Let go of that monster girl!

Let go of that monster girl!

Author: Clockwork Fried Chicken Leg

Summary:

I was transported to another world where the male-to-female ratio was 1:100.

Molen only knew that he was about to give this group of medieval bumpkins a shock from time travel. He had absolutely no idea what cat girls, rat girls, angel girls, wolf girls, horse girls, slime girls, snow cow girls, moose girls, snake girls, little girl girls, spider girls, fox girls, nine-tailed fox girls, dragon girls, earthworm girls, ant girls, hobbit girls, ghost girls, vampire girls, tiger girls, zombie girls, demon girls, golem girls, octopus girls, ancient goddess girls, or creation goddess girls were.

He absolutely does not approve of monster girls.

He would never submit to a monster girl.

"My understanding of monster girls is still very limited."

—This is what Moren, the author of the Monster Girl Appraisal Guide, wrote on the title page.

"I think monster girls are still lacking in productivity."

— Baron Morren's remarks to reporters when he was accused of monopolizing the market for the 19th time.

"My relationship with them is purely comradeship."

—This is what Molen, a supporter of the insurgents, said in an interview with a newspaper.

"I won't give in! At least, at least line up! Ahhh!"

—A mysterious record from an unknown year and month.

Chapter 1 Cheap Monster Girl

“Baron Morren, don’t be fooled by those dragon girls over there; you can’t afford them.”

The fox-eared slave trader stared at Moren's backside with a wicked grin, probably not guessing how many silver coins he had left in his pocket.

"Since you're all regular customers, forgive me for saying something, but instead of coming to the market every time to buy the cheapest rat slaves, why don't you sell your abandoned mine sooner and find a rat noblewoman to have dozens of baby rats?"

If you continue to squander your money like this, we might see you at the auction next month.

Molen was too lazy to explain his plan to this unscrupulous businessman, so he simply retorted casually:

"The word 'buy' doesn't sound nice. I prefer to call it 'redeeming a lost girl.'"

"We understand, we understand everything." The fox-woman merchant's expression was playful.

"You nobles, you just like to play like this. Other nobles at most rescue boys to their bedrooms, but you, you rescue girls to the mines, using them day and night. You really know how to play."

Behind the slave traders, each iron cage held a ragged foreign girl.

A group of rat girls huddled together, their gray ears drooping, their bodies trembling uncontrollably.

A dragon girl was desperately biting at the iron bars of the cage with her teeth.

Two rabbit girls who looked alike flirted with him, hoping to entice him to buy them.

One after another, the girls were exceptionally beautiful. If their looks were in Molen's previous world, each of them could easily become a top star, but there were very few shoppers browsing around.

Occasionally, a few people would simply pry open the girls' mouths to check their teeth with expressionless faces, treating them like livestock. No one would even glance at the rabbits who were desperately posing and preening.

As for the reason, Moron, who has been reincarnated into this world for more than ten years, naturally knows it.

In this world, cute beast girls and monster girls are as common as stray dogs on the street, and the male-to-female ratio is an astonishing 1:100, with men being an absolute rarity.

The female slaves in front of us are all cheap serfs and miners, whose price is mostly less than that of a cow. Their future is almost entirely to die from exhaustion in the fields or mines.

Molen's gaze passed through a patch of antlers and landed on a patch of light green in the corner.

"I'd like to see this."

The fox spirit followed his gaze, a playful smile curving her lips.

"Another sure-fire cheap item, just like you. But it's strange that it's not a rat girl this time."

Deep within the iron cage, the pale green color began to flow slowly, gradually extending forward, gathering, and eventually coalescing into the shape of a young girl.

The lower half resembled a thick, semi-transparent skirt, while the upper half clearly presented the appearance of a young girl.

She has a round face with delicate features but no expression.

Her bangs were pulled down low, completely covering her eyes, but her hair, like her body, was a light green and translucent color. Through that translucent hair, one could vaguely see a pair of eyes that were pacing anxiously below.

On the very center of her otherwise unremarkable chest, a bright red cross-shaped slave incantation was etched, extremely conspicuous.

She noticed Morren's gaze, and shrank back, avoiding his eyes.

The fox-woman merchant wriggled her tail and swayed to the side of the iron cage:

"These low-class creatures can survive on anything they eat, and noble ladies usually lock them up in the sewers to clean up garbage."

"But don't be disgusted by the mess. As long as you fill their bodies with enough alkali, sugar, and cow's milk, you can make delicious Mincho ice cream. It's simply wonderful."

Slime Girl silently lowered her head, her hands clasped in front of her, without saying a word.

But her soft body shrank slightly, as if she wanted to shrink herself even smaller.

The fox-woman merchant completely ignored her reaction and continued her incessant sales pitch:

"These useless slaves are fine for one gold coin. If the Baron is interested, you can get a half-price discount on a Snow Cow Girl. We just got a batch of Snow Cow Girls recently, and their milk is amazing."

“No need,” Morren said.

Slime Girl stiffened for a moment, looking both disappointed and relieved, and lowered her head even further.

“Just this one slime girl is enough,” Morren added.

The slime girl looked up, her eyes, hidden beneath her slime bangs, staring at Moren in surprise, as if she couldn't believe what she had just heard.

