable.
"System!" — Kary screamed into the void, her voice cracking. — "This is a bug! Let me out! I’ve got a mum at home! I’ve got a manicure appointment!"
The Ogre tossed her onto a pile of hides—right where he had slept during the day. Kary bounced off the stinking fur.
"Stay," the monster grunted. "Bone-Cruncher close door. So other ogres not steal my... toy."
He walked to the entrance and, with a thunderous crash, shoved a massive boulder across it, cutting off her path to freedom. The gloom in the cave thickened, dispersed only by the frantic flickering of the drone’s light. Kary huddled into the hides, pulling her knees to her chest. Her red skirt was crumpled, her stockings had slipped, and her hair was a mess. She looked like a victim at the start of a horror movie.
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"This isn't a game," she whispered, watching the massive shadow approach. "This... this is for real."
Panic reigned in the chat.
[Simp_King]: Call the police! Or the coastguard! Or an exorcist!
[Admin_Bot]: This broadcast may contain scenes of violence. Rating updated to 18+.
[Tactician]: Kary, do you have a teleportation scroll in your inventory? No? Well, you're properly knackered then.
Bone-Cruncher loomed over her. Kary screwed her eyes shut, feeling a tear roll down her cheek. The logout button remained grey. The quest was failed. And her life, it seemed, was only just beginning to turn into a nightmare.
"Grandad..." she sobbed. "Where’s your bloody boot when I actually need it?"
The heavy, stinking silence of the cave pressed against her ears. The only sounds were the Ogre’s heavy breathing and the frantic pounding of a heart ready to burst through the ribs of her corset. Kary squeezed her eyes shut so hard that colourful blobs swam before her vision, mingling with the chat interface.
"This is it," flashed through her mind as she curled into a ball on the filthy hides, instinctively trying to cover with her hem what half the internet had already seen. "I’m about to be eaten. Or... oh god, I’d rather be eaten. Mum, I’m sorry, I didn’t clear my browser history!"
Bone-Cruncher hovered over her, his massive shadow swallowing her trembling figure. The smell of rot became intolerable. He reached a paw toward the ties of his "tent." And then...
SWISH!
The sound was quiet, like the rustle of silk being sliced by a razor. But it cut through everything.
The Ogre froze. The hand that was ready to reveal the ghastly truth of monster anatomy stalled in mid-air. The creature's eyes, which had been burning with lust and hunger, suddenly went glassy.
"Eh?" he asked the void stupidly.
Above his head, right over the health bar, an icon flared: [Fatal Blow]. And then the bar itself, which had been at fifteen percent just a moment ago, evaporated instantly.
POOF!
The massive carcass, weighing perhaps half a ton, didn't fall on Kary (which was what she feared most). No. It simply disintegrated.
It looked like a scene from a low-budget sci-fi flick: the monster’s green body cracked, bright light erupted from the fissures, and then it exploded into a myriad of gold and blue pixels. The light particles swirled in the air, illuminating the cave, and slowly settled on the floor, turning into a small pile of items.
Kary opened one eye. Then the other. There was no monster before her. Instead, there was a heap of loot and...
"Oh..." she exhaled, and this sigh wasn't out of fear at all.
Out of the darkness, as if woven from shadows and fever dreams, HE stepped forth.
A man. No, an ideal. He didn't wear clunky plate mail like that boring knight in the village. He wore a skin-tight, matte-black suit that looked like a cross between ninja gear and a fetish model's kit. The fabric (or was it leather?) hugged every muscle, highlighting a shredded six-pack, broad shoulders, and powerful thighs. His face was hidden by a mask, leaving only piercing, cold grey eyes visible.
No name or level hung above his head. Only a question mark: [???].
[Chat_Bot]: OMG! WHO IS THAT?!
[GayIcon]: I’ve just changed my orientation. Did you see those abs?!
[Tactician]: That’s a 'Shadow Blade' class! He’s got Stealth maxed out! He one-shotted the boss!
[Simp_King]: Kary, fix your skirt! We can see everything!
Kary was in no hurry to fix her skirt. On the contrary, still sitting on the hides, she arched her back slightly, leaning on her hands behind her. This low-angle perspective allowed the Stranger (and the viewers) to appreciate the depth of her cleavage, which was heaving particularly provocatively after the stress.
"Did you... did you save me?" she whispered, batting her eyelashes. "My hero..."
