Chapter 48: George's Selfishness

On a nearby hill, George buried the man. He stuck a piece of wood into the earth for a headstone and wrote the man’s name on it: Aseven. Gima placed a beautiful flower on the small grave.

The brown-skinned girl said she wanted to stay by the grave to be with him for a while. The two agreed. They weren’t in a hurry to leave, so they walked down the hill to wait for her.

On the hill, the silhouette of the girl before the grave looked exceptionally fragile. In front of her, a single white flower swayed atop the mound of earth.

Bored, Gima noticed that George was staring intently at the girl’s back, lost in thought.

He’s probably agonizing over it, she mused. Paladins, that eunuch-like profession, they love to reflect on how they didn’t contribute more. Sigh, isn’t this the perfect time to swindle the emotions of this clueless virgin?

Gima spoke up, asking, “George, what are you thinking about?”

“I’m reflecting on myself. Perhaps I should have paid for her freedom two days ago.”

Just as I thought. Truly a eunuch’s profession.

“What’s there to reflect on? Helping is a kindness, not an obligation,” Gima said. “In my opinion, the fact that you tore things apart for her freedom today is already precious enough.”

“Gima, what do you think?” George asked in return.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“I think we didn’t necessarily have to fall out like that,” Gima said. “You could have tried to offer compensation. It’s the evil demon king’s gold coins, anyway.”

“If I did that, wouldn’t I be acknowledging the slave laws of Salem City? Admitting that she was a slave?” George said. “More importantly, you would be very sad, right?”

“Me?”

“That day when we went to the market district to buy things, you were in a bad mood the whole time. After we got back, I kept thinking, Gima must have seen the girl being auctioned in the market and thought of her own fate. Once a slave, always a slave. No matter how good the master is, you’re still a slave.”

“Uh…” Actually, it was because you were spending my hard-earned money, okay.

“I should have thought of it sooner.” George was trying hard to organize his words to express his meaning. “You’ve already developed empathy for that brown-skinned girl.”

“Well…”

For a moment, Gima couldn’t keep up with George’s train of thought.

“I only thought of that when I was saving her, so I did my best to correct my mistake. My teacher often says I’m foolish...” George sighed. “Since you are afraid of the darkness of Salem City, I should do my best to drive away such darkness.”

Only then did Gima barely manage to grasp George’s meaning.

So, this guy George thought I was in a bad mood because I saw one of my own kind suffering. Therefore, he had to set the brown-skinned girl free, to completely remove her slave status, even at the risk of the mission failing… Strange, truly strange.

Strange as it was, Gima hadn’t forgotten her own objective. She said in a low voice, “Thank you. It’s true, I am afraid of completely losing my freedom and becoming a slave.”

George nodded seriously and said, “You can always trust me.”

At that moment, Gima, whose mind was always popping with wicked ideas, rarely found a single one surface. She lifted her head, looking toward the grave on the hill and the single flower upon it, and softly began to hum a song.

“Whenever people pass by here, they will say what a beautiful flower♪.”

“That tune is very novel. Is it a folk song from somewhere?”

“It’s a song sung by a group of guerrillas resisting invaders. Is it nice?”

George shook his head. “You’re terribly off-key. It’s not good.”

Gima: “…”

Now I finally know the secret of why you’ve been a damn virgin for so long.

Just then, a neigh sounded from not far away. Gima turned her head and saw a celestial warhorse, clad in white steel barding, galloping toward George.

“My friend, what brings you here?” George stroked the horse’s mane with one hand.

The celestial warhorse neighed a few times.

George frowned. “What? Some red-haired blockhead tried to slash you with a sword? Are you hurt?”

The celestial warhorse shook its head.

“It's fortunate, George,” Gima said.

“It's fortunate that it wasn’t hurt,” George said. “They’re so petty, to take out their anger on an innocent warhorse. We must leave quickly, Gima, or Liz might call the army to surround us.”

The celestial warhorse nodded.

Gima just felt that things weren’t that simple. She wondered if Liz’s and the others’ mounts were stallions or mares. If they were mares, well then, this celestial warhorse certainly wouldn’t have let them go.

At that moment, the brown-skinned girl walked down from the hill.

George mounted his horse and, with the two girls, made a swift retreat. After buying the brown-skinned girl some new clothes and personally seeing her onto a boat leaving Salem City, night had already fallen by the time they returned to the inn.

Gima was surprised they had managed to do so much in one day. Once back in the room, although she was exhausted, she still forced herself to study until George told her to go to sleep. Only then did she extinguish the oil lamp.

The next morning.

The sky outside the inn room window was already turning white.

On the red-feathered bed, Gima climbed up and, in front of George, stretched languidly. The thin blanket slipped from her shoulders, revealing a pair of small wings on her smooth back, which stretched out lazily.

“Good morning, George,” Gima said sweetly, turning her head to look at him behind her.

“Gima, you slept naked again.”

“Well, I’m wearing panties, aren’t I?”

Gima had grown accustomed to showing large patches of her bare skin in front of George.

She had come to terms with it.

Before, she had still felt a little self-conscious, but as long as she could absorb “energy,” she would do anything. I’m not some shy maiden. I’m a grown ass man, what’s there to be shy about?

“But you lack anything to cover yourself. You risk exposing... everything.”

“Hmm? Aren’t I facing away from you?”

