Chapter 8: A Self-Taught Genius

Gima had absolutely no intention of letting this golden opportunity slip away. She daintily pinched the clean, white tip of her tail, opened her small mouth, extended her tender pink tongue, and began to give it a thorough, theatrical lick. She licked the front, then the back. Her nimble tongue circled the tip with practiced grace, coating it in a shimmering, glistening layer of saliva.

A succubus, with bright, innocent eyes and pearly teeth. A tongue, and a tail tip sweeping seductively between her lips.

George pointedly averted his eyes. He assumed Gima was just playing some strange, childish game, and being the good sport that he was, he decided to play along.

The sweet, peach-like fragrance in the air grew a little stronger. On her personal information panel, notifications began to pop up one after another, like a winning slot machine:

>DM: You have absorbed a trace amount of lust.

Gima was greatly encouraged, but she didn’t rush to do anything more risqué. Having once been a man—and a very experienced one at that—she knew that with the art of seduction, the more explicit and lewd you were, the more likely you were to get the opposite, and far less desirable, effect.

She vividly recalled a time when a new maid had tried to win her favor. The girl had shown up wearing nothing but a collar while Gima was enjoying her lunch at high noon. At that moment, Gima felt as if someone had shoved a greasy, unappetizing piece of fat into her mouth. She had immediately ordered the maid to put on no fewer than eight layers of clothing and stand in the corner for four hours to think about what she’d done.

On another occasion, however, during a formal luncheon, a beautifully dressed, dignified noblewoman had quietly extended her long, slender leg under the table and brushed it against Gima’s thigh. Even while doing something so incredibly naughty under the table, she remained perfectly calm and elegant above it. The stark, delicious contrast had left a very deep, and very favorable, impression on Gima.

This was especially true since her current target was a Paladin of the Holy Sanctuary. Therefore, Gima maintained her mask of wide-eyed innocence, a pure, angelic smile on her face, as if licking her own tail brought her a simple, childlike joy that was completely devoid of ulterior motives.

She found, to her delight, that her control over her new facial expressions was becoming more and more proficient. With just a thought, she could feign any emotion—joy, sadness, anger, fear—and easily match it with the appropriate, and devastatingly cute, body language.

George couldn’t help but glance at Gima. “Gima, are you… playing the tail-licking game?”

“I know you don’t have a tail to lick, so you’re just jealous of me,” Gima said, puffing out her cheeks. “And even if you wanted to lick it, I wouldn’t let you.”

With that, she brandished her tail as if showing off a priceless trophy, stuck out her nimble tongue, and licked the tip furiously.

“Rerorerorerorero…”

Her tongue moved so fast it almost became a blur. Gima was absolutely certain that if there were a cherry, she could keep it suspended in the air indefinitely just by licking it.

George shook his head with an amused, patronizing smile, simply thinking Gima was having a little childish fit.

The peach-like fragrance in the air grew sweeter, more intoxicating.

“Blegh,” Gima stuck her tongue out at him defiantly, then planted a loud, wet kiss on her own tail and boasted, “Hmph, I have a tail to lick, and you don’t.”

The action was a bit too suggestive, but combined with her immature tone and cute, childish behavior, George just chalked it up to her quirky succubus nature acting up again.

“Alright, alright,” George sighed. “If you don’t start the healing soon, I’m taking my hand back.”

“I’m not done yet!”

Gima took the tip of her tail into her mouth, moving it from side to side before sucking on it and pulling it out with a loud, suggestive pop.

“Ahem.”

A barely perceptible, but definitely present, blush appeared on George’s chiseled, bronze face.

Gima carefully pinched her tail and, with her other hand, held George’s. A single, shimmering drop of clear, stringy saliva dripped from the tip of her tail onto his wound. The clean, white tip of her tail then began to draw slow, deliberate circles on his wound, tickling him gently.

George’s palm itched, but what was more unbearable was his body’s traitorous reaction. This is just little Gima being innocent and playful, he told himself sternly, but I… He once again averted his gaze, steadied his mind, and silently, desperately repented to his god for his impure thoughts.