Moren bent down, bringing himself to eye level with the slime girl in the cage.

He took out a small paper packet from the small bag at his waist, opened it, and poured a pinch of finely ground copper ore powder into his palm.

Do you have a name?

Slime Girl stared at Moren's outstretched hand, then looked up at the handsome black-haired nobleman in front of her. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

"Then you'll be called Lyme. Eat up."

Lyme looked at the shimmering mineral powder, hesitated for a moment, and then slowly and tentatively approached.

A pair of translucent little hands reached out from the cage and supported the back of Moren's hand. They were transparent, cool, and sticky, but not uncomfortable.

She lowered her head and gently licked it.

Copper ore powder stuck to the tip of her tongue and was rolled into her mouth.

Moren knew that the slime girls' bodies were covered in flammable, highly acidic gel, but they could control it without harming their companions.

This soft, sticky texture is precisely the mark that makes Slime Girl express submission.

So he began to speak:

"Now, Lem, what should you call me?"

The girl lifted the back of his hand.

There was still a sticky residue at the corner of her mouth as she gently placed her face in Moren's palm. Her cheeks were cool and equally soft.

"Master...Master."

The sound was very soft.

Molen looked down at her, and the mineral powder slowly melted inside her transparent body, turning into a string of tiny pale blue bubbles that floated upwards.

It slowly diffused into a soft mist, spreading across her small face with her eyes half-closed.

"I never imagined that this garbage-eating thing could even eat rocks, wasting so much of our food."

The fox-woman merchant was always quick to spoil the mood; she was biting Moren's gold coin, checking its purity.

Her eyes, however, shifted from Lyme to Morren, re-examining the Baron she had always thought was just a vase with some obsessive-compulsive tendencies.

This nobleman wasn't a first-timer at the market, but she had previously assumed he was just a spoiled brat with no distinguishing features other than a black-haired, black-eyed human male, the kind who would squander his fortune in a few months and then be sold off by her for a good price.

The fox-woman merchant put away the gold coins and couldn't help but ask:

"That's really strange, my Lord Moren. How come you seem to know so much about monster girls?"

Molen smiled without saying a word.

He had no obligation to explain himself to this unscrupulous businessman.

if not?

He told the other person that he was a college student reincarnated, and that all the races in this world were exactly the same as the game he played in his previous life. As a veteran player, he had memorized the entire monster girl encyclopedia.

Tell her that you just inherited the territory from that cheap local mother, and you can't wait to give the otherworldly person some shocking experience.

So Morren just kept smiling.

He looked down at Lyme.

To the locals, this slime girl is just a pretty, unremarkable, semi-transparent girl.

But as a seasoned Scroll King whose farming instincts were ingrained in his bones, Moren only saw a perpetual motion machine that could endlessly produce acid and combustible substances by eating rocks and garbage!

Hehehe.

This first lesson will show these medieval bumpkins what wet alchemy is all about.

"Rim." Rem murmured his name, feeling the warmth from his master's palm.

“Lyme,” she repeated softly.

"It's so warm."

Chapter 2 still requires a maid outfit.

A few days later, the Baron of Dwarf Mountain took over.

In the dilapidated baron's castle atop the mountain, Morren pushed open a rickety window and looked down.

From this angle, the entire hill looks like a piece of cheese inhabited by Jerry.

Numerous mine entrances are scattered throughout the mountains. Two thousand rat girls, carrying pickaxes and pushing mine carts, traverse the narrow, dark paths, like brownish-gray streams flowing through the mountains.

This place is rich in diverse minerals, from mottled malachite to dark red hematite; you can dig up something with any pickaxe. However, it is incredibly poor because of a fatal problem.

There is no sun here.

The Low Mountain Territory is located on the edge of the Dark Zone, shrouded in dark clouds, and never sees the sun.

Without the sun, there are no plants; without plants, there is no food, no charcoal, and no fuel.

The mined ore piled up like mountains, but without fuel, they couldn't smelt it. They could only sit on the treasure chests and beg for food, barely managing to keep the few thousand rat girls alive by selling raw ore and dried mushrooms.

Green—everyone in the low hills wants a touch of green.

"Why is that lady's green?"

A rustling sound came from outside the crack in the door. Several mouse girls dressed as maids huddled together by the crack, their mouse ears tucked together and their long, thin tails swaying curiously behind them.

Lem sat somewhat awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Her maid outfit was clearly taken from the mouse girl's laundry basket; it wasn't much bigger than a child's outfit, with the cuffs digging into her forearms and the fabric at the chest stretched taut.

She nervously rubbed the hem of her skirt, glancing cautiously every now and then at Moren sitting opposite her, the small mountain of copper ore piled to her right, and the scrap iron rods casually stuck in the mountain.

Molen forcefully cut a piece from the fruitcake and slowly put it into his mouth.

"Lem, your task today is to finish eating this whole mountain of food."

He pointed with his fork at the pile of ore.

"Okay, master."

Lyme reached out and picked up a piece of malachite, taking small bites.

She ate slowly, digesting the minerals as she went, her amber eyes peeking out from under her bangs to observe her master's movements, but Morren was focused on battling the cake on his plate.

The master is a strange person.