Chapter 151 Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Seven Playing in the Palm of One’s Hands
Jima’s expression was agitated, her little face pale.
George asked, “You seem unwell.”
“No, I’m fine,” Jima denied, but then felt a sharp pain in her chest: “Okay, it hurts a little, but my mind is very clear and rational, not the slightest hint of a mental problem.”
George looked at Jenna, who slightly shook her head.
Jima exclaimed, “If you can’t argue, then don’t resort to personal attacks. I really am fine, healthy and long-lived, no, immortal!”
George stood up and walked directly toward Jima.
His face, his walking posture, suddenly overlapped with an illusion from her memories, and Jima found it difficult to distinguish between reality and illusion.
Am I in the Demon King’s hall now, still dazed from last night’s revelry with the maid?
Or, much later, am I struggling alongside the hero in the wasteland to save the world?
Her chest hurt so much; it was splitting open, and blood was flowing.
Am I lying on the concrete floor or on the bedroom floor?
A firm embrace wrapped around her. The hard chest armor pressed against her, and two hands held her back.
She heard George’s voice ringing in her ears: “The soul injury is acting up again, right? You’re trembling; don’t be afraid, I’m here.”
The illusions from the past memories dissipated, and Jima reclaimed her sense of time. She knew where she stood in the river of time and understood her identity at present.
I am George’s fiancée; George is also the one I love.
Fear gradually faded away; Jima’s body stopped shaking, her neck relaxed, and she rested her head comfortably against George’s shoulder, looking at the back of his neck, which was not covered by armor and was unguarded.
She thought:
He really loves me…
She could also confirm one thing: although he was suspicious of her, it was certainly due to a lack of information, which caused some misunderstandings.
This misunderstanding was definitely not “Jima might be the Demon King Gima,” because he himself would never love or care for a woman suspected of being the Demon King.
This is also where I can take advantage.
Thinking this, Jima’s eyelids drooped weakly. After a long time, she smiled and said:
“Alright then, George, you really can’t do anything about me. I won’t complain, so you don’t need to keep hugging me with love.”
George released his hold.
Jima looked much better, her face regaining its color.
He looked at Jima’s face and said, “Don’t worry, even though Beow is really annoying, taking defeating me as lifelong chatter and always saying it, and he likes to openly express his dislike.”
“But he is a holy knight, like me, and must follow the rules. We might despise each other, but we will never let personal likes and dislikes take precedence over our duties.”
“That’s why we pursue the path of order. The world is chaotic and unpredictable, and order can provide a sense of security.”
Jima said, “No way, you haven’t given up on enlightening me? Do you want to give a few examples?”
“Classics. The wealthy robbers in the wilderness are not more secure than the petty bourgeoisie in the city, because the former has to guard against their subordinates beheading them while sleeping, while the latter, even though poor, does not have to worry about neighbors getting greedy and robbing him.”
George said, “It seems you were quite serious about memorizing this back then; I thought you had forgotten it all.”
“Of course.” Jima said, “At that time, I was just a weak and helpless little succubus. If I didn’t show positive responses, you would be disappointed, and then you wouldn’t protect me. I might have to spend my life in the dungeon of the Holy Hall.”
As she spoke, Jima flipped her hair and smiled, “Without seeing my beauty, the world would miss out. Thinking about it, what a big loss indeed.”
Eve Frostleaf couldn’t help but say, “That could be a major blessing.”
As soon as Jima saw Eve Frostleaf’s cold face, she remembered the experience of being played by Eve in Dulong City from beginning to end, and she couldn’t help but feel a bit annoyed.
Although in the end, it was enjoyable and exhilarating, she wouldn’t mind being deceived by Eve Frostleaf once more. But then she thought, Eve Frostleaf had profited greatly; she herself was a masochist.
What could be more enjoyable than genuine emotional abuse? There were also two kind people nearby watching, not fearing any trouble.
Eve Frostleaf’s green eyes looked at Jima without emotion, like two frozen green gemstones.
She might be feeling jealous since I’ve been hugging George for so long.
Jima thought, and then she directly wrapped her arms around George’s neck, stood on her tiptoes, kissed his lips, and after a while, they parted. Jima felt that she could do that kind of thing anytime, anywhere.
She smelled the fragrance of peach blossoms and smiled, “Does my saliva taste good?”
She completely disregarded the presence of others.
Saint Jenna had already turned her head away, not knowing what she was doing.
The bard Felix sighed, picked up his lute, and began to sing a sad love song, reminiscing about his lover far away in his hometown.
The butcher Gaitrick lifted his axe and said, “I’m going to stand guard,” then jumped down from the stone and left, carrying the axe.
Eve Frostleaf continued to quietly watch the two, occasionally bringing hot tea to her lips.
George said, “Not good.”
“Then why do you keep licking?”
George whispered in her ear, his warm breath tickling Jima’s ear, making her giggle. She turned around and said in George’s ear:
“You can come find me anytime, anywhere.”
Having said that, Jima couldn’t help herself, covering her mouth with one hand, lowering her head, and giggling, her eyes fixed on George.
George’s face turned a bit red from what she said.
Jima turned to leave, and one hand tugged at her cloak. When she turned around, she saw Eve Frostleaf, who had quietly come up behind her. Eve was tall, much taller than Jima, and looking at her felt a bit like gazing up at a snow-capped mountain.
