Chapter 128: Operation Honey

Nyanjara Bay Town

The next day, Solo and the Misfits spent their time strolling through town like perfectly normal travelers. They gathered information and they bought supplies. On the surface, it was painfully ordinary.

However, beneath the surface, an operation was already in motion. Irving and Kovalski flanked Solo at all times, playing the role of loyal bodyguards.

In reality? They were conducting behavioral research.

Every time Solo’s gaze lingered. Every time he blinked a little slower. Every time a tail swayed and his posture subtly adjusted.

They took mental notes.

Type of ears.

Type of tail.

Clothing style.

Level of boldness.

Species preference probability.

Finding their leader fetish was vital.

---

Somewhere In The Slum

Meanwhile—

Ivy and Bella were on a separate mission. Location scouting.

They needed a place that’s not too far from town so Solo wouldn’t hesitate to “respond”, yet remote enough to avoid attracting guards.

And, of course they also needed collaborators. It took a lowlife to recognize other lowlives, that’s why Ivy was in charge.

The slums of Nyanjara Bay did not try to look respectable. Among them stood a particularly questionable building. Three-story wooden structures leaned against one another like drunk relatives at a funeral. Paint peeled. Windows cracked. Roof tiles threatened gravity on a daily basis.

A wooden sign hung above the entrance: Hyena’s Hunter & Gatherer Association

Ivy and Bella stood in front of it.

“It doesn’t say anything about thugs,” Bella commented.

“No thug den would announce itself as ‘Thug Den’ on the entrance,” Ivy sighed.

“But it doesn’t say anything about slavers either.”

“Oh, come on,” Ivy said, gesturing at the structure. “Look at it. It radiates questionable activities.”

They walked inside.

“It’s not good to judge a book by its cover,” Bella continued. “Maybe they really are just a group of hunters and gatherers.”

The inside looked exactly like the outside. Large hyena beastmen occupied most of the tables. Scarred. Broad. Loud. Laughing in that distinct, unpleasant hyena way. The moment Ivy and Bella stepped in, every eye turned.

“See?” Ivy whispered. “Not an ounce of honesty can be seen or smelled in here.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say,” Bella replied. “They may look intimidating, but their hearts—”

The hyenas began casually standing. Slowly surrounding them.

“Well, well.”

A female hyena approached. From her posture, scars, and the way the others subtly shifted space around her, it was obvious she was the leader.

“Welcome, little human girls,” she said with a grin far too wide. “What brings you to our humble establishment? Kekekeke.”

“See?” Bella said brightly to Ivy. “They greeted us nicely.”

“Are you here seeking assistance to find some slaves? Kekekeke?”

Bella blinked.

“Whaaat? But your sign says hunter and gatherer.”

“That’s right,” the leader replied smoothly. “We hunt and gather slaves by request. Kekekeke.”

“Aaahahaha! Told you!” Ivy pointed triumphantly.

Bella sighed deeply. “It’s really hard to maintain faith in this world.”

“So,” the hyena leader continued, teeth flashing, “how can we assist you? Kekeke.”

By now, the other hyenas had completely blocked the exit. Subtle. But not subtle.

Ivy waved her hand casually. “Nah, sorry. We’re not looking to buy slaves.”

“Oh,” the leader said pleasantly. “That’s good then. You see, other than hyenas, there are only two reasons people walk into this building.”

She stepped closer.

“Either you’re looking for slaves.”

Another step.

“Or you become one.”

“Kekekeke.”

“Kekekeke.”

“Kekekeke.”

The entire Hyenas in the room joined in. Ivy and Bella looked at them innocently, calmly. Almost… sympathetically.

---

“Kekekeke.”

“So, basically your pack is like a mercenary group,” Bella said conversationally, “but for hunting and rounding up slaves?”

“That’s right, kekeke,” the leader replied.

“But why do all of you keep doing ‘kekekeke’? Do you just enjoy laughing that much?”

“No, kekekeke,” the leader answered hesitantly. “This is not laughing. This is simply how hyenas talk. Kekekeke.”

“Aahh,” Bella nodded in understanding. “That explains why your entire pack kept laughing even while I was beating them up.”

Around them, the once-confident hyena beastmen now decorated the floor.

Some were unconscious.

Some were clutching ribs.

The leader herself was currently walking on all her four legs with no dignity while Bella was riding her like a pony. Casually holding a 12-gauge shotgun loaded with rubber rounds. The transformation from “intimidating slaver syndicate” to “day care” had occurred very quickly.

On the second floor balcony, Ivy leaned over the railing.

“I’ve checked all the rooms!” she shouted.

“Oh finally,” Bella said, adjusting her balance slightly. “I’m getting bored playing horse.”

“Apparently the leader’s room is quite fancy. Pretty chic, actually.”

Bella looked down at the hyena beneath her.

“Ohh. That’s surprising for a thug leader.”

“W-well,” the leader said nervously, “I’m still a woman after all, kekekeke.”

The laugh this time sounded less cultural and more survival-based.

“Well, alright then,” Bella said, cocking her shotgun lightly for emphasis. “Like we said before, we’ll be borrowing your place and your men for a few days. After that, we leave you in peace. Any objection?”

