I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

The walk from the Iron-Vein Mines to the edge of the forest took less than an hour. The sun had fully dipped below the horizon, casting long, dark shadows across the dirt road as the heavy, three-story wooden silhouette of The Leaping Stag came into view.

Warm, yellow light spilled from the tavern’s stained-glass windows. The boisterous roar of laughing hunters and clattering tankards echoed out into the cool evening air.

Arthur pushed the heavy oak doors open.

The taproom was packed wall-to-wall with mercenaries, merchants, and low-level adventurers. The air was thick with the smell of roasted boar, spilled ale, and cheap pipe smoke.

Emily inhaled deeply, her eyes lighting up. "Oh, this is definitely my kind of place."

Before they could even secure a table, the crowd parted slightly near the bar. Roxanne walked through the taproom, balancing a massive wooden tray loaded with foaming mugs. The voluptuous beastkin was dressed in her usual tavern attire—a tight leather corset that pushed up her heavy cleavage, and a split skirt that showed off her thick, toned thighs. Her long, velvety rabbit ears twitched atop her head, recognizing Arthur’s scent before she even saw him.

She set the tray down on a nearby table and walked over, a tired but genuine smile spreading across her red lips.

"Arthur," Roxanne greeted warmly, her golden eyes flicking over his dust-covered armor. "Look at you. Looks like the forest dragged you backward through a cave."

"Long day," Arthur replied, his tone relaxed. He gestured to the squad standing behind him. "These are my classmates from the academy. Emily, Felix, and Chloe. We’re starving and we need rooms for the night."

Roxanne gave the trio a welcoming nod, her small, soft cottontail twitching faintly beneath the hem of her corset. "Any friend of Arthur’s gets a proper bed. Go on upstairs to the second-floor balcony. I’ll have the girls bring up a few platters of meat and ale."

As the squad headed toward the stairs, Arthur’s eyes scanned the crowded taproom. He paused.

Sitting at a small, battered table near the fireplace were two men in standard Lornfell guard armor. They looked exhausted, nursing half-empty mugs of cheap beer. Arthur recognized them instantly. They were the two patrol guards who had found him passed out in the dirt after he first transmigrated and escaped the labyrinth.

"Go on up," Arthur told Emily. "I’ll be there in a minute."

He reached into his spatial inventory and pulled out a heavy glass bottle of high-tier aged Agave spirits he had purchased weeks ago. He walked over to the fireplace.

"Excuse me," Arthur said.

The two guards looked up, their hands instinctively dropping toward their sword hilts before recognizing his academy uniform.

Arthur set the expensive bottle down directly in the center of their table.

"A few weeks ago, you two pulled a half-dead kid out of the dirt near the forest border and hauled him to the academy gates," Arthur said smoothly. "I didn’t get the chance to thank you properly."

The older guard blinked in surprise, looking at the bottle, then back up at Arthur’s face. Recognition slowly dawned on him. "I’ll be damned. The kid with the bow. You clean up well."

"Keep your heads down out there," Arthur nodded respectfully. He turned and walked away before they could even offer him a drink, heading up the stairs to join his squad.

For the next two hours, the party absolutely gorged themselves on the balcony. Roxanne kept the food coming, but she was entirely swamped managing the Saturday night crowd, only offering Arthur a fleeting, heavy gaze whenever she passed by.

By 10:00 PM, the adrenaline crash hit the academy students like a brick wall. Emily practically face-planted into her empty plate, and Felix was yawning loud enough to rival a Hobgoblin.

Arthur paid the tab, sending them all up to the third-floor guest rooms.

He waited until the balcony was empty. Then, he quietly walked down the back staircase, slipping past the kitchen and stepping into Roxanne’s private office, locking the heavy wooden door behind him.

The room was dimly lit by a single mana-lamp. Roxanne was sitting heavily in her large leather chair behind the oak desk. She had her boots kicked off and was actively unlacing the suffocatingly tight strings of her leather corset with a deep, exhausted sigh.

"I thought you were going to fall asleep with the kids," Roxanne murmured, not looking up as the corset finally loosened. Her heavy, aching breasts spilled out comfortably against the thin fabric of her white chemise.

"Not a chance," Arthur said.

He walked over, stepping behind her chair, and gently placed his large hands on her tense shoulders. He began to knead the tight muscles at the base of her neck.

Roxanne let out a long, trembling sigh, leaning her head back against his stomach. Her long rabbit ears drooped lazily backward. "Gods... right there. The taproom is a miserable madhouse tonight."

"It’s loud," Arthur agreed, his thumbs working out a harsh knot in her shoulder blade. "Hunters usually drink happier when they come back from the mines. Everyone out there seems entirely on edge."

"Because everyone is broke and desperate," Roxanne scoffed quietly, her eyes closing as she leaned into his touch. "The economy is bleeding them dry. The big guilds are squeezing the little guys, monopolizing the good spawn zones. The Red Boar boys have been starting fights all week because they’re undercutting everyone’s contracts."

"Big fish eating the little fish," Arthur noted casually. "That’s how the guild system works."

"It’s cruel is what it is," Roxanne murmured, a genuine note of pity in her husky voice. "It breaks my heart seeing good people get completely crushed by the nobles backing the big guilds."

She sighed, her rabbit ears twitching slightly as she vented. "It’s entirely depressing. Poor Sylvia came in last night and practically drank herself into a coma in the corner booth. The poor girl looked like she hadn’t slept in a month."

"Sylvia?" Arthur asked, his thumbs continuing their slow, methodical rhythm.

"The manager for the Obsidian Hand guild in the city," Roxanne babbled on, her eyes closed as she rubbed her temples. "Apparently, their guildmaster skipped town with all their funds. They’re entirely bankrupt, and the noble creditors are threatening to seize their assets and throw them in debtor’s prison by the end of the month. It’s a damn shame. She’s a smart girl."

Arthur stared at Roxanne in the dim light. His hands briefly stilled.

Obsidian Hand.

The name clicked. It wasn’t in the game’s main story because it never survived to see it. According to the lore, the guild went bankrupt and dissolved entirely before the protagonist even enrolled in the academy. But the community forums used to obsess over it. The disbanded members of the Obsidian Hand went on to become some of the most broken, high-tier solo NPCs in the late game.

It was a guild entirely populated by scattered, undiscovered monsters.

A sharp glint appeared in Arthur’s eyes. If he became their financial backer right now—supporting them at their absolute lowest—he would own the most overpowered roster on the continent before the endgame even started.

But then the grueling reality hit him like a cold bucket of water.

He was poor. He had the 50,000 credits he extorted from Leon, plus the 10,000 from the academy’s crypt rewards. Sixty grand total. That wasn’t guild-saving money. That was pocket change to noble creditors. It wasn’t nearly enough to keep them afloat.

I’ll have to find a way to flip the market, Arthur thought grimly. I cannot let this opportunity slip by.

"Hey," Roxanne murmured, reaching up and gently patting his hand. "Where did you go just now?"

Arthur blinked, snapping back to reality. He resumed massaging her shoulders. "Nowhere. Just feeling pity for this Sylvia girl."

"It is a damn shame," Roxanne said softly. She slowly turned her chair around to face him. Her golden eyes drifted lazily from his face down to his chest, the exhaustion finally giving way to a familiar, heavy heat. "But enough about miserable guilds. My shoulders feel better... but the rest of me is still incredibly tense."

Arthur looked down at her. The plush rabbit tail beneath her skirt gave a subtle, eager twitch.

"Let’s fix that."