Chapter 63: Super Big Trouble
The maid, with tear-streaked cheeks, had not yet recovered from the horrifying sight of death. Standing in front of the angry face of the noble master Blansy, she was at a loss for words, stammering:
“I… I… the lady asked us to… serve tea…”
“Where is my daughter?!” Master Blansy roared.
“She… she is dead.”
In a fit of rage, Master Blansy slapped the maid across the face with such force that her head slammed down to the ground, rolling a few times before she lay there, eyes wide open, breathing shallowly as she looked at her companions.
The other maids, terrified, hurriedly stepped back.
“You useless bunch! Are you all dumb? Speak up!” Master Blansy shouted at the maids, “If you cry again, I’ll throw all of you into the water to feed the fish!”
“Behind the door,” George said steadily. Jima’s face had turned pale as she pointed towards the door leading to the garden.
With red eyes, Master Blansy turned his head and noticed the two, speaking to George:
“Thank you, guest. Chamberlain, you handle this.”
Saying that, Master Blansy almost ran into the garden.
Chamberlain waved his hand, and the fully armed guards blocked all exits. He approached Jima and George, saying:
“What a coincidence, we meet again, Sir George from Bartow.”
“Allow me to introduce,” Jima took a deep breath, as if witnessing a crime scene had left her with an indelible psychological scar.
Chamberlain looked at George, who nodded, indicating that Jima could speak on his behalf (lie).
Chamberlain then lowered his head to look at Jima.
Jima said:
“We were unfortunately invited by the deceased to visit here; Liss can testify to that. She left us in the living room to wait alone in the garden, and after a long time, feeling something was amiss, she notified the maids and then unfortunately witnessed the crime scene.”
Chamberlain, with the only eye left on his burn-scarred face, stared at Jima and slowly spoke:
“It’s rare, for a girl to be so frightened yet have such clarity. Those paralyzed maids, much older than you, behave like infants, only knowing how to cry.”
“That’s why I can serve my lord,” Jima replied, “But unfortunately, most people only have twisted thoughts about my beauty and my relationship with my lord.”
“Next, I must apologize,” Chamberlain said, “Please cooperate; we cannot overlook any suspicious individuals. Anyone could be the killer.”
George nodded in agreement.
At this moment, the door to the garden opened slightly. Master Blansy’s body blocked the opening; he stuck his head out, eyes red, and commanded:
“Chamberlain, take all present outside to keep an eye on them. I want to be alone with my daughter for a while.”
“But, my lord, the killer might be lurking at the scene.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Master Blansy said, “If anyone could silently kill me, I’d be dead already. No one on this ship would escape. If my daughter knows that her death is being seen by more people, she would be heartbroken; she loved beauty.”
“Let me accompany you.”
“No, you still have to watch over everyone,” Master Blansy said, “The killer might be one of them. Also, seal the entire ship and have the captain take it out to sea.”
“Understood.”
With a “bang,” the door was securely shut.
Jima complained, “How wonderful, just straightforwardly determining we are the murderers who sliced open an innocent woman.”
“Mind your words,” Chamberlain warned, “Lord Blansy has always cherished his daughter; try to understand the grief of a father who has lost his child.”
Jima had no fondness for someone who coveted her treasures. Moreover, she was used to Blansy’s obsequiousness towards her.
“Right, as long as there is grief, basic politeness can be completely disregarded. Don’t they know that manners are a lubricant?” Jima said, “I hope after he regains his sanity, he can offer us a few cups of sweet tea to quench our humble dissatisfaction.”
“If that can allow your master to vent his frustrations,” Chamberlain said, his one eye fixed on Jima, “then feel free to say more.”
The soldiers escorted the maids away, and the three followed at the back of the line, with Chamberlain bringing up the rear, as if escorting prisoners down the stairs.
“Don’t slander my master; he is a good man—when he isn’t drawing swords and stabbing people,” Jima said, “From start to finish, he hasn’t complained even once about the troubles that have fallen upon him.”
“Thank you for your cooperation.”
Chamberlain said expressionlessly to George. The latter nodded, tightening his grip on Jima’s hand.
As Jima was about to step out of the room, her keen ears caught the sound of quiet sobbing from the garden.
There was a commotion at the banquet.
When the guests learned that the entire ship was being locked down, they began to stir, attempting to assert their power through words and make the guards understand the severity of the situation.
“It was the noble master who issued the order, there’s an assassin who has killed his daughter!”
The soldiers invoked the name of the noble master, making all guests immediately understand the gravity of the situation. The entire banquet fell silent.
“How dare someone assassinate the… young lady!”
