Chapter 21 Chapter 22 I Haven’t Had to Try Hard and You Fell Down
The plate containing the holy maiden Jenna’s cake was exquisite, made of silver, with intricate patterns. But the “cake” that was so soft and steaming was quite alarming.
Even Jima began to feel a bit of sympathy for the plate.
George placed his hands on the table, waiting very seriously for his birthday cake, appearing indifferent.
Holy maiden Jenna smilingly brought out the cake and placed it in front of the two. As Jima looked closer, she realized the details of the white mass. The melted cream was oozing everywhere, and there was a red puddle on top, which should have been a message like “Happy Birthday George” when it was intact.
But now, it looked more like a nasty mess from eating too much chili oil.
Holy maiden Jenna weakly said, “Please don’t mind it.”
“Your intentions are what matter most,” George replied, putting his hands together and praying to God, “Can I start eating now?”
Jenna breathed a sigh of relief and said, “Sure.”
George took out a silver knife and, under the watchful eyes of the two women, cut into the cake without hesitation, as if the mound before him wasn’t unappetizing.
Jima felt awed once again by the courage of the brave George. With such bravery, he could probably cut into a lump of sewer slime on a plate without flinching.
George’s large hand held the knife, cutting off a small piece of cake, about the same quantity a dieting lady would eat. He finished it in a few bites, his mouth twitching slightly, and asked, “Where did you buy this?”
“I made it myself, Aunt Babu knows.”
“Very good,” George said, “I can already feel your intentions.”
Holy maiden Jenna’s eyes brightened, “Really?”
“Really.”
Could the size of one’s bosom be robbing the nutrients meant for her brain?
Jima felt that she had a great advantage: without even trying hard, Jenna had already fallen down. She stood up and picked up the knife. Holy maiden Jenna looked at Jima with some concern, and Jima smiled at her and said:
“I want to eat too.”
“Of course.”
Jima bent down and sliced into the soft, warm cake. The knife seemed to hit something solid inside, and she cut away nearly a fifth of the cake, a big chunk, and served it on a smaller plate.
George flicked his finger, wanting to say something to stop Jima but felt embarrassed to do so.
After Jima cut the large piece of cake, she looked at George, their eyes met, and she saw the shame in his azure eyes. Jima smiled slightly and pushed the large piece of cake toward George, saying:
“Only eating that little bit? How could you call yourself a man?”
The mound of cake was pushed in front of George.
George took a deep breath and said:
“I just ate a roast partridge, roasted potatoes, and a slice of bread. I’m a bit full now.”
Clever, knowing he couldn’t lie and eating in advance.
Jima said, “The more intentions you have, the better, right? It’s just some dessert. A big man should eat more. This is the birthday party that Miss Jenna prepared for you; you cannot just eat a little bit and then leave.”
Holy maiden Jenna listened, looking at George with anticipation.
George gave Jima a meaningful glance, and Jima seemed to see sadness on his face, as if he had been wronged. She took a spoonful and put it into her mouth, chewing slowly. One bite, two bites…
Curiosity killed the cat.
Jima couldn’t resist taking a spoonful herself, and it seemed she found pieces of eggshell in it. The fragments crunched between her teeth, bringing a sour flavor. For the sake of face, she swallowed it down. Thankfully, the ingredients were fresh, or she might not have been able to swallow at all.
To take such excellent ingredients and produce them to this level took a high degree of talent.
Jima was filled with emotion, setting down her spoon and looking at George.
After George took a third bite, he put down his spoon and sighed, saying, “I really can’t eat anymore.”
Even holy maiden Jenna sensed something was off and asked, “Is my cake edible?”
Can you have a bit of self-awareness? Saying it’s edible would be the highest praise for that lump of cake.
George said, “Your intentions matter a lot.”
Holy maiden Jenna cautiously, but unable to help herself, asked, “Can you tell me how it tastes?”
George fell silent.
The atmosphere became awkward.
Silence in the chapel meant a lot. It was, in itself, an answer.
The last shred of hope for holy maiden Jenna shattered like a fallen glass bottle. Her green eyes dimmed, and her head slowly bowed as she said, “I understand now.”
George let out a sigh of relief, “Let’s have some drinks instead.”
Holy maiden Jenna raised her head and smiled at George, saying, “I’ll go tidy up in the kitchen, be right back.”
Saying this, she floated into the kitchen.
I haven’t even tried hard, and she’s already fallen down. This is so easy. If catching a man’s heart means capturing his stomach, then with my years of cooking experience, the holy maiden has kicked the man’s heart away with her cooking. It seems I’ve overthought things; she could never have confessed outright to transform friendship into love.
Jima leaned back in her chair, feeling a great advantage.
Holy maiden Jenna’s bare feet disappeared behind the kitchen door.
George’s previously stoic face suddenly relaxed, taking a few deep breaths and shifting his gaze away from the large puddle of cake to Jima, saying:
“Sometimes the truth can be quite hurtful.”
