Chapter 24 Dreaming
In the evening.
Jima and George were eating food prepared by the hotel at a high-end establishment near the river in the White Sand District.
This hotel catered to wealthy merchants. The facilities were decent, and there were servants to care for the horses. Jima rented a double room for a month. The accommodation fee was cheaper than daily rates, totaling sixty gold coins, averaging two gold coins per day.
Each room came with a servant or slave for service. Hot water was brought up in buckets by the servants and poured into the bathing tub. Jima happily washed herself clean, leaving her worries behind, planning to go to sleep early and not carry fatigue into the next day.
But George stopped her, “You haven’t recited your lines today.”
Jima sighed, sitting at the table, struggling with a book filled with the phrase “be a good person”. Before long, under the relentless assault of boring text, Jima slumped over the table like a frostbitten eggplant, propping the book up with her hands, her body crooked, her little wings twitching.
“Thud.”
A pain shot through Jima’s head; she looked up at George, who had his hand raised, saying, “Sit up straight, or it won’t be good for your growth.”
Jima set the book down, pressing her small hands to her head, saying, “I’m just a child; sitting all day goes against my playful nature.”
Having said that, Jima looked at George. He finally took off his helmet, removed his armor, and was dressed in casual clothes.
His short golden hair was slightly tousled, and he had a handsome face with a fair complexion. Jima found it a bit strange; she always imagined George as a simpleton with thick eyebrows and large eyes.
George sat up straight, firmly in his chair. Jima confirmed that he had been sitting like that for over an hour, as if he could sit there for eternity, making him seem incredibly resolute. Without good self-discipline, one would always yield to desire, unable to resist slumping over or shifting.
George’s blue eyes were captivating. It is said that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and from George’s eyes, one could see a single-minded focus.
Unable to resist looking into George’s eyes, he moved his gaze slightly and fixed it on her. Jima felt as if all his attention was on her, giving her a slight sense of pressure, but judging by his expression, he was not targeting her specifically.
He was just focused, putting all his attention into his gaze. Jima recalled their first meeting six months ago when he pierced her with a sword; his gaze was just as focused then.
A phantom pain throbbed in her chest, and Jima diverted her gaze, making an effort to sit up straight, replying, “Mhm.”
A sheet of paper filled with neatly written words was passed to her. Jima read the title:
“The Agreement between George and Jima? Five points deducted for lying? Five spanks for over ten points. Ten spanks for over twenty points? Why is it all about spanking?”
“The butt is the fleshiest part and won’t hurt the body.”
“No, I meant. George, do you like spanking?”
Jima turned her head, looking George up and down, suspecting that this serious-looking George was secretly an incorrigible pervert.
“The book says it’s the best method of punishment.”
“Then that person must be a butt enthusiast.”
“Butt enthusiast?”
“Can I refuse to sign?” Jima asked. “It’s all about spanking.”
George pointed to the rewards above, “If your score exceeds twenty points, you can make a request, and I will try to satisfy you. For example: a doll, take you to see the circus, or…”
“Return my harem, present your childhood sweetheart, and then commit suicide, okay? Who would want those things? I’m not a little girl.”
Jima lazily responded, “Oh.”
“Isn’t the reward enough?”
“It’s boring.”
Jima muttered to herself, suddenly realizing that this was an opportunity to distract George.
“Can I request anything?”
“No, it must be reasonable.”
“What if I request a day of freedom?”
“Freedom?”
“If one day, I wasn’t to be disciplined, and could go wherever I wanted in Shalin City on a small boat, I would be very happy.” She longed for the unique services of Shalin City.
“It’s dangerous for you alone; Shalin City is a slave city. If you are discovered, the consequences would be dire. I will stay by your side; you can go wherever you want.”
“Oh.” Jima replied weakly, “If I don’t sign, will I get spanked?”
“I can fulfill your request, but only after I can ensure your safety.”
“A request for freedom?”
“Yes.”
Jima’s face broke into a genuine smile, “Thank you, George.”
With that, she eagerly signed her name, scribbling it on the agreement, without even carefully reviewing it. As long as she could have the chance to act independently, that was enough.
As for the deduction rules, those were aimed at little kids. In three lifetimes, Jima considered herself much more mature than the average child; there’s no way she would get spanked for deduction points.
Two hours later.
“Copied fifteen pages, two errors, deducted two points.”
“Drew a big turtle on the book, deducted two points.”
“Lied to the hotel owner, asking for intimate services, deducted five points.”
“Total: minus nine points.”
George diligently wrote and drew in his notebook.
Jima was kneeling on the bed, her head down, murmuring, “I know I was wrong.”
“You’re only one point away from being spanked.” George said seriously as he closed the notebook, “You’re tired too; go sleep.”
