Chapter 123 Chapter 121 Aftermath of a Nightmare
As the bell tower struck the seventh chime outside.
The short, plump woman instinctively opened her eyes. The noise that woke her was not only the sound of the bell but also her keen intuition honed over years of assassination attempts. She felt a pair of dangerously predatory eyes lurking, watching her.
The short, plump woman feigned drowsiness, turned to her side, and suddenly reached under her pillow, pulling out a short knife. She grabbed her pillow and tossed it aside. Holding the blade, she shouted:
“Who’s there? I see you!”
The shout reverberated through the room.
As a hated judge, the short, plump woman certainly had many enemies. She had faced assassination attempts more than once or twice, and the quality of assassins varied widely. Some were drunks pulled off the street, while others were thieves turned killers, with professional skills ranging from mediocre to incompetent. With this shout, most assassins with poor psychological endurance would likely lose their composure.
But the room was quiet, and after a few seconds, a shrill shout from below the window broke the silence:
“It’s early in the morning! Can’t you let anyone sleep?!”
The windows rattled from the force.
The short, plump woman, gripping the short blade, felt a bit embarrassed but did not lower her guard. She still sensed that someone was very close to her, so close, it felt as if they were right beside her, staring at her. She jumped down from the bed, bent over, and searched every hiding spot in the room with her weapon in hand.
Under the bed, in the wardrobe, behind the door, and so on; she even found a dusty coin.
There was no one in the room, not even a mouse. The short, plump woman felt it was just her imagination, perhaps due to the heavy burdens of recent missions.
She thought this over and put down the short knife. At that moment, she felt a light breath against her cheek. Startled, her neck hair stood on end, and she swung at the sensation, but struck nothing.
“Who?!”
No one.
But that feeling had been so real, the short, plump woman began to suspect she was being haunted by an evil spirit. After thoroughly searching the room again, she began to calm down a little.
Having been scared twice early in the morning, her mind cleared. She remembered the traps she had set the previous day and, after thinking hard, recalled that she had seemingly had a dream last night, but she could not remember the specifics, as if the dream was a feather, gently brushing across the beach, leaving only faint traces in her memory.
The succubus might be a problem, or maybe not.
The short, plump woman hesitated, unsure whether to tell the good master that the succubus, Jima, was absolutely problematic or merely possibly problematic.
Saying that there was definitely a problem would highlight her professional skills and sharp intuition. Transforming ambiguous clues into solid evidence was a necessary quality for a judge daring to rise through the ranks.
However, with the Rainbow Festival approaching, the good master needed to hurry and train the succubus, Jima. Time was pressing. If she did not have solid proof to demonstrate that Jima had issues, the good master would certainly not be pleased.
Those above wanted to convict; even mere strands of suspicion needed to be considered concrete evidence, and if those above were unwilling, they would demand witnesses and material evidence. This quality was essential for judges who aspired to be promoted.
The short, plump woman hesitated. She took out a piece of paper, grasped a quill pen, and resolutely wrote:
“I am absolutely certain that the succubus Jima possesses strong nightmare abilities like those described in succubus legends. Last night she attempted to murder me through my dreams…”
Unbeknownst to her, a hand was fiddling with coins in the air behind her, followed by an arm, shoulder, head, body, and legs gradually appearing—it was the Shadow King, Acanis.
Dressed in gray, Acanis silently stifled a yawn, holding the Blade of Shadows, the sharp edge slowly preparing to sever the hairs at the back of the short, plump woman’s neck.
He had already decided to kill her and then pretend to be a burglar.
Although killing her would alert those above and prompt the good master to suspect Jima, it was better than letting the short, plump woman live to inform. Of course, more importantly, it was Jima who would be locked away, and she would be the one to suffer.
Just before the blade met her skin, the short, plump woman paused her writing—a moment of hesitation that saved her life.
She planned to gather some evidence to support herself, starting with the “Dreamless Potion” purchased from the bald pharmacist. She bent down, pulled out a drawer, and took out a wooden box. Opening the box, she found a vial of sea-blue potion quietly resting on the straw.
The vial was filled to the brim and tied with a red string, upon which was a wooden tag elegantly inscribed with the words: “Dreamless Potion.”
The short, plump woman was puzzled. She remembered that she seemed to have consumed an entire vial of the potion.
However, she was not entirely sure. She had been very tired last night, having taken the potion right before bed. As the saying goes, “thoughts during the day manifest in dreams at night.” Perhaps she had been thinking about the plan so much that she dreamt of drinking the potion.
Moreover, she hadn’t had any nightmares last night. The short, plump woman hesitated and ripped the paper into pieces. As she stood up and turned around, she thought she saw a cape flicker past.
When she focused her eyes, there was nothing to be seen.
“I just felt like someone was behind me.”
She muttered to herself, feeling she should either summon someone to exorcise her or buy some calming medicine.
The short, plump woman found a brazier and burned the torn paper in it. Only when she was about to leave did she realize that she had been robbed; all the gold coins in her home had vanished.
…
…
On the other side, in Salin City, in an underground training room.
The old maid gasped, waking up from her bed. Still shaken, she panted heavily, one hand on her chest, her eyes wide with fear, her once tidy white hair now in disarray.
She had just experienced a terrifying nightmare in which no matter how she called, shouted, or begged, the silverback gorilla showed no signs of stopping, while the laughter of the elven Litiss echoed in her ears.
The old maid’s hands trembled in fear as she threw off the covers, revealing a scene of chaos: a noticeable wet patch on the disheveled sheets. She took a deep breath, her reason teetering on the edge of collapse.
There were very few people in the basement, as it was meant to be discreet. She had not brought her own maid and could only clean up herself, which put her in a terrible mood. She hurriedly tidied the room and had to go supervise Jima at breakfast.
Twenty minutes later.
In Jima’s room, on the bed.
The succubus awoke feeling refreshed.
Sitting on her bed, she slightly recalled last night’s dream where the silverback gorilla kept pressing down on the old maid, tearing her clothes apart. The old maid’s pleas lasted for almost half an hour, until she could no longer make any sound, only producing a melancholy, painful whimper as she accepted the intense affection of the silverback gorilla, numb and in agony.
A wicked smile involuntarily crept onto Jima’s lips. It felt like the resentment built up from being bullied by the dead virgin and having her treasures stolen by the good master had all vanished, leaving behind an indescribable sense of exhilarating freedom.
Just thinking about the gorilla’s strong arms, thicker than her waist, and its massive back that was broader than a bed, embodied wild charm in every way.
This passionate love that transcended species and age would surely help the old maid regain her love for life.
For a moment, Jima felt she had done a great deed, her tail happily wagging on the sheets.
At that moment, accompanied by the sound of keys turning, the door swung open.
An alarming old face appeared behind the door. The old maid’s bloodshot eyes were filled with fear, her face tightly drawn as if she wanted to straighten every wrinkle.
She spoke:
“You lazy girl! How long are you going to sleep and dream? Hurry up and get dressed and ready!”
Jima quickly jumped off the bed, skillfully beginning to prepare herself, saying nothing at all.
She understood well that the old maid had experienced an extremely intense encounter with the silverback gorilla in her dream. At this moment, she was like a ticking bomb; it was best not to provoke her.
“Do it quickly and well. You washed your face so carelessly—you trying to look like an old hag?”
“You need to step out with your right foot first; that way you can stand firm. Do it again!”
“Haven’t you had enough to eat? Why are you eating so fast?”
Along the way, the old maid found various faults.
Amidst the barrage of her scolding,
Jima secretly demoted the old maid’s dream lover from a street beggar to a barbaric beastman.
After finishing her meager breakfast—an egg-less fried egg, a small piece of bread, and a glass of milk—she found that the hunger in her belly had not lessened, but rather intensified.
She lifted her head and looked at the old maid with her glistening golden eyes, timidly saying:
“Old hag, I’m hungry~.”
Even the iron-hearted old maid felt a surge of maternal instinct at that moment, her heart softening, but unfortunately, last night’s steamy dream had been too explosive and lasting. The grumpy old maid was momentarily moved but then said:
“Do you want to eat like a fat pig? Greedy little mouse! I won’t even mention how you ate breakfast like a starving village woman today; this morning was supposed to be a lesson in bed skills—she said you have great talent. No wonder you’re a succubus; hurry and study hard.”
“Okay.”
Jima lowered her head and clenched her teeth. She resolved to demote the old maid’s dream lover to a filthy ratman from the sewers.
As long as this old hag was above her, no matter how she plotted her revenge in secret, she could only serve as the old maid’s punching bag, and in the end, the resentment would only fall back on her. It was infuriating; she had to think of a way.
Jima put down her knife and fork, stood up, and followed behind the old maid.
On the way, her hungry stomach growled.
The old maid glanced at her and said:
“Good-for-nothing.”
What to do? She was so hungry, and the meager food wasn’t enough. Last night’s physical exertion had only made her hungrier after eating.
But Jima didn’t plan to deceive the old maid with her acting skills to get more food. She knew that the old maid, in a terrible mood, wouldn’t grant her request and might even find a reason to smack her hand.
Getting more food was simple; she just needed to give the old maid a good dream, please her, lift her mood, and her acting would be sure to work. But Jima was unwilling.
Why should she?
As they turned a corner, they saw the elven Litiss leaning against her door. This perverted elf, who wore undergarments as her main attire, brightened up at the sight of Jima, raising her red eyes and smiling:
“Little lamb, come here and learn well from sister! I can hardly wait!”
The old maid stood frozen in place, afraid to move, her legs feeling a bit weak.
Jima keenly sensed the old maid’s fear and, with a flash of inspiration, came up with a brilliant plan.
