“A pair of Ks.”
“An A. Beats you.”
“Ugh…” Gabolina looked at Jolin, who still had three cards left in his hand.
The man hid the lower half of his face behind the fanned-out cards, his eyes full of cunning.
“I give up.”
The girl helplessly threw down her cards and said.
“Huh? I still have three cards left.”
“But both jokers are on your side, right? There’s no way I could win.”
Jolin grinned and showed her his cards—just a pile of scattered low cards, all smaller than J.
Gabolina froze after seeing them.
She checked her own hand again and didn’t see the jokers either.
“Idiot, this deck doesn’t have jokers.”
“Then why didn’t you say so!”
“You were the one dealing and didn’t pay attention. Don’t blame me—careless, huh.”
Jolin rubbed his hands together, wearing a look of a scheme well carried out, and laughed.
“Hurry, hurry, take it off!”
“You jerk…”
With an embarrassed expression, Gabolina took off her small white ankle sock.
Before this, she had already lost her entire dress and the other sock.
All that was left was a pair of panties and a white inner shirt—if she lost again, she’d be completely exposed.
After returning to the room early, with nothing to do, Jolin had Gabolina take his bundle out of the Gluttony Space, which contained his deck of cards.
So they sat on the bed and played cards to pass the time.
Playing cards also existed in this world, though the names were different from what Jolin remembered.
What was surprising was that the arrangement was almost the same: 2, 3, 4, 5, J, Q, K, A.
Aside from the language, there was basically no difference.
Jolin had brought the “Dou Dizhu” style of play he was most familiar with into this world, and it had even caused quite a stir.
Gabolina was also very familiar with the rules of “Dou Dizhu.”
After all, back when she was in the party, she was always the one who lost the worst.
Even now, playing only with Jolin, she still ended up losing until she was left in just her underwear—
The girl shyly covered her chest. Faced with Jolin’s wolf-like gaze, she curled up into a ball.
Her smooth, rounded shoulders reflected the candlelight, her flushed cheeks buried between her knees, revealing only a pair of eyes filled with grievance.
“Hey, hey, hey, don’t glare at me like that. I’m down to just my underwear too, you know.”
Jolin pointed at his sleeveless undershirt with his thumb and said, “How about one last round? I’ve still got a pair of pants on.”
“You deliberately let me win a few rounds.”
Gabolina knew Jolin’s tricks all too well.
To keep things interesting, he would always intentionally lose to the other side.
It had been the same back when they played with Tor.
Every time Gabolina and Tor lost until they were down to just their underwear, Jolin would coincidentally be in the same state…
She vaguely knew what Jolin wanted to do, but it would usually be interrupted by Tor.
In the whole party, the only one who could control the hero was probably that heavenly saint.
Yet after so many years, when the two of them picked up this game again, Gabolina still felt that the person in front of her was the same youth from back then.
But this time, she was different. Perhaps this was the kind of… longing she had always wanted to reach.
Slowly, the girl raised her head and straightened her body.
The bright candlelight dyed every inch of her skin, fully revealing her graceful figure before Jolin’s eyes—peach-like curves, full and rounded, fitting perfectly in one’s grasp…
“Kr…”
“I… can continue playing.”
The girl turned her face aside, her lowered eyes shy and budding with embarrassment.
Her answer left Jolin stunned.
He had never thought about what would happen next, because in the past, when things reached this point, Tor would always forcibly end the game.
Over time, Jolin had gotten used to stopping here.
He did indeed have those kinds of thoughts, but only during the first few rounds of the game.
Jolin slowly reached out and pressed on her soft shoulder.
The girl’s delicate body trembled; she was always so shy and timid.
This sense of restraint also turned into an invisible veil, separating her from Jolin.
Gabolina seemed to understand this as well.
She could clearly feel the man’s palm pulling back, trying to draw her into his arms, yet she instinctively resisted.
Why?
Jolin frowned slightly.
He realized he couldn’t apply more strength—not because of the other party’s resistance, but because he himself was unable to use greater force.
Since coming to this world, the only woman Jolin had touched was Tor, but she was by no means the only one he had feelings for.
Tor’s death left Jolin disheartened, not because he loved her, but because he felt that he was actually an arrogant and weak person, unable to protect those he cared about and trusted.
This guilt made him abandon everything, including the feelings others had for him.
Three hundred years later, Gabolina made Jolin feel that those things lost to time were returning.
He had already changed; he would no longer let anyone worth cherishing to him leave again.
Faced with the feelings of the former demon girl, he should have accepted them.
But for some reason, Jolin couldn’t take that step forward.
“Lin…”
A murmured call rippled through Jolin’s mind like waves.
He widened his eyes, and before him seemed to reappear that desperate scene—
The saintess lying in blood, devastation everywhere.
That figure gradually overlapped with Gabolina.
“Uh?!”
Jolin let out a muffled groan and abruptly withdrew his hand as if shocked by electricity.
“Well… it’s getting late. Let’s sleep,” Jolin scratched his head, not daring to let his gaze linger on Gabolina for even a moment.
“This bed is big enough anyway. We’ll just split the blankets and sleep. You don’t mind, right?”
Seeing the flickering panic in the man’s eyes, Gabolina seemed to understand something.
So he still cared about that.
No matter what, it was her own sister who killed Tor, and she herself looked exactly like the Demon King Akmontia…
The girl forced a faint smile at the corner of her mouth.
“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”
Jolin didn’t say anything more, or rather, he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
The two fell into silence like this, until a loud rumble from outside shattered the quiet, like the sound of walls collapsing.
Boom
“Hm? What’s going on?”
Both of them looked toward the source of the sound.
“I can sense an unfamiliar magical power. No one else in this residence has ever released this kind of magic,” Gabolina said.
“Is that so? Then let’s go take a look.”
At this moment, a golden barrier rose in the courtyard.
Sarolan propped up his staff to maintain the defensive magic while using magic to heal the guard who had been corroded by black smoke.
“Lord Osalan, please don’t waste any more magic on me!”
“Don’t talk. Just hold on first.”
Osalan chanted healing magic.
Green light battled against the rotting aura clinging to flesh and blood.
He had never seen such a corrupt toxin before.
There was definitely nothing like this in his own residence, so the mastermind behind these casualties…
A lean figure stepped out from the shadows.
Osalan and his guards all recognized the newcomer’s appearance.
It was the mage who had passed the test during the day and entered the residence as a guest.