Chapter 31: The Stallion
Jima did not encounter any more turbulence along the way, possibly because the pursuers had been misled by the clever little children.
It wasn’t until she saw the inn that Jima turned off her “Desires’ Vision” and rubbed her warm, tired eyes. Staring at the rainbow-colored vortices on the street for too long wasn’t good for her eyes.
Although she was quite late compared to her plan, Jima still cautiously waited by the side of the inn until a carriage entered the courtyard before sneaking in after it.
In the courtyard, against the wall, there was a row of stables. Directly across from the entrance of the stables, Jima used the carriage to shield her body, carefully avoiding the gazes of the living, but suddenly felt a pair of eyes land on her.
She quickly turned her head to meet the gaze. Fortunately, what met her eyes was not George’s blue eyes but the bright eyes of a horse—George’s celestial warhorse.
The white horse, taller than Jima, was mounted on a chestnut mare, engaged in vigorous activity.
“Big stallion,” Jima raised her pinky finger at it. “Stay in your stall and don’t go wreaking havoc on the little mares.”
The warhorse’s dark eyes flashed with a glimmer of intelligence, seemingly showing disdain. Jima was slightly surprised, thinking it was yet another intelligent creature, and smiled, saying, “Hey, big brother warhorse, do you understand what I’m saying? If you do, blink your eyes.”
The celestial warhorse stayed mounted on the mare, continuing its breeding process, completely ignoring Jima.
“Am I being too suspicious?” Just as Jima was about to test further, a furious roar came from behind her, “Whose horse is moving my Daisy?”
Jima quickly hid behind the carriage to avoid being seen. As everyone was distracted by the shouting, she slipped in through the back door unnoticed.
She walked up to the second floor, where the sound of the argument from the courtyard grew fainter.
“Guest, this is a purebred warhorse from a Bartho knight, look how strong it is. It will surely give birth to strong offspring, which is a good thing.”
“Hmph, it’s not bad. In the future, you all need to secure the stalls better so that any horse can’t just run out.” The mare’s owner’s voice softened.
“Of course, of course.”
Jima recalled that there had been several such arguments in the past few days. George’s warhorse had caused quite a bit of mischief with the mares in the backyard—a genuine stallion. It was quite ironic for a virgin to have a horse meant for breeding.
Lost in thought, Jima stepped onto the red carpet on the second floor. She gazed at the door at the end of the hallway, which had a worn brass plaque faintly showing 2-8—the twin room for Jima and George.
In Jima’s eyes, the door emanated a sense of danger. She couldn’t help but feel nervous, swallowing hard as memories of her childhood surfaced. Sneaking out at midnight to play games at an internet café and quietly returning before dawn, facing her own front door.
If the door opened, and she saw her parents’ door ajar with the light on, it would be over.
Jima walked slowly to the door, gently inserting the key into the lock. Her heart began to pound, and after touching the doorknob, she took a deep breath, turned the key firmly, and pushed the door open.
The room was empty; the “Guide to Saintly Sermons” lay open on the table, with a quill set in an inkwell. Everything was just as she had left it.
She let out a sigh of relief, almost calling out in excitement, a triumphant smile spreading across her face as she closed the door. Eagerly shedding her stinky outer coat, she tossed it into a wooden tub, then pulled a brass bell to summon a slave, giving her three coppers to fetch water for her bath and take her clothes for laundering.
Jima enjoyed a refreshing cold shower in the room. Afterward, an hour had passed, and George still had not returned.
She climbed out of the tub, dried herself off, and stood naked as she opened the wardrobe.
Her gaze lingered on a black silk dress and a white gauzy gown hanging on the rack before settling on another more conservative outfit. This reminded her of the day she bought clothes, depriving that virgin she was annoyed with.
A wave of shame washed over her; her face turned slightly warm as her hand reached for the conservative outfit—a hooded cloak.
As her fingertips brushed the coarse fabric of the hooded cloak, she remembered. Right, my energy is nearly half spent; I need to extract some more food from that virgin using the black silk. Let it be; after all, he’s going to be dead at my hands eventually.
Jima thought for a moment, then reached for the black silk dress and gauzy gown, humming a little tune. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she lifted one delicate leg and slid the black stockings onto her legs, feeling the peculiar sensation of the tights wrapping around her smooth calves, which was somewhat exhilarating.
She put on the gauzy gown and admired herself in the mirror. The tail of her outfit peeped out from beneath the skirt, and the translucent fabric cascaded down like a waterfall on either side.
The impish little succubus smiled mischievously at her reflection, and Jima felt her mood lift, humming a slightly off-key tune as she picked up the hat adorned with a white bow, covering the horns atop her head.
The room felt a bit stuffy, so she opened the window. The moist breeze lifted the curtain, rushing at her; Jima quickly pressed down her hat, squinting in the sunlight, and moved a chair to lean by the window, leisurely waiting for George to return.
However, good moods come quickly and leave even faster.
After contemplating her gains and losses for the day, Jima’s mood rapidly soured.
Having spent half her energy, six gold coins, a silver coin, and squatted in a stinky water barrel for half an hour, she had also alerted the enemy. This was the territory of a benevolent master; if today’s events were reported, he might initiate a city-wide search. It was hard to hide, being adorable with golden eyes—it would be obvious in a crowd.
