Chapter 18: Artistic Youth George
After Jima closed the door to her room, she raised her middle finger at it and strode downstairs.
A strange thought suddenly crossed her mind. Why was I so angry?
Was George the only man in the world? Did she really have to indulge in his desires? What a joke; she had pursued him before because it was easy in the chapel, but now that they were outside, there were plenty of men to choose from.
What a pity that a certain impotent virgin couldn’t serve as a stepping stone for her to become stronger. There were plenty of stepping stones downstairs.
Maybe by the time she got strong enough for revenge, he would still be a virgin. At that time, she’d tie up a female goblin for him to understand the sad life of a virgin man.
Jima felt deeply moved by her humanitarian approach. As she contemplated, she had already made her way down the stairs.
A cacophony of noise instantly enveloped her. The tavern was bustling at night; tables full of adventurers were loudly bragging, attempting to turn their goblin-slaying exploits into claims of dragon-slaying greatness.
They were competing with one another in volume, glaring and focusing on the lead table. The sound of heavy mugs slamming on the tables tried to drown out the bragging from their neighbors.
With a shout, a Gwent card was thrown down by a gambler onto the table. The red-eyed player shouted loudly, “I won! I won!”
The noise was as loud as the highest volume on rock music headphones. Jima rubbed her ears, frowned, and scanned the room looking for prey.
There was no need to search. There were plenty of men among the adventurers, all in the most aggressive and excitable age; just a bit of beer stirred their desires.
A plump woman delivering drinks walked into the cluster of tables. Jima personally saw her just make a round, and the woman’s ample backside was fondled no less than seven times, even though it was as filthy as a rag.
Jima swallowed hard, feeling somewhat hesitant. But her pursuit of power quickly overrode her doubts. She moved closer to the tables when a bare-chested half-orc noticed her.
His gaze swept up and down Jima’s small face, and he grinned widely. He raised a mug full of beer and tilted it toward his mouth, with the light yellow liquid dripping down his chin onto the dark, grimy armor he wore.
It seemed the mixture of beer, sweat, dust, and blood contributed greatly to the thickness of the filth on him. He was considered relatively hygienic among this group of adventurers.
“Bang!”
The half-orc slammed the wooden mug down on the table, pointed at Jima with his finger, exposing a clump of oily, black hair from his armpit, and laughed, “Hey! Little girl. Come here, Uncle will tell you a story.”
Jima felt like her mouth was stuffed with a clump of armpit hair and didn’t move an inch.
The nearby adventurers, upon hearing the half-orc’s loud voice, turned their attention to her. Their glances fell on her, and a few wolf whistles rang out, while a half-orc companion patted his shoulder, shouting:
“You beast, look at how you’ve scared the little girl. Be careful, or her dad will spank you.”
The half-orc said, “Scared? She’s just overwhelmed by my manly presence; can’t you see the admiration on her face?”
Calm down, Jima. It’s just a small act of selling your body; you won’t have any contact with these greasy scum. If you want to become strong, this little sacrifice is worth it.
All she needed to do was overcome that ridiculous mental barrier. After all, she had sold her body to that impotent virgin before. Aren’t they all men?
Jima took a deep breath, the unpleasant odor of the tavern almost making her want to turn and run. She restrained herself, put on a sweet smile, and tucked a dark strand of hair behind her ear, saying:
“Uncle looks like….”
Before she could finish, her youthful voice fell on the ears of several men, many of whom immediately reacted, a pungent wave of desire surrounded her.
If George’s previous desires were the faint aroma of light peach wine, then these desires were like cheap liquor mixed with fermented yellow urine.
Jima carefully took a sniff; the strong scent of desire pricked her tongue. She was so startled that she immediately stopped her seductive senses, or she would have been sick right there. Naturally, she couldn’t finish her sentence.
She hadn’t expected that her instinctive allure would have such a strong effect on a group of hormone-driven male adventurers.
Jima took a few steps back, and at that moment, she felt hungry again, the gnawing sensation gnashing at her nerves.
Hungry! Hungry enough that she heard another voice. Eat, eat. Start indulging in George’s desires, your reactions would be similar; they’re all the same junk. Eating it would not only fill her up but also help her level up.
No, no, it’s different. Jima vehemently denied it; despite being junk, she had gotten used to the desires of an impotent virgin—there was no need to disgust herself by adapting to something else.
Without another thought, she turned and ran towards the stairs, laughter echoing behind her.
Once she reached the landing, she leaned against the wall, panting. Her expression complex as she stared at her room. Taking a deep breath.
Dealing with an impotent virgin was definitely the way to go. It was portable, could be indulged in anytime, the taste was good, and later, when she took her revenge, she could reveal her demon lord form in front of him, telling him it was thanks to his desires that she could regain her strength. How shocked would that impotent virgin be? He might even regret it to the point of committing seppuku.
Psyching herself up, Jima calmed down, contemplating how to seduce George.
With someone like George, who was supposedly righteous and proper. The allure of lust should hold little significance for him; otherwise, he wouldn’t still be a virgin. (For Jima, anyone who was harmful to her was a villain.)
From his insistence on “redemption,” it was clear he sought some moral satisfaction. Moral satisfaction for him served as foreplay; without it, he wouldn’t react.
Heh, I can start from that point and fulfill his moral needs.
With a thought, Jima opened the door.