As Jima and her group stepped down the stairs and onto the white deck, a rotund figure rushed over; upon closer inspection, Jima recognized it was the rotund noble Ruflis, whose head was crowned with his “Dream Seed.”
Chamberlain gave him a dark look and said, “You didn’t keep an eye on those shady rats.”
“No rat could dare assassinate in front of Lord Chamberlain,” noble Ruflis retorted.
Chamberlain shot him a glare and walked away.
The group was led into the damp cargo hold of the ship. The room was small, without windows, and after a group of maids squeezed in, it became even tighter. Jima almost lost her hat, quickly covering it to prevent her horns from showing and exposing her succubus identity.
As the heavy wooden door was about to close, Jima called out to Chamberlain outside:
“Are you locking us up like animals in a cage?”
Chamberlain glanced at the calm George and said, “You’ll have to endure.”
No sooner had he finished speaking than the wooden door slammed shut with a bang.
Inside the room, only a lamp flickered dimly, casting shadows; all around were the sounds of breathing. The room was suffocatingly hot, making it difficult for Jima to breathe.
Jima felt as if she were back on Earth, crowded in an elevator at the office in the morning.
She complained:
“I hope that bastard of a master gets up from his wife’s corpse soon… could you please move your lovely legs off my feet?”
“I’m sorry,” a maid timidly stepped back, huddling with her companions.
Seeing that the maids were somewhat pretty and young, Jima felt a bit better. She turned to see George leaning against the wall, stroking his chin in thought, while the maids formed a circle around him, distancing themselves from him like they were avoiding a butcher.
Jima approached George, asking:
“What are you thinking about?”
“Many points of suspicion,” George maintained his persona in the presence of outsiders.
Jima glanced at the door, hearing the sound of military boots on the floor; there were quite a few guards watching over them.
She said:
“The situation is terrible now. Look at how we’re treated; clearly guests, yet stuffed into a cage like livestock. Earlier, when you boarded the ship, Chamberlain even tried to recruit you.”
George remained silent, simply nodding to indicate that he understood.
Jima continued:
“Their change in treatment directly corresponds to the strength you displayed, my lord. As an alchemist and the daughter of the noble master, the deceased must have been an extraordinary person, surely possessing magical items for self-protection, yet she couldn’t even cry out for help. At the time of the attack, we were unaware even with a room between us, which is simply unacceptable.”
George nodded, signaling Jima to continue.
“Therefore, we are the prime suspects. As a knight from Bartow, you have extensive experience and remarkable talent; killing a woman who hasn’t fought in years would be too easy. Setting up the scene to remove the weapon and calling the maids to pretend we didn’t hear anything when the deceased was stabbed—it all adds up,” Jima analyzed. The maids were even more frightened, clinging tightly together like a bunch of conjoined twins. They pressed away from George, squeezing into a tighter huddle, creating more space.
Jima stretched her legs comfortably, saying:
“Sarlin City won’t bother presenting evidence to us outsiders; if there’s suspicion, they’ll just throw us into a cell and beat us up. Who knows, we might even get a shot at the ‘Prisoner Carnival.'”
With that, she touched her hat in front of George, reminding him that she still had a pair of horns growing from her head.
Succubi are rare creatures. Coupled with the current explosive rumor—the paladin having a succubus slave—George’s identity would likely be revealed.
The noble master would probably host a funeral in celebration. Killing George and dissecting him openly would intimidate everyone around. As for herself, she’d probably be forced to become the spokesperson for Sarlin City’s “head industry,” recruiting guests from all over who wish to indulge with a succubus.
The influx of people in Sarlin City would likely increase by a floor or two.
Jima used sarcasm to ease her anxiety, her gaze fixed on George, hoping he would abandon his silly, naive sense of morality—compassion for the enemy.
Using the advantage of misinformation, kick down the door, grab a sword, and kill their way out.
“I will ensure your safety,” George said.
While the paladin’s words were reassuring, Jima wouldn’t trust anyone with her life, including George.
She closed her eyes, crouched down, leaned against the wall, and yawned, saying, “I’m so tired; I want to take a nap.”
With that, she closed her eyes.
Jima wasn’t tired; her stomach still felt full, and she had no inclination to sleep.
She hoped to fall asleep and enter a dream, and then through the “Dream Seed,” try to reach out to noble Ruflis, distorting his dreams and turning him to her side.
As for whether she could enter his dreams when he woke up using the “Dream Seed,” Jima wasn’t sure.
But she must not sit idly and wait.
Just as Jima was trying to enter a dream, the door was suddenly pushed open, and it was the calm-faced noble master Blansy, showing no signs of mourning for his deceased daughter.
