Chapter 19: The Lucky Winner

In Gima’s newly empowered eyes, the world was a vibrant, swirling canvas of sin. Every man and woman had a seven-colored whirlwind of energy around their chest, a personal vortex of vice. And Gima, with her "Eyes of Desire," could see every delicious, ugly detail, even through their backs.

She turned her gaze to the adventurers. As expected, their whirlwinds were a chaotic mess. The blue of greed and the purple of lust were the most prominent, eye-catching colors, each swirling in a vortex at least the size of two fists. The other desires—pride, wrath, envy—were a respectable apple-sized, all crammed together in their chests, the colors deep and muddy. Compared to the pale, almost transparent desire-clouds she had seen in the Holy Sanctuary, these were on a completely different level, both in size and in intensity. They would also be much, much easier to manipulate.

“Tsk, a bunch of pathetic cannon fodder, completely enslaved by their own base desires,” Gima thought, a thrill of delight coursing through her. “They are fit only to be dominated by me.”

Just then, a booming, triumphant shout cut through the noisy tavern, standing out like a glorious eagle among a flock of squawking chickens.

“I win! Hahaha! Drinks are on me tonight, boys!”

The winner’s voice sounded annoyingly familiar. Gima looked towards the source of the sound.

She saw a horse-faced man standing up, looking as smug as a king. His long face was flushed with excitement. He looked very, very familiar.

Gima pulled the edge of her hood down to cover her face and walked closer for a better look. Wasn’t this the same horse-faced overseer who had so graciously accepted a gold coin from George this morning?

On the greasy round table in front of him were well-worn Gwent cards and several half-empty glasses of strong, cheap liquor. It was a gambling game, and the horse-faced overseer seemed to be on a ridiculously lucky streak. A large pile of copper coins, generously mixed with a few shiny silver ones, was stacked proudly in front of him. The other players at the table had only pathetic little piles of copper coins. The fat man sitting directly across from the horse-faced overseer was in an even more miserable state. His face was red with fury, and he was angrily pulling the last few copper and silver coins from his money pouch and placing them on the table.

“I’m on fire today!” the horse-faced overseer continued to boast to anyone who would listen. “This morning, some bucket-helmed idiot from Barto wanted to give food to those filthy mud-people. I just cracked my whip, gave him a little glare, and he was so scared he dropped his beef jerky right in the water. He even gave me a shiny gold coin to apologize!”

He leaned back in his chair, puffing out his chest. “Tsk, if I hadn’t taken pity on him, I would have made him give me his little wife. She's so pretty, but she’s with such a coward. Such a poor little thing. She’d be much better off enjoying a life of luxury with a real man like me.”

A cold, dangerous glint appeared in Gima’s golden eyes. She took a few steps to the left, moving out of the horse-faced overseer’s line of sight. She activated her “Eyes of Desire” and looked at his sweat-soaked, disgusting back.

The horse-faced overseer’s seven whirlwinds of desire appeared clearly before her. The most prominent were three ugly, intertwined whirlwinds: pink for jealousy, yellow for pride, and purple for lust. Among them, the pink cloud of jealousy was particularly striking.

Gima didn’t act immediately. Instead, she began to analyze her target. This was a good habit, one that would help her understand her new supernatural abilities better and level up faster.

These three desires are intertwined, with pink jealousy being the dominant one. That means this morning, he lusted after me, was jealous that I belonged to George, and finally, mistook George’s kindness for weakness, arrogantly thinking George was a fool and looking down on him… and this, in turn, strengthened his jealousy of George. That’s why jealousy is the dominant one.

Heh. Pathetic cannon fodder. If you don’t chop off a few of their heads, their simple, idiotic brains will never learn the meaning of respect.

In the span of a few thoughts, Gima had figured out his psychology almost perfectly.

She slightly raised her index finger, preparing to gently stir his jealousy.

Then, his companions will say a few sarcastic words, I’ll step in and put on a little show… and the horse-faced overseer’s jealousy will make him rush headlong into George’s sword.

No! Too risky. If I get involved directly, it will easily arouse George’s suspicion.

Gima calmed down. She wouldn’t underestimate her enemy’s intelligence, even if he was a dense Paladin. Her slightly raised index finger lowered.

