Chapter 31: The Stud

Gima made her way back to the inn, encountering no further trouble. The trackers had probably been successfully misled by her army of little decoys.

Only when she saw the inn’s familiar red roof did Gima finally deactivate her “Eyes of Desire,” rubbing her hot, tired eyes. Staring at the seven-colored, swirling whirlwinds of the city for so long was not good for one’s vision.

Although she was much, much later than planned, Gima still waited cautiously beside the inn. Only after a fancy carriage had entered the back courtyard did she nonchalantly follow it in.

In the courtyard, against a stone wall, was a row of stables. The stables faced the entrance. Gima used the carriage to shield her body, carefully avoiding the gazes of the living. But she suddenly felt a pair of intense, knowing eyes on her.

She quickly turned her head towards the gaze. Fortunately, it wasn’t George’s pair of blue eyes that met hers, but the bright and surprisingly intelligent eyes of a horse. It was George’s celestial warhorse.

This white horse, whose broad shoulders were taller than Gima herself, was currently mounted on a chestnut-colored mare, engaged in some very vigorous, and very loud, exercise.

“You absolute horndog,” Gima said, giving the horse her little finger in a gesture of profound disrespect. “You should stay in your own stall. Don’t go around defiling all the innocent little mares in the neighborhood.”

A glint of what looked suspiciously like intelligence flashed in the celestial warhorse’s dark eyes, and it seemed to look at her with an air of smug contempt. Gima was slightly surprised, thinking it was another one of those deceptively intelligent animals. She smiled and said, “Brother warhorse, do you understand what I’m saying? If you do, blink for me.”

The celestial warhorse continued its sacred procreation process on the mare’s back, completely and utterly ignoring Gima.

Am I just being paranoid again? Just as Gima was about to conduct another experiment, a furious roar came from behind her. “Whose horse is messing with my precious Daisy?!”

Gima quickly hid behind the carriage to avoid being seen. While everyone was distracted by the shouting match that ensued, she slipped directly through the back door without attracting any attention.

She walked up to the second floor. The sound of the argument in the courtyard grew fainter and fainter.

“Customer, this is the warhorse of a great Bartonian knight! It’s a pureblood! Look how strong and magnificent it is! It will surely produce strong, healthy offspring! This is a good thing for both of our horses!” 

“Hmph. Not bad, I suppose. In the future, you’d better lock your stalls more securely, so not just any horse can run out and have its way with my mare.” The mare owner’s voice grew softer, clearly impressed.

“Of course, of course.”

Gima recalled that there had been several such arguments these past few days. George’s warhorse had defiled quite a few mares in the backyard. A true, bona fide stud horse. Tsk. A virgin with a stud for a mount. How beautifully, wonderfully ironic.

Lost in thought, Gima stepped onto the plush red carpet of the second floor. She looked at a door at the far end of the corridor. A worn brass plaque on the door faintly showed the numbers 2-8. It was Gima and George’s double room.

In Gima’s eyes, the door exuded a powerful, murderous aura. She couldn’t help but feel nervous, swallowing hard. It was as if she were a child again, having secretly snuck out of her house in the middle of the night to go to an internet cafe to play games, and then sneaking back just before dawn, facing her own impenetrable front door. If the door opened and she saw that her parents’ bedroom door was open and the light was on, it would be all over.

Gima slowly, silently walked to the door and gently inserted the key into the lock. Her little heart couldn’t help but pound like a drum. She touched the cold doorknob, took a deep, steadying breath, turned the key hard, and pushed.

The room was empty. The Holy Sanctuary’s Sermon Guide lay open on the desk, a quill pen sticking out of a half-empty inkwell. Everything was exactly as she had left it.

She breathed a huge sigh of relief, almost shouting with excitement. A triumphant, smug smile spread across her face. She closed the door, impatiently stripped off her stinky outer clothes, and threw them into a wooden basin. She then pulled a bronze bell, summoning a slave. She gave her three copper coins and asked her to bring up water for her bath and to take her dirty clothes to be laundered immediately.

