From Goblin Slave To Giga-Daddy: A Goblin's Guide to Getting a Harem-Chapter 14: Lying Heroes!

The speaker was a lean, smug bastard with long brown hair, magician robes, and an expression that practically screamed "Punch me, I dare you."

He twirled his wand lazily between his fingers, flashing a grin that would've gotten him slapped in any halfway decent tavern.

Alex's jaw ticked.

"I already admitted it was my fault, Adrian. And trust me, next time, I'll make damn sure you remember my name... Right before you're spitting out your teeth."

The man was practically a poster boy for heroism — blonde hair, blue eyes, jawline so sharp it could slice bread.

If Rae had been standing there, he would've immediately shat into his own hand and hurled the green stink missile at the guy's stupidly perfect face, fueled by pure jealousy.

Tall, handsome, confident... disgusting.

Adrian just snickered and looked away, clearly enjoying himself.

"Come on, guys, not now," Lyra sighed, massaging her temple like a woman two seconds away from flipping a table. "We have bigger problems."

"She's right," chimed in a calm voice.

A girl with snowy white hair and piercing blue eyes stood coolly at the side, as if she was barely tolerating all this testosterone-fueled chest beating.

If the rest of them were fireworks ready to blow, she was the cold breeze that could snuff them all out.

"Alex, we can't keep flailing around like drunken chickens. We need a real plan. If word gets out that the creature survived... we're finished. No second chances. We can't waste time anymore."

Alex glanced at her, her serious gaze sharp enough to make even him feel like a schoolboy caught stealing cookies.

He nodded solemnly.

"I know, Celeste... I know. Whatever we do, just the six of us won't be enough."

Their eyes locked for a second — not romantic, but that serious, heavy kind of "we're screwed unless we think smart" kind of look.

Celeste, as cold as a snowstorm, simply said:

"Call Alice too. Without a healer, we won't survive him."

...

Raedon was chopping vegetables on the counter like a diligent little kitchen gremlin—knife going chop-chop-chop at a borderline dangerous speed.

His eyes, however, were nowhere near the chopping board.

Alice was sitting just behind him, in a barely-clinging gown that was split wide open along her legs.

Every time she shifted, one silky, smooth thigh peeked out like it was saying hello with a wink. And yet—Raedon didn't even glance.

Not because he wasn't interested. Oh no. The damn goblin was fully invested.Just not in the legs.

His attention was glued to the blinking screen floating in his pervy goblin vision.

[Main Quest Active]

[The Sacred Nectar: Drink breast milk from the source – 2 / 100 L]

His eyes twitched. The knife began chopping faster. And faster. And faster.The poor carrot didn't stand a chance.

'Two liters?! FROM THAT?!'

Rae almost screamed.

He'd overheard some doctor couple talking once—y'know, while he was totally not hiding under their bed watching.

According to them, a normal lactating human woman produces around 800 milliliters of milk per day. Give or take. With rest. With diet. With time.

Which raised the million-lust-point question:

How the hell did Alice pump out two whole litres in one go?

From just her right titty. Or was it left? Hell, he couldn't even remember. It was all a milky blur.

He wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist, the knife now moving like a blender in his hand.

Was she some sort of milk-producing demi-goddess? A lactation succubus? A walking dairy factory with the production rate of a corporate cow farm?

His tongue flicked across his lips.

And still... the system said 2 out of 100. That meant he had 98 litres to go. Ninety-eight. Litres. The kind of volume you'd need barrels for. Kegs. An entire fucking tanker truck.

'Is that why her breasts are always so damn heavy-looking?'

Raedon gave himself a sage little nod, completely unaware that Alice was watching him with a face redder than a boiled lobster.

She shifted awkwardly, her hands dipping subtly beneath the kitchen table.

'Must be magic, right? Yeah. Gotta be. This world's full of it. I shouldn't go applying Earth logic here—who knows, maybe tits in this world have their own mana cores or some crap.'

He shook his head, deciding it wasn't worth frying his remaining goblin brain cells trying to math out milk physics.

Best to get back to chopping veggies and not thinking about tits. Definitely not thinking about tits.

And then, of course, fate had other plans.

"H-hey, Raedon..."

Her voice cracked just a little, pulling his attention. He blinked and turned, looking up at her.

"Madame...?"

He asked, head tilting with his usual clueless goblin charm.

Alice's face was a furnace. Her fingers were trembling as she raised her hand from under the table.

"S-smell this..."

Raedon stared. The woman—his Madame—was sweating bullets, cheeks flushed like she'd just sprinted through a sauna, and now she was holding two glistening fingers out toward him.

'Wait... is she sick? Is she dying?'

He waddled over, concerned, staring at her slicked-up fingertips like they were some weird plant sap.

There was a clear, shiny trail on them, but he couldn't identify it. It didn't look like poison. Didn't smell bad either.

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

And Alice wasn't the type to prank him.

So naturally, he leaned in, ready to sniff... completely unaware of the incredibly not normal, not-at-all-platonic scenario unfolding in front of him.