Chapter 133
Chapter 133
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 133
Chapter Title: Chapter 3-1. Black Tree Tribe
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Isabel's eyes rolled playfully as she flashed a warm, friendly smile. She held up two fingers in a V sign.
"You'll give me two, right?"
"I'll give you four."
"Good. In that case, I'm grateful. Look forward to it later. I'll make sure you remember the Black Tree Tribe as one of the most enchanting stops on your world travels."
Isabel left those words behind and turned away. Nearby tribesfolk bowed their waists in greeting to her.
After working a bit harder, there was nothing left for them to help with. As if by prior agreement—or perhaps on orders from Chieftain Isabel—the tribesfolk sent Judah, Jeanne, and Arhil back to their house. The festival would start at sunset, so they were told to rest plenty.
Judah prepared tea for Arhil, who was sprawled face-down on the living room table, and for Jeanne, who sat with her eyes closed in meditation. Arhil was completely exhausted, but Jeanne's stamina held up, leaving her only mildly fatigued. When he served the herbal tea, Arhil sat up at the scent. She cupped the teacup in both hands, sighed softly at the warmth, took a sip, and exhaled.
"Ahh~ This tea is so good."
"I mixed in some herbs for fatigue recovery and a nice aroma. Added a bit of honey too, so it shouldn't be bitter at all."
"Exactly!"
Arhil stuck out her thumb at Judah and sipped away. In this world with games as its backdrop, the effects of herbs and potions kicked in remarkably fast. As she drank, she leisurely vented about the day's events.
"Seriously, it felt rewarding to help, but... it was somehow exhausting."
"You went to help with cooking prep—did you learn a lot?"
Jeanne grinned at Arhil. It was the kind of smile you could only give knowing she wasn't much of a cook.
Sure enough, Arhil flinched at the unexpected question and fidgeted with her hands.
"W-Well, I did get praised."
"For what?"
"...For skewering things well."
Arhil's voice trailed off. She'd tried wielding a knife to help with festival prep, but her shaky cuts made onlookers nervous—and she'd nicked her fingers a few times. Though she healed them instantly with holy power, everyone insisted she stick to simple tasks with the kids: skewering chunks of meat and veggies on sticks instead of chopping produce.
Seeing her moping, Jeanne and Judah couldn't even laugh—they just held it in. Arhil glanced up at their puffed cheeks and sighed in resignation.
"Just laugh already. I can't even argue if you tease me."
They chuckled affectionately at her words and asked more questions. As they chatted relaxedly over tea, building excitement for the festival, someone knocked politely on the door outside.
Arhil got up and headed to the entrance.
"Eek!"
The moment she opened the door, she screamed and plopped backward. Startled by the thud of her butt hitting the floor, they rushed out to see figures in elongated masks gesturing for them to come outside. After a brief moment of confusion, they followed. The masked ones held torches, and three litters waited in front of the house—exactly one for each. They climbed on carefully, and the bearers hoisted them up effortlessly.
Bobbing uneasily on the swaying litters, Judah, Jeanne, and Arhil were carried in a line somewhere.
They arrived at the tribe's heart, near a river, by a towering stack of firewood reaching toward the sky. Their seats were pre-assigned—the best spots. While they'd rested at home, food had been prepared: savory, roasted dishes steaming hot, and mysteriously chilled liquor on the table.
"No one's saying anything... Aren't you scared?"
"Hmm... Well, this must be their festival style. Let's just watch quietly for now."
Judah whispered back to Arhil's murmur. From the masked figures to the torchbearers and food servers, everyone was utterly silent. Despite the large crowd of tribesfolk gathered, there was no clamor. Even the children stayed quiet in this moment. As they settled cautiously, a booming drumbeat—thoom!—made them jolt.
With that sound, the festival began.
Drum-like beats rang out as flames caught on the woodpile, greased to blaze fiercely skyward. The fire lit up the darkening surroundings in an instant, and even from their distance, the heat hit hard. Torches flared everywhere, illuminating every corner. Amid the blaze bright as daylight, women in traditional Black Tree Tribe garb—woven leaves and flowers—gathered before the towering pyre.
Their ornate masks and outfits were intensely provocative. How much could leaves and flowers really cover?
What resulted barely qualified as clothes—more like ambiguous undergarments. Skirts so short the folds of flesh between hips and thighs peeked out. Tops that bared the undercurve of their breasts.
It was hot.
They lined up sharply, and the music started. Only percussion, but paired with the crackle of wood and torches, the lively rhythm had them dancing.
Hips swaying with each move, buttocks folding and unfolding.
Bouncing underboobs drew the eye naturally, leaving Judah flustered. What if Jeanne or Arhil noticed?—he worried. But once the dance began, it proved a needless concern.
'Huh?'
Eyes wide, he watched, entranced. The dance before the roaring flames, synced to relentless drumbeats, was unique and beautiful. Sure, some motions flushed the face with their sensuality, but that was just a part. When it ended, Judah clapped. One dancer strode toward him—tap-tap-tap. As he stared—huh?—someone handed her a large bowl, and she filled it to the brim with liquor.
No way, he thought fleetingly.
She passed the brimming bowl to Judah. With everyone watching, he glanced at it briefly—then drank. Gulping it down, throat working, until it was empty. The potent burn rose through him. He held the empty bowl overhead. Whoa! Silence shattered into roaring cheers. Arhil, watching beside him, fired golden fireworks into the sky with holy power. The soundless, embroidered gold drew applause from all.
As they sang mysterious songs, danced, and shared food and drink, Judah eyed the dancer lingering upfront. She sighed softly and lifted her mask.
"Seriously, no sense at all. You didn't even recognize me."
He startled at Isabel's face beneath. She grabbed the liquor bottle by his side—throat parched?—and chugged it straight. Downing the whole bottle in one fiery go, she sat before him and grinned.
"So, how was my dance, Spirit?"
"Beautiful."
"Not seductive?"
Judah hesitated at her expectant tone. "Seductive" carried layers of meaning. But as she leaned in, urging, he nodded in agreement. Isabel burst out laughing, finding his reaction adorable.
"Haha, got two wives and still shy! What'd you think, you two?"
Jeanne and Arhil, of course, praised her beauty.
"Come on! This festival's for you all. Dance with everyone, eat, sing—let's burn through this night together. Passionate as that roaring fire! Pure as the moonlight beaming from the high sky!"
Liquor bottles arrived by her side. She grabbed one in each hand—and several skewers from before him in the other.
In short: drink till we drop.
Of course, a subtle barrier and awkwardness lingered between them and Isabel, so shaking it off was priority.
Per tradition, she proposed drinking games to bond with strangers. Jeanne, Arhil, and Judah—unable to refuse—joined. Soon they played unheard-of liquor games.
Luckily, Judah adapted quickly from his world's experience, but Jeanne and Arhil alternated emptying cups. Bottles emptied in a flash—three or four gone.
Tribesfolk passing by joined the fun, dancing, singing, showing off talents as night deepened.
But amid the revelry, Judah realized something late.
Chieftain Isabel and the participating tribesfolk were deliberately getting only Arhil and Jeanne drunk. Even after games ended, chatting in the buzz, they'd refill cups whenever empty. Naturally, by the time the moon hung high, Jeanne and Arhil passed out cold.
"Here, feed her. Ah—"
When he came to, Isabel had sidled up arm-in-arm, body pressed close, mouth open. Judah was delicately feeding her bite-sized sandwiches.
'How'd it come to this?'
The instant Arhil and Jeanne blacked out from booze, Isabel slid next to him naturally. She fed him; he fed her. Booze-warmed skin touched, hot against each other.
She bit into the proffered sandwich, chewing with pursed, dainty lips in satisfaction. Savored fully, swallowed—then smiled warmly and pecked his cheek in thanks. A soft smack, tender touch lingering.
Anyone could see she was seducing him. Even the densest fool would get it. Barely-there outfit, constant skinship—body reacted on its own. Feeling his lower half stiffen, the alcohol haze cleared; his body tensed.
Going crazy here—Judah muttered inwardly, turning to ask her for space.
Their lips met.
"!"
Shocked by the soft lips, eyes bulging wide—then Isabel pulled back and whispered gently.
"Hee hee hee—seriously. We hunted, butchered, roasted, skewered, brought it to your mouth... and this reaction? Clueless? Dense? Stupid? Or am I not appealing...? Which is it? Won't you tell me?"