Chapter 10: The Experiment

Along the way, Gima continued to secretly observe the seven negative desires in the hearts of the passersby. At first, she was cautious, but when she discovered that no one, not even the stoic statues of the gods, seemed to notice her psychic spying, she grew bolder and much more arrogant.

It wasn't until they entered a gray, imposing military building and stepped into the main hall that Gima finally reigned herself in and deactivated her “Eyes of Desire.” The hall was filled with fully armed, intimidating warriors, and the rhythmic clanking of their armor echoed down the long corridors.

It wasn't that Gima held any particular reverence for the sharp, pointy weapons the warriors carried. Rather, she didn't want to leave an even worse impression on Cardinal Gregory, lest he feel inspired to invite her to a personal, and very hot, holy fire baptism at the stake.

They climbed a stone staircase, passed through a corridor supported by massive marble columns, and entered an office containing little more than a long table. Wearing his red robe with gold trim, the gaunt-faced Cardinal Gregory was standing behind the table, waiting for them with an unnerving stillness.

Gregory glanced at Gima, a flicker of amusement in his tired eyes. “It seems your little succubus enjoys her new work as a squire.”

“Polishing George’s greatsword is much easier than being burned at the stake,” Gima replied with a perfectly sweet, angelic smile.

“George,” the Cardinal sighed, “it appears your educational methods have some… minor issues.”

“Your Eminence,” George said, looking profoundly embarrassed, “I swear on my honor, I have never let her hear any such vulgar jokes.”

“Succubi have inherited memories from their fiendish lineage. This path you have chosen is far more difficult than you imagine,” Gregory said, shaking his head with the air of a disappointed grandfather. “Young people… always prefer to leave the smooth, righteous, well-paved road to walk a rugged, crooked, and incredibly stupid trail.”

“What is right is more important than what is easy,” George said with a solemn face, puffing out his chest.

Gima absolutely loved this stupid, blockheaded side of him. Or rather, as long as he kept her off the righteous path that led directly to her being turned into a crispy critter, she liked every single side of him.

“Alright, stop calling me ‘Your Eminence’,” Gregory said, showing no particular airs. He picked up an unsealed letter from the long table, handed it to George, and said, “We have found a potential way to break the slave contract.”

Instantly, both Gima’s and George’s eyes were fixed on the letter. George took it, breathing a visible sigh of relief.

“That’s wonderful!” Gima exclaimed with theatrical joy. “Master George will no longer have to cry himself to sleep every night clutching his pale, lonely bedsheets. The recent rumors have simply broken his poor, delicate heart.”

“Gima! You are forbidden from using that word,” George said sternly. “And do not lie.”

Meanwhile, Cardinal Gregory stared at Gima as if mentally calculating precisely how much firewood it would take to burn her to a fine, holy ash.

“Oh, it seems the Holy Sanctuary is a graveyard for clowns,” Gima sighed dramatically, placing the back of her hand to her forehead. “Even the most humorous and interesting jester would be driven to hang themselves by all the dense, wooden-headed people around here.”

“No more glib talk.”

The moment Gregory spoke, his voice low and sharp, Gima instantly became obedient, a model of meekness. She stood beside George, her eyes furtively scanning the letter in his hands, searching for the words she cared about most. Gima was very nervous. The destination of this mission was crucial to her, directly related to the progress of regaining her strength.

“Salem City?” George asked, his brow furrowed.

“The ‘Good Masters’ of Salem City have promoted the widespread use of slave contracts. For that crime alone, they deserve to be burned at the stake a hundred times over,” Gregory said, his voice laced with contempt. “But it is only in a place as vile as Salem City that a method to break such an unholy contract might be found.”

“Good Masters,” the elegant, and deeply ironic, term for the ruling slavers of Salem City.

“The Good Masters of Salem City have crowdfunded a bounty of over thirty thousand gold coins for my head,” George stated flatly. “Is there any other intelligence?”

“Believe me, if you want to break the slave contract in a short amount of time, Salem City is the most… cost-effective place,” Gregory said. “You could also choose to be cautious. As long as you can endure a little succubus calling you ‘Master’ day in and day out for the next three or four years.”

“Sigh.” George heaved a long, weary sigh. “It must be done.”

“Sometimes, I feel like I’m a ‘tank’ that weighs more than a bull,” Gima said with a pout, trying to look burdensome.

Although she complained with her mouth, Gima was ecstatic in her heart.

