I Became a Foreign Worker Loved by Transcendents

Indeed, thinking back, I was practically impotent until recently.

Of course, the priests’ amazing miracle completely healed my injuries, but the problem was that the memory of that time did not disappear, causing a rejection reaction to any sexual stuff.

Not only did the occasional strange thoughts disappear as if they were dead, but even the physiological phenomenon that certainly occurred every morning didn’t happen at all.

“Haa, haa…”

However, despite the days of frustration in such a psychologically castrated state, those symptoms frighteningly recovered as soon as I faced the scene before me.

The enormous mounds of flesh that even both of my arms couldn’t fully encompass and the deep valley created where they met…

The lingering moisture trickled down due to gravity into the darkness, and as my eyes followed, I felt the saliva pooled in my mouth, stimulating my throat.

“Ah, th-that. Tacchia, this is, well, what happened is…”

But when I reacted to such an attractive body, ironically, the first thought that came to mind was, ‘I’m screwed.’

Considering that in my original place, such an incident would lead to at least three years in prison, it wasn’t a situation a law-abiding person would view positively.

Even if the vital parts were covered, it would be virtually impossible to suppress the hardening down there upon seeing a body like the one before me now.

“…Gulp, gulp..”

To hide it from being exposed, let’s first bow my head.

I’d make the best apology I could right here, and before I atone through seppuku, I’d first thrust a spear into Oh Deok-hun’s belly.

Despicable bastard. I was contemplating suicide over this situation, but he was probably comfortably enjoying everything right now.

“I’m sorry…”

“Haa, haa.”

But even as I was about to apologize, she just stood there blankly, without any scolding or screaming.

Noticing her body swaying, my gaze finally shifted from her body to her face.

“…Tacchia?”

Her gaze was unfocused, looking downward.

Seeing her with slumped shoulders, anyone would guess that something unusual was happening to her.

“Ah, uh, aah…”

Yes.

It wouldn’t be strange if she collapsed right now.

Thud.

Proving my thought was not a mistake, Tacchia’s body collapsed.

My body, which had been stiff, moved when I realized she couldn’t get up on her own after falling.

“Tacchia! Come to your senses, Tacchia!”

“Haa, haa…”

Tacchia just moaned, even as I held her and called out to her.

She seemed to have lost consciousness, but more concerning was that her body temperature in my arms was abnormal.

“…You’re cold.”

Wasn’t that strange?

Steam was still coming out of the bathroom she presumably came from, yet her skin felt as cold as if she touched ice, with no warmth.

“I’ll… take you to your room first.”

No, I’d think about it later.

Regardless, I couldn’t just leave her here. I lifted her cold body onto my back and stepped onto the stairs leading upward.

Fortunately, I vaguely remembered from my last visit that the forge and living area were together.

So I decided to take her to the bedroom first, and as I ascended the stairs, the sensation of her swaying body pressing repeatedly against my back became distinctly clear.

Beyond softness, the feeling was vividly squishy.

“Haa, uh, haa…”

But more serious than such stimulation was the weak moaning sound in my ears.

The contrast with the sharp and decisive attitude she had when we first met made the difference feel like I was being betrayed, pushing my patience to the brink.

The thought that such a crisp and haughty person could be so disheveled and show weakness…

“Uh, gulp!”

Biting my lip to suppress the sudden onslaught of fantasies, I consciously forced strength into my steps as I moved her body to her room, having just escaped the basement.

Yes, endure, Woo Hyo-sung. Though my only strength was my mental fortitude, if that wasn’t enough, I would remember Buddha’s teachings.

Mahaprajnaparamita Sutra, Kuan, Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva, walking in wisdom… what was next?

No, this was still not enough.

I had to think of something more stimulating to drive away the distractions. Like that Heart Sutra remix I saw on YouTube once, for example.

A fusion style that respected both Eastern and Western cultures was in line with political correctness, right? Those dull sounds like a wooden fish could be surprisingly good for a beat…

Squelch.

Damn it, please, Buddha Eminem.

I swear I would pray three times a day to the Buddha statue and donate regularly, please!

“Phew…!”

After a string of such random thoughts, I finally reached the bedroom, having castrated my rationality.

Although the surroundings were cluttered with tools and materials, I somehow managed to lay her body on the bed and cover her with a blanket.

However, no matter how much time passed, there was no sign of the cold sweat on her face disappearing…

“Ah, uh…”

Damn, did she catch some serious illness?

Realizing I couldn’t just leave her like this, I prepared to leave the room to call someone.

Perhaps a priest, a doctor, or at least someone familiar with her condition.

“Don’t go.”