“N-no objection at all, little girl.”

Bella slowly tilted the shotgun downward.

“What did I tell you to call me before?”

The leader stiffened.

“I—I mean… My Lady…”

“Good,” Bella said, satisfied.

Around them, the other hyenas chose to remain extremely unconscious.

---

Town’s Market

Meanwhile, at the much more civilized battlefield known as commerce, Solo stood in front of a stall, staring down a cat beastman merchant.

“Two gold,” Solo declared firmly.

“That’s less than half the original price nya?!” the cat merchant protested, ears flattening.

“Please, Mr. Boar… I also need to make a living for my family nya…”

The merchant lifted his hands, forming the most pitiable, wide-eyed, trembly-whiskered expression he could manage.

It was a professional-level display. Tragic yet adorable.

Solo stared at him. It didn’t work.

It didn't work for one simple reason. The cat was male. Ever since arriving in this town and recognizing his own vulnerabilities, Solo had strictly chosen male merchants for all purchases.

“Well then,” Solo scoffed, turning away dramatically, “I’ll find it somewhere else.”

He took three steps.

“…Ugh… fine! Two gold nya!” the merchant called out desperately.

Solo stopped. Victory.

Irving and Kovalski, who had witnessed the entire exchange, frowned.

“I know he has to fund this whole journey from his own pocket,” Kovalski muttered quietly, “but I wonder if he’s actually just a genuinely stingy person.”

Irving crossed his arms thoughtfully.

“Well,” he replied, “at least with someone like him, we won’t get stranded because we ran out of money.”

---

Moments later, Solo walked down the street, casually stuffing newly purchased food supplies into his sub-space bag.

Flour.

Dried meat.

Spices.

Emergency jerky.

Backup emergency jerky.

Satisfied.

“Muahaha,” Solo laughed proudly. “After 130 years, I can finally experience proper RPG-style travel.”

“Good for you, sir, hehehe,” Irving replied from behind in a tone so polished.

Solo yawned loudly. “Back when I traveled through the Demon Kingdom, there was no commerce. No markets. No bargaining. Demons only knew how to acquire goods by killing the owner.”

“Are you tired, sir?” Kovalski asked.

“Yaaawn… I slept late last night doing some… planning.” Solo replied, “I guess I’ll head back to the inn and rest for the day.”

Irving and Kovalski exchanged a quick glance.

“Not good,” Kovalski whispered. “We haven’t gathered enough intel on his preferences.”

“I know,” Irving whispered back. “He deliberately avoided interacting with any beast girls all day.”

But then, as Solo passed an alleyway—

“Hello there… big green guy.”

The voice was smooth. Warm. Sweet.

Solo stopped.

“Huh? Me?”

From the shadows of the alley, a figure emerged. A female cougar beastwoman stepped forward, dressed in an elegant yet dangerously alluring gown. It hugged in strategic places. Flowed in others. Subtle, but devastating.

She walked with deliberate confidence. Each step controlled and each movement calibrated. The perfect cat-walk.

“Yes, you,” she said, approaching slowly. “Are you a boar?”

“Y-yes…” Solo replied stiffly.

Fortunately, very few on Beast Island had ever seen an orc. To them, Solo was simply an unusually muscular boar beastman. Fat replaced by carved muscle.

“Oh my,” the cougar smiled. “I’ve never seen a boar… as handsome and strong-looking as you.”

She circled him slowly. A finger traced lightly across his arm. Her tail brushed against him—once. Then again. Very soft fur.

Solo froze. He could feel the warmth of her touch. Smell her perfume. Hear the faint shift of fabric. His face instantly turned to a violent shade of red.

“Say,” she murmured, leaning closer, “could you assist me with something?”

“W-w-what is it, ma’am?” Solo stammered.

She stepped close to his ear, close enough that her breath tickled.

“You see…” she whispered softly, careful not to let the two men behind hear clearly, “I’m currently… on my heat period… and after seeing you, I can’t imagine asking anyone else.”

Solo gulped.

Irving’s demon-enhanced hearing twitched sharply. His eyes widened. This was it.

“A-ah, unfortunately,” Solo said quickly, stiffly, “I am happily married. Please ask one of my companions for assistance.”

And with that, he retreated.

Fast.

Very fast.

Leaving behind a blinking cougar.

Irving immediately grabbed Kovalski by the shoulders.

“Kovalski! This is it!” he hissed urgently. “She’s the one! You know what to do!”

“Ah… yes…” Kovalski replied, still processing what Irving means.

“Sir! Allow me to escort you back to the inn!” Irving shouted, sprinting after Solo.

Now only Kovalski and the cougar remained. They stared at each other.

Suddenly footsteps thundered back. Irving reappeared, grabbed Kovalski’s shoulder even harder this time, and leaned in with deadly seriousness.

“And remember,” Irving said grimly, “no funny ‘interviews.’”

He held eye contact for a full second longer than necessary.

“Uh… sure…” Kovalski replied.

Irving ran off again.

Silence returned to the alley.

Operation Honeytrap was about to entered Phase Two.