Chapter 108 Chapter 109 Departure Gathering (Part 1)
When Jima returned to the stone house in the chapel, she began packing her things.
It’s a shame that the bathtub used for less than two months will have to be left behind; she wondered who would get it at a bargain, but for the chapel, a bathtub used by a succubus would probably be burned.
Thinking this, Jima walked out of the bathroom and into her bedroom, opening the yellowed wardrobe filled with clothes: black pantyhose, cloaks, tights, and lingerie, all in similar styles dominated by black and brown.
Unknowingly, she had bought so many clothes. Although she wasn’t short on money, packing them was quite troublesome.
As she thought about this, she folded the clothes neatly and stuffed them into her backpack, which quickly became jam-packed.
“I really should hire a servant; after all, I am a former Demon Lord,” Jima said, “But then again, a personal servant could easily betray their master.”
She continued to pack—on her desk was a set of paper and pens she really liked, so she took those too. She grabbed her dance skirt, having not danced in a long time.
Towels, a water bottle, leftover alchemical materials…
Before she knew it, her large backpack was stuffed to the brim. The dimensional pocket at her waist was precious real estate, filled with valuable items that couldn’t be misused.
“And a pair of dancing shoes,” Jima said as she tried to shove the dancing shoes into her bulging backpack, “It just won’t fit.”
She tossed the dancing shoes onto the floor, looking at her empty bedroom and the backpack resting on the bed.
She felt a sense of reluctance for some reason.
When she first arrived, she had brought only a few daily necessities to sustain herself, leaving half of the backpack empty. At that time, she hadn’t considered this shabby stone house a home.
Here she was, a former Demon Lord, living in such a dilapidated place—how frustrating.
Yet without realizing it, she had come to accept this place, buying many things and stuffing her backpack full.
“Fine, I’ll just throw some clothes away.”
Jima opened the backpack and pulled out some clothes, tossing them on the floor and stepping on them to dirty them. That way, she wouldn’t have any regrets and could avoid packing them back in.
After placing the last item, a pig bristle toothbrush, down, Jima lifted her head, taking in the sight of an empty room scattered with shoes, clothes, and ink bottles.
The midday light illuminated the window frame, and she remembered how she liked to rest her chin on her hand, standing in front of the window, waiting for George to bring her food.
Jima hoisted her heavy backpack and as she reached the door, she couldn’t help but glance back at this familiar place, thinking about how she was about to leave it behind.
A feeling of being kicked out like a dog hit her.
It felt just like the first time she met George, leaving that shabby palace. However, she had experienced this feeling many times before. In her life on Earth, she always moved from one rented room in one city to another in a different city, never having a fixed home.
“Goodbye.”
Jima said, pulling open the door.
At that moment, she saw the gate to her yard swing open, sunlight falling on the silver robe of Saint Jenna, making her hair look like golden fleece.
She smiled at Jima, saying, “Jima, are you leaving so soon? Wouldn’t you like to stay and have a meal together?”
Jima felt the warmth of the sun on her heart; she intended to refuse.
Last night, she had a dream where she discovered the lies about the Elven Queen, which were spreading throughout the palace on the High Elf Island. Upon realizing that she had no upward mobility in the chapel, she decided to leave, to get as far away from the White City as possible.
She couldn’t afford to provoke the noble elves with long ears, so the faster she ran, the better.
However, her gaze couldn’t help but land on Jenna’s chest, which perfectly embodied “magnanimity.”
Out of nowhere, she said, “Alright, Sister Jenna.”
Upon hearing “sister,” Saint Jenna smiled even brighter and said, “Let’s go to my place first.”
Why did I agree? Oh well, it’s not a big deal. With the bureaucratic efficiency of the high elves, it might take until next month to find someone willing to handle this matter.
There’s plenty of time; with this much time to spare, I might as well think about how to take advantage of Jenna’s bosom.
Jima asked, “Are you taking a nap?”
“I don’t have time to sleep today,” Jenna said. “I’ll ask George to come over tonight for a nice gathering.”
“Are we talking about a 3P?” Jima asked. “If we’re doing it, shouldn’t we practice beforehand?”
“What is a 3P?”
“A group activity that requires multiple rehearsals and preparations to get right,” Jima explained. “Especially for the two of us, George can improvise freely. They say it takes two minutes on stage and ten years of practice off stage, so I suggest we practice for ten years before inviting George to join us on stage for a 3P.”
“That sounds interesting, but I still don’t quite understand what this group activity is.”
“It’s strange to say, but the stage is a bed,” Jima said seriously. “And it requires very little in terms of clothing; at most, you just wear a pair of stockings.”
Saint Jenna’s egg-shaped face turned red, and she slapped Jima’s shoulder, saying, “How indecent… I forgot you are a succubus.”
