CHAPTER 81: FINN’S INTERNAL CRY FOR HELP (HE IS LOSING HIS SANITY)

Finn stood before the building—or at least, he guessed it was a building. Honestly, he wasn’t sure.

He was frozen in a cocktail of shock, disgust, and that deep existential dread you get when you realize someone really sat down, drew this out, and thought it was a good idea.

The entire thing was made of wood.

And shaped like a fetus.

Curled into a fetal position.

With what appeared to be a second floor making up the arm.

Finn just stood there, staring at it.

"What the actual f—"

Footsteps crunched behind him.

"Oh! What a cool-looking building!" Chestelle chirped, her voice full of innocent wonder. Either she didn’t realize what it was shaped like, or she didn’t care.

Which somehow made it worse.

Majestria walked up beside him, hand on hip, brimming with leftover sass from her divine rant to the maid. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the structure.

"Is that—"

"Yeah," Finn cut her off, voice hollow.

’Who comes up with this crap?!’ he screamed internally.

’Oh yes, let me design a house that looks like a fetus. Very charming. Very normal. Very NOT A CRY FOR HELP.’

This was, without exaggeration, one of the worst things he had seen in this world.

And that included Moistvile.

Lickthorn arrived last. She stood quietly, eyes locked on the house.

No laughing. No moaning. No unhinged commentary about limbs or love.

Just silence.

Finn eyed her cautiously, praying she wouldn’t say something like: "I want to mate with it."

Instead, she calmly muttered:

"What an odd-shaped house."

Finn blinked. Looked at her. Stared.

’Did... did she just say something normal?’

He didn’t trust it. He refused to follow up. This was a trap. A social landmine. One step closer and it would detonate into a full-blown pervert monologue.

’Not worth it,’ he decided grimly.

He sighed and turned back to the fetus house.

Whoever built this had no regard for sanity. And whoever lived inside?

Probably worse.

Still... this was his only shot at the potion.

With the weight of the world in his groan, Finn dragged his feet forward. Each step took more mental fortitude than storming a demon fortress.

The door was actually kind of nice, which was confusing. It had that fairy-tale charm—delicate woodwork, a little circular window, and a smooth stone path that led around the back.

Probably a garden. Probably for ingredients. Probably cursed.

Finn stopped at the door. Lifted his hand.

Closed his eyes.

Took a deep breath.

And knocked.

After Finn knocked, silence followed.

Then came a sound—shuffling, soft at first.

And then... click... click... click...

It sounded like... heels?

’Probably just someone wearing high heels,’ Finn thought. ’Maybe it’s a grandma. Or a weird stylist. Or—’

A very feminine, very manly voice called from the other side of the door:

"Give me a minute~"

It echoed with sultry playfulness, but Finn didn’t catch the nuance. To him, it just sounded normal. Friendly, even.

Poor bastard.

Footsteps approached. Louder. Heavier.

The door creaked open—

And Finn’s vision was immediately swallowed by thighs.

Huge, oiled, gleaming thighs in fishnet stockings.

He slowly tilted his head up.

And up.

And up.

Chestelle’s jaw fell open behind him. Majestria physically recoiled. Licthorn just whispered a stunned, "Huh."

The being standing in the doorway towered over them—two hundred thirteen centimeters of pure, chaotic nightmare fuel. (Nine-feet in hamburger.)

They wore a skintight black latex outfit that only covered their torso. Their thighs were exposed, wrapped in black fishnets. Their heels were so high Finn swore he could see into the fourth dimension. No socks. No shame.

Their face was sharp, angular, weirdly attractive in a terrifying way. Crimson lipstick. Short, messy black hair. Eyes like black holes—with just a hint of danger, desire, and possibly tax fraud.

Everything about this creature screamed one thing:

Run.

This was the Incubus Midwife.

The being looked down at Finn, lips curling upward like a predator spotting a trembling rabbit.

"Aren’t you a sexy young man," they purred. "What brings you here?"

Finn gulped.

Sweat. So much sweat.

"A-Are y-you the Incubus Midwife...?" he croaked, voice on the edge of a full soul collapse.

The being smiled. A slow, sultry, unnerving smile.

"I am~"

Finn took another gulp.

He considered dying right then and there.

"Who sent you here, darling~?"

Panicking, Finn dug into his pocket and yanked out the crumpled card Elise had given him back at the guild.

"Th-the receptionist lady gave me this... f-from the guild..." he mumbled, arms shaking as he held it out.

The Incubus Midwife took it with long, delicate fingers and brought it to their face.

They sniffed it.

"How sweet~" they cooed.

Then, with a dramatic flair, they stepped aside—posing as they motioned inward.

"Please... come in~"

Finn stared into the house.

He felt like he was about to enter the final level of a cursed dating sim.

And somehow... he still walked in.

The girls followed behind him one by one, each reacting in their own beautifully cursed way.

Majestria stepped forward hesitantly, glancing up at the towering figure with a look of nervous, disgusted confusion. Like she couldn’t decide whether to smite it or bleach her eyeballs. Her lips were curled just slightly—like the mere concept of the Incubus Midwife personally offended her goddess pride.

Chestelle shifted uncomfortably, staring up at the tall figure in dead silence. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. The way she squinted up at it like it was a haunted grandfather clock said plenty.

Then there was Lickthorn.

Of course.

She just stood there... staring.

And then she smiled.

A slow, too long, too wide smile, accompanied by that strange little perverted giggle of hers. Like she had just found her new favorite hobby—and that hobby might be tall demon-babes in latex.

Finn felt his soul take a nosedive.

This... was not going to be okay.

This was going to be trauma. Real, deep, soul-marking trauma. The kind that digs itself into your brain and whispers in your ear for the rest of your life.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to go back to the killer maid. At least she had boundaries.

Instead, he walked inside.

And as the door slowly creaked shut behind them, Finn muttered to himself in total despair:

"I hate my life..."

And somehow, after everything, this moment...

was the worst one yet.