Sensing that the lust absorption was decreasing, Gima’s golden eyes darted around. She stuck out her tongue and lightly tapped the tip of George’s finger with her own, giving it a quick, gentle suck.

George’s hand flinched, and he snatched it back as if burned. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a bit rough and strained.

“Increasing the saliva supply, of course,” Gima said with perfect, righteous conviction. She then looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes and asked weakly, “George… did I do something wrong?”

George’s heart instantly softened into a puddle of heroic guilt. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just… you should probably do less of these kinds of actions in the future. They can give people the wrong idea.”

“What kind of actions? Is it… this~?” Gima said, proceeding to lick her own tail again with great enthusiasm.

“Er... yes, something like that.”

“Oh, then does this count too~?” Gima said, now sucking on her tail and giving it a loud, smacking kiss.

“That also counts.”

Gima looked even more confused. “What kind of wrong idea?”

“Ahem,” George cleared his throat, feeling like he was committing a terrible crime against innocence itself. “The kind… related to relations between men and women.”

Gima tilted her head, looking even more adorably bewildered. “Relations between men and women? Can you be more specific? Like, what do you think of when you see a tail?”

George resisted the powerful urge to cover his face and mustered his courage. “In our morality, doing such actions in public can make people think of… well, sexual intercourse. It’s considered indecent behavior.”

He actually said it! The absolute madman! Gutsy! Gima nodded as if she was slowly understanding a complex theological concept, then popped her thumb in her mouth and sucked on it, asking with wide-eyed “curiosity,” “Then does this count?”

“No.”

“Why not? A finger and a tail are pretty much the same shape.”

“Uh…”

George was completely at a loss for words. Then again, nine out of ten kids sucked their thumbs. He thought for a moment and concluded it was because when Gima did it, she had an unconscious, alluring quality that made one’s thoughts stray. Or maybe… maybe it was just his own thoughts that were straying.

George once again repented to the Dawn God for his weakness. He admitted generously, “I… don’t know either. But in any case, Gima, it’s better if you don’t do these things in public. It’s not good.”

“Mm.”

Gima nodded obediently. She took George’s hand again, preparing to continue shearing her favorite sheep.

George pulled his hand back. “That’s enough, Gima. My palm is already completely soaked.”

“Then I’ll be going. Bye-bye!”

Gima was secretly disappointed. She picked up the two books and walked out of the room. As she closed the door, she heard George let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief. Her tail couldn't help but rise triumphantly.

Hmph. As expected, a virgin is no match for this old pro. He was utterly and completely routed.

Her stomach was no longer grumbling. The torturous, all-consuming hunger had finally subsided.

She went to the kitchen and found a piece of dry, hard white bread and some pale, watery wine. She tore off a piece of the bread, chewed it slowly with the slightly sour wine, and was overjoyed to taste the bread’s simple, sweet flavor. She swallowed it in one gulp and tore off another piece, eating like someone who had been starving for years. In no time, she had finished two fist-sized pieces of white bread, and her small belly was slightly, satisfyingly rounded. Tears of pure, unadulterated happiness welled up in her eyes.

“Finally back to normal! Bread is so delicious! Hic.”

At that moment, Gima no longer felt the slightest resistance to the idea of obtaining food from George. On the contrary, when she thought about how harvesting lust could also unlock her incredible supernatural abilities, she began to feel a thrilling sense of anticipation.

Gima checked her personal information panel. As expected, the supernatural abilities panel was still locked.

The wool I just sheared wasn't enough… I need to increase my efforts. Significantly.

Should I wait for him to take a bath, squat outside, and create a convenient “accident” to get in? After arousing him, I can stay within three meters of him outside. A lot of fan service in all my favorite otaku media happens in the bathroom. I can definitely draw some inspiration from that.

