Chapter 96 Inquiry
To allow the elven maid to patrol in peace, the electrified Jima naturally played the role of a “lightbulb,” riding in the middle.
On the right side was the elven Eve Frostleaf, riding a white steed. Perhaps feeling grateful for Jima’s earlier assistance, the autumn breeze blowing from the right was not as chilling as before.
Jima was not in good shape; she was riding slowly, and the other two slowed down with her. The distance to the camp was not long, yet it felt particularly prolonged.
Jima glanced at George, who was wearing a helmet shaped like a bucket, obscuring his expression and thoughts.
This unusual trio remained silent for a long while until a horned child emerged from the camp to walk toward George.
George finally broke the silence, saying, “Jima, Frostleaf, I’d like to speak with each of you privately.”
Jima turned her head and glanced at the elven maid patrolling in the distance, saying, “You two should hurry; I can help with some soundproofing.”
George did not grasp the subtle implication. He nodded and said, “Thank you, but you should rest more.”
Eve Frostleaf’s ears turned slightly red, pretending not to hear Jima’s words.
George dismounted and went with Eve Frostleaf behind a tree near the camp, asking, “Eve Frostleaf, I have a question. Earlier, I asked you if something was bothering you today, and now I want to know what happened.”
“I should commend you for wearing that bucket helmet and not becoming more wooden, right?” Eve Frostleaf’s voice remained cold. “But I’m feeling better now, so it’s fine to talk honestly.”
George had always hoped to be like the legendary romantic, effortlessly understanding what girls were thinking. This was a rare experience.
He perked up his ears and said, “Go ahead.”
“First, tell me your guess. Consider it a test for you,” Eve Frostleaf said. “Like archery, shoot first and see if you hit.”
“Are you two jealous of each other?”
Eve Frostleaf stopped walking and looked at George.
“What’s wrong?”
“Let me see your face.”
With that, Eve Frostleaf reached for George’s bucket helmet.
George stood still, allowing Eve Frostleaf to remove his helmet. Contrary to the coldness of the helmet, his youthful face beneath it was light pink, betraying a hint of shyness and anxiety. His voice had been steady like his sword.
Eve Frostleaf’s eternally frosty face suddenly smiled lightly, like an iceberg breaking apart and revealing warm spring light.
“Ahem.” George put the helmet back on and asked, “Can you tell me the answer now?”
“The answer is simple,” Eve Frostleaf said with a slight smile, cheerfully adding, “I got my period today.”
George fell silent.
“Do humans always love to overthink?” Eve Frostleaf said. “Fortunately, you didn’t go around telling others the truth. Now let me see your face again.”
George tightened his grip on the helmet and excused himself to find Jima.
A while later, outside his tent, he saw the horned child trying hard to clean the celestial warhorse.
“Sir,” the horned child said, “Sister Jima is inside; she asked me to wait for you outside.”
“Okay, you’re very diligent.”
George lowered his head, adjusted his helmet, and entered the tent.
Jima had occupied George’s bed, carelessly kicking the neatly folded blankets into disarray, lying sideways on the messy pillows, stretching one long leg clad in white stockings, openly leaning on George’s pillow.
The red-haired, brown-eyed maid, Lianxi, was kneeling beside her, vigorously helping Jima massage her tingling leg while praising her:
“Master’s legs are so well shaped. To touch such beautiful legs is truly my lifetime’s fortune; even a poet’s lyrics cannot describe their beauty.”
“No way.” Jima lazily said. Seeing George enter, she not only did not move her legs from his pillow but, in front of him, moved her other leg clad in black stockings up, rubbing her foot against it and adding, “The pillow is quite soft.”
George asked, “Did you take a shower today?”
“Of course not, I’ll shower before bed.”
George ignored how enticing the sight of both black and white stockings together was and said, “So you sweated, right?”
“Mm-hmm?”
“So please move your feet off my pillow. Thank you. I don’t want to sleep smelling sweat.”
“Stinky man! Always reeking, and still have the nerve to call me Master?” Lianxi, with her cat ears standing on end, turned her head and shouted, “Master doesn’t smell; sweat is fragrant. You didn’t thank her, and you even slandered her. You should apologize.”
“Stop, stop, stop, Lianxi, don’t make the internal conflict so fierce.” Jima supported her cheek with one hand, lazily looking at George, her legs showing no intention of moving, “But Lianxi at least got one thing right.”