As a result, she came away empty-handed and even attracted trouble.
The bank was no longer an option; without money for materials, she was at a standstill in her ambitions for upgrading to Nightmare.
“How annoying.”
Jima put down her chin, her thoughts disarrayed.
She was someone who was good at self-reflection, summarizing her mistakes.
I should have anticipated that the bank might be unsafe; my biggest mistake was going to withdraw money while showing my own face. But I lacked makeup tools and didn’t know how to do my makeup; overall, I was too careless and should have made sufficient preparations.
No, even if I had put on makeup, it might not have worked. I lack combat power and cannot protect the money I withdraw from the treasury. Any accident arranged by someone else could lead me to irrevocable disaster.
Thinking this, Jima felt fortunate to have escaped safely; luck and strength are both essential.
So what should I do going forward?
Jima tapped her fingers on the window frame, her sleek tail sweeping along the hem of the gauzy gown, and suddenly had an epiphany.
“Got it. As a succubus, I am weak in direct combat, so I should play to my strengths and avoid weaknesses. Just like how a thin-skinned creature shouldn’t run into someone’s face to attack, I should be the mastermind behind the scenes, minimizing my exposure as much as possible. Fooling someone else into helping me fetch money would be the best choice.”
Immediately, she thought of George, the perfect tool. He was powerful, trustworthy, and she didn’t worry about him pocketing any of the rewards.
“I’ll find an opportunity to trick George into going to the bank for money. As for an ambush, with his strength, there shouldn’t be a problem.”
Jima concluded the principle of being a mastermind: never expose herself, never do the task herself, always remain hidden behind the scenes, using lies to coax others into helping her spring the traps.
But right now, I’ve already alerted the enemy; if I trick that virgin into going to the bank, I might stir up a hornet’s nest, which is dangerous. Well, let it be. After all, I’m not the one getting stung. I’m not eager to break the slave contract; as long as I can get the treasury key, it doesn’t matter if the contract isn’t dissolved, that virgin has to protect me for another day.
I’m really clever.
Jima felt her mood lift significantly, the furrow in her brow easing.
Then she thought about George the brave, now trudging through the dirty, stinky sewers, crawling through the narrow and slippery pipes, fighting against goblins in the muck. All of this, just to obtain a gold coin.
Meanwhile, she was lounging in a chair, enjoying the scenery outside, waiting for him to return and be her tool, to charge into battle.
Jima’s mood soared as she imagined George tumbling in the sewers, his face landing in the muck, unable to help but laugh out loud.
In any case, the misfortune of her enemy was her source of joy.
A few passersby below stopped and turned their gaze toward Jima, captivated by her smile.
With her spirits high, Jima extended her finger, intending to tease the passersby. At that moment, a large boat sailed down the canal, with twenty oars extending from either side, cutting through the water, the waves almost capsizing the nearby small boat.
The grand vessel was lavishly decorated, with carpets on the deck, golden awnings set up, and several tables laid out with fruits and pastries, resembling a moving banquet, exuding great style. The nobles of Shalin City were the most extravagant when it came to spending gold coins on boats.
Just as Jima was about to lower the curtain, not wanting to encounter any noble scandals, she caught sight of a familiar figure on the boat, freezing in place.
It was George.
There he stood, clad in shimmering silver armor on the deck, exuding an extraordinary presence. He looked nothing like the mess Jima had imagined; infuriatingly, beside him stood a slender noble girl.
She had chestnut hair, adorned with a gemstone-embroidered net that held her long hair in place. Her features were beautiful and her demeanor elegant; Jima felt she looked somewhat familiar. The noble girl was animatedly chatting with George, covering her mouth slightly as she smiled.
The large boat docked at the side of the canal, and George bid farewell to the noble girl, stepping off the boat. They waved goodbye once more. George looked nothing like the disheveled figure Jima had envisioned.
Was he not supposed to be exterminating goblins? How did he manage to charm an ignorant girl in just half a day? Damn, she was even prettier than my maid.
An unnamed flame of anger rose within Jima.
Comparing oneself to others could be infuriating; why was her enemy thriving while she had to suffer so much, being beaten and hiding in a stinky water barrel?
“Hey, Jima. I’m back.”
George waved at Jima.
Jima had initially displayed a sour face, but after glancing at the grand boat disappearing and the noble girl stopped at the railing, she immediately broke into a big smile, stepping onto her chair and leaning over, waving and calling out:
“George, you’re finally home!”
The words were pronounced clearly and distinctly. The passersby immediately left in disappointment.
Jima couldn’t see the expression on the noble girl’s face on the boat, but it must have been quite something.
Hehe, I successfully snuffed out the budding romance.
Thinking this, Jima’s smile brightened even more, revealing her small white tiger teeth as she watched George enter the inn.
Downstairs, as George walked through the main door of the inn, a servant smiled and said, “My lord, your girl loves you very much.”
George smiled slightly, asking, “Did you see Jima go out?”
“No.”
“Thank you.”
After saying this, George did not head toward the stairs but made his way to the backyard, approaching the celestial warhorse, which was well-behaved and stayed in its pen.
“Old friend, has Jima been behaving herself in her room?” George gently stroked the warhorse’s head.
The warhorse shook its head.
“Really playful,” George shook his head as he walked up to the second floor.