Thinking about such indecent, nefarious things, Gima felt not the slightest bit of disgust. She subconsciously felt that barging into a boy’s bathroom was really no big deal. But then she reconsidered, thinking it was far too deliberate. Unless George’s brain was entirely filled with horny, mindless sperm, he would surely notice that something was very, very wrong.

Just then, her eyes fell on the two heavy theology books in her arms, and they lit up.

Twenty minutes later, Gima knocked on George’s door.

“What is it now?” George asked, opening the door with a massive yawn.

Gima opened a book, showing him a dozen freshly dog-eared pages.

“George, I don’t understand the grammar in these parts.”

George patiently explained each one, feeling a swell of pride and gratification at Gima’s unexpected eagerness to learn.

Ten minutes later, the door was knocked on again.

“George, why does the Dawn God like to hold sports festivals so much?”

George, who had just managed to lie down on his bed, got up again to explain.

When the door was knocked on for the third time, George decided to just have Gima sit at the desk, and he would read with her, his eyes heavy with sleep.

Gima knew her chance had come. She pretended to be fidgety and restless, naturally leaning her head on George’s sturdy, unmoving shoulder. George remained as steady as a mountain, his focus entirely on the book in his hands.

Twenty minutes later, Gima’s nimble tail snaked out from under her robe. She licked the tip to moisten it, and with a deft flick of her tail, the page of the book turned.

Finally, a faint, sweet, peach-like fragrance began to fill the air again.

“Gima,” George’s stern voice suddenly sounded. He stood up, gently righting Gima, who was leaning heavily on his shoulder. “You must be serious when you read. Sit up straight, with your back straight.”

“But reading is supposed to be an enjoyable experience! Why do I have to sit up so straight?” Gima protested with a cute pout. “If I’m not even comfortable, it’s hard for me to get into the book.”

George weighed his options for a moment and decided that interest was, in fact, the best teacher. He stopped insisting on her posture.

Gima then cheekily propped her long, straight legs up on the desk. The rough hem of her drab robe slid down her fair, beautiful legs. The Holy Sanctuary had deliberately given Gima a robe made of the roughest fabric and the dullest color imaginable, but it couldn't hide the girl’s innate beauty. She hummed a little tune, pretending to focus on her book, her clean white tail wrapped playfully around her calf, tapping against her bare feet. The fluorescent light from the alchemy lamp cast a beautiful, ethereal halo around her.

George’s eyes wavered for a moment, a brief struggle playing out on his face, but in the end, he didn’t make Gima put her legs down. He lowered his head and went back to his own book. He didn’t notice the slight, triumphant smile that curved Gima’s lips.

>DM: You have absorbed a trace amount of lust.

Although it was less than before, it was a steady, continuous stream over a longer period.

This was the first time Gima had ever studied so seriously in this new world. By dinnertime, she had roughly finished one book and now had a much better understanding of the various gods. What impressed her most was that the church of the Dawn God absolutely loved to hold sports festivals, similar to the Olympics on Earth. The male participants were always bare-chested, their rippling muscles glistening with olive oil.

Gima couldn’t help but seriously question the Dawn God’s sexual orientation. Of course, the curious baby Gima didn’t ask George such a profoundly blasphemous question.

She was afraid of being beaten again.

Outside, the blood-red sunset finally fell below the horizon.

George faced the sunset with a solemn, reverent expression, his feet together, his arms raised high, reciting a prayer, lamenting that as night fell, his god moved further from the earth.

Seeing this iconic posture, Gima was inexplicably reminded of “Praise the Sun.” The solemn, sacred atmosphere was instantly shattered, and she had to try her absolute best not to burst out laughing.

George glanced at her. “What are you laughing at?”

“I… I just remembered something happy.”

“Tonight, I will continue to check your memorization,” George said, his voice completely deadpan. “Thirty pages.”

“Hey! Why does it keep getting more and more?!”

“Because you were just lying.”

The expression on Gima’s face instantly froze. She resentfully, furiously added another black mark against George’s name in her heart.

But soon, she was happy again. Because her incredible succubus supernatural abilities were, at long last, about to be unlocked.