Chapter 25: Revenge is a Dish Best Served in a Skirt

The next day.

“Women’s clothes?!”

At the breakfast table, Gima almost spat out the mouthful of sausage she was chewing.

Sitting across from her, her lifelong sworn enemy—George—nodded with the grave expression of a king making a decision that concerned the fate of the entire world.

“The clothes I have are perfectly fine,” Gima insisted, taking a forceful, angry bite of her sausage and chewing with vigor.

“You only have two sets of clothes, and they’re both crudely made from old robes,” George said reasonably. “You look like a little boy.”

Tsk. The damn virgin is finally revealing his true nature as a loli-tail-con. In his dreams! I’d rather die than become his personal dress-up doll!

“At your age, a girl should wear pretty dresses that she likes,” George recited, almost verbatim from one of his parenting books. “It’s beneficial for building self-confidence and fostering a healthy sense of self.”

Gima shook her head vehemently.

She was still somewhat resistant to the idea of wearing women’s clothes. It wasn’t that she had the self-deceiving notion that “as long as I refuse to wear women’s clothes, I’m still a man.” It was just that the thought of herself in a pair of revealing hot pants and thigh-high white stockings, standing in front of George and being subjected to the baptism of his heated, analytical gaze… it filled her with a profound sense of shame and humiliation she hadn’t felt since… well, ever.

“It’s not urgent, is it?” Gima said, trying to deflect. “I’m still little. I haven’t even gotten my period yet. Right now, we should be focusing on finding that Nudelhi person.”

George shook his head.

“This morning, someone introduced me to a so-called ‘know-it-all.’ He claimed to know everything about Salem City. I asked him who Nudelhi was. Turns out, his mouth was full of lies. He clearly didn’t know but insisted he could handle it, and just kept asking for more money. In Salem City, I have no connections and no channels. It’s impossible to find him in a short amount of time.”

“So?”

“So, I plan to first do some things a Bartonian errant knight should do in Salem City to build our reputation,” George said. “That means we won’t be busy for a while. We can use the time to buy you some proper clothes. But if you don’t want to, then never mind.”

“Oh.”

Gima chewed on her sausage and swallowed. But the faint, gnawing feeling of hunger in her stomach hadn’t lessened one bit since she woke up. Gima estimated that with her current lust reserves, she had just enough to perform one more “group stir,” and that was it.

She glanced at George with a hint of deep dissatisfaction.

As expected of a damn virgin from the Holy Sanctuary. A man and a woman sharing a room for a whole night, and not a single, usable drop of lust was produced. He’s completely useless.

“Are you still hungry? Should I order some more food?”

“No, I’m full.” It’s not my fault you can’t get it up.

Knock, knock, knock.

A light knock sounded at the door.

“Sir, sorry to bother you. We’ve brought the mirror you requested.”

Gima put down her fork and went to the door, dutifully playing the part of a good squire. She opened it. It was the full-length mirror George had rented. It was placed in the room, covered with a heavy cloth.

Perhaps it was her innate succubus nature, but Gima had a great fondness for mirrors. As soon as the door was closed, she pulled off her hood, tore the cloth from the mirror with a dramatic flourish, and immediately, a cute succubus with translucent, captivating golden eyes appeared before her.

Only then did Gima realize that she hadn’t actually looked in a mirror since her rebirth. She had only been in the Holy Sanctuary for a few days before being rushed off and teleported to Salem City with George.

She carefully examined herself in the mirror. Her face was childish with a bit of baby fat, but her chin was somewhat pointed, giving her a touch of womanly maturity amidst her innocence. This was the capital that allowed her to be so alluring at such a young age. With a slight blink, her golden eyes under her long, dark lashes seemed to sparkle, striking straight at a person’s heart.

But her loose, brownish-yellow robe ruined at least eighty percent of her natural charm. It was like a dusty dishrag covering a priceless masterpiece, completely hiding the lines of her body and her slender legs.

No wonder the damn virgin hasn’t had a proper reaction. He wasn’t wrong. I really do look like a little boy.

Gima couldn’t help but turn a slow circle in front of the mirror, her mood worsening with each degree of rotation. The robe on her body felt more and more like a rag that had been used to wipe the city sewers.