“Ahem, but it’s still best if you wear something.”

“It’s uncomfortable, it presses on my wings,” Gima whined. “It’s already uncomfortable enough having these little friends pressed down all day when I’m out. It’s a rare chance for them to be free in the room.”

The girl’s smooth back, the slight upturn of her lips as she turned her face. It was all enough to make one’s heart itch. George suppressed his improper thoughts, his tone becoming slightly stern. “Hurry up and put on your clothes.”

“Okay okay, I’m doing it,” Gima complained, skillfully putting on her underwear.

She sat her small bottom on the large, soft pillow, lifted a leg, and slowly pulled on a stocking. The beautiful lines of her thigh were on full display. It was clearly a simple action, but paired with the alluring temperament of a succubus and the bed beneath her, it made one’s heart begin to itch.

George tried hard to tell himself that this was an unintentional act on Gima’s part. She was a succubus; these small actions were all subconscious. He turned his head, averting his gaze.

Hmph, damn virgin. Handling you isn’t a piece of cake?

Gima took a deep breath, the scent of peach blossoms filling her nostrils. It was truly the best breakfast with George’s morning wood. She had consumed a great deal yesterday and needed to properly replenish her energy.

Just then, a “thump, thump, thump” sounded at the door.

“Sir, a messenger is looking for you.”

“Coming!”

Gima quickly threw on her dress and put on her sun hat.

“Are you dressed, Gima? Oh, that was fast.”

“You told me to be fast,” Gima said, running to the window to glance outside. Good, no ambush in sight, just a large ship docked on the river. Passersby were all guessing which great noble the ship belonged to. Door opened. Standing outside was not a fully armed, ferocious soldier.

It was a gray-haired man dressed in colorful clothes. Incongruous with his comical attire was the serious expression on his face. He bowed slightly to George, holding a silver platter.

“Sir, my master has the honor of inviting you to her banquet. This is your invitation.”

With that, he presented the silver platter to George with both hands.

Gima ran over and saw that the silver platter was even inlaid with gold thread, suitable for presenting a crown.

“Are you sure you have the right person?” George asked.

“Excuse me, are you Sir George?”

“I am.”

“Then there is no mistake.”

George picked up the beautifully packaged invitation. His name was written on it; so, it was indeed from Liz.

“Since the letter has been delivered, I will not disturb you further.”

The messenger bowed slightly again, gently closed the door, and left.

George opened the invitation and took out the pristine white letter paper inside. Gima stretched her head over for a look. Setting aside a large pile of useless, flowery words, the useful information was: three days from now, at noon.

It invited George to be a guest at a mansion in the noble district and sincerely expressed the hope that he would like her family’s flower boat.

George fell into thought and said, “Gima, what do you think?”

“She wants to get revenge on you,” Gima said. “An almost ostentatious, high-profile invitation to raise your expectations, only to give you the cold shoulder at the banquet. So, do you want to study ‘One Hundred Ways to Slap Faces at a Banquet’?”

“Stop saying strange things,” George said, pointing to the mansion’s address on the letter. “The Great Good Master’s mansion. She’s probably his granddaughter.”

Their previous suspicions were confirmed.

Gima grew serious. She just felt that the pace was a bit too fast, as if she were still wandering around the beginner village and was suddenly pushed in front of the final boss. She was still just an Apostle of Desire, which, according to the supernatural power rankings, was only Black Iron.

At this banquet, she would have the chance to face the Great Good Master who coveted her "inheritance." It was a good opportunity, but she didn't have the ability to seize it. Yesterday's adventure had made Gima deeply feel her own powerlessness.

Get stronger. I have to get stronger, faster.

“You figure it out. I’m just a child, anyway. I’m going to go read now.”

With that, Gima ran to the desk.

“Strange, Gima has been studying so seriously these past few days.”

A thick book lay open on the desk. Gima had to exert great effort just to turn a page, but with every page turned, she was one step closer to becoming stronger.

Conduct points, conduct points, damn conduct points. She had to accumulate conduct points quickly to exchange for a day trip, so she could buy the potion ingredients to advance to the Nightmare rank before the banquet.

...

One day before the banquet.

In the morning, Gima was dozing off, rubbing the dark circles that were starting to form under her eyes. In front of her, George held a notebook, using a pencil to cross off a line. “Do you want to exchange for a day of freedom?”

“Yes.”

“Be safe. If you run into any danger, notify me immediately with the magic item I gave you,” George said. “I’ll find you through the contract.”

“I know.”

“Can I ask why you’ve been in such a hurry these past few days?” George asked.

Gima said, “I’m worried that if someone recognizes you, I’ll never have another chance to tour Salem City.”

This was the “partial truth” she had prepared long ago.

“Really? You just want to tour Salem City?”

George’s gaze fell on Gima. She felt a little guilty; his gaze was still quite intimidating.

“Salem City is very beautiful.”

“Just answer, true or not.” George didn’t fall for Gima’s trap of changing the subject.

In an instant, Gima’s tail tensed up in nervousness.

He’s suspicious, what should I do? I don’t even know if the next sentence counts as the truth… but if I give up on getting stronger…

Gima immediately made a decision, lest her hesitation make George even more suspicious. She looked George straight in the eye, trying hard to hypnotize herself—I’m just touring Salem City and paying a little money on the side—and said, “It’s true.”