Chapter 26: The True Deliciousness
Eve Frostleaf closed her snow-white lips and took a bite of the roasted lamb leg sprinkled with red chili powder. Her movements were elegant; as she chewed, she was neither rude nor overly delicate, with a bit of chili powder clinging to the corners of her lips.
Jima shuddered at the sight. She hated chili peppers more than anything, and seeing this made her feel as if her mouth was stuffed full of chili, the spicy pain piercing her tongue like a thousand needles, stabbing deep into her flesh.
Eve Frostleaf ignored Jima and even licked the chili powder off her lips with her tongue.
Jima stared at Eve Frostleaf with wide golden eyes, shocked, as if she had witnessed a noble girl picking up dog dung from the roadside and stuffing it into her mouth, chewing with delight.
Eve Frostleaf could no longer hold back and turned to Jima, asking, “What’s wrong?”
“Isn’t it spicy?”
“Spicy makes it delicious.”
The elven maid chimed in, “With the devil chili we’ve carefully cultivated for three thousand years, your roasted meat can finally be fancy.”
After a few bites of the roasted meat, Eve Frostleaf was in a good mood, her slightly flushed cheeks glistening with a thin layer of sweat as she exhaled warm air. She said, “You have all kinds of seasonings, but not preparing chili is truly the biggest mistake.”
“Regret?” Jima quickly took a sip of well water to wash away the phantom burning sensation in her mouth. “Chili as a seasoning is simply a…”
Jima lifted her hand, shaking it as if trying hard to pluck the right word from the air. Finally, she found a suitable term:
“Torture device! Its only purpose is to tarnish delicious food! Because spiciness, in essence, is a kind of pain, not a flavor at all.”
Eve Frostleaf frowned, responding to Jima’s baseless accusation with action. She took the silver canister filled with devil chili powder and sprinkled it over the bite-marked area of the roasted lamb leg.
Jima quickly covered her mouth and nose, her feet pushing back as she half-scooted away, as if Eve Frostleaf had spilled radioactive dust.
Even George, lost in his enjoyment of the battle axe lamb leg, felt the tense atmosphere between the two women. He set down his second bare lamb bone and said, “Jima, chili is just an ordinary seasoning…”
As he spoke, he saw Eve Frostleaf lift the battle axe lamb leg, its surface coated with a layer of devil chili powder. As she raised it, the thick chili powder cascaded down.
The elven maid covered her mouth and nose, coughing violently, her eyes reddening, saying between coughs, “True to the devil chili our kind cultivated, it’s flavorful, cough cough.”
Eve Frostleaf remained unfazed, her posture still elegant and her expression still aloof as she took a bite of the chili-covered battle axe lamb leg. She squinted slightly, exhaling warm air, the redness spreading from her cheeks to her long ears.
George changed his tone, “As long as it’s not too extreme, adding some chili can enhance the food’s texture. I quite like chili.”
Eve Frostleaf puffed her chest slightly, pushing the silver chili canister across the table to George, saying, “Here, for you.”
“Thank you.”
Just as George reached out to grab the silver chili canister, Jima suddenly snatched it away, twisting the lid open with force, and aimed to sprinkle it on the roasted meat on George’s plate, shouting, “Enjoy to your heart’s content.”
George knocked Jima on the head: “Bang!”
Jima loosened her grip, covering her head with both hands: “Oh!”
George took the silver chili canister and scolded, “I said a little bit of spiciness helps enhance the flavor.”
As he spoke, he imitated the amount of chili used by the elven maid, sprinkling some devil chili powder, then took a bite: “Not bad—”
He paused, his initial big bite turning into smaller bites. He looked at Eve Frostleaf in surprise and asked, “Why did it suddenly become so spicy?”
“Hehe,” the elven maid replied, “this is the newest cultivated devil chili; the chili produced by other races doesn’t even come close to a thousandth of its flavor.”
Jima said, “It’s truly wicked.”
George remarked, “It’s surprising that high elves have new things.”
Eve Frostleaf said, “George, you’re quite biased. My kind has continually innovated; it’s just that our lifespan is too long, and short-lived—young races don’t see the innovation and mistakenly believe we are stagnant. So, George, you really should take some time to visit my homeland.”
She always had much to say when it came to George.
Jima asked George, “What do you think?”
“A bit spicy,” George replied, “but it’s thrilling, giving a different experience.”
“That’s normal; chili can only bring pain to the tongue,” Jima said. “But human nature is complex; everyone has a bit of masochistic tendency. Although it provides temporary satisfaction, a little bit of chili accumulates pain on the tongue, forcing a person to take smaller bites, losing the enjoyment of big mouthfuls.”
Eve Frostleaf raised her eyes, looking displeased at Jima. “If you can’t handle spicy, you can’t scale high mountains.”
“Spiciness is just a simple pain; only a masochist craves it,” Jima countered. “It’s like a whipper on the street who enjoys being beaten, becoming more excited with each hit.”
Eve Frostleaf’s reaction was unexpected; her brow furrowed, and rare anger flickered across her face. “Say that again?”
“Wow, you’re not expressionless after all?”
“Say it again!”
“Masochist, sub!”
Eve Frostleaf suddenly drew her sword, pointing it at Jima. “You insult me again?”
At the next table, Lianxi Cat, who had been quietly eating roasted meat, arched her back, fur bristling, hissing at Eve Frostleaf.
George quickly stood up, pushing the sword tip away. “Frostleaf, calm down, calm down; she’s just a bit mouthy.”