Speaking of which, the fact that George had any reaction at all before is truly a testament to my vast reserves of knowledge and my impeccable technique.

Thinking, thinking…

A crazy, brilliant, and utterly humiliating idea popped into Gima’s head.

Not only was she going to buy women’s clothes, but she was going to wear them for George. Super short miniskirt maid outfits, skin-tight school swimsuits, even slutty, see-through lingerie—she would wear it all! The more ecchi, the better!

The more lust she could squeeze out of George, the faster her strength would increase, and the sooner she could escape the recurring nightmare of her past failures.

The flames of revenge, fueled by a burning, righteous hatred, roared to life in Gima’s small chest.

My face… my dignity… my masculine pride… none of it can make me stronger. To hell with my face! Gima made up her mind. She turned around resolutely and said with a newfound, slightly terrifying determination:

“George, can I take back what I said earlier? I’ve suddenly had a profound realization that pretty little dresses are, in fact, incredibly beneficial to my healthy growth and development.”

The corner of George’s mouth curved up slightly in a small, triumphant smile. He stood up. “Excellent. Let’s go now. Someone sincerely recommended a very good clothing store to me.”

Hehe. Every time you get hard, it’s another shovelful of dirt on your future grave. Just you wait, you damn virgin. The show is about to begin.

Gima pulled up her hood, covering her small horns, and followed closely behind George.

A quarter of an hour later, they turned from the main road into a lively, and very colorful, street.

In the brightly painted buildings along the road, young women of all skin colors and species sat by the windows, casting heated, undisguised, and very professional gazes at George.

Gima’s eyes lingered for a second on the long, black-stockinged legs of a brown-skinned girl in a doorway. Then, she turned her head with a mischievous, knowing look at George.

“Ahem. I didn’t know the clothing store was in… this kind of area,” George said, his voice a little strained.

“Actually, sir, if you wanted to, you wouldn’t have to go to so much trouble,” Gima said in a low, suggestive voice. “We could do it in the room. I’d be happy to… accommodate you.”

“Gima, that’s not what I meant.”

“Huh? I meant, you could call for room service,” Gima said, blinking innocently. “Sir, what were you thinking of? Don’t tell me…”

Just as George was about to launch into a deep, internal reflection on his own impure thoughts, an irrepressible smile spread across Gima’s face. Only then did George realize he’d been had. He flicked Gima on the forehead. “Naughty.”

After passing three very enthusiastic “special service” establishments, they finally found the recommended clothing store at a relatively quiet intersection.

At the entrance of the store, a well-dressed, gray-haired man was just leaving. He was followed by two beautiful women, one a young girl, the other a mature woman. One had rich brown skin, the other was pale as milk. One had a lush, mature figure, the other was slender and willowy. They were wearing tight-fitting maid dresses with dangerously high slits, revealing their long, shapely legs wrapped in silk stockings. The black collars around their necks indicated their status as slaves.

The female slaves followed their master towards a shiny, opulent carriage. One of the young girls had a somewhat sad expression, but when she saw Gima and George, she proudly puffed out her chest, held her head high, and walked into the carriage as if she were a proud canary entering a golden cage.

The coachman cracked his whip, and two magnificent horses pulled the carriage away.

A beautiful, middle-aged woman, who was just past her prime but still incredibly alluring, waved a silk handkerchief at the departing carriage. She was wearing a black, palace-style dress that hugged her body in soft, smooth fabric. At first glance, it seemed quite decent. But upon closer inspection, one would realize that was not the case at all. Her dress had a strong, unmistakable “Demon Lord style” element. The tight-fitting skirt was gathered at the hips, making her butt look large and shapely, perfectly accentuating its every curve. And there was a shiny, suggestive zipper on the back of the skirt, full of unspoken promises.

Gima knew at a glance that this store catered to a wide range of customers who worked the night shift, their primary workplace being the bed. Of course, it didn’t necessarily have to be in a bed.

This is exactly the kind of women’s clothing I need! If I wear this, the lust will surely come pouring in like a tidal wave… Gima held the greatsword and strode towards the shop entrance with newfound purpose.