Jima shamelessly giggled, “So how about it, Sister Jenna? Should we practice?”
“No way.” Saint Jenna said, “I can’t let George taste the sweetness so easily; he’s such a flirt.”
For once, she found herself in agreement with the saint on some matter.
“…I was just planning on having a farewell dinner with him.” Saint Jenna said, “I received a letter from my family; I need to go home and will be leaving in a few days. Before I go, I want to make a good meal.”
“Count me in.”
“That’s what I planned.”
Ten minutes later, Jima placed her backpack in Jenna’s home, and the two of them headed to the local market.
Due to the aftermath of the palace power struggle, even though Jima was shameless, she felt too embarrassed to use Jenna’s money, so she could only pay for the ingredients herself.
She had high standards and didn’t look twice at the common fish in the seafood section.
Until she spotted a lethargic lamprey, this black, elongated, spine-less sea fish appeared miraculously in the inland White City. This gave Jima a new perspective on the thriving commerce of White City.
“How much?”
“Ma’am, your eyes are quite discerning. These are fresh lampreys, magically transported from the seaside. They have no bones and are incredibly delicious; historically, Charles III was famously killed by eating lamprey while sitting on the toilet.”
“I asked how much?” Jima glanced at the sign in the commercial area that read: “In the honest zone.”
“This price is what you deem fair.”
“Three gold and two silver.”
“Isn’t that just a parasite that bites onto fish?” Jima said. “That’s worth a whole pig.”
With that, she flipped the lamprey over, revealing its mouth—round, with rows of teeth, lacking lips, and just exposed right in front of her.
It was a sight that made her hair stand on end while simultaneously provoking a desire to reach out and give it a bite.
With that mouth, the lamprey latched onto the skin of other fish, voraciously sucking their blood.
A woman passing by shuddered, her fingers scratching her arms as she took a few steps back, saying, “What a terrifying demon fish! May the God of Dawn protect us.”
The merchant sighed, “Two gold and five silver; one costs a gold. If I had known it looked so ugly, I wouldn’t have brought it to sell.”
“Ninety gold for nine.” Jima took out her wallet and lined up ten gold coins. “That’s enough to buy a lot of precious alchemical materials.”
“You’re quite young but know how to bargain.”
The nine half-dead lampreys belonged to Jima.
Seeing the golden coins go to the fish merchant, Jima’s heart bled.
If it weren’t for her sudden inspiration and cooking ideas, she wouldn’t have bought such an expensive luxury.
George was the lucky one.
Jima bought a few more items and accidentally “shopped” her way into the alchemical material section.
Various alchemical materials displayed on the shelves—dead man’s fingernails, sage, dried small hearts—were shining with a strange light in her eyes.
Just like equipment shimmering on the ground in a game, attracting Jima’s attention, she couldn’t help but walk into the store.
She suddenly came to a halt.
No, I’ve already bought enough alchemical materials. I even got extras last two times, enough to explore the recipes.
Wait, why don’t I try combining alchemy and cooking? While cooking, I can enjoy the process of alchemy and improve my potion-making skills.
Thinking this way, Jima couldn’t stop herself and walked into the room.
With a clatter, ten gold coins parted ways with her.
“Welcome to come again.”
With a beaming smile, Jima stepped out of the store carrying a small basket of alchemical materials.
Just the thought of having only 348 gold coins left made her heart bleed.
“George is such a lucky guy.”
She muttered a few words and met Jenna at the agreed location.
The two women stepped into the kitchen when the fifteenth bell rang.
Jenna was fully equipped, with a chef’s hat, gloves, and apron, one hand holding a spatula while standing in the center of the kitchen like a queen with a scepter in a palace.
In contrast, Jima, who hadn’t even tied her apron, looked like a temporary laborer. She lazily yawned and grabbed a root that resembled a dead man’s finger from the basket, tossing it into the pot and letting it boil.
The liquid in the pot turned blue, bubbling vigorously.
Jenna couldn’t help but ask, “Jima, are you making potions?”
“Oh, that could be one way to say it,” Jima replied casually. “Alchemy involves chemical reactions, and cooking is also a chemical reaction, so I’m planning to combine the two.”
“If it’s George, he might end up throwing up.”
“No worries, I won’t force him to eat it.”
“Just don’t regret it if he ends up hating it.”
Jima answered nonchalantly, “Whatever.”
Jenna secretly tightened her grip on the spatula, thinking: Jima, even though your cooking skills far surpass mine, I will prove who George’s true wife is. Only a wife cares about her husband’s taste buds, not someone who carelessly cooks a large pot of whatever.
I’m giving you a chance.
With that in mind, Jenna devoted herself completely to making her own dish.
——————
So sleepy…