When she was a Demon Lord, Salem City was her absolute favorite vacation spot. It was the world’s most famous “talent market.” As long as you had the money, you could buy any kind of talent imaginable. Previously, Gima had loved to go to Salem City to experience the cutting-edge “maid service techniques.” She had even hired several senior trainers and bought eighteen new maids in one trip, becoming one of Salem City’s most important and valued clients—the kind they put on their glossy promotional posters.

Now, Salem City’s charm for Gima had only increased tenfold. She had a large sum of gold coins deposited in a local bank there, as well as a key to a secret treasure vault, just in case of emergencies like, say, being murdered and reincarnated into a cute girl’s body.

It was time to take her trusty tool of a hero and go to Salem City to open her vault, getting on the fast track to glorious revenge and the grand rebuilding of her harem.

The premise was, of course, that George would actually take her with him.

“Am I going too?” Gima raised her hand timidly. “Not that I don’t want to go, just asking. If I stay alone in the Holy Sanctuary, I’m sure I’ll end up as a well-done barbecue on a stake one of these days.”

No one paid her any attention.

“What should I do when I get to Salem City?” George asked Gregory.

“We have a trustworthy informant who has been undercover for a long time,” Gregory said. “He was the one who sent the intelligence that the Good Masters might have a way to break the slave contract.”

“George, George,” Gima waved her hand frantically. “A Paladin can’t lie. You’ll definitely need my little mouth to do the talking.”

“Gima, I will take you with me,” George finally said, turning his head. “As long as it’s not absolutely necessary to storm their mansions and bring justice to the Good Masters, I should be able to take care of you.”

“Then go.”

Surprisingly, Gregory readily agreed.

Although she didn’t know what the old fox Gregory was planning, Gima didn’t care. As long as she could get to Salem City, everything would be fine.

“I object.”

A clear, melodic female voice came from the doorway. Gima looked towards the entrance and saw the golden-haired, silver-robed Saintess Jenna.

She was a maiden with a gentle and ethereally beautiful face. Her chest was full, the fabric of her robe pulled taut over her ample assets, but her generous figure did not detract in the slightest from her holy, untouchable aura. A faint halo seemed to surround her, making it difficult for anyone to even think of a profane thought in her presence. The whole room seemed to light up as she entered, and the morning light from the window fell on her, plating her in gold, as if a goddess herself had descended from the heavens.

“Hero George, this is a mission no less dangerous than vanquishing a Demon Lord.”

Jenna stopped beside Gima and spoke, her voice as light and ethereal as the music of angels playing harps. “You need a trustworthy and reliable teammate.”

Jenna paused, shooting a cold, sharp side-glance at Gima. “Not a demon you’ve only known for a few days.”

Having snapped out of her awe, Gima instantly recognized her.

It’s her! The one who gave George that ridiculous buff so he could stab me to death… what a beautiful girl. That holy, pious expression… if she were wearing a maid’s dress and kneeling on the floor, she’d be even more charming… Hehe, when I get my strength back, you’ll be the very first maid in my new harem.

Lost in her wonderful, lecherous fantasy, a dreamy smile unknowingly appeared on Gima’s face.

Jenna took this as a direct, mocking insult. She snorted lightly, looked at George, and said:

“George, what do you think?”

“Since the Lady Saintess is willing to lend her aid,” George said with obvious relief, “the three of us will have an even greater chance of success.”

Jenna instinctively wanted to object. She had no desire whatsoever to team up with a succubus who clearly liked to seduce men. But then she thought that it would make George think she was a petty, jealous woman.

“Alright,” Jenna nodded, forcing a serene smile. “The Lord of the Morning will smile upon us.”

“Excellent!”

Although Gima was still a long, long way from adding Jenna to her harem, the thought of being able to take advantage of her female form to cop a feel from the Saintess along the way made her so happy her tail started to wag. “I am very happy to be traveling with the Lady Saintess.”

“Very good,” George nodded, completely oblivious to the undercurrents of tension.

Jenna almost said something incredibly sarcastic, but she stopped herself in time.

That was close. The little demon must have said that on purpose to make me angry and lower George’s opinion of me. I won’t fall for such a simple trick, Jenna thought, steeling herself.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Gregory said, his voice cutting through the tension. “The moment the three of you leave White City, your whereabouts will be on the desks of the Good Masters of Salem City by the next day.”

“This must be a surprise attack. The teleportation circle near Salem City can only transport two people. The next time it can be used is in half a month.”