The beautiful woman in the black dress noticed the two of them and sized them up. Her red lips immediately curved into a warm, welcoming smile. She beckoned to George. “Hello, customer. Our shop has many dresses that would be perfectly suitable for your lovely little girl. I guarantee you’ll be more than satisfied.”

Gima was about to reply when George’s cold, firm voice came from behind her. “That’s not necessary. We’re not planning to buy any clothes.”

The beautiful woman in the black dress hurried over, her hips swaying with practiced grace, and praised:

“Customer, please reconsider. Your girl is a natural beauty. You have a very, very good eye. It’s just that these clothes she’s wearing don’t suit her at all. If she just changes into any of the clothes in our shop, I guarantee she’ll put those two little vixens from before to shame.”

“I want it! I want it!” Gima hadn’t even finished speaking when George grabbed her small hand and pulled her back.

“Master! I want it!”

“Those clothes are not suitable for you.”

“No, they’re so pretty!”

“Gima,” George said helplessly, stopping in his tracks. “Those are for prostitutes to wear.”

“It’s such a big store! There must be something suitable for me inside!” Gima said urgently. If she missed this shop, she wouldn’t find any more suitable women’s clothing in this entire city.

George sighed in resignation. He said to the beautiful woman in the black dress, who had caught up to them, “I’m only buying proper, decent clothes.”

“Proper style? Oh, you’ve come to the right place! We have the noble lady collection, the forest princess collection, the silver dragon princess collection… all in the authentic, and very popular, Demon Lord style. I guarantee your girl will look absolutely beautiful and enchanting in them.”

“Demon Lord style?”

“You must be from out of town, customer,” the beautiful woman in the black dress laughed. “Besides his… excessive fondness for women, the Demon Lord Kima was also a genius fashion designer. The women’s clothes he designed became an instant sensation throughout Salem City and spread to the outside world through the mouths of the bards. Some customers come here from distant lands just to buy a single piece of his clothing. And they are always very, very satisfied.”

“Infamous for all eternity,” George commented dryly.

As soon as his words fell, Gima stomped hard on his iron boot. “Oops, sorry.”

“It’s alright. Don’t fall.”

The beautiful woman in the black dress saw this and just smiled slightly, a knowing look in her eyes, as she led them into the shop.

Inside, there were rows of wardrobes filled with a dazzling, almost overwhelming array of women’s clothing. Right in front of Gima’s eyes, a wardrobe was filled to bursting with translucent thongs, barely-there lace panties, and other incredibly indecent underwear.

This is the same as being naked! So vulgar! So low-class! I never designed such trashy clothes! Gima felt a little hesitant.

“Let’s go back,” George said, his voice strained.

Gima turned her head and saw him looking away, his face slightly red.

George grew up in a conservative culture, so he’s embarrassed. Doesn’t that mean these things are very, very effective on him?

Instantly, in Gima’s eyes, these palm-sized pieces of underwear were no longer ordinary clothes. They were powerful, legendary-grade battle armor.

“No way,” Gima said with determination. “They’re just worn on the inside. It’s not like they’ll be showing.”

The beautiful woman in the black dress pulled a curtain in front of the wardrobe, hiding the scandalous clothes from view. She smiled. “Customer, these clothes are just to cater to the more… direct tastes of some of our clientele.”

With that, the beautiful woman in the black dress extended a hand to Gima and invited, “You can leave your lovely girl with me now. The area beyond is not suitable for a gentleman such as yourself to enter.”

“Remember,” George emphasized, his voice firm, “only proper clothes.”

“As you wish, customer.”

Gima put down the two-handed greatsword and took the beautiful woman’s hand. As they walked towards the back of the shop and rounded a corner, the beautiful woman whispered conspiratorially:

“Little sister is very much loved by her master, isn’t she?”

Gima was stunned for a moment before she realized what she meant and nodded eagerly.

“And little sister wouldn’t want her master to stop loving her one day, would she?” the beautiful woman said in a low, suggestive voice. “I have some… special clothes that would be very suitable for little sister.”

Gima waved her small hand with the air of a wealthy patroness. “Please bring me the clothes in your shop that are most suitable for me. Don’t worry about whether they’re proper or not.”

The two women looked at each other and smiled, both of them beaming with a shared, secret understanding.