The Stranger approached her silently. He moved noiselessly, like a cat. Kary held her breath. Now he’ll offer his hand, lift me up, press me to his muscular chest, and say: "You’re safe now, princess." He leaned down. A hand in a black glove reached toward her...
Kary closed her eyes and puckered her lips.
GRAB!
"Hey!" Her eyes snapped open.
The assassin had reached past her outstretched hand. He leaned down to the pile of loot left by the Ogre. With a deft movement, he scooped up everything: the gold pouch (five hundred coins!), some glowing stone, the massive tusk, and, most insultingly, the very loincloth that had dropped as a trophy.
[System Message: Player [Hidden] has picked up your loot.]
[System Message: You have received 0 experience. (Reason: Insufficient contribution to the kill)]
"Oi!" Kary fumed, forgetting her role as the rescued damsel. "That’s my loot! I kited him for half an hour! I was sweating! I ripped a stocking!"
The Stranger straightened up, tucking the loot into a belt pouch. He finally looked at Kary. His grey eyes swept over her ruffled hair, the corset strap that had slipped off her shoulder, the flared skirt revealing her lace knickers, and stopped on her indignant face.
He said nothing. He simply tilted his head slightly, and a spark of... mockery? flickered in his eyes.
Then he stepped closer. Kary instinctively squeezed her knees together but kept looking up, her mouth agape. He reached out his hand. This time—to her.
A firm, gloved palm gripped her forearm. With a single yank, and without visible effort, he hauled the girl to her feet. Kary, not expecting such strength, tumbled forward by momentum and collided with him. She felt the hardness of his chest, the smell of expensive leather and something cold and metallic.
"Oh..." she squeaked, pressing her palms against his abs. "It’s... very firm here."
The assassin lingered with his hand on her waist for a second—just long enough to help her regain her balance, but long enough for Kary to feel the heat of his fingers even through the corset. Dronny, buzzing with delight, did a 360-degree flyby, capturing the scene: a fragile blonde in a naughty milkmaid outfit in the arms of a broody assassin.
[FanFic_Writer]: I’m writing it! I’m writing the fanfic right now!
The Stranger let her go and stepped back into the shadows.
"Thanks... I suppose?" Kary said uncertainly, fixing her strap. "But give me the money back! I need it for a manicure!"
He didn't answer. The darkness thickened, enveloping his figure. The outlines of his body began to blur.
"Wait!" she shouted. "What’s your name? Give me your handle! I’ll add you! We can... farm together!"
The last thing she saw before he vanished was a slight nod. And that was it. The cave was empty once again, save for the pile of stinking hides and Kary herself.
"What a git!" she stomped her foot. "Handsome, ripped, mysterious... git! He robbed a poor girl!"
She kicked a stone.
[Quest Failed: Ogre Hunt]
[Reason: Target destroyed by another player.]
"Whatever!" the streamer huffed, turning away from the void. "Look at the content, though! Chat, did you see? There was a proper spark between us! I’m certain he’s in love. He’s just shy. Those quiet ones are always the biggest deviants deep down."
She sat down tiredly on a rock at the entrance. The adrenaline receded, and a wave of exhaustion hit her. Her legs ached, the corset was too tight, and the Ogre’s smell seemed to have seeped into her skin.
"Right, I’m bailing," she announced. "That’s enough adventure for one day. I need a shower and a tub of ice cream."
She opened the menu. The [Log Out] button was glowing a welcoming blue once again.
"Bye, my sweethearts!" she blew a kiss to the camera, choosing an angle that showed off her legs one last time. "Stream tomorrow... or whenever I wake up. Love you, mean it, donate for my therapist!"
A press of the button. The world blinked and went out.
"Rain! I summon thee, great heavenly moisture! Water the earth, so that my weeds may grow to the heavens and choke my neighbour Nina’s potatoes!"
The first thing Karina heard upon returning to reality was her grandfather’s voice.
She was sitting in her cellar chair. The monitor hummed quietly, showing the stats for the finished stream, but the numbers didn't matter right now. The girl was still shaking. The phantom sensation of the Ogre’s hands on her waist and the assassin’s firm abs against her palms mixed into a strange cocktail of fear and arousal.
"Phew..." she pulled off the taped headphones and rubbed her face. "Home. I’m home. No ogres. No 'tents'. Just mould and Grandad."
She stood up, her joints cracking. The pink polka-dot shorts, which had seemed the height of modesty in the game compared to her outfits, were now sticking to her body.