Just then, the fat man sitting across from the horse-faced overseer slammed his hands on the table and stood up. His eyes were bloodshot, and he waved his hand impatiently.

“Stop your damn boasting!”

With that, he shoved his pathetic little pile of copper coins forward and practically roared, “One more round! Now!”

The horse-faced overseer completely ignored him and continued to ramble on without a pause, basking in his own glory.

“And that bucket-helmed kid, wearing some outdated armor he probably stripped off a corpse. That iron-gray color went out of style ten years ago! The other adventurers said he talks so little because he’s killed too many people, and they were all afraid of him. I say they’re just a bunch of cowards…”

The fat man sat motionless, glaring at the incessantly babbling horse-faced overseer, his eyes getting redder and redder. He was trying to signal, with every fiber of his being, that he was very, very angry. But the horse-faced overseer didn’t pay him any mind and continued to boast.

Gima saw the whirlwind of rage in the fat man’s chest, as vibrant and eye-catchingly ugly as a NTR flag.

A slight, wicked smile curved her lips. She flicked her index finger. The green whirlwind of rage in the fat man’s chest instantly expanded like an exploding balloon, filling his entire chest with pure, unadulterated fury.

“Boasting my ass!” the fat man roared, slamming his fist on the table with such force that copper coins flew everywhere. “Why don’t you take a piss and look at your own reflection! A noble knight gives you a single gold coin out of pity, and you can boast about it for this long!”

“What did you just say? Say that again, I dare you!”

“I said, you’re just a beggar!”

“You fat pig! You’re just sore because you lost, aren’t you?!”

“What!” The fat man panted with rage, his jowls trembling. He kicked over the round table. His two companions immediately grabbed him from either side, trying to restrain him.

“Calm down man, calm down! We’re all friends here!”

The other adventurers, who had been enjoying the show, all turned their heads. It looked like just an ordinary, run-of-the-mill tavern brawl, an ordinary friendship breaking apart over a game of cards.

But this time, it wasn’t ordinary.

As Gima passed the staircase, she turned her head, pretending to be drawn by the sound of the argument. She flicked her little finger at the horse-faced overseer. She saw the pink cloud of jealousy expand, filling his chest. Then, with a satisfied smile, she walked straight up the stairs.

For some reason, the horse-faced overseer was suddenly, vividly reminded of the knightly lord he had seen that morning. He was wearing magnificent full plate armor, majestic and imposing, and was a full head taller than him. The little girl squire by his side was not only cute but also had a seductive, irresistible charm in her eyes.

A sour, bitter feeling rose in his heart. He roared at the fat man, “What did you just call me?!”

Spittle flew from his mouth and landed on the fat man’s face.

“A beggar who took a single gold coin from a noble lord!”

Gima reached the second floor. The sound of the argument grew louder, escalating into furious shouts.

She walked lightly to her door, unlocked it, went inside, and closed the door, shutting out the noise from behind her.

George, who was sitting on the bed reading by the light of an alchemy lamp, looked up. “You’re back already? I thought you were going to have some fun downstairs.”

“It’s too noisy down there. Someone’s fighting. I was afraid I’d get kidnapped.”

As Gima spoke, she walked closer to George. George calmly placed the book he was reading behind his back. Gima couldn’t help but glance at it. She saw the cover and said casually:

“Master is very diligent in his studies.”

“I told you not to call me Mas—”

A high-pitched, terrified shriek from the tarven keeper pierced through the floor, interrupting George’s words.

“Aaaaaahhhhhh!!!!!!”

George immediately drew his massive two-handed greatsword. “Stay close to me,” he said to Gima.

Gima took out her hand crossbow, loaded it, and followed closely behind George. They left the room and hurried downstairs.

In the main hall on the first floor, almost all the customers were standing up, forming a wide, silent circle. The tarven keeper’s face was pale, and she was clutching her chest, looking like she was about to faint.

The two of them stood on the stairs, their gazes looking over the crowd. They saw a body, lying face down on the floor. There was a large, gruesome hole in the top of his head, a gooey, bloody mess. A long, horse-like face lay in a pool of blood, his eyes wide with a look of final, utter surprise.