The alchemical lamp was extinguished.
The heavy curtains were drawn. The sound of crickets outside and the water lapping against the shore formed a soothing lullaby.
Jima lay alone on the double bed. Relaxing, thinking she could finally rest, she fell soundly asleep.
She dreamt of the past. Dreaming of herself in the demon realm, slaughtering enemies, stepping over their corpses, killing with joyous abandon, treasures and gold coins flowing like water, reaching her knees.
She dreamt of conquering beautiful women everywhere. Women of all kinds: fair-skinned and beautiful long-legged witches, dark elves like black panthers, female knights, high elves, silver dragon princesses… willing, unwilling, and conquered, so many women.
She felt happy, dreaming of her own harem. Surrounded by maids, she rolled on the grass with them, thighs, absolute territory, half-exposed soft chests, rolling eyes, and tensed calves. Laughter and muffled groans coexisted.
She was almost at the peak of happiness.
Sex was never just a simple piston motion.
Sex represented conquest. Just as in history, Romans would conquer and defile their enemies after victory.
Jima loved to see the expressions of the maids when they were compelled by the contract to submit to her desires. They had once been assassins, relatives of enemies, proud noble young ladies, each symbolizing a conquest.
Sex represented the hunt. Every time Jima successfully hunted women that matched her sexual proclivities, she felt the shadows of her past life drift further away.
In contrast, in her past life, she felt utterly pitiful. Being hunted like prey by a scheming woman, drained dry, utterly destitute, she ultimately jumped from a rooftop, shattering her body.
“Maids, come here. Serve me, I don’t care if you love me; I only know that you will please me with your bodies. Yes, just like that, it feels so good…”
In the dream, Jima hugged one maid on her left and one on her right; a proud black silk maid was crawling towards her.
Jima reached the pinnacle of happiness.
Suddenly, a glowing sword struck towards her chest, tearing everything along its path. The graceful maids vanished, her harem shattered, and the massive sword pierced through her chest.
The scene froze on the face of the sword’s wielder. He wore a bucket helmet, and from underneath it, a pair of blue eyes shone with cold light, their gaze piercing through Jima.
The world turned red, and a wave of pain surged through her chest.
Jima fell backward, plunging into an abyss. The pair of fierce blue eyes stood at the edge of the hole, watching her disappear.
Falling, falling. The sensation of weightlessness felt like the last time she fell from a building. She flailed her limbs, not wanting to experience failure again, but she was powerless to avoid the darkness, her back crashing against the hard concrete.
Her body shattered, pain spreading to her limbs, dark blood splattering toward the sky, before raining down to engulf her.
She dreamt again of the day she committed suicide, standing on the rooftop, making a call saying, “My parents are gravely ill; please send me some money; I really don’t have a cent left.”
A disdainful snort came through the phone.
“Please, we used to…”
On the other end, someone sneered, “Heh.”
“I’m going to jump off a building—”
“Then jump.”
She tossed her cracked phone aside and leapt toward the white concrete below.
Since she succeeded in “business” in the other world, she hadn’t had this nightmare for a long time, but now it found her again. She struggled desperately to break free, but the nightmare clung tightly to her like spider silk.
In the haze, footsteps approached.
Jima finally awoke. She instinctively tried to open her eyes, but suddenly remembered that she was Jima, a girl hiding her true identity beside her enemy.
She slightly opened her eyes and saw George at the bedside, picking up the thin blanket that had fallen to the floor, carefully covering her with it, and wiping the cold sweat from her forehead with a towel.
After doing all of this, George turned around and lay on the carpet beside her, his back to Jima.
Jima opened her golden eyes. In the dark, her eyes emitted a faint golden glow. Though she was startled awake, the pain from the nightmare surged forth, a dull ache in her chest, feeling as if her body had been torn apart, her spine aching, her limbs hurting.
The phantom pain felt so real that she couldn’t help but reach into her bosom. Feeling her flat chest, fingers pressing against her ribs, she confirmed that there was no horrifying wound on her chest.
George’s back was solid as a wall. Jima looked at him, her eyes filled with malice.
She had thought that she had finally completely shed the failures of her past life. In the other world, she was formidable, having conquered many beauties, living a life of sexual happiness. But then George suddenly appeared and pierced her chest with a sword.
Just like the pain from the last time she fell from a building!
Jima gritted her back teeth, afraid of waking George, and could only carefully chew her gums, slowly grinding her back teeth against each other. Her gaze turned into a sharp knife, stabbing into George’s back; she wished she could dismember him into pieces, savoring every bloody bit.
Revenge must be swift, revenge…
This thought echoed in her mind as Jima drifted back to a heavy sleep.