Inside, George was half-kneeling, his hands clasped under his chin, eyes closed in meditation. It seemed like an illusion—a faint sanctified light surrounded him.
Hearing the door close, he opened his eyes and asked, “Jima, so soon? I thought you’d enjoy yourself downstairs for a while.”
Confident, Jima approached and said, “I just had a question regarding some minor disputes from this morning.”
With that, she sat on the bed. She noticed an open book and glanced curiously at it, only to see “Spank” written across every page, instantly making her tense up.
George smiled gently, “Don’t worry, I’m more than happy to enlighten you; I would never spank you.”
Does this demon lord seem like someone who is afraid of getting spanked?
“I’m not a child anymore.” Jima casually closed the book and tossed it aside, asking:
“Can kindness and justice determine victory?”
“Not really.” George replied, “Generally, victory is determined by strength.”
That answer surprised Jima a bit; she curiously asked:
“Then why choose kindness? The adventurers we met this morning, greedy enough to try and rob us. Because of kindness, you spared them; they not only failed to appreciate it, but they also framed us, nearly ruining our mission.”
“And that annoying overseer, who even threw our gifted jerky into a sewage pit. You could have taken the opportunity to teach him a lesson about respect through a duel.” In fact, killing him would have been the best option; scum like that deserved to die.
“But out of kindness, you ended up bribing him with a gold coin. His grin must have stretched from ear to ear, thinking he had encountered a fool today, getting insulted and still giving me money.”
George was silent for a moment, not addressing Jima’s question but instead asking:
“Jima, would you rather be friends with someone like me or with a demon lord?”
“Of course, it’s you.”
Jima’s answer was unusually sincere. Having once been a demon lord, she had to expend great effort guarding herself against others and…. scheming against them. A reliable fool like George was simply a treasure in this world.
“That’s my answer too.” George said, “I choose kindness because I want to be friends with those who have kindness and justice in their hearts.”
“I understand, thank you.”
Jima gained a deeper understanding of George. Unlike those fools who only shouted lofty slogans, George was a fool with a firm sense of values. If one cannot do as they please, what good is it to become stronger?
Though she internally scoffed, Jima displayed a look of enlightenment on her face.
George nodded in satisfaction, “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.” Jima smiled.
Since the foreplay had been sufficient, it was time to start the main act. She picked up the book, finding a multitude of questions to ask:
“George, why does the protagonist in this story disregard family to help the poor?”
“Why did the Morning Lord encourage inexperienced youths to illuminate the dark world?”
…..
They sat on the bed.
Jima’s questions came one after another. George patiently answered each one. Jima naturally leaned against George, the book spread open on his lap, her pale tail lazily swishing back and forth.
With a nitpicking attitude, she had managed to find a ton of questions, and he had answered them all.
“Any other questions?” George asked, showing no signs of weariness.
Thirsty, Jima smiled and asked: “Uncle George, how many dragon girlfriends does the Dragon Knight actually have?”
George tapped Jima’s forehead, saying: “Jima, I’ve told you not to go through my private books.”
“The Dragon Knight” was the harem-themed book Jima had stumbled upon in George’s room.
Jima covered her head, rolling on the bed cheerfully, “No more, I’ve asked everything.”
With that, she reactivated her succubus senses.
After the literary interaction for so long, with sufficient foreplay done, there must be a fair amount of desire now.
Hoping for such a thing, Jima took a gentle sniff.
In the air, there was only the faint fragrance of peach blossoms. This slight desire could barely pacify her stomach.
That impotent virgin!
After a few hours of arduous literary indulgence, it came to nothing. Jima was enraged and nearly exploded, her tail swishing forcefully, accidentally hooking onto a wooden cup full of milk.
The wooden cup clattered to the ground, spilling milk all over Jima.
“Ah!”
She exclaimed, the cup hitting the floor. The milky liquid slid down her face, soaking the fabric against her flat chest. Milk dripped continuously from her propped-up tail.
George paused for a moment, then exuded a rich scent of peach blossoms. Just one sniff of it made Jima feel full.
This impotent virgin! After all this talk, wasn’t he just fond of being vulgar and indulging in desire? Filthy, sordid, disgusting! If she’d known, she would have poured the milk over his tail.
Jima ground her back teeth in anger.
“Ahem, I’ll go get someone to bring a towel.” George stood up and closed the door.
After a while, he returned with a towel and a can of hot water.
Jima’s mood had calmed down; she curiously took the hot water George handed her, asking, “What’s this?”
“Drink more hot water,” George said, “You’ll feel better.”
Jima clenched her fists, nearly smashing the hot water can to the ground.
After wiping away the incompatible white liquid and tidying herself up, Jima put on her hooded robe again, concealing her wings and tail, and strode out, saying: “I’ll go check on Shalin City.”
“Bang!”
The door was slammed shut with force.
“Strange, is it not time for my period?”
George picked up “Twenty-One Days: From Novice to Expert—How to Educate Children Well,” looking at the pages filled with “Spank,” deep in thought.
Meanwhile.
Jima stood downstairs in a corner, inconspicuously opening her “Desire Eyes,” scanning the gathering like a hawk surveying its hunting ground, preparing to look for someone to become her qualified experience baby.
“Let’s see who the lucky adventurer is tonight.” A smile curled at the corners of her mouth as she spoke to herself.
