Chapter 46 Chapter 45 Sabotage
After making up her mind,
Jima first opened the text in her personal system, quickly locating the “White Project” within the Rainbow Plan and reading through it.
Without hesitation, she pushed off with her legs, spread her wings, and sailed through the false night sky of the Dream Palace, arriving in a dream realm composed solely of black and white. With a few powerful flaps of her long wings, Jima felt somewhat strained.
How wonderful it would be if I could level up. She couldn’t help but think; completing a qualitative transformation of life, climbing should not be too exhausting, and there’s no need to worry about fear—at least there would be a means of escape.
She flew to a high altitude, stretched out her wings and hovered, looking down at the city of Kisilif below.
The capital of the Nation of Warriors, a city guarded by cold winds and ice walls, where several world-ending armies had met their demise. Now, it seemed as if it was trampled beneath her feet.
Jima reviewed the “White Project” again, extended her arms, and began to utilize her extraordinary abilities…
…
…
Ice-laden raindrops began to fall from the night sky, striking the eaves with a crackling sound, like the rapid heartbeat of the house’s owner.
The Duchess’s heart raced, her breathing quickened, and cold sweat formed into droplets, tracing down her frown lines. Her eyelids trembled, struggling to open, to escape the tormenting nightmare.
But it seemed there were invisible hands pressing down hard on her eyelids, denying her the chance to open them.
Nightmares were composed of fragmented memories of the past.
She dreamed of herself escaping in a grassy field, surrounded by wild grass towering over her head. A good friend, who had also escaped, was holding her hand. This friend used to have waist-length hair but had hastily cut it short, covering her head to avoid being seen, as it had been dyed white by the Demon King Jima.
Above them was a sky filled with rolling black clouds, and azure lightning danced continuously between the clouds, with the Demon King Teon standing on top of a mountain behind them.
This was the Demon Realm.
Before their escape, they had prepared adequately, secretly gathering milk concentrate—made from leftover maidens, jerky, and hard bread. They had also scouted the terrain; this lush, over one-meter-high wild grass would conceal their movements.
But they hadn’t figured out how to escape the Demon Realm.
Even so, the Duchess was determined to run faster and plunge into the perilous outside world, eager to leave the Demon King’s palace behind.
In the sky, the sound of flapping wings reached them.
“Quick, lie down.”
The friend ahead immediately pulled her hand and dove into the adjacent thicket, pressing down.
The ground was littered with gravel and grass stalks, stabbing into her tender skin.
The Duchess remained silent, only to discover that her arm had been cut and bleeding from the sharp grass blades.
A wave of oppressive force descended from above.
Unable to help herself, the Duchess held her breath and looked up.
A demon dragon soared overhead, with the towering Demon King cradling a pale woman in his arms, the identity of whom was unknown to her.
The demon dragon flew into the distance, circling in the sky, then returned to the Demon King’s palace.
It seemed to have given up, not noticing the two escaping slaves lying in the grass.
The Duchess breathed a sigh of relief in her heart as she tightened her grip on her friend’s hand and stood up, whispering, “We can escape now.”
“Yeah, but where do we escape to?” Despite this, her friend, who had resolutely cut her long hair for the escape, stepped toward the lightning-streaked horizon with determination.
The two women successfully left the mountains beneath the Demon King’s palace, stepping onto the barren land of the Demon Realm. Their splendid maid outfits were somewhat tattered, yet the Duchess felt no pain over them.
In the distance, the black mountains moved like giant pythons. It’s said that in the Demon Realm, mortals would eventually be eroded, but the Duchess still stepped forward resolutely, one step, two steps; suddenly a crack appeared in the air far ahead, revealing a familiar scene within.
It was the land of ice and snow, her hometown, the estate with the red house, where she had grown up as a child.
The Duchess couldn’t believe her eyes, “Look, it’s the rift to home.”
Her friend was equally thrilled, “It must be that the divine has heard our prayers.”
They dashed toward the rift, running and running, finally reaching its threshold.
