100x Rebate Sharing System: Retired Incubus Wants to Marry & Have Kids-Chapter 353 - 352- A Trap

The pendant had been their salvation—a one-time-use magical item that Gwen’s father had given Vivian years ago, "just in case." When the slave traders had cornered them, Gwen had crushed it, activating the random teleportation.

They’d appeared in this forest last night, collapsed from exhaustion, and slept until morning. The dense trees and their own fatigue had prevented them from seeing the tower until now.

"What IS that thing?" Vivian asked.

"I don’t know." Gwen’s hand instinctively went to her bow. "But we should be careful. A structure like that means power. And power usually means danger."

Vivian nodded slowly. "Should we... go into the town?"

Gwen hesitated. Every instinct screamed at her to run—to disappear back into the forest and keep moving. But they hadn’t eaten in days. They had no supplies. No money. No plan.

They needed help.

"Yes," Gwen finally said. "But we stay alert. Trust no one."

"Agreed."

They stepped out of the forest together.

The transition was stark—from shadow and silence to sunlight and noise. The sounds of the town washed over them immediately: vendors hawking wares, children laughing, wagon wheels creaking on cobblestones, a blacksmith’s hammer ringing in the distance.

And underneath it all, a strange undercurrent. Music? No, more like... humming. A low vibration that Gwen felt in her bones more than heard.

They walked down the main street, trying to appear casual despite their bedraggled appearance. People glanced at them—two dirty elven women in torn green dresses would naturally attract attention—but no one approached or seemed hostile.

Just... curious.

"Mother, look." Gwen gestured to a produce stall.

The display was incredible. Fresh vegetables arranged in neat rows—carrots, potatoes, leafy greens. Fruits that shouldn’t be in season: apples, pears, even what looked like strawberries. All plump and perfect, no signs of rot or pest damage.

The vendor, a middle-aged human woman, was chatting pleasantly with customers. She handed over a bundle of carrots, accepted payment, smiled warmly.

Normal. Completely normal.

Except it wasn’t. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

Gwen had seen frontier towns before. They were usually desperate places—half-starved residents, struggling farmers, minimal trade. Disease and poverty everywhere.

This was... prosperous.

"Something’s wrong," Gwen whispered.

"Maybe it’s just a good harvest year?" Vivian suggested hopefully.

"No town has ’good’ enough harvests to look like this on the frontier."

They continued walking, passing more shops. A bakery with the smell of fresh bread wafting out. A tailor with fine fabrics in the window. A general store advertising everything from rope to rare spices.

And the people.

God, the people looked healthy.

No hollow cheeks. No visible ribs. Children ran past with flushed, happy faces—not the gaunt desperation Gwen associated with border settlements.

"This is... unsettling," Vivian murmured.

Gwen nodded. Her hand hadn’t left her bow.

They reached the town square—the area with the fountain Gwen had seen from the tree. Water flowed from a stone statue of... was that supposed to be a god? The figure was masculine, powerfully built, holding what looked like a staff or scepter.

Children played around its base, splashing in the water.

A small boy—maybe seven years old—broke away from the group and ran toward them. He held something wrapped in cloth.

"Miss! Miss!" He waved enthusiastically.

Gwen tensed, hand moving to her bow. Vivian placed a restraining hand on her daughter’s arm.

The boy skidded to a stop in front of them, beaming. He held out the cloth bundle. "You look hungry! Here!"

Vivian knