Dead Man’s Harem. Since I can’t kill myself, I’ll find other ways to be happy.

Chapter 18: Chapter 18 – Listen To The King’s Orders Game (18+) 


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Chapter 18 – Listen To The King’s Orders Game (18+) 

Trying her best to stay still, the countess held onto her hug while Devon continued to run his hands down her dress, and then through the side split so that he could access the bare flesh underneath, which was smooth as a baby’s cheeks. 

He began kneading and groping the bare skin of her bubble butt, brushing against her panties casually as he took the fullness of her ass cheeks into his hands. Her buttocks were cold to the touch.

“Hey, what are you doing?” asked countess Ilyana with a confused look on her face. “This isn’t a hug. It’s a little ticklish, and I feel weird.” 

“In my country, hugs require a lot of skin contact,” Devon said. “An upper class sheltered girl like you wouldn’t know anything about hugs.” He purposely worded his statement in a way that would inflame the competitive spirit of the highborn countess, and it was working.

“T-this is nothing!” the countess replied, biting her trembling lower lip as Devon continued to caress her. 

Devon sensed a strange boiling sensation coming from within the countess, and slowly backed his hands away. He remembered that she had an explosive personality with magical rampages, and didn’t want to cause an incident by pushing her too hard too fast. 

“Alright, that’s enough. Stop.” 

The countess let go of her embrace with Devon, and let out a relieved sigh. Devon felt as if a pressure gauge just depressurized, and internally also breathed a sigh of relief simultaneously with the countess. 

He didn’t quite understand how he had this sixth sense for mana and magic, but then he remembered what the businesswoman working under Hades told him during his brief stay in purgatory after his death. She told him that he amassed a large quantity of points to spend on different skills and abilities due to his miserable life of consistent misfortune and bad karma. 

He told her to fuck off more or less, telling her to randomize his gifts on whatever, if anything at all. 

It was possible that this magic potential was part of those gifts that the second chance system bestowed upon him, as well as the moonlight steel sword. 

But was that enough to cover all of his misfortune from his past life? Hell no. Not by a long shot. They’d need to make him king and have millions of servants wiping his butt and serving his every desire to even make up half of the torture that he experienced in his last life. 

The things that the businesswoman listed off as his misfortunes were only the more obvious events. They didn’t include that time when he won a lottery scratch card, only to have it fall down a gutter after a car driving a hundred kmph over the speed limit zoomed past him, showering him with rain water. Or that time his watch broke a few hours before an important interview, causing him to misjudge the time and miss a once in a lifetime opportunity for a job opportunity. 

The list went on and on. After a while he just assumed that the worst would happen to him. Some things might have been his own fault, but even the watchmaker couldn’t tell him why his watch was broken. It just stopped working, for no reason. 

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“I’m going to win this time,” the countess with gorgeous white hair said with a determined attitude. 

“Not if I win first,” Devon replied.

“Rock, paper, scissors!” 

“Rock, paper, scissors!”

Ilyana won twice in a row.

“Ohohohoho, I am superior,” the countess declared haughtily, really letting the results of a game of luck get to her head. 

“What do you want me to do?” Devon replied. He looked outside, and saw that they were far into the countryside now. The battalion would reach the goblin outpost by midday, and he was to spectate the combat with the countess and keep her company, teaching her courtship. 

“Hm…” the countess thought out loud. “I want you to jump out of this carriage, now.”

Devon shook his head. “I can’t go against my job, countess Ilyana. Try to pick something more reasonable.”

“Oh, alright,” countess Ilyana replied, holding her delicate hand at her chin in contemplation. “Um… oh, how about this?”

A mischievous smile appeared on the young countess’s face. “I want you to lick me, like a dog.” 

“Where?” Devon asked, curious as to how she would answer. 

“Wherever you want, dog. Dog’s don’t have the brains to ask their owners such questions, so neither should you ask.” 

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