But then, I heard a faint murmur.

I stopped in my tracks and turned around to see a hand emerging from the blanket, flailing in the air.

“Don’t leave. Just wait a little longer…”

She wasn’t fully conscious.

It was merely a delirious mumble, or perhaps sleep talking.

Yet, the tremor in that voice was much different from the blunt attitude she had shown at our first encounter.

It was as if it was not just blurted out but based on a solid foundation.

“I, too, will soon… follow after you.”

Along with that, her hand, flailing as if in a nightmare, soon started reaching out towards where I was.

Despite being asleep.

As if instinctively sensing my presence.

“…Yes, I understand.”

Hesitating for a moment, I then pulled a nearby chair and placed it beside her bed.

I knew her condition was serious, and all I could do was pray for her improvement.

Yet, I couldn’t just leave someone calling so desperately.

“I’ll stay with you for a little while, until you feel better.”

If her life wasn’t immediately in danger, then staying by her side until she felt better was the priority.

Having come to that conclusion, I took her hand that was reaching out to me and remained quietly by her side for a while.

The tremor gradually subsided, and her complexion improved.

It seemed like more than just a feeling, as her warmth gradually returned.

Then, after a long while, night fell.

Rustle.

As the vitality gradually returned to her body, the decrepit dragon felt the sensation of stroking her skin and looked around.

The dark room appeared in her blurred vision, and the blanket covering her body that was lying on the bed.

‘Did I collapse again?’

Recalling the memories before losing consciousness, Tacchia Pheloi sighed deeply, clutching her head.

It was a helpless situation, however lamentable.

Her body had long surpassed its lifespan, and maintaining even a shadow of her form was thanks to her inherent existence power.

Even that was a side effect of suppressing the last of her strength reserved for a final leap, leading to the constant escape of warmth from her body, leaving her to suffer from the cold.

More troublesome than immersing herself in boiling water daily was the fact that the dreams she always had while asleep lingered in her mind even when awake.

‘Tacchia. If I die after this fight, I have a favor to ask of you.’

The strong yet childish brat without manners.

The idiot who never cared for herself, only others.

And the last will left by a human woman once called a hero.

‘Give me a chance. I, whom you have protected, want to protect everyone in the future.’

“…Damn woman.”

Wasn’t it a ludicrous story?

A once legendary being feeling annoyed by a human, who, from her perspective, was no better than an insect.

“Such an ungrateful wretch.”

However, dragons by nature, were beings with immense power, considered a part of the world itself.

Every word they uttered carried weight, and even a careless word must be honored due to the restraint that came with their power.

Therefore, regardless of its importance, a spoken word that takes the form of a promise must be kept absolutely.

Even if the reason for making the promise changes with every whim.

‘Alright, I’ve endured enough. That should be sufficient.’

Promises made on such whims were to end today.

As she was about to leave after noticing the sunset, Tacchia suddenly felt her hand fixed on something and shifted her gaze downward.

A man, who had taken a place beside her and fallen asleep, had been holding her hand since before she awoke.

“…Huh, what is this?”

She chuckled at the sight of him and then began to gaze intently at the still-sleeping man.

It wasn’t that she had forgotten who he was.

Even an Ego Weapon, not yet awakened to self-awareness, had the ability to forcibly engrave that name in the memory of a being called the pinnacle of all things.

But regardless of her memory, the fact that this man had brought her, who had collapsed, all the way here was completely unexpected.

Moreover, he had also brought the weapon she had lent him all this way.

‘He finally came back.’

It was none other than the Mithril Ego Weapon.

He might have soared with the weapon, considered the greatest treasure among humans.

Or he could have lost his life to merciless dangers, emboldened only by trust in that weapon.

Yet, having overcome all that and made it this far, this person could be considered among the extraordinary in humanity.

“…Damn it.”

Regardless of such expectations, the current outcome was something the declined dragon did not welcome.

If the human she had made a contract with broke their promise, she was prepared to bring about the destruction she had planned by her own hands.

With the time for her to release what she had endured thus far drawing near, his return meant that time was pushed back.

“If you’re already dead, you should at least stay quiet. Despite having left first, you cling and collapse in the end.”

However, seeing the armor she had hastily made for him in shambles, she could easily guess that he too had suffered greatly.

Despite this, she thought the reason he survived must surely be due to the will of the weapon she had provided him. Leaning against the wall, she gripped the spear and let out an angry voice.

“Damn daughter.”

Despite sensing resentment towards a being she couldn’t just hate…

Ooooh.

As if responding to that voice.

The weapon, forged from the purified soul of a woman once called a hero, began to quietly wail where it stood.

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