Chapter 591: The Maiden's Temptation
South of the Radiant Mountain Range, in the capital of the Thrace Kingdom—August, known as the “City of Dawn”—life continued in lavish splendor.
Though war raged on against the Kingdom of Cassander, Thrace’s southern border had been reduced to an ashen wasteland. Families were torn apart, people fled their homes, and suffering was widespread. Yet August remained untouched by the devastation, its streets still bustling with opulence and indulgence.
Especially in the Upper District, where the nobles resided—this was a realm of perfection. Lush lawns, lifelike relief carvings, elegant Thrace-style spires, and stained-glass windows in vibrant hues painted a picture of paradise. Compared to the scorched earth beyond the border, this district truly felt like heaven on earth.
Sunlight spilled over cobblestone roads, the air thick with the scent of blooming flowers. Ornate carriages rolled past fountains, and every detail exuded refinement and luxury.
The grand residence of the Foster family stood in the southeast of the Upper District, famed for its exquisite garden and known locally as the “Tulip Mansion.”
Donald Foster, Baron of the family, served as the steward for the third prince, funneling wealth into the royal coffers. Though his noble rank wasn’t among the highest, his close ties to the crown granted him a privileged status—and access to secrets few dared to know.
“Did you hear?” whispered the gardeners in the Tulip Garden, pruning hedges with practiced hands. “Lord Foster brought home another beauty.”
The younger gardener leaned in, eyes gleaming. “I saw her enter with my own eyes! That young lady—so stunning, so graceful. Like a delicate flower bud, tempting anyone who dares to pluck her.”
The elder gardener sighed. “Ah… I envy those important figures. If only I could have a woman like that as my wife, I’d die happy.”
“Don’t even dream of being her husband,” the younger scoffed. “Even just touching her would be worth it. But she’s only to be Lord Foster’s mistress.”
The woman was still young—barely more than a girl. And yet, she’d thrown herself into the arms of a fifty-something baron known for his greed and lust. It felt like a tragedy.
“Still,” the older gardener mused, “if the wife found out…”
“Then what?” the younger smirked. “Lord Foster has more than a dozen mistresses, and over thirty illegitimate children. He still walks free, doesn’t he?”
“That’s the life of a noble lord,” the elder said, shaking his head.
Just then, a soft, playful voice echoed from within the mansion—faint but unmistakable—followed by a cascade of silvery laughter.
“Oh, Lord Baron… not so fast… we have all the time in the world…”
The gardeners froze. Breathless. Minds racing with fantasies.
But they dared not step closer. Instead, they resumed their work, pretending to trim branches while straining their ears.
Inside the spacious bedroom, a woman in her twenties lay languidly on the bed, her raven-black hair cascading down like a waterfall. Her figure was perfectly proportioned, draped in sheer fabric that clung to her curves, revealing glimpses of creamy skin—especially across her chest, where pale white flesh shimmered like moonlight.
“Lord Baron… please, I’m still a bit tense. Could you bring me some wine?”
Her eyelids fluttered, her cheeks flushed with a rosy blush—like a ripe apple.
“Of course! Of course, Miss Leia! Wait right there—I’ll be back in an instant!”
Baron Foster, eyes locked on her, was already trembling with desire. He turned, eager to fetch the wine, his fat, fleshy frame wobbling with anticipation.
“Of course, my lord,” she murmured, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Where else would I go?”
As he left, the woman’s expression twisted—her delicate face contorting into a grimace of disgust.
Ugh… this fat pig is going to make me sick.
A soft voice crackled from the pendant in her ear.
“Guild Leader… patience is key. Our plan is about to succeed.”
“We’ll never forget your sacrifice, Guild Leader.”
“Seriously, that dress looks amazing. Is it based on Tifa’s face model? Can we get a second look next time?”
“Shut up.”
Leia groaned, flopping back onto the bed, utterly drained.
“I hear footsteps. The objective is approaching. He’s coming back!”
A sharp, urgent tone.
“A-team, activate the Spell Barrier, Sound Dampeners, and Invisibility to Scrying!”