The crashing upstairs continued. Karina climbed the stairs, opened the door, and froze. On the kitchen table, right in the middle, loomed Grandad Ignat.
He was in his usual form: a striped vest, anchor-print boxers, and, of course, a black rubber wellie on his head, worn backwards like a wizard’s cap. In his hands, he held the ladle and, waving it like a conductor’s baton, bellowed at the ceiling.
"Abra-ka-dabra! Weather bureau, fall before me! Clouds, gather!"
"Grandad!" Karina groaned tiredly, leaning against the doorframe. "Why are you on the table? If Mum finds out, she’ll kill us. That’s an antique!"
Ignat froze mid-pass. He slowly turned his head (the boot stayed put, slipping over his ear) and looked at his granddaughter with a manic but piercing gaze.
"Oh, you’ve returned, wanderer," he croaked. "I smell something..." he sniffed the air. "The smell of fear. And male sweat. And..." he squinted at her legs. "...and stinging nettles. Have you been in the woods?"
"The woods, Grandad, the woods," Karina lied, walking over to the stove. "Looking for mushrooms. But there aren't any. Just toadstools. And some maniacs in black."
"In black..." Grandad thoughtfully scratched his beard with the ladle. "The Shadow is advancing. The Silent Guild is active again. I knew it! They want to steal my sauerkraut recipe!"
"Yeah, obviously," Karina pulled a tin of tushonka and a bag of buckwheat from the cupboard. "Get down from there, you indoor shaman. We're having dinner. I’m going to cook my signature masterpiece."
"Masterpiece?" Grandad looked at the tin with suspicion. "Is that the thing that tried to escape the pot last time?"
"Don't be cheeky. It’s 'Merchant-style' buckwheat. Mostly. If you close your eyes and pretend we’re in a restaurant."
Karina started cooking. She was as much of a chef as that Ogre was a ballerina. She dumped the buckwheat into the pot without even rinsing it ("the boiling water will kill the germs!"), added water by eye, and plopped in the contents of the tushonka tin, white fat and all.
As the brew bubbled, spreading the smell of bay leaves and cheap meat, Karina stirred it with a spoon, occasionally leaning over the stove. Her camisole slipped, revealing her back, and Grandad, who had finally climbed down from the table, tactfully looked away, muttering something about the "temptations of Saint Anthony."
"Listen, granddaughter," Ignat began, sitting on a stool and adjusting his boot. "Did you see... any greens out there in the woods?"
Karina froze with the spoon in her hand.
"Greens?" she repeated, trying to keep her voice steady. "Do you mean frogs?"
"The Big Greens," Grandad made terrifying eyes. "Ogres. They’re thick as a plank but strong. I remember, in 2014... I mean, in the Age of the Rift... one of them stole my staff. Thought it was a toothpick."
Karina gave a nervous giggle.
"Grandad, are you telling your tall tales again? Back in 2014, you were sat at the cottage doing crosswords."
"That’s what you thought!" Ignat exclaimed. "I was on a raid! We were clearing Mirkwood! And there was one... called Bone-Cruncher. Had a daft habit of sleeping on his back. And snoring loud enough to shake the textures."
Karina dropped her spoon into the pot. The greasy water splashed onto the stove with a hiss.
"Bone-Cruncher?" she whispered. "Sleeping on his back?"
"Aye," Grandad nodded, oblivious to her reaction. "And he had a certain... er... feature. Anatomical. We called him 'Tripod'. Well, you know," he winked with his one good eye. "Properly awkward fighting a bloke like that. Gave the lads an inferiority complex."
Karina’s ears turned beet red.
How does he know?! she panicked internally. Was he spying on my stream? But he doesn't even have internet! His phone is an old Nokia brick you could use to crack walnuts!
"You’re just... you've got too much imagination, Grandad," she managed, switching off the stove. "Let’s eat. And forget your ogres. It’s just... your nerves. You need some valerian drops."
She plopped a dollop of greyish mush with bits of meat into the bowls. It looked revolting, but after her adventures, she was absolutely famished.
"And the one in black..." Grandad continued, his mouth full of buckwheat. "If you meet him... keep your distance. Or get closer. Depends on what you’re after. The Assassins’ Guild—serious blokes, those. They don't share loot. They take everything. Hearts included."
Karina nearly choked.
"Grandad, eat in silence!" she snapped. "My head hurts from your rubbish. What loot? What assassins? It’s all just stories!"
