Author's note.
1). Feedback from my readers is my fuel to keep writing. If you enjoy my work, please take the time to let me know in the comments. It does wonders for my motivation to write. Without it, my pacing usually suffers a lot.
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All Characters in the story are 18 years of age and above...
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Chapter Forty Five: Table With No Guile...
"Fuck!" Greg couldn't help but mutter even as he rose from his bed. A night of sleep had done nothing to assuage his annoyance at the merchant for becoming his undoing. Just because he'd gotten a supposed mage as his bodyguard, the man had gotten it in his head that he could strong-arm the head of a criminal gang into doing his bidding. The Spider queen hid her features behind a black veil and loose robes whose long sleeves hid even her hands. From her ramrod-straight posture and steely tone of voice, however, Greg could tell that she was a woman who wasn't easily bent to the whims of others.
The meeting went about as expected. Everyone ended up dead!
Greg managed to kill the woman and the six members of the spider gang that stood guard over her. By the time the last man fell, however, Greg had sustained fatal injuries. Apart from profusely bleeding from a few nasty wounds, Greg also had one of their kukri-like blades sticking out of his gut. Greg would have killed the merchant himself if he wasn't lying in a puddle of his own blood. When shit had gone down, Greg had prioritized saving his own life and left the man to bear the consequences of the shit he'd stirred. His guts were spilled on the floor as a result of being stabbed several times.
Spitting on the dead merchant's face, Greg resolved to kill the man immediately on his next dungeon dive. Knowing that there was no way he'd come out of the spider gang den alive, Greg had spent the last moment staggering over to where the spider queen was seated. The woman was still seated upright in her seat. An arrow had sunk between her eyes and come out the back of her skull and into the chair. It was this arrow that kept her dead body from slumping forward. Gritting his teeth, Greg had pulled the blade from his gut. Greg would have been able to simply pull off the veil if not for the arrow that pinned it to her face. Hissing with pain, Greg had forced himself to remain focused even as he reached up and cut away the veil from her face.
Bright blood-red hair, aquamarine blue eyes, a small button nose, and luscious pink lips that seemed to be permanently set in a scowl. Greg was surprised at just how young the woman appeared to be. He had expected to find someone in their late thirties if not early forties at the head of such a gang. The woman, however, seemed to be in her mid-twenties from what Greg could tell. Greg didn't know what to make of this new bit of info. Whether it would come in handy in the future or not was unknown. He, however, didn't have long to think about it as he soon thereafter fell over and passed out from blood loss.
Ten minutes after waking up, Greg stepped out of his house. One of the perks of having a magical familiar was that bodily grooming could be done in a little under five minutes. And even that was only because they were going at a sedate pace. If Olivia wanted to, she could have him go through the whole process in under a minute. Standing just outside his house just as she had been for two months was Shalia. Whatever else one could say about the girl, no one could say that the girl wasn't diligent once given a task.
"Good Morning Roka," Shalia greeted him with a smile. Over time, the smile on the girl's face had gone from completely fake to one that was supposed to be but wasn't. Greg could see in her eyes that the girl was conflicted as to how she should feel about him. On the one hand, she wanted to dislike him. On the other, she was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. And Greg knew why. Even without opening his system, Greg knew that the INTERMEDIATE mission of turning the girl on was already marked as complete. Three weeks. That's how long it had taken for the AROUSING title to grind down her resistance to nothing. Every time they met from that point onwards, the mission requiring him to turn her on would be marked as complete within the first minute of their meeting.
Greg, however, had to admit that he'd been a bit too simplistic in his expectations of what would happen once one was in the thrall of his title. Greg had expected that once the title had taken effect, the girl would throw herself at him. Now, a month later, if not for the fact that the system alerted him the moment she was turned on, Greg would have thought that the title didn't work on her. She had done an admirable job of hiding what was going on with her behind a stoic mask of indifference.
"Good morning, Shalia," Greg greeted with a warm smile, his steps never pausing as he started towards the infirmary. This time, it was Greg who spoke up first as he asked. "When can I expect your mother?" he asked.
"After we return from the infirmary, I will go inform her that she can visit," Shalia replied calmly. Greg nodded in acknowledgment before going silent and focusing on the path ahead. This would have been the end of their conversation if Shalia hadn't followed up with a question of her own. "So, what's your plan?" She asked.
Greg turned to her, his eyes communicating his incomprehension. "Why would I need one?" He asked.
"Because my mother tells my father everything!" The girl replied, a note of exasperation in her voice. Greg would have admonished her for it but he could tell that it was more directed at her mother and not Greg so he let it slide. "If she finds that you haven't been giving me any work to do, she'll tell my father and when he finds out he'll either find something else to punish me with or extend my punishment!" She said.
"Oh, is that all?" Greg asked in a calm tone.
"What do you mean is that all!?" Shalia shot back. "I'm not looking to be punished any further than I already have!"
"Well, the solution is simple, is it not? For this one day, at least while your mother is around, you shall be my servant," Greg proposed without missing a beat.
Greg had expected any number of reactions from the girl, ranging from simple protestations to actual rage at the idea. What he hadn't expected was for a blush to spread over her features turning her red as a rose. There was a long silence in which she seemed to be struggling with herself. "O... okay. I'll... I'll serve you... but just this once!" The girl stammered and stumbled over her words as she finally came to a decision. There was a weak attempt at the end to act like she was still in control, but Greg could see right through it. Who'd have thought that the stuck-up Shalia had a submissive streak to her? Depending on how he played his cards, the mother and daughter might just end up caught in his web.
They were silent for the rest of the trip to the infirmary. Greg left Shalia waiting at the entrance to the infirmary as he walked inside. Before long, Greg had teleported over to the healer's secret abode. Unsurprisingly, he found the healer standing behind one of her workstations studying a network of glowing blue lines inside a glass orb. A black quill was floating on its own over a piece of parchment, gliding along as it took down the words that she muttered to herself. Greg was quiet as he watched her work.
Greg didn't greet the healer out loud, he had already made that mistake once before. The Quill she was using is a tier one item that can't distinguish which voices to record and which to ignore. If Greg greeted his teacher, his greeting would be recorded among her notes. Not the end of the world, but an annoying inconvenience. There are low-grade tier-two versions of the quill that can distinguish between voices and only respond to one particular voice. There are even tier-three versions that respond to and can write at the speed of thought. Greg had been tempted to get one of these for her, but in the end, hadn't. The healer wasn't foolish. Repeatedly saying that 'my familiar gave it to me', wouldn't fly with her. It was better to play it safe rather than to unintentionally expose his system.
Luckily for him, the healer didn't keep him waiting for long. After another minute of taking down notes, She stepped away from the workstation, allowing the quill to sink back into its inkpot. "Good morning Roka," Came the warm Greeting from her.