That Day When Suzuki-kun Wasn't the Mob-B!

”Did you really travel all the way from the Blumund Kingdom, Suzuki-kun?”

”Yes.”

”That’s incredible! It must have been such hard work, right?”

”It was difficult at times, but I saw a lot of opportunity here in Dwargon. I decided I had to challenge myself and take the risk.”

”That’s amazing! You’re so brave!”

”It’s really not that amazing...” Suzuki smiled softly, lowering his eyes with a perfectly calibrated hint of vulnerability. ”I am just trying my hardest to survive in this world, after all.”

”Oh, don’t say that. Don’t be too hard on yourself. You have done so much already... let me comfort you...”

The owner of the Night Butterfly—the mature, impossibly elegant Elf known simply as ”Mama-san”—possessed the gentlest features in the entire club. Her eyes softened with deep affection as she gently stroked his hair, pulling his head into the plush, welcoming softness of her embrace.

A powerful, intoxicating scent of wild jasmine and feminine warmth washed over him. It was terrifyingly dangerous, Suzuki thought. He felt as though he were being pulled into a whirlpool of absolute comfort, and he was more than happy to just close his eyes and drown.

However, this was exceedingly bad for his lower body!

Manager, do something!

Suzuki frantically begged his Unique Skill to forcefully regulate his biological functions, terrified he wasn’t strong enough to suppress his natural reactions.

[Roger!]

Thank you, Manager!

Suzuki was incredibly glad he had acquired that skill!

Without a doubt, Mama-san was no ordinary Elf. The Night Butterfly was meticulously designed; each hostess possessed a distinct personality and ”setting,” allowing patrons to choose a companion that perfectly catered to their specific preferences and fetishes.

All the women possessed the classic hallmarks of Elven beauty—slender builds, elegantly pointed ears, and large, expressive eyes that shimmered with a faint, innate magical light. Their skin was like polished porcelain, seemingly immune to the dust and grime of the mountain’s industrial zones.

While the anime had only highlighted a few key characters, Suzuki quickly realized the club offered a full ”spectrum” of beauty. There were hostesses with silvery-blonde hair resembling spun moonlight, others with emerald-green tresses evoking the deep Jura Forest, and some who projected a commanding, ”queenly” aura.

So, who was tending to him?

The boss herself. Mama-san. The ultimate embodiment of the nurturing, devoted housewife archetype.

Suzuki could only mentally bow down to Mama-san’s terrifyingly accurate intuition. She had instantly pinpointed his exact weakness. He found all the Elven women beautiful—petite, tall, modest, or heavily endowed—but Mama-san was on an entirely different level.

She was a breathtakingly attractive older woman, a step above the younger hostesses in sheer presence and refined elegance. She was tall and poised, her hair a cascading waterfall of spun gold and pale wheat styled into a sophisticated updo that left her elegant neck exposed.

Her eyes were a deep, knowing emerald. Unlike the younger girls, who looked at patrons with wide, sparkling wonder, her gaze was analytical yet incredibly warm. She looked at you as if she had already read your tragic biography before you even ordered a drink.

She wore a high-slit, floor-length gown woven from ”silk-threaded magic cloth.” The fabric possessed a subtle iridescence, shifting effortlessly from deep violet to midnight blue as she moved through the amber light.

Suzuki—who had endured grueling labor, outsmarted global superpowers, and achieved Enlightened Sagehood—had to admit he was completely at her mercy.

Yet, he had severely underestimated his own charm. His meticulously crafted persona—the hardworking, earnest young man striving tirelessly for his future so he could live with dignity despite his human frailties—was an absolute critical hit.

”Your body is completely tense,” Mama-san murmured softly.

While gently caressing his hair, her slender fingers trailed down his ear, grazing his jawline and neck before pressing rhythmically into his rigid shoulders, offering a masterclass in massage therapy.

Suzuki didn’t have a mother in his previous life, but if he had, he imagined it wouldn’t feel quite like this. No, this felt exactly like being comforted by a classmate’s devastatingly gorgeous, overly affectionate mother.

”It can’t be helped. I haven’t been able to stop and rest for a very long time,” Suzuki whispered.

”Then, have you ever thought about relying on others? What about your family?”

”I don’t have one. I’m entirely alone.”

”Oh, Suzuki-kun...”

Mama-san looked as though she were about to cry. Overcome with maternal and romantic affection, she hugged him tightly against her chest!