“What’s wrong?” Jima asked, one hand on her flushed face, trying hard to seek painful strength from Eve Frostleaf.
“Let’s talk about the two of you.”
“Okay.” Jima took a few steps, keeping about ten steps away from the nearest George, and asked, “Dear sister Frostleaf, what’s up?”
“The music box.”
“I thought you didn’t want it; you haven’t looked for me these past few days.” Jima said, “So, I gave it to my cat maid, Little Li, to take back and sell for money to support the household; it’s probably lying in a pawn shop now.”
Eve Frostleaf’s face looked like ice, filled with indifference, but Jima recalled that one night, various strange fluids hanging on her noble face.
This made her ignore Eve’s imposing aura even more, and she even felt a bit excited.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m really not lying.” Jima’s gaze fell on her skirt armor, looking at her long legs from behind, “Of course, it could also be that my memory is faulty; after all, I have mental issues.”
“But I can assure you, all it takes is a little stimulating roleplay game with a pair of beautiful legs that get me going, and maybe this little memory problem of mine can be cured.”
With that, in order to gross Eve Frostleaf out, Jima licked her lips and tried to emit a greasy and lewd chuckle.
“Really?”
“Really.”
Eve Frostleaf’s face displayed a hesitant expression.
Wow, could it really be effective?
Jima felt a butterfly fluttering in her lower abdomen, itching with anticipation. At that time, she would definitely break her promise, having more fun until she was satisfied.
She lied, “We’re all women; in such things, if you’re happy, I’m happy, isn’t that great? I know how to keep my distance; it’s only a little teasing.”
Eve Frostleaf hesitated and said, “You guarantee it.”
“I guarantee it.” Jima said, “If you don’t believe me, too bad.”
“I believe.”
“I don’t believe.”
“What?”
“I don’t believe your words.” Jima laughed coldly, “Do you really think I’m a naive man, you must put down a deposit.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now.” Jima said firmly, “Extend your hand.”
Eve Frostleaf extended her hand, adorned with deerskin gloves.
“Take them off.”
Eve Frostleaf, the high elf, obediently removed them, revealing her snow-white, slender hand with calloused knuckles.
“Not enough.” Jima shook her head and said, “You should wear the pair that goes up to the elbows, with gold thread embroidery on them.”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Then my memory issue won’t get fixed.” Jima said, pretending to walk away.
“Wait.”
Eve Frostleaf rarely displayed a troubled look on her icy face; she turned and walked away.
After a while, Eve Frostleaf returned, right in front of Jima and took off her deerskin gloves, revealing her hand clad in thin, white long gloves, which fit excellently, resembling a second layer of skin and extending above her elbows.
The golden embroidery on them added a touch of nobility.
Jima had a feeling of desecration, wanting to dirty them fiercely. She extended her hand and grasped Eve Frostleaf’s hand.
But she made no further moves.
Eve Frostleaf asked, “Alright, is it done?”
Jima revealed a mischievous smile; this was just a prelude. She said, “Of course.”
Eve Frostleaf sighed in relief.
“… not done.”
With that, Jima pressed against Frostleaf, using her body to shield, her tail slipping into Eve’s skirt armor, rubbing against her silver threads.
Eve Frostleaf stiffened and said softly, “Not there.”
Jima’s tail coiled upward, whispering in her ear:
“Whether it works or not depends on me, not you.”
Eve Frostleaf closed her eyes, her face slightly reddening.
After a while, Jima withdrew her tail.
Eve Frostleaf let out a breath of relief and softly asked, “Is it okay now?”
“Of course, that’s still not enough.”
“Can I take out the music box now?”
“Absolutely not.”
“It’s very important to me.”
“It’s also very important to me.” Jima smiled, vaguely sensing something was off; there seemed to be no painful strength on Eve Frostleaf.
This feeling was like savoring a plate of delicacies without salt.
It seemed the coercion hadn’t been sufficient yet.
Jima continued:
“How about a bet? If you can say one sentence that makes me hand over the music box, I won’t ask you for payment. Otherwise, I will charge double.”
Having said that, Jima waved at George: “George!”
“Mm?”
“Nothing, just calling you to play.” Jima looked at Eve Frostleaf: “I think you wouldn’t want George to know about this, after all, you’re the culprit.”
Eve Frostleaf looked at Jima with dissatisfaction.
Jima quite enjoyed it.
She said, “The music box might be able to defeat the two-headed dragon.”
“No, that reason isn’t enough…” Jima suddenly came to her senses, “What? Defeat the two-headed dragon?”
“Yes.” Eve Frostleaf said, “It might be the relic of a famous dragon prince in our elven history. And his mount might be that two-headed dragon.”
“Ah? Are you sure?”
“It resembles the description in the ballads.” Eve Frostleaf casually said, “When I got it, I had it identified; there’s a seven to eight percent chance.”
Although she didn’t know what the connection was between this thing and defeating the two-headed dragon.
But seeing the slight curve of Eve Frostleaf’s mouth, Jima realized that everything was under her control; she was merely playing house with her just now.
“George.” Eve Frostleaf said to George: “I instructed Jima to steal the music box.”
The volume was just right for George to hear, but the butcher Gaitrick, who had gone out to stand guard, did not.
At this point, Jima confirmed that she was truly confident; no wonder she did not exude painful strength; it turned out she was enjoying herself.
