Chapter 85 Chapter 84 Please go elsewhere
The Mediterranean Mage looked quite regretful, like a collector who was interrupted while boasting about his collection. He kissed the mature maid and cradled her face, saying, “My dear, get up quickly and wait for me in the bedroom.”
After saying that, he snapped his fingers. The mature maid, as if pulled by an invisible string, mechanically took the whip and placed it on her waist.
The Mediterranean Mage said:
“She is a woman with a lot of pride, and I miss the days when I tamed her with a slave contract.”
George told himself to stay calm, barely suppressing the urge to kill the other man. But he couldn’t help but write on the paper:
“Have you ever considered that they are sentient beings? Have you thought about their parents and siblings?”
The Mediterranean Mage misunderstood something and said:
“Don’t worry, even with free will, the slave contract suppresses it; she can’t control her own body at all. As for siblings? It doesn’t matter at all; even her biological parents, with just one command, she wouldn’t hesitate to kill them with a kitchen knife. Of course, from my experience, it’s better not to ‘debug’ her that way; it’s more effective if her parents watch. In any case, you can absolutely trust my craftsmanship. I will forge a ring for your slave bride with the care of a jeweler.”
George felt he had to finish matters quickly. Then he would take Jima and leave this infernal place. Otherwise, he would not be able to resist drawing his sword to purify this area in the name of the God of Dawn.
At that moment, the Mediterranean Mage asked, “By the way, I haven’t asked yet—who is the target of the spell?”
Jima’s clear voice rang out:
“Me.”
The Mediterranean Mage carefully scrutinized Jima from head to toe. Contrary to what George had imagined, he initially thought these mages engaged in such professions merely for profit and pleasure.
But the Mediterranean Mage’s gaze was not greedy or lustful. Instead, it reflected a highly professional focus, akin to a jeweler encountering a flawless gem, eager to carve out a one-of-a-kind piece of jewelry.
The only difference was that while jewelers carve lifeless gems, he was about to carve a living person.
Filled with anger, George stood in front of Jima, blocking the Mediterranean Mage’s gaze.
“Ah, I see another distinguished guest has misunderstood due to my gender. I am merely examining your bride in a simple yet professional manner,” the Mediterranean Mage complimented. “Your bride is a fine specimen; I even suspect she possesses supernatural charm. With just a little refinement, she could provide you with unparalleled pleasure. Please tell me about her personality, so I can design a contract that will give you a delightful experience in ‘debugging.'”
Debugging—this term, which should have been reserved for lifeless machines, was being applied to a human being.
George wrote fiercely on the paper:
“I do not want a slave contract; I am—”
The quill broke again under George’s anger.
“Such poor quality,” said the Mediterranean Mage. He turned to the blonde loli maid, snapped his fingers, and called out, “Go fetch a new quill. Where did you buy this one? Don’t ever buy it again!”
The blonde loli maid took off her blindfold and said, “Yes, master.”
With that, she dashed out the door.
“Please let me design a contract for your bride,” the Mediterranean Mage said earnestly. “She is such perfect material.”
George shook his head.
The Mediterranean Mage grew anxious. Suddenly realizing something, he exclaimed:
“Oh, I understand now. You place more importance on spiritual enjoyment. No worries! The slave contract can erase that memory; she won’t even know she signed the contract, and she will still love you.”
George shook his head.
“Don’t doubt my craftsmanship; let me show you.”
With a sense of pride and boastfulness, the Mediterranean Mage walked to the balcony, pushed the door open, and clapped his hands.
The dark-skinned girl who had been waiting on the balcony, like a stone waiting for her husband to return, turned her head in surprise to regard the Mediterranean Mage. Gleefully, she rushed over and hugged him tightly, saying in heavily accented common tongue:
“Darling, you finally came!”
After saying that, she clung tightly to the Mediterranean Mage, rubbing against him.
The Mediterranean Mage stroked her wavy black hair and boasted to George:
“She was originally the daughter of a chieftain, with a sister as well. Her tribe was raided by prairie barbarians and they sold her here. Hehe, those barbarians were quite clever; they didn’t take her virginity. She thinks I am her heroic savior, and she loves me very much. Plus, she enjoys this.”
As he spoke, the Mediterranean Mage patted the dark-skinned maid’s rear.
“You see, I can tell her the truth directly, and there’s no problem. It’s just a pity her sister ran away and was taken by slavers. It was actually my idea; I intended to catch her again, tame her in front of the man who saved her. But unfortunately, I heard that someone meddled and there really are quite a few busybodies in this world.”
George silently clenched his fists, while also feeling fortunate for his choice earlier. Otherwise, seeing the two sisters in such a situation today would fill him with guilt.
“Here it is, master; this is the last one. It took a long time to find it.”
The blonde loli maid ran back in.
