I Got a Cheat and Moved to Another World, so I Want to Live as I Like

In the center of the Holy City lies the immense temple of God, who is seen as the Lord God among the polytheists.

Close to the temple, in the heart of the Holy Capital. There was a building that, although not as tall as the temple of the Lord God, was large enough to exceed it.

It is the temple of God of commerce.

Often, the mornings are filled with jockeys, but not today.

In its vast grounds, the figure is sparse.

It was because we had an annual divine service match and admission to the temple grounds was itself severely restricted.

Goon

From the temple tower, a heavy bell sounds and slightly shivers the cobblestone.

It was a reminder that divinity had begun.

(... a little late, I guess)

Inside the temple, majestic rituals were performed quietly.

When I missed the time to bow my head, only for a moment, I stood out as a piocon.

To the statue in the center of the altar, it must be because you turned your consciousness too far.

(Is that the god of business?)

I raised my eyes and looked at them as I drooped my head like a large crowd of participants.

The marble statue looks like a stunning goddess sitting on one of the giant scales.

The right hand stretched out to this one, and the facial expression of all things,

"I'll let you hold me, give me the price"

And it looked like I was telling you.

(great culture)

Again, bite the happiness that came to this world.

In this world, the social status of the whorehouse is extremely high.

In the case of women, the mere fact that they work in an advanced whorehouse is a gathering of admiration, respect, and envy.

Because income is, of course, a profession that you wouldn't wear if you weren't highly attracted as a woman.

Naturally, women like pearls gather in whorehouses in search of jobs.

(This culture also pays homage to visitors to the whorehouse)

I was surprised, too, that the act of going to a whorehouse is regarded as a noble hobby.

Speaking of the world before I transferred, that's about the position to see it in a museum, listen in a music hall, and play your own instruments.

It seems that the idea underlies the idea that the best works of art made by man are not objects, but humans themselves.

Admire a woman in a whorehouse like a view of a painting or sculpture.

Make him raise his voice across, like playing an instrument.

I guess that's how it is.

(More importantly, no gear, no big eruption ok)

I'm more than respected, I'm happy with this.

Reminds me of numerous, massive eruptions deep beneath the sea and delays my emotions.

I'm not dissatisfied, I'm only satisfied.

But I realize the fact that "desire has no meaning".

(When I was younger, I wanted to come)

That's what I think.

I want you to think about it.

A puberty student works part-time in a whorehouse. And grand.

If I'm going to add, it's hard to hire me if I'm not an idol in my class.

I mean, it's also possible for adolescent boys to play with the same class of coveted girls.

Of course, it costs money.

You can save your old balls, and that's what you can do in a whorehouse for cleaning, chores and other part-time jobs.

But if you try that hard, you can reach it.

(Oh)

I remember a senior I admired, a classmate I liked, and I couldn't stop hanging up.

(When I get back to Wangdu, shall we go to the Gogo Bar for a while to see)

One of the best beauties in the whole school is fine, but just a little beauty friendly kid is good again.

If you're looking for a kid like that, the go-go bar isn't bad.

(It's about time, isn't it?)

The crude ecstasy case has also passed since calming down.

Wouldn't there be anything more like targeting me just because I was involved in solving a case?

With that in mind, this time, I almost missed the time to raise my head.

And soon, the opening ceremony was strictly concluded.

"Finally."

I sit next to you, speaking to the Alliance Leader of the Merchant Alliance.

The guild leader nods calmly.

He's a small old man who combines a favourable atmosphere with piercing locks like the chairman of a large company.

But the appearance represents only one side of this person.

Few know, but if you care about it, it's overwhelming reproduction, enough to upset the balance of the ecosystem.

I call you in shadow, Grandpa Goblin, with my dear love.

By the way, Explosion Bottom Sister, Mr. Cool, and the strong old man, had already taken a seat. Sounds like he's ready to make an appearance.

The Chief Cleric has declared something.

My tongue is so slippery, I can't hear it very well.

As the elderly clergyman stepped off the stage with his body supported, from his left and right sleeves, one man and one woman appeared.