Ignat shrugged, a sly grin hidden in his beard.
"Every story has a grain of truth... and a lesson for a pretty lass. Don't go wool-gathering when you're looting a boss, granddaughter."
Dinner passed in silence. Karina finished quickly, rinsed the dishes (deciding the grease was probably good for her skin), and hurried to her room.
"Night, Archmage," she called out from the stairs.
"Stay frosty!" Grandad called back, climbing back onto the table. "The night watch begins!"
Karina closed her bedroom door, leaned her back against it, and slid down to the floor.
"Madhouse," she whispered. "Absolute madhouse. Grandad’s loopy, but it’s so consistent... maybe he read the same books as the game developers?"
She undressed, leaving only her knickers on (the red ones—she was too lazy to take them off, and they were lovely, anyway), and dived under the scratchy patchwork quilt.
The bed gave its habitual groan: Squee-ee-eak.
Karina closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. Instead of darkness, a picture flared behind her eyelids in 8K resolution: the damp gloom of the cave, the golden dust of the disintegrated ogre, and... him. The Assassin.
She replayed the moment in her head like a looped TikTok clip. There he was, stepping out of the shadows—a ninja made of pure testosterone and noir. There were his strong hands, picking her up as if she weighed no more than a teddy bear.
Her memory helpfully provided the tactile sensations. Karina rolled onto her stomach, hugging her pillow, and imagined it wasn't a damp-smelling sack of feathers, but the granite-firm chest of her saviour.
"He was so... solid," she sighed dreamily, rubbing her cheek against the pillowcase. "Not a gram of fat. Purely functional. And that suit... Mmm..."
Her imagination immediately filled in the details she’d missed in the cave. In her fantasy, the Assassin stood in the middle of her bedroom. Moonlight played across the black latex (or was it dragon leather? Who cares, it was skin-tight!), outlining every ripple of muscle.
"You took my loot," she whispered into the pillow, role-playing both parts. "How are you going to pay me back, you rogue?"
In her head, the Assassin approached the bed with the same cold confidence he’d shown in battle. His grey eyes flashed from the slit of his mask. He offered no excuses. He simply, slowly, pulled off a glove, revealing a hand with long, elegant fingers...
Karina bit her lip, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through her, making her toes curl.
I wonder if the mask comes off? she thought. Or is he like the Mandalorian—never shows his face? Actually, no, keep the mask on. It’s +100 to charisma and +50 to mystery. And his mouth... he definitely has nice lips. Firm. Commanding.
She imagined those lips (through the mask? No, he could pull it up a bit, like Spider-Man!) touching her neck. Right where a stray lock of hair was tickling her.
"Oh..." she exhaled, arching her back. The old bed let out a piteous moan, but Karina was far away.
In her dreams, there was no shabby cottage. No smell of tinned meat.
She saw a vast, gothic hall. Candles, velvet, a fireplace the size of a garage. And in the middle—a bed. Massive, like an airfield. With a canopy of heavy red silk and a duvet you could drown in.
The Assassin sweeps her up into his arms (she’s in the milkmaid outfit, obviously, but clean and even more revealing) and carries her to this altar of passion.
"You've been a naughty girl, Kary," he says in that low, vibrating voice (the one she’d invented for him, since he’d been silent in reality). "Going after an Ogre alone. You need to be punished."
"Punish me!" real-world Karina whispered soundlessly, clutching the quilt with her legs. "Make me work off that loot! All night long!"
She imagined him throwing her onto the silk sheets. The springs of the royal bed didn't squeak—they sang a symphony of pleasure. He loomed over her, his leather suit creaking pleasantly as he moved, pressing against her bare skin...
"Oh, I'd love to rattle the springs with him..." she muttered aloud, finally losing the edge between dream and reality. "Not on this piece of junk, of course. On a royal bed. With a canopy. So the whole castle can hear..."
With that sweet, lingering thought, accompanied by her grandfather’s incantations drifting up from the ground floor ("In the name of the council, let there be light! Begone, darkness of high tariffs!"), Karina finally fell asleep. A sleep where there were no lags, where donations fell like golden rain, and silent men in black leather did everything she commanded, and then some.
Down in the cellar, the old computer’s green LED flickered quietly, as if winking. And somewhere deep within the hard drive, in the folderLogs/Users/Grandpa_Ignat, a new entry appeared:
[Observation continues. Subject 'Granddaughter' is progressing. Denial stage is ending.]