“B-team, prepare for any danger! Protect the Guild Leader at all costs!”
Instantly, Leia snapped back into character—her face softening, her posture delicate, her eyes wide with innocent longing. She lifted herself with a slender arm, turning her gaze toward the front door.
“Miss Leia… I’m back,” came the heavy breath of Baron Foster as he pushed open the door, holding a beautifully wrapped bottle of wine. His bulk swayed with every step, fat jiggling like gelatin.
Leia twirled a strand of hair around her finger, her eyes heavy-lidded and sultry.
“Master… you’re home.”
Under the baron’s unashamed gaze, she rose slowly from the bed, her movements graceful, almost hypnotic. She took the wine bottle, pouring the clear liquid into a crystal glass with practiced elegance.
But Foster, lost in the fire of lust, didn’t notice the fine white powder slipping from her fingers—falling into the wine, dissolving without a trace.
Plan confirmed.
Leia exhaled inwardly, a smile tugging at her lips—until she felt a sudden, firm grip on her wrist.
“Wait—”
Baron Foster yanked her toward him, his face twisted with raw hunger.
“Don’t you dare delay me any longer!”
He was burning up. His body ached with need. He couldn’t wait another second.
“Just… just one moment,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “In my homeland… lovers must drink first… before… indulgence.”
Baron Foster blinked. Then, a wide grin spread across his face.
“Of course! Whatever my little Canary says, I’ll do!”
He patted his bloated belly with confidence and raised the glass—only to have Leia gently lift it to his lips.
“Let me… feed you, my lord.”
Foster’s eyes glazed over. He nodded, his body shivering with anticipation, as she poured the wine into his mouth.
He drained the glass in one gulp, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
“Ah… excellent. Now… finally, can we begin?”
“Leia…” he murmured, swaying toward the bed. “I’m coming…”
He took one step—then another—his vision blurring. His hands reached out, grasping for her form, but the world spun.
This… this wine is strong.
That was the last thought before his legs gave out.
With a soft thud, the baron collapsed onto the plush velvet bed, lying face-down, utterly unconscious—only inches from her.
“Leia… Leia…” he whispered in his sleep, his voice trembling with ecstasy. He was already lost in a dream—somewhere far beyond reality.
The wine had been laced with a specially crafted Spirit Medicine—Dreams of Drunken Life—a concoction that induced a deep, dreamlike slumber, where the drinker relived their deepest fantasies.
Leia exhaled, finally relaxed.
Phew… that was close.
She kicked the baron’s face once, just to be sure.
No movement.
She collapsed onto the bed, panting, her body aching.
Some fat pig thinks he can take advantage of me?
But then—something changed.
Her voice, once soft and seductive, began to deepen, roughen—until it was unmistakably male.
Then, the skin on her face… began to peel.
Like a serpent shedding its old skin, the flawless porcelain complexion cracked and peeled away, revealing a new face beneath—sharp, elegant, and unmistakably masculine.
A golden-haired man in a long robe stood now where the “Leia” had been. At his side lay a folded, transparent garment—[Chameleon Robe].
Yes.
The “Leia” had been no woman.
She was Charlotte, the High-Level Mage and Guild Leader of Magic Coin—a master of illusion and deception.
The entire performance—her beauty, her voice, her allure—was a trap, meticulously crafted by the Magic Coin players after learning of Baron Foster’s notorious reputation for lust and greed.
“Phew… lucky this fatass still had a taste for wine,” Charlotte muttered. “Otherwise, he’d be the second person in Ailezegai Game history to be… well, taken.”
He scowled. “If anyone finds out, my dignity as a Guild Leader is ruined!”
From the bed, the unconscious baron let out a lewd chuckle in his sleep.
“Leia… come… let me show you true pleasure…”
Charlotte’s blood boiled.
You bastard. You’re gonna get true pleasure… in the form of a boot to the ribs!
He kicked the baron’s side—hard—sending a ripple of force through the air.
“You piece of garbage! I’ll give you pleasure!”