“What thing?”
“Beautiful girls are fragrant in every way, and they don’t excrete. They only release a puff of pink-scented gas.”
George took a deep breath, then another, casually removing his helmet and saying, “I have a question.”
Jima patted Lianxi and said, “Little Li, go out.”
“Yes, Master. I look forward to serving you again next time.” Lianxi, dressed in a black-and-white maid outfit, left with her head lowered.
George repeated his question: “Today I asked you…”
Jima listened with her chin resting on her hand and said, “So, George, you’re on the path of a romantic, right?”
“I just want to gain some experience.”
“Hmph, just like I can’t get into your head. But I, out of compassion, will help you.” Jima said, “You first tell me your guess, consider it a test.”
Why do both of them start by asking me to make a guess…
George thought for a moment, recalling that Jima didn’t seem to be troubled by her period before, perhaps female demons only menstruate upon reaching a certain age. So he asked, “Is it because you got your period?”
Jima blinked in surprise, bursting into laughter: “Nice imagination, brave man, but completely wrong. That answer couldn’t have come from Eve Frostleaf, could it?”
George awkwardly scratched the back of his head and said, “It actually did.”
“No wonder I thought her walking style was a bit unnatural.” Jima waved her hand at George, “I’ll give you another chance. Make sure to cherish this last opportunity to answer.”
“You two are jealous of each other.”
“Heh.” Jima said, unperturbed, “I’m different from ordinary women; I don’t get jealous so easily. You’re still too young. Out of kindness for your sincere question, I’ll tell you.”
“I’m listening.”
Jima, unable to think of any ‘real lies,’ swiveled her golden eyes and said, “I won’t tell you.”
George sprang up suddenly.
Ten seconds later, Jima, who had been shoved off the bed, was pushed out of the tent by George.
Jima held her tight pants in one hand and turned back, saying, “Was it just kicking you out of bed? What a stingy person.”
Inside the tent, George could be heard tossing the blankets around.
Soldiers passing by were captivated by the sight of Jima’s black-and-white stockings.
“Little Li, come here, let’s go to the Ice Beauty. Let that bucket-helmet guy spend the night alone.”
“Yes, Master.” Lianxi approached and quietly asked, “Master, that group of stinky soldier men are watching you; should I, as your maid, help shield you?”
“I don’t lack any flesh; let them look.”
This statement struck the ears of some, leading their imaginations to soar. From simply gazing to casually touching, and then to even sleeping together. But ultimately, those people didn’t dare approach, as her battle-ready form had left a deep impression in many minds.
Jima unceremoniously slipped into Eve Frostleaf’s tent, where only Eve Frostleaf was present, staring blankly at this unexpected guest.
Jima took a deep breath, internally sighing at the rare absence of the elven maid, only to be greeted by the pleasant scent of a beautiful girl’s tent. She found a place and casually asked Lianxi to set up her bed.
“Pack up these things taking up space and put them over there.”
“Master.” Lianxi shyly said, “She’s been watching us…”
“You can speak in a normal tone; anyway, Eve Frostleaf can hear even if you speak quietly.”
Lianxi then said in front of the nominal master of the tent: “Um, Master, we—”
“It’s fine, I said so.”
“Understood, Master.”
Under the immensely cold gaze of Eve Frostleaf, Lianxi, feeling great pressure, quietly cleaned up, wrapping the items in a blanket from the ground and setting up Jima’s bed. She placed the wrapped blanket about two meters in front of Eve Frostleaf and, as soon as she set it down, quickly shrank back to Jima’s side.
“Don’t be so stiff.” Jima pulled Lianxi down to sit. “Come, let’s have something to eat before we go to the palace.”
Saying this, she reached into her dimensional pocket and pulled out a bunch of black stockings and gloves, smiling as she said, “Ah, good stuff, finally found you.”
Jima took out a wooden box, and upon opening it, found it filled with hand-shredded beef sprinkled with five-spice powder. It seemed vital to make things neat, as if her life depended on it.
She tore off a piece of beef and finished it in a few bites, filling the air with the aroma of hand-shredded beef. Smelling this scent, even the messily piled together shredded beef, reminiscent of a mass grave, looked particularly appetizing.