Gima took a long, comfortable, and very satisfying cold bath in her room. When she was done, an hour had passed, and George still hadn’t returned.

She climbed out of the bathtub, dried herself off, and, completely naked, opened the wardrobe.

Her gaze lingered for a moment on the black stockings and the white gauze dress hanging on a hanger, then looked at another, much more conservative set of clothes. She couldn’t help but remember how she had let the damn virgin get a full eyeful when she was buying clothes that day. A wave of shame washed over her, and her face grew slightly hot. Her hand reached for the conservative clothes—another plain, boring hooded cloak.

As her fingertips touched the rough fabric of the hooded cloak…

Right. I’ve used up nearly half my energy reserves. I need to squeeze some more food out of the virgin. If he gets a little something out of it, so be it. He’s going to be killed by me sooner or later anyway. It’s a small price for him to pay.

Gima reconsidered. Her hand decisively reached for the black stockings and the alluring gauze dress, and she began to hum a little tune. She sat on the edge of the bed, lifted a slender leg, and slid the black stocking up her gracefully curved calf. The feeling of the silk clinging to her leg was strange, and a little exciting.

Gima put on the gauze dress and admired herself in the mirror for a while. Her tail peeked out from under the skirt, and the translucent fabric fell like a waterfall on either side of it.

The little succubus in the mirror gave a mischievous, predatory smile. Gima was in a great mood. Humming a tuneless little song, she picked up a hat with a large, white bow and placed it on her head, covering her horns.

The room was a little stuffy. She pushed open the window. A moist wind blew in, lifting the curtains. Gima quickly held onto her hat, squinted in the bright sunlight, and moved a chair to the window, waiting leisurely, and with great anticipation, for George to return.

But a good mood comes and goes quickly.

Gima thought about her gains and losses for the day, and her mood quickly, and quite dramatically, soured.

She had spent half her energy, six gold coins, and a silver coin. She had squatted in a stinking, disgusting slop barrel for half an hour, and she had alerted the enemy. This was the Great Good Master’s territory. After today’s events were reported, he might even order a city-wide manhunt. And she was very conspicuous: cute, with golden eyes. She would be spotted in a crowd at a glance.

In the end, not only had she gained nothing, but she had also gotten into a world of trouble.

She couldn't go to the bank anymore, and she didn't have the money to pay for the materials to advance to the rank of Nightmare.

“So annoying.”

Gima lowered the hand that was propping up her chin, her mind a chaotic, frustrated mess.

She was good at summarizing, at learning from her mistakes. She reviewed the errors she had made.

I should have anticipated that the bank might not be safe. My biggest mistake was going to withdraw the money with my own face. But I don't have any makeup tools, and I don't know how to do makeup. All in all, I was too careless. I should have made adequate preparations first.

No, even if I had worn makeup, it might not have worked. I have no combat power. I can't protect the gold I take out of the vault. The other party could just arrange an "accident" and I would be doomed.

Thinking of this, Gima felt a strange sense of gratitude that she had been able to return safely. It was a combination of luck and her own superior skill.

So what should I do now?

Gima’s fingers tapped on the window frame. Her bare tail swept across the gauze skirt. She suddenly clapped her hands.

“I’ve got it! I’m a succubus, a complete weakling in a frontal assault, a glass cannon with no cannon. I should play to my strengths and avoid my weaknesses. Just like a squishy mage shouldn’t run up to the enemy’s face to deal damage, I should be a magnificent mastermind behind the scenes. The less I show my face, the better. Tricking someone else into helping me withdraw the money is the best, and most logical, option.”

The first person Gima thought of was George, the perfect, divinely-crafted tool. He was strong and trustworthy, so she didn’t have to worry about him pocketing the money for himself.

“I’ll find a chance to trick George into going to the bank to withdraw the money. As for the potential ambush, he’s so strong, it definitely won’t be a problem for him.”

Gima summarized her new mastermind principle: never expose yourself, never do things yourself, always hide behind the scenes, and use lies and deception to convince others to walk into traps for you.