Finally, the divine service match seems to begin.

Men and women facing each other in bathrobes on a stage staring at large numbers of people.

The venue has a solemn ceremonial aftertaste.

But in my head, I had a misplaced memory.

(Remember when I went to the hot springs on a comfort trip)

After the primary meeting, everyone went to see a show for the general public.

(If I won one more time, I could have gone up on the stage)

That's when we got to a good spot at the audience's Games. But I lost at the end. It's still a regrettable memory.

(But suppose I could have fought then, if I had won)

Now I can see myself calmly.

At the time, I wouldn't have been able to do it in public.

Must have shriveled into nasty wild order that would hurt a man's dignity and stepped off the stage as he blushed

(but not now)

I snort hard.

This time, unfortunately, we're in a position to see.

But someday, I want to try to compete.

(Honestly, I'm confident too)

That firm thought made me realize that I had grown a lot.

"Take a look. He's the Reaper of the Empire."

The Alliance Leader will put my arms on.

Two names, much better dressed, gave me a slight jealousy while I looked onstage.

He's a little skinny, tall guy, pretty cat-backed.

There is a dark neighborhood beneath your cheeks and eyes. You have bad eyes, and you can call me Minister of the Homicide.

I moved my eyes from face to bottom, where I accidentally roared.

"Surprised, that's the Sickle of Reaper."

He showed up after taking off his bathrobe. It was long, and heavily reversed to the top.

Even if it doesn't come true for the elves, it's probably close to the limits of the species of the people, the length that makes them think so.

The beauty is exactly what you would call a sickle. It was a vicious weapon, enlightening the high level of aggression just at first glance.

I guess it's a well-known man, the people around him, exchanging words like, "That's..."

And in the meantime, a declaration of the start of the match was made.

The woman reaches for the sickle of the reaper. If possible, you want to deal with it by hand or mouth. The sense of alarm about breaking and entering, even from here, is obvious.

Reapers, let it be done, and vice versa, try to grasp its hand.

It's called judo, it's a combination of collars and sleeves.

The reward of the hands continues, trying to be a mutually advantageous combiner.

Pasin, Pasi, the sound of slapping each other's hands, echoes in the venue.

For a moment, Reaper nearly caught both hands of the woman.

The moment, the sickle, is poked up sharply from directly below.

She raised a voiceless voice, desperately waved her hands off and escaped to roll backwards.

Be alert to sleeping moves and jump right up.

In a remote position, the figure, which took a low stand, became more inner crotch than earlier, and his breath was rough.

Apparently, the sickle, albeit slightly, decided to enter and rubbed the bean.

(She can't seem to find an attacker)

That's what I see.

Forward reaper, woman trying to get distance.

The two keep moving over the stage, glued together.

Women are semi-long beauties with white bikinis and flour skin.

Healthy beauty like beach volleyball is quite my preference.

(No, not exactly a white bikini)

What looks like a white bikini is sunburn.

She had such beautiful skin that she was so illusioned.

Even if it's moving around like this now, I don't see a single one. It was perfectly handled.

(I'm more of a dresser, but naked is a good thing again)

Watching, nodding.

Suddenly, the sound of chewing things up sounds from next door.

Turning sideways with something, the guild leader had just brought the beer to his mouth as he chewed the knob.

I can see my throat moving.

Looks really good.

(When, and where did you buy it?

I nearly opened my mouth to try and cheer boiled from around me.

When you rush your consciousness back on stage, there's Reaper, around the back of Beach Volleyball.

Looks like he's been pushed into the corner of the stage and captured trying to escape.

Beach Volleyball has an enduring look.

The cutting-edge was already swallowed, and the long sickle body was slowly entering in front of the public.

(... this doesn't work)

Great length, but tight angle. Just watching, wrinkles leaning between my eyebrows.

After about two-thirds of the way in, the sickle came back at low speeds as well. Maybe I won't go in any further.

Eventually, the sickle makes a sound like after a long kiss, exposing his whole body to the air.

