At the entrance of Tingen Technical School, Truman enjoyed showing off his magic under the guise of performing acrobatics.
He could turn a pencil into a flower, or snap his fingers to summon flames.
He could drink boiling water with a straight face, or shoot lightning from his eyes.
Many students gathered at the school gate to watch Truman’s performance, each curiously guessing how he managed to do all of it.
Selena with her wine-red hair and Elizabeth with her naturally curly brown hair dragged Melissa, who had no interest in acrobatics whatsoever, to the front of the crowd.
Melissa looked at her two sisters’ excited expressions and found it hard to understand.
She felt that compared to all these flashy parlor tricks, machinery and gears were far more worthy of her attention.
It was Monday, the first day of the school term at Tingen Technical School.
Truman’s performance blocking the school entrance soon drew the attention of the school authorities.
Several security guards armed with clubs came forward to drive away this attention-seeking clown.
Truman’s cat-face mask swayed slightly.
He raised his hand to stop the guards’ advance and made a time-checking gesture.
The three guards paid no attention to Truman’s gesture.
They charged forward to push him aside.
Truman tossed three playing cards to the ground.
The guards slipped as if they had stepped on banana peels and were about to fall.
Truman quickly caught them one by one and arranged them back-to-back into a stable triangle.
The guards slid past him, screaming in panic.
The surrounding students burst into laughter at the sight of the tall guards looking as frightened as little girls.
Ding-a-ling-ling!
The school bell rang.
Only then did the students realize they had accidentally arrived late.
They turned to look for the street performer, but all that remained at the spot was a large paper cutout of a mocking face.
“Oh no, we’re late!
Let’s go!”
Melissa was the first to react.
She grabbed each of her sisters by one hand and rushed toward the classroom.
After getting scolded by the teacher, Melissa began the day’s lessons.
Normally, she was the one who answered questions most enthusiastically.
But today, when she stood up, everyone in the class turned to look at her in unison.
Melissa stood frozen, nervous and uneasy.
Then the old, somewhat stuffy professor gave a light cough and pointed at Melissa’s hair.
Melissa reached up to touch it and found a paper flower tucked into her hair.
She quickly apologized to the professor and stuffed the paper flower into her desk drawer.
After class, Melissa remembered the paper flower in her drawer.
She opened it up and gasped in surprise, covering her mouth, because it was folded from a one-pound note.
On top of the note, three emoji-like doodles had been drawn in erasable pencil.
On the left was a stick figure performing, in the middle was a stick figure bending to offer a flower, and on the right was a stick figure with pigtails wearing a smile.
“Oh my goodness, Melissa!” x2
By then, Melissa’s two friends had also crowded over and seen the scene.
The girl shoved the note into her desk, her face flushed bright red, whether from anger or embarrassment, no one could tell.
….
Meanwhile, sitting on a park bench in the distance, Truman removed his cat-face mask, a slight smile curving at the corner of his mouth.
“The Trickmaster potion is completely digested.”
Truman reluctantly stroked the mask in his hands, then broke it in half and tossed it into the trash bin.
“Although letting myself go while wearing the mask was truly enjoyable, the Trickmaster’s acting is now over.”
A Trickmaster’s performance was meaningless if it failed to satisfy the audience.
Being able to exchange a single pound for the complete digestion of his potion was clearly a very worthwhile trade.
Truman brushed the dust off his clothes, stood up, and returned to Orsna Street in the East District.
He walked up to the second floor, entered his room, and took out a silver knife to construct a wall of spirituality.
Spirituality surged forth along the silver-white blade tip, quickly enveloping the entire room.
“Saintess of White…”
“Demoness of Unaging…”
…
“I have perfectly digested the Sequence 8 Trickmaster potion.
When will I receive the Sequence 7 Astrologer potion?”
After casually finishing his prayer, Truman stopped his movements.
Even when facing a Saint, his attitude was not particularly courteous.
Why be courteous to someone you frequently end up sharing a bed with?
He had been doing just fine in Backlund—so why did he have to come all the way to Tingen City to digest his potion?
It was because that woman Katarina had no sense of restraint whatsoever.
Was it reasonable for a Sequence 3 Saint to constantly exploit an ordinary person like Truman?
Back in Backlund, there was a moment when Truman felt he was about to die a shameful death in bed.
Refuse?
Can’t refuse!
Fight?
Can’t win!
Escape?
Can’t escape!
Resist?
Can’t resist!
Although the taste of a Demoness was truly exquisite, it became quite painful if one didn’t exercise restraint.
This was also the reason Truman remained so composed in front of Madame Sharon—he had been trained by a Sequence 3 Demoness of Unaging.
How could a mere Sequence 6 Demoness of Pleasure possibly seduce him?
“Life in the Demoness Sect isn’t bad, but it’s too indulgent.
It leaves one feeling somewhat empty.”
Truman couldn’t help but shudder at the memory of that Saintess of White.
In the Demoness Sect, no one forced you to increase your strength—because if you didn’t want to die in bed, you’d push yourself to get stronger on your own.
Nor did the Demoness Sect cause one to sink into desire; only ordinary people whose needs went unsatisfied would become lost in desire, unable to extricate themselves.
Those who truly lacked nothing, those whose every desire was fulfilled, instead regarded things with a certain near-indifferent composure.
While waiting for news, Truman picked up the crystal-clear divination crystal ball on the table and fiddled with it.
This was something he had requested from Katarina, said to be an antique from the Fourth Epoch, very suitable for practicing astrology.
Half a day passed quietly.
Sensing a fluctuation of spirituality, Truman put down the book in his hands, Astrology: From Beginner to Grave – The Complete Guide.
A spirit world messenger covered in many eyes tossed a package to Truman, then skillfully rolled up the blanket from Truman’s bed and disappeared.
At this, Truman’s mouth twitched slightly.
He took it back.
Anyone who wanted to stay in this demoness den could have it!
He couldn’t stand it for another moment.
Truman opened the package delivered by the messenger, tossed aside the colorful thin pieces of fabric inside, and pulled out a magnificent “diamond” the size of an eye.
And this was the Beyonder characteristic of the Astrologer.
Truman knew very well in his heart that the Demoness Sect wasn’t investing so heavily in him out of charity.
Everything he consumed now would surely have to be repaid with interest in the future.
That was why he accepted the Demoness Sect’s favors so readily, even with an air of entitlement.
Truman didn’t know what the Demoness Sect wanted from him, but at this moment, one thought involuntarily surfaced in his mind:
So good.
+++
T/N: The taste of a Demoness isn’t bad
T/N: Thanks for reading!