Jima quipped, “No wonder humans are like three-year-old children in front of the bloody, perverse dark elves. Truly, the high elves are indeed the source of the dark elves.”
The elven maid stood up suddenly, scolding, “Are you insulting me?”
“Masochist, masochist—”
George punched Jima on the crown of her head. She clutched her head in pain, squatting down and tearfully scolding, “Scum! You actually favor another woman, sob, I’m so miserable.”
George sighed and reached for Jima’s tail.
“Wait, don’t pull my tail; I was wrong, I was really wrong. You’re an incorrigible tail—”
Before Jima could finish, she felt a tightening at her tail.
Damn! George was still too conservative to accept that his fetish could be publicly acknowledged.
Jima quickly revised, “—a tail persecutor.”
Only then did her tail loosen.
No one noticed that Eve Frostleaf’s eyes narrowed slightly.
George said, “Next time, please don’t say things like that, okay?”
There better not be a next time.
Jima thought and nodded.
Eve Frostleaf sheathed her sword, saying, “Since even George said so.”
The elven maid also sat down, stating, “There won’t be a next time.”
Jima returned to her chair, watching Eve Frostleaf eat the battle axe lamb leg coated in devil chili powder. The elf was eating with great pleasure, her neck flushed, covered in a fine layer of sweat.
One had to admit, although the chili was wicked, it added a touch of captivating redness to Eve Frostleaf, making the snow-capped mountains seem not so distant.
Wait, she can’t really be a masochist.
Jima imagined herself picking up a whip, one hand grasping the chain around Eve Frostleaf’s neck from behind, the other wielding the whip to strike her long legs, tearing out stripe after stripe. Eve Frostleaf would resist, proud as ever, but ultimately, like ice, she would gradually melt…
Jima’s tail excitedly perked up.
She quietly tugged at George.
“What is it?”
“I want to whisper something to you,” Jima said, “the kind where I lean close to your ear.”
Saying this, she leaned her lips against George’s ear, whispering, “Just like this.”
“Snap!”
The elegantly eating Eve Frostleaf accidentally bit through the lamb bone.
“Is it something very private you want to say?”
“Yes.” Jima knew Eve Frostleaf had keen hearing; the so-called whispers she could hear very clearly, but that was exactly how she wanted it.
If she were indeed a masochist, then Eve Frostleaf’s reactions would surely be quite interesting and problematic.
George, however, gently pushed Jima away, saying, “Then let’s go outside; Frostleaf can hear us.”
Jima: “….”
As George pulled Jima, she didn’t move.
“What’s wrong?”
Who has the leisure to play around with secret sweet nothings while eating roasted meat?
Jima suddenly lost interest. Yet, she knew Eve Frostleaf was no fool and, adhering to the idea of doing the whole act, she perfectly masked her disappointment and said, “I haven’t said goodbye to the orange cat yet.”
Saying this, she gently patted Lianxi Cat’s head, saying, “You’re really a good cat.”
Lianxi Cat narrowed her eyes, rubbing against her hand.
After saying this, Jima deliberately clung to George’s arm, leaning against his side as they walked out.
A cold female voice broke the silence as Eve Frostleaf said, “Aren’t you going to be his clandestine lover?”
“Anyway, George has already been neglected by the church,” Jima turned back, brushing aside a stray black hair from her face, “so whether I hide it or not doesn’t matter.”
As her words fell, George tightened his grip on Jima’s hand.
Thus, the two pressed against each other and walked out of the tent under Eve Frostleaf’s moist green eyes.
The elven maid felt that this succubus was doing well; as long as she was present, she didn’t have to worry about the human being, resembling a hairless baboon, sullying Eve Frostleaf. She also wouldn’t let down Queen’s Majesty’s instructions.
“Delicious…”
A barely audible whisper escaped from Eve Frostleaf’s lips.
“Lady Frostleaf?”
Eve Frostleaf’s long ears perked up. “I said the devil chili is delightful, and the roasted meat is quite good.”
“Yes,” the elven maid said. “The meat cooked by the succubus is delicious.”
Meanwhile, as soon as Jima and George stepped out of the tent, they no longer kept close to each other.
George thought she just didn’t want to expose their relationship in front of everyone. He couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty, tightening his hold on Jima’s arm, saying, “It’s fine.”
Jima wanted to give George a blank stare but ultimately didn’t pull her arm away.
Thus, they walked through the noisy military camp. Several soldiers, punished and unable to directly eat roasted meat, gazed longingly at Jima’s back, hoping she would roast the meat again, as the ones their comrades grilled were not as delicious.
The accompanying priest, seeing the figures of the succubus and the paladin vanish at the camp’s exit, couldn’t help but shake his head.
George Hammer felt increasingly uneasy. Today, not only did he support Jima’s kind-hearted lies, but he also openly acknowledged their special relationship. The succubus had gradually pulled the formerly pious hero into the abyss of decadence, and he felt powerless.
He couldn’t even offer advice because everyone in the camp had been swayed by Jima; at this point, any advice would have a counterproductive effect.
He sighed, pressed his palms together, and quietly prayed for George.
What a failed priest he was, unable to do anything, only refusing the succubus’s temptations, settling for bread and water for dinner.
A fragrant aroma wafted toward him, and as the accompanying priest opened his eyes, he saw a roasted lamb chop. A soldier said, “This is to thank you for healing me last time; it’s cooked by the succubus and is already a rarity.”
The priest felt uncomfortable yet curious—was it truly that delicious?
He said, “Thank you.”
Afterward, he took a bite.
“Delicious.”
The holy fire ceremony concluded perfectly.