Beach Volleyball leaked a big sigh of relief.

But soon, another break-in begins.

Beach Volleyball tries to escape, but Reaper grabs his hips firmly with both hands and won't let go.

Unbearable, Beach Volleyball got on his knees and into a crawling position on all fours.

(determined)

I was convinced of Reaper's victory.

After that, the deep stroke continues.

And every time, make a difference. Rubbing up every corner of the beach volleyball. It's like you're looking for a weakness.

The audience is also affected.

One woman nodded, keeping her lower abdomen down.

I guess you have a lot of imagination and sensitivity, you must no longer be able to watch.

(Huh?)

In the meantime, Beach Volleyball suddenly tries to forcefully escape forward.

Reaper grabbed the head of Beach Volleyball with his right hand and held it down hard.

The face of Beach Volleyball is pressed against the mat and distorted into bitterness.

(Did you touch the steeple?

Looks like Reaper thought the same thing about me.

To confirm, move to explore the sickle.

In one respect, the Beach Volleyball stiffened itself and raised its squeaky voice.

Apparently, the prediction was met.

Reaper pulls one side of his unhealthy face and creates a creepy laugh.

After rubbing a few degrees to gain certainty, he stubbornly began to determine his weakness.

(... That's right, I'm just elected representative)

It's not about Reaper, he's special.

In my heart, apologize to Beach Volleyball.

I decided early that the battle was over. But the Beach Volleyball kept going far beyond my expectations and stubbornly.

Every time the stroke is at its apex, a sharp, heavy voice, like when hitting the serve, emitted from the mouth of Beach Valley, is proof of that.

He must be aiming for a hand in reversal while enduring.

(But do you have a hand that can be recovered from here)

That's hard. I can't think of anything at the moment.

Jiri is poor as it is.

The sound of the serve is also beginning to mix, albeit gradually, sweet.

There's not much left of the hourglass.

(Wasn't it?)

A few minutes later, the results turned out.

In the end, Beach Volleyball didn't seem to have any hands but to endure.

Earlier servings were not as powerful as they were, and even included a sweet sound at the end of the story.

I guess Reaper also saw it as a fit around the time, changing his posture dramatically and poking the beach volleyball up from body to body.

That's exactly what beetles are like.

(Sounds like when you lifted the quail)

The only difference is that the corners aren't under the belly, they're inside the belly.

The entire weight of Beach Volleyball is now supported solely by her own grip.

The Sickle of Reaper still has a third left. If I loosen up a bit, maybe I'll go further into the back.

Afraid of it, Beach Volleyball begins to get desperate.

(I can't, I can't escape)

I shake my head from left to right.

Beach Volleyball looks like a bug stung with a pin on a specimen, alive.

Both hands and feet scratch the air.

Eventually the limit will have arrived, beach volleyball grip loose.

The other third broke in, shifting to an area that probably shouldn't be.

A wild growl, emitted at that moment, that unwittingly makes me want to block my ears.

Beach Volleyball's cool, pre-game face is an unimaginable voice.

After such a beastly scream, she stopped moving in the air.

Reapers shake their hips big as they shake them off.

The pathetic prey, open from the sickle, fell docile on the stage, pulling the thread.

"Winner, Imperial Man A!

A declaration of victory is made.

Unfortunately, they don't seem to call me by two names.

(But you're a pretty horrible opponent)

With that large, curved sickle, you can decide anywhere inside by changing the angle.

If they find weaknesses, it's the same end of the road as Beach Volleyball that waits later.

When I was lost, the Alliance Commander called me.

He has a foam beard on his mouth.

"Look, our game's starting over here."

Transfer your gaze when you are told.

There, our strong old man stood with a tense face.

If you look closely, there is a match going on at the same time.

The beauty is seriously involved. Honestly, I have a glimpse of which game to watch.

"What are you looking at, over here?"

The guild leader pulls his ear and puts his gaze back on the strong old man.

The other guy is a gorgeous mature woman with big tits.

I'm sorry, but the old man on the strong side is out of step.

And then the game started.