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with frantic precision, her breath hitching every time a stray vine brushed her thigh.
"Mistress Frieren, this is unacceptable," Fern whispered, her face turning a deep shade of crimson as she clutched her staff to her chest. Frieren and Fern in the Lewd Dungeon
In the center of the room sat the grimoire. Frieren picked it up, dusted off her translucent sleeves, and handed it to Fern. "See? It was worth it. Now we never have to worry about juice stains again." with frantic precision, her breath hitching every time
Frieren, however, looked down at her now-visible stockings and tunic with a blank expression. "It’s just a mana-reactive field, Fern. It’s quite efficient. Besides, the grimoire is at the bottom of the tenth floor." Frieren picked it up, dusted off her translucent
"Fern... help," Frieren said, her voice sounding suspiciously relaxed. "This feels... strangely like a massage."