Lianxi gazed longingly at the hand-shredded beef in the box. Jima picked up a second piece and pointed it at Eve Frostleaf, with some five-spice powder lightly spilling off, asking, “Frostleaf, would you like to eat?”
Poor Eve Frostleaf continued to try to respond with her signature cold gaze, attempting to instill in Jima a hint of shame, to discuss manners.
She remained silent, simply staring at Jima.
“Not answering means you consent; so here it comes.” Jima raised her hand as if to throw the hand-shredded beef into Eve Frostleaf’s face.
Eve Frostleaf shook her head vigorously and finally spoke: “No, thank you.”
“Then it’s a pity.” Jima laughed and roughly shoved the piece of hand-shredded beef into Lianxi’s mouth.
The two of them took turns eating the hand-shredded beef in front of Eve Frostleaf. After they finished, Jima licked her fingertips and opened the entryway to the Dream Palace, inviting Eve Frostleaf once more before stepping through.
Eve Frostleaf wished for Jima to leave quickly, shaking her head and saying, “No.”
Jima stepped into the entrance of the Dream Palace and disappeared. Lianxi quickly turned into a cat and dashed away.
Eve Frostleaf sighed in relief, inhaling the lingering aroma of hand-shredded beef in the air.
“Lady Frostleaf, it’s me, your loyal servant.”
Eve Frostleaf opened her eyes unpleased and said, “Come in.”
A burly elven maid lifted the tent flap, causing a breeze to sweep away the food’s aroma in the air.
She first noticed Jima’s bed and the swirling entrance to the Dream Palace above it, saying, “Has my good friend Jima come for a visit?”
Eve Frostleaf couldn’t be bothered to respond.
“Wait, that’s my spot.”
“Mm.” Eve Frostleaf replied, “I didn’t agree.”
“Such rude and barbaric beings.” The elven maid untied her hair, “Even more uncivilized than humans—no, just like beastmen.”
“Shut up,” Eve Frostleaf said flatly.
“Ah, they truly don’t think highly of you.”
Eve Frostleaf shot a sharp look at the elven maid, who recoiled and ceased her complaints.
Eve Frostleaf stated, “She is a friend.”
To the elven ears adept at inferring meanings, this phrase held several interpretations.
It could be considered a sarcastic remark by Eve Frostleaf or a warning to the elven maid.
The elven maid interpreted it as the latter, for she knew that Eve Frostleaf had seen the evidence she deliberately allowed her to see, proving her communication with Jima.
She never considered the third possibility, that it could simply be taken literally.
Eve Frostleaf closed her eyes, pausing for a moment before suddenly commanding, “Inquire tomorrow if there’s dried beef in the city.”
“Ah, Lady Frostleaf, aren’t human foods like those of pigs—”
Eve Frostleaf shot another glacial glare, silencing the elven maid once more.
On another side.
Inside George’s tent.
After shaking out the blankets and pillows and arranging them neatly, a faint aroma lingered in the air.
George knelt on the bed, inhaling the scent, regretting for a moment having pushed Jima out.
No wonder she’s a succubus—or rather, no wonder she’s Jima.
He closed his eyes for a moment, but visions inappropriate for children kept flashing in his mind, of Jima with her head buried beneath him, twisting wildly, her black hair flowing toward her horns.
After several interruptions to his meditation, George finally focused. From his right waist’s second dimensional pocket, he retrieved a book with a metallic cover.
After being stubbornly deprived of it by Jima last time, George had placed a chain on the book. He took out a small silver key, unlocked the tiny lock, drew the pen from the spine of the book, and with a serious attitude, recorded the responses from the two women that day on paper.
He also simply struck through the lines of conjecture that he had drawn with a straight line.
“They’re jealous of each other.”
George drew two lines through those five words.
He continued to scribble his thoughts and lessons learned, hoping to learn how to be like a “romantic” who understands girls’ hearts, just as he mastered swordplay, horsemanship, marksmanship, and theology.
But George remained entirely unaware that all these lessons were based on the lies of the two women, leading him further astray.
In the end, George wrote an important piece of information on paper: “Jima does not have a menstrual cycle and, theoretically, can get pregnant at any time.”
After finishing, he closed the book, put the metallic pen back in, carefully tightened the chain to ensure it was secure, and locked it.
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Sorry, today was about learning to draw, and I had to drag the computer desk up six floors, so the update will have to wait until tomorrow.