The Duchess excitedly extended her hand to touch the rift, yet the scenes of her hometown shattered like colorful bubbles at a mere touch, disappearing.
Everything before her changed abruptly; the black mountains and thunderclouds vanished. What she touched was only a door edged in gold, a very familiar door that led to the Demon King Jima’s bedroom.
Upon seeing it, the Duchess’s heart skipped a beat, and she quickly withdrew her hand. But it was too late; the door swung open, revealing the tall Demon King Jima, who sat on a red sofa with two leggy, bosomy maids, each dressed in black and white silk, kneeling on soft cushions, clinging to his calves.
He smiled, patting his thigh, commanding them to come closer.
The Duchess screamed and turned to flee, but behind her came the laughter of the Demon King Jima, growing ever closer. Her vision blurred as she collided with someone’s hard chest; when she opened her eyes, the face of the Demon King Jima appeared right before her, pulling her into his embrace.
He was smiling, his cracked lips parted as if he intended to swallow her whole.
The Duchess screamed in hysteria.
The Demon King Jima’s face twisted with disgust as he extended his finger, touching her lips, “Softly now.”
As if an invisible hand had gripped her throat, her voice diminished; no matter how hard she tried, she could only produce bird-like chirps. She attempted to turn and flee, but time and again, she ended up right before the Demon King Jima.
Her friend couldn’t help but ask, “Why are you spinning around?”
The Duchess looked at her friend, who was kneeling before the Demon King Jima, the latter pulling back her headscarf and saying, “Short hair doesn’t look good, come here, let’s apply some hair growth serum.”
With that, he poured an unknown liquid onto her friend’s head, and her short hair began to grow, quickly reaching her waist. The new hair was chestnut brown. Although her natural hair color was chestnut, the Demon King Jima preferred it white, thus he had dyed it.
“Go, take her to dye her hair.”
Her friend, expressionless, left with a maid in a long black dress.
“You, come here.” The Demon King Jima pointed at the Duchess, who was unable to control her long legs, stepping step by step toward him. “Congratulations, you attempted your first escape.”
“Did you… know all along?”
“Of course!” The Demon King Jima replied, “I enjoy a maiden’s first escape, especially the look on your faces when you realize the truth after running away; it’s simply adorable.”
“Who betrayed us?”
“I still hope the relationship among you maids is good, so I haven’t embedded any spies.” The Demon King Jima revealed a cruel smile, his white teeth gleaming like those of a crocodile behind his cracked lips, “Anyway, with the contract binding you, you mere mortals can only serve me until death.”
“No… no…”
“You can never escape, ever, forever.”
As the Demon King Jima spoke, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his embrace…
“Ha!”
The Duchess abruptly opened her eyes, gasping for air. She instantly realized it had been a nightmare; this was crucial, and she couldn’t reveal her past.
However, seeing the empty bed next to her reminded the Duchess that now there was no one to deceive her.
Because her husband, ever since having to strangle the mutated baby she gave birth to, had begun sleeping apart from her.
Before giving birth, each time she woke from a nightmare, she could make up a lie, and her husband would comfort her. But now… even if she cried, her husband would only coldly stare at her.
Thinking of this, tears began to stream from the Duchess’s eyes.
After silently crying for a while, she looked out the window, and her head began to ache.
The former hero, George, had come, and now her husband was suspicious of him.
Her future fate depended on the integrity of the former hero, George.
Could he withstand the pressure, fulfill his promise, and vow never to reveal her identity?
Could, or could not.
The Duchess couldn’t help but think—what if he just “accidentally” pointed to her with his index finger in front of her husband, or slightly nodded?
That shouldn’t count as breaking a vow, right?
No, no, he was a paladin of the church, of noble character.
However, the Duchess had also heard that he was a half-fallen paladin, accompanied by a succubus who serviced him nightly.
Just then, lightning flashed outside, and a familiar, terrifying male voice resonated in the darkness:
“You can’t escape, my maid.”