But I’ve already alerted the enemy. If I trick the virgin into withdrawing the money now, it will be like poking a hornet’s nest. It’ll be dangerous. For him. Never mind. Let him poke it. It’s not me who’s going to get stung. And I’m not in a hurry to break the slave contract anyway. As long as I get the key to the vault, that’s all that matters. If the contract isn’t broken, the virgin will have to protect me for another day.

I’m so damn smart.

Gima’s mood improved by more than half, and her brow relaxed.

She then thought about it further. The great Hero George was now in a dirty, smelly sewer, crawling through narrow, slimy pipes, fighting disgusting kobolds in the mud. All this, just to earn a single, pathetic gold coin.

And she was sitting leisurely in a comfortable chair, admiring the beautiful view from the window, waiting for him to come back and be her tool, to charge into battle for her.

Gima was in a great mood. She imagined George slipping and falling in the sewer, his handsome face landing in a giant pile of shit. She couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

In short, her enemy’s misfortune was the primary source of her happiness.

A few passersby below stopped and looked up at Gima, mesmerized by her radiant smile.

Gima was in a good mood. She was about to extend a finger and play with a few of the passersby for fun. Just then, a large, magnificent boat sailed down the canal. Twenty long oars extended from its sides, cutting through the water, creating waves that almost capsized the small, lesser boats nearby.

The large boat was lavishly decorated. The deck was covered with a plush carpet, and under a golden canopy were several tables laden with fruit and pastries. It was a veritable floating banquet, incredibly grand. The nobles of Salem City never spared any expense when it came to their boats.

Gima was about to draw the curtains. She didn't want to get involved in some cliché, tiresome story about bewitching a nobleman. But then she saw a familiar figure on the boat, and her movements froze.

It was George.

He was wearing shining silver armor, standing proudly on the deck, looking extraordinary and heroic. He didn’t look pathetic at all, as Gima had so happily imagined. What was even more infuriating was that a slender, beautiful noble girl was standing next to him.

She had long, flowing chestnut hair, held in place by a jewel-encrusted hairnet. Her face was beautiful, and her demeanor was elegant. Gima found her a little familiar. The noble girl was chatting animatedly with George, covering her mouth with her hand as she smiled shyly.

The large boat stopped by the side of the canal. George said goodbye to the noble girl and got off the boat. They waved goodbye to each other again. George didn’t look pathetic at all.

Wasn’t he supposed to be exterminating kobolds? How did he manage to seduce an innocent noble girl in just half a day? Fuck, she’s even prettier than most of my former maids!

A nameless, furious fire rose in Gima’s heart.

Life was so damn unfair. Why was her sworn enemy living so comfortably, while she had to suffer all sorts of hardships, getting beaten and hiding in a stinking barrel?

“Hey, Gima! I’m back!”

George waved at Gima with a cheerful smile.

Gima was not in a good mood, but seeing the luxurious boat sailing away and the noble girl standing at the railing, she immediately broke into a big, dazzling smile. She stood on the chair, leaned out of the window, and waved, shouting at the top of her lungs:

“George! You’re finally home!”

Her voice was clear and articulate, and very, very familiar. The passersby who had stopped immediately left in disappointment.

Gima couldn’t see the noble girl’s expression on the boat from this distance, but she was sure it was priceless.

Hehe. I successfully nipped that little romance in the bud.

Thinking of this, Gima’s smile grew even wider, revealing her small, white canines, as she watched George walk into the inn.

Downstairs, a squire smiled and said to George, “Sir, your girl must really love you.”

He smiled slightly and asked, “Did you happen to see Gima go out to play today?”

“No, sir.”

“Thank you.”

After speaking, George didn’t go up the stairs, but instead went to the backyard, towards the stable where his celestial warhorse was quietly, and very innocently, staying in its stall.

“Old friend,” George said, gently stroking the celestial warhorse’s head. “Has Gima been staying obediently in her room all day?”

The warhorse shook its head.

“So playful,” George said, shaking his head with a weary sigh. He then walked towards the second floor.