Curses spilled from his lips—words so vulgar, so unbecoming of the “elegant True Mage” he claimed to be.
But he didn’t know—hidden in the shadows of the mansion, loyal Guild members had recorded the entire scene using an Image Stone. This moment would become a legendary piece of lore.
Charlotte yanked the pendant from his ear, annoyed.
“Alright. Come out. He’s down.”
Instantly, the Magic Coin players emerged—leaping from behind flower bushes, crawling out from behind velvet curtains, dropping from crystal lamps.
Deputy Leader Mingyue clapped slowly, grinning.
“Outstanding, Guild Leader! You took down a Thrace noble with a single trick!”
Charlotte shot him a cold look.
“Enough. Search him. Get the key to the underground vault. Then we vanish. I’m done with this dump.”
Wei Ai Fa Ye, the “Only Love for the Mage” player, picked up the Chameleon Robe, curious.
“We’ve got a witch in the guild. Why’d you have to go in like this? You got some kind of… kink?”
Charlotte snapped.
“Shut up. Do you really think that witch could pull off a seduction? She’d blast the target with a lightning bolt before the first kiss!”
The Flying Witch shrugged, tongue sticking out playfully.
“Hey, Guild Leader… you do know you’re the only one who can understand men’s desires.”
Charlotte pointed at the unconscious baron.
“Because only a man knows what another man truly wants.”
Wei Ai Fa Ye stared, stunned.
This guy… is completely unhinged.
Just then, Lucky Emperor shuffled up, grinning like a fool, and clutched Charlotte’s leg.
“Guild Leader… please… just one more look at the dress! I’ll never forgive myself if I miss it!”
Charlotte kicked him.
Hard.
With a burst of force, the man was launched across the room—crashing into a wardrobe with a thunderous clang.
The wardrobe exploded into splinters.
Lucky Emperor groaned, blood trickling from his mouth, his chest caved in.
“Ugh… seriously, Guild Leader… you meant it?”
Charlotte glared.
“Do you have any idea how much I’ve sacrificed for this guild? And you repay me with this?”
The Flying Witch stifled a laugh.
“Alright, enough. Let’s pack up the valuables. We’ve got to move before the alarm goes off.”
“Right. No more time wasted on this idiot.”
“Huge haul!”
“Whoa… is this guy rich? Look at this rare-grade jewelry!”
The players sprang into action, opening their Dimensional Sacks and ransacking the room with ruthless efficiency. Gold, jewels, priceless furniture—everything worth stealing was swept up in an instant.
The thrill of the heist—the pure, unfiltered joy of plunder—was only known to those who lived for it.
And poor Lucky Emperor, the one who’d provoked Charlotte, was given the most unpleasant task: searching the baron’s body for the key to the underground vault.
“Leia… Leia…” the baron murmured in his sleep, sweat dripping from his brow, his clothes soaked through.
Lucky Emperor grimaced, pinching his nose as he rummaged through the stinking, sweat-soaked clothes—reeking of wine, body odor, and something far worse.
“This is payback… pure and simple…”
From the bedroom, a soft moan echoed.
“Mmm… yes…”
But there was no romance. No passion. Just a recording played by a Magic Coin player.
Outside, in the garden, the gardeners sighed in admiration.
“Wow… that was intense. No wonder the baron’s a legend.”
The guard at the door whispered.
“Should we… go in?”
SMACK!
The Captain of the Guard slammed his fist into the guard’s head.
“Mark, do you want to die? The baron said no one enters, no matter what! Even if someone dies in there—we wait. We stand. We obey!”
The guard rubbed his throbbing head, nodding frantically.
“Yes, Captain! I’ll stay right here! I won’t spoil the baron’s… fun!”
“Good. Remember that.”
The guards stood at attention, listening to the muffled sounds of passion from within.
But if they had opened the door?
They would’ve seen the truth.
The baron—naked, face down, suspended from the ceiling by thick ropes.
His massive body, hanging limply, strained the rope to the breaking point.
And scrawled in bold, black letters across his thick back:
Wizard Was Here.
(End of Chapter)
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