”M-Mama-san?” Suzuki gasped, his face flushing genuinely red.

”When you are in this place, you are allowed to just relax, okay?”

”...It’s hard.”

”Why? Can’t you just let your guard down with me?”

”I’ve never been to a place like this before, so I don’t know how to calm down... especially when a woman as charming as you is holding me so closely...”

His voice was perfectly low, laced with embarrassment as he shyly averted his eyes.

”Aw~!” Mama-san giggled, hugging him even tighter. She thought he was impossibly cute. ”You think an old lady like me is charming?”

”How could I see you as anything else? You’re breathtaking, Mama-san... but this really isn’t good for my heart...”

[Notice. The host’s biological reaction is reaching critical threshold. Suppression protocols are failing. It is highly advisable to execute a strategic retreat to the restroom and utilize cold water to stabilize vital signs.]

...Traitor.

How was he supposed to escape? He was hopelessly trapped in Mama-san’s arms. She had latched onto him like a velvet spider wrapping its prey, and despite his immense stats, he was utterly powerless.

Meanwhile, sitting on the opposite velvet sofa, King Gazel Dwargo was rolling his eyes so hard he was practically staring at his own brain.

Gazel knew via his [Dictator] skill that absolutely everything coming out of Suzuki’s mouth was meticulously calculated, manipulative bullshit! The man wasn’t a tragic, lonely orphan; he was a ruthless corporate titan plotting global economic domination!

It deeply annoyed the Hero King that Suzuki was winning the game so effortlessly.

Suzuki completely ignored Gazel’s judgmental glare. He desperately needed to put some distance between himself and Mama-san, whose slender hand had just slipped daringly past his lapel, resting flat against his firm chest to feel his racing heartbeat.

”Your heart is beating so fast...” she whispered, leaning in closer.

”Mama-san...”

Suzuki tried to rationalize that this was all just premium customer service, but as their eyes locked and the distance between their lips closed to mere inches—

”HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME?! I AM THE MINISTER OF DWARGON, VESTA! GUARDS, ARREST ALL OF THEM!”

A sudden, enraged scream shattered the serene atmosphere of the club, instantly sending the main floor into a chaotic panic.

Mama-san gasped, pulling back in shock. Despite her elegance, she was still just a civilian business owner in Dwargon. Instinctively, she shrank back—only to find herself securely shielded behind Suzuki’s broad frame.

”Stay here,” Suzuki said, his voice dropping its previous vulnerability, replaced by cold, absolute authority.

He patted her hand gently, then locked eyes with an equally annoyed Gazel. Both men stood up and stepped out of the VIP lounge to address the commotion.

As Suzuki walked out, a pang of regret hit him. He knew that the moment he stepped out of this lounge to handle a violent public dispute, his illusion of a naive, helpless merchant would shatter. Furthermore, he knew the Night Butterfly hostesses were high-class companions, not prostitutes. You couldn’t just buy their bodies. To truly win them over required time, patience, and genuine romance—things he currently didn’t have time for.

Part of him was relieved to be saved from crossing a line he wasn’t prepared for, but another part sighed helplessly.

He took a deep breath. His entire demeanor shifted, snapping from a pampered patron back into an Enlightened Sage.

As Gazel and Suzuki stepped onto the main floor, the screaming and chaos instantly froze.

”Why are you all making such a racket in my presence?”

Gazel didn’t yell. His voice wasn’t loud, yet it carried the crushing, suffocating weight of a mountain. The sheer pressure made every dwarf in the room tremble violently.

”THE KING!”

Every single patron, guard, and minister instantly dropped to their knees, pressing their foreheads to the floor in absolute reverence.

Everyone... except for one specific figure.

Sitting on the floor amidst a puddle of spilled water was a small, bouncy blue slime, looking around in utter, clueless confusion.

”Eh? Eh? Eh?”

Suzuki’s piercing gaze locked onto the slime. His stoic expression cracked into a look of profound weirdness. Of all the places in the world, how the hell did I manage to bump into Rimuru Tempest right now?

However, back in the doorway of the VIP lounge, Mama-san stood frozen. She watched how Suzuki had instantly sobered up, shielding her without a moment’s hesitation before stepping out alongside the Hero King as a total equal.

Completely ignoring the political drama unfolding on the floor, she could only stare at Suzuki’s broad, dependable back, her emerald eyes completely dazed.