The Mediterranean Mage whispered in the dark-skinned maid’s ear:
“Alright, my dear little kitty, go back and wait patiently for your hero to come rescue you.”
Instantly, the dark-skinned maid’s eyes lost their sparkle, and she stood up in a daze, returning to the balcony to continue gazing into the distance.
George forced himself to relax his fists and quickly wrote on the paper:
“You’ve misunderstood; I want to sever her slave contract.”
“What? Oh, you want to change to a new slave contract?”
The Mediterranean Mage said as he picked up a monocle, blinked, and placed it over his right eye, looking at Jima:
“Such a marvelous contract; it can bind even extraordinary beings. It seems to have the style of the Demon King Kima. Aside from basic functions, it has no other features, making it quite suitable for modification, to add some extremely useful functionalities.”
George grew impatient and wrote: “I want you to break that evil contract; I want to give her freedom!”
This time, there was finally no misunderstanding.
The Mediterranean Mage’s face quickly darkened, and with forced politeness, he excitedly retorted:
“Do you realize how exquisite this contract is? You can’t possibly comprehend! You’re asking a painter to tear apart a beautiful oil painting to use as toilet paper.”
“Even the most exquisite shackles are still shackles.”
The Mediterranean Mage shouted, “See them out!”
Since negotiations had collapsed, why not carry out justice in the name of the God of Dawn? Once this thought crossed his mind, it morphed into impulse.
George remained still, staring at the Mediterranean Mage. The latter felt a chill from the intensity of his gaze, as if expecting to meet a grim fate in that living room the next moment.
At that moment, Jima tugged at George’s hand. George lowered his head, and Jima gently shook her head.
George calmed down. He realized that even if he were to land a surprise punch and kill the Mediterranean Mage, it would only be an outlet for his anger.
It would expose his identity, putting both Jima and himself in hiding. It would completely sever the possibility of releasing her from her slave contract.
Furthermore, what would happen to the Mediterranean Mage’s several maids? He could hardly take care of Jima, let alone the others.
Jima then looked at the Mediterranean Mage and softly said:
“I apologize, my lord. I traveled all the way from Barto to here, working hard to find this place, solely aiming to sever my slave contract. It’s understandable that he might be a little ill-tempered.”
The Mediterranean Mage’s expression softened somewhat:
“Hmph, noble knight of Barto, you should understand that not everyone is a peasant who bows and scrapes in your rural lands.”
George raised the paper, which read: “Can the slave contract be lifted? One thousand gold.”
The Mediterranean Mage laughed:
“Truly wealthy! The usual price for a custom slave contract is only around five hundred gold. Some people may bend to monetary temptation and breach their principles, but I will never succumb. Please leave.”
The two maids approached George, one in black silk and the other in white. They were polite yet distant, bowing slightly and saying:
“Guest, my master is busy; please leave.”
George realized the Mediterranean Mage was speaking the truth and wrote on the paper:
“Where is the residence of the mage in New Delhi?”
The Mediterranean Mage initially did not want to answer, but Jima’s smile was too charming; he instinctively did not want to see disappointment on her pretty face. So, he called the butler and said:
“Give him the address of the mage I visited the last time at the gathering; you know, the one with thick hair, dressed in black robes, who lives in the fortress all day.”
With that, George and Jima were shown out.
The iron gate slammed shut behind them with a cold, indifferent thud.
George glanced at the dark-skinned maid on the balcony, controlling the light to magnify her face. She wore an expectant look, gazing into the distance for her hero’s arrival.
However, she did not know she was living in a mirage woven by magic. The hero she loved was the villain who had locked her in a cage.
While she might have enjoyed her youth and beauty, what kind of fate awaited her when she grew old and faded?
Feeling sad, George turned away and stopped pondering any further.
There was still too much darkness in the world that the God of Dawn had yet to illuminate. All he could do was borrow a bit of light to try to drive away the darkness surrounding Jima.
He looked at Jima.
Jima was hugging her greatsword, her small face deep in thought, seemingly pondering something.
She must be reflecting on the disgusting and dark events that just transpired.
George could only hope that she was not frightened, leaving behind an indelible shadow in her heart.
Jima seemed to be marveling at the Mediterranean Mage’s creativity, considering that if she were to establish a harem in the future, he would be the perfect consultant, and she dreamed about creating her harem.
George reached out his hand, tightly grasping Jima’s small one, hoping to give her some reassurance.
With one hand holding the sword and the other intertwined with George’s, she raised her face and asked in confusion:
“George, what’s wrong?”
“Once I find New Delhi, no matter what means I use, I will free you from the contract. You can rest assured.”
“Oh.”
Jima nodded and pulled her hand away from George’s.
She must be saddened because I didn’t save the maids who were under the slave contract’s control.
George introspected.
Why was this virgin so eager to regain his strength? He really was annoying for interrupting my thoughts.
Jima tightened her grip on the sword and continued to indulge in her fantasies.