“So, George, you can only take one companion.”

The triumphant smile on Gima’s face gradually disappeared. No matter how you looked at it, taking a powerful Saintess was a much, much better choice than taking a weak little succubus.

Jenna quietly puffed out her chest. She couldn’t wait to fight alongside George again. This time, it would be just the two of them. And after the slave contract was broken, the succubus would have absolutely no reason to stick around George’s side.

“I choose Gima,” George said.

Both women looked at him in utter, slack-jawed shock.

“I think,” George began, explaining his flawless logic, “that if the method to break the slave contract is only known by a few people, and those criminals are afraid of holy judgment and would rather die than ever set foot in the Holy Sanctuary, then the safest, most logical method is to take Gima with me and break the slave contract on the spot.”

“George, that’s too dangerous!” Saintess Jenna almost lost her holy composure. “Last time, after you vanquished the Demon Lord who was in league with them and rescued all those innocent girls, the Good Masters of Salem City have been dreaming of tearing you to pieces and swallowing you whole!”

The Holy Sanctuary was extremely annoyed with Salem City’s aggressive promotion of slave contracts. Seeing that the wicked practice was spreading, the Sanctuary took a huge risk and sent their Hero to vanquish one of their most important VIP clients, a certain fellow whose life goal was to build a harem. The deterrent effect was, admittedly, excellent.

“I have sworn an oath to break the contract on Gima as soon as possible,” George said, his voice firm with conviction. “And with my strength, I can still handle the so-called Good Masters of Salem City.”

Gima was almost moved to tears. To encounter such a stubborn, blockheaded idiot was truly a blessing of three lifetimes.

Gregory stroked his goatee, deep in thought. Saintess Jenna cast a pleading look at him. George was someone who listened to advice. As long as the Cardinal spoke up…

“George has a point,” Gregory said finally. “Let justice be done.”

“Let justice be done,” George said, bowing slightly to him.

“You will depart tomorrow. You have one day to prepare,” Gregory said. “George, there are some things I would like to discuss with you in private.”

“Bye-bye~!”

Gima waved cheerfully to them, followed the frosty-faced Saintess out of the room, and gently closed the door.

Along the way, Saintess Jenna treated Gima as if she were thin air.

Gima, on the other hand, took full advantage of her new female form. Her gaze brazenly, and quite thoroughly, roamed over the Saintess’s magnificent bosom, capturing its every subtle sway, admiring her perfectly holy and beautiful face. In her mind, she was already fantasizing about a hundred and eight different ways a Saintess-maid could serve her new master.

Just as Gima was lost in her delightful fantasy, Jenna’s cold, sharp voice sounded.

“I have read the report on George’s mission. I’m not the only one who can see at a glance that you used some sort of trick to get him to sign that contract.”

Jenna stopped walking. Only then did Gima realize they had wandered to a secluded, grassy meadow under a large, old tree. There was no one else around.

“You took advantage of his kindness. You’re very proud of yourself, aren’t you? You think you can deceive him forever, lead him down the path to his own downfall.” Saintess Jenna stopped by the tree. “But George is a chosen one of the gods. He will soon see your true colors.”

“And even if he falls so deep that he cannot see the light, the bonds he shares with us, his friends, are strong enough to pull him out of the deepest pits of hell.”

Gima noticed that many names were carved into the ancient tree trunk. Among them were the names ‘George’ and ‘Jenna.’

“I have known George since we were children right here in the Holy Sanctuary,” Jenna said, her hand resting on the tree, her chin lifted in pride and ownership. “Don’t even think about harming George, you little demon.”

Gima felt as if she had been doused with a bucket of ice-cold reality, completely snapping her out of her pleasant fantasy. She looked at Saintess Jenna and felt that her own lecherous fantasy just now was incredibly, painfully ironic.

George had a beautiful Saintess throwing herself at him, while she could only drool pitifully on the sidelines, wearing the skin of a succubus, like a little dog under the dining table, wagging its tail and looking up hungrily at the feast it could never have.

“George, he—”

The name George was exceptionally grating, a sharp, painful sting to her manly pride.

“Enough.”

Gima interrupted, her voice suddenly cold. A crazy, brilliant, and incredibly reckless idea began to rise from the bottom of her heart. Right now, this Saintess is jealous. Just as I am jealous of George.

She activated her “Eyes of Desire,” her gaze shooting towards Jenna like a bolt of lightning.