“You’re not going to blame me for pushing the cake onto you, are you?”
“No,” George replied, “from a certain perspective, I was lying earlier. Since I lied, it’s only natural for someone else to call me out on it.”
Now, can the lies I set up before keep deceiving the camp detection system…
Jima asked, “So how does it taste?”
George glanced at the kitchen not far away, lowering his voice, “I feel a bit guilty. After all, she put a lot of effort into preparing the birthday party for me. It’s hard for me to be honest. What’s your evaluation?”
“Hard work and quality don’t go hand in hand,” Jima said softly. “No one should eat a lump of poop just because it was painstakingly produced, and the defecators certainly shouldn’t complain about no one eating their poop in the name of their hard work.”
George said, “You’re making it sound a bit unappetizing.”
“Not more so than the cake in front of us.”
George did not disagree.
Jima said, “After all that, you still haven’t given your evaluation.”
George said, “I feel like this is a slime that just ate troll dung. I’d rather face ten fearsome battle demons barehanded than take another bite.”
“Has she always been like this?”
George nodded.
For someone who usually had no sympathy at all, Jima, at this moment, surprisingly felt pity for her nemesis.
At this time, sounds of dishwashing came from the kitchen.
The birthday party surely wouldn’t just consist of one cake. So, it seemed that the holy maiden was throwing away the food she had prepared earlier.
The sound of washing plates was rather painful to listen to.
Jima’s scheming little mind suddenly sparked an idea: she should go to the kitchen to impress holy maiden Jenna and gain some favor!
Now was the perfect time for NTR; sneaking in and deceiving this young girl’s feelings would be a piece of cake.
In an instant, filled with confidence, Jima, her cheeks flushed with excitement, stood up eagerly and headed straight for the kitchen.
Sure enough, as soon as she entered, Jima saw holy maiden Jenna with red eyes, dumping a fully stuffed grass chicken into the trash bin.
Holy maiden Jenna became alert, floating a bit higher: “Ah? What are you doing here?”
“What’s there to fear? I won’t eat you,” Jima said. “Still thinking that as a demon, I must be inherently cruel and have come to mock you?”
“I’m sorry, please don’t take it personally.”
For good people, moral shaming is quite effective.
Jima said, “Actually, you’re not wrong.”
Holy maiden Jenna’s expression turned cold; in that moment, all worldly filth seemed to distance itself from her. That pure aura suddenly gave a sense of alienation.
Jima smiled and said, “But instead of mocking you, I would like to genuinely help you finish preparing the dishes. You also want to see George enjoy the food you’ve made for him, right?”
“Really?”
“Really. You put a lot of thought into this birthday party, after all. You can’t let George only drink a little.”
Jima knew that the other party must think she had ulterior motives, so she dressed up her impure thoughts and said: “I just want to be a good friend to the pure and noble holy maiden, after all.” The not-so-pure kind between men and women.
Holy maiden Jenna was quite surprised and said: “You actually didn’t lie.”
Upon saying this, her face flushed again, and she admitted, “I’m sorry, I used a little lie detection spell just now without telling you first. Thank you for your kindness.”
Jima knew that in the chapel, no clergy could lie due to a certain supernatural power. Similarly constrained clergy could easily use small spells to determine if the other was lying.
Of course, holy paladins had an innate ability to detect lies and didn’t need such spells.
Jima feigned to suppress her sorrow and shrugged, reluctantly forcing a smile: “It’s fine, I’m used to it.”
Holy maiden Jenna felt even more ashamed, her ears blushing pink. She sensed that Jima had been trying her best to suppress her evil nature under George’s encouragement yet had to endure the blatant prejudice and malice from others. She had been trying so hard to walk the path of goodness, yet Jima was inadvertently pushing her onto the wrong path.
She lowered herself by a few centimeters, the pure aura that made her feel alienated faded significantly, transforming from a divine image back to a human being.
She said, “Alright, then I’ll leave it to you.”
“Based on my observations these past few days,” Jima stated, “George isn’t picky; he just dislikes chili and alcohol. He should like vegetables like green beans.”
Holy maiden Jenna recalled the wine she had prepared and covered her mouth, saying: “Should I throw the wine away?”
“If it’s low-alcohol, it should be fine.”
“You observe so carefully; I’ve been with him for so long and only know he hates chili.”
If I don’t observe carefully, how would I know how to poison his favorite food later?
Jima smiled and closed the note in her personal system regarding George’s preferences, saying: “Do we have some fatty pork? I can teach you how to stir-fry pork with green beans; it’s really simple, but it can be a bit smoky.”
“Fry? Is that okay?”
Jima proudly puffed up her slightly heaving chest, saying: “You needn’t worry; my cooking skills are top-notch.”
Thinking back to the past, even the palace maids would secretly discuss that the only bright spot about the demon king was that her cooking was incredibly good.
It was the only compliment they ever gave.