The murder weapon was a heavy iron hammer, with some bloody hair stuck to it, thrown to the right of the body. A single gold coin had fallen from the overturned round table, rolled through the pool of blood, bumped into the horse-face, and landed in the blood. The face of the king on the coin was covered in blood.

It was the same gold coin George had “bribed” him with that morning.

George recognized the horse-face. “It’s him?”

“Who?” Gima asked, grabbing the handrail and bouncing on her toes, trying to see the gory spectacle.

“It’s the overseer from this morning who was whipping the slaves. He treated them like animals.”

“Oh, him. Good riddance.”

George patted Gima on the head. “Little children shouldn’t say such things.”

“But I really do think it’s a good thing.”

“Just think it in your heart. Don’t say it out loud,” George said patiently. “Let's go ask what happened.”

They went down. Gima randomly found an enthusiastic, gossip-loving member of the crowd.

“They were gambling with Gwent cards,” the man explained excitedly. “The dead guy was boasting, saying some knight was a fool for giving him a gold coin and all that. The guy who lost got impatient, and they started arguing. They argued and argued, and then the fat guy grabbed a hammer and hit him hard on the head.”

At this point, the enthusiastic citizen shivered. “It was like he was killing his father’s murderer. After the fat guy knocked him down, he sat on him and hammered his head a dozen more times before he finally ran off. Everyone was terrified.”

George shook his head sadly. “Gambling is a scourge upon society.”

They returned to their room. George didn’t forget to continue his moral education. “Gima, you must never, ever gamble in the future.”

“Mm, it’s too scary,” Gima nodded obediently. “I’m going to go memorize my book now.”

Gima sat on the high stool, her back to George, a slight, triumphant smile finally curving her lips.

Just then, a warm current flowed through her entire body. It was like a hot, damp towel, gently wiping her down from head to toe, leaving her feeling comfortable, refreshed, and incredibly powerful. She felt her grasp of her succubus supernatural abilities deepen. The strange, wonderful sensation was like her stiff, clumsy left hand suddenly becoming as nimble and dexterous as her right.

Familiar with the system’s quirks, Gima knew this phenomenon meant that her abilities had been significantly enhanced.

She closed her eyes slightly, affectionately calling out the system in her mind. In the message log, she saw a new line of text.

>DM: As your understanding of playing the role of a succubus deepens, and you become more proficient in applying the abilities of an "Apostle of Desire," your mastery of your supernatural abilities has reached a new level. You may now view your updated abilities.

Gima opened her personal interface.

>Name: Gima. Alignment: Neutral Evil …Update Complete

>Stirring Desire (Updated): You can now stir several desires in the same person simultaneously. You can now see the desires of a crowd and stir their desires, playing them in the palm of your hand like puppets on a string. But be warned, the larger the crowd, the greater the consumption of your own power. As you level up, the size of the crowd you can stir will also increase.

So strong! Although the power consumption was also greater, human emotions were contagious. A crowd would amplify desires exponentially. Which meant that with just a gentle, invisible stir, a single spark, the mob mentality would do the rest, fanning the spark into a bonfire, a raging, uncontrollable inferno that could even burn down an entire city.

Gima rated this new ability very, very highly. She opened her eyes, her heart filled with the pure, unadulterated joy of a bountiful harvest.

At the same time, she didn't ignore the message in the log. She began to summarize her leveling experience in her mind.

The system praised my deeper understanding of playing the role of a succubus. That must be because of my "lewd-selling" to George. Hehe, leading people to depravity is a succubus's most sacred nature, after all.

This time, I just played a single, worthless cannon fodder to death and got so much experience. That means I did it perfectly. I didn't get myself involved in the slightest, and no one suspected a thing. I fooled everyone completely.

Seduction, deception, standing behind the scenes and manipulating people’s desires from the shadows. This must be what it means to be an Apostle of Desire. I must follow these role-playing rules in the future.

I’m so damn smart. Just you wait, you traitors and you damn virgin. This old lord is coming back.

Gima’s eyes crinkled with a satisfied smile. The words on the pages of that damned, brainwashing religious book suddenly seemed much more friendly and approachable. She unconsciously twirled a lock of her silky hair, exposing her fair, slender neck, picked up a pencil, and began to write.

PS from the author: So you guys actually like to read about spanking, huh? The number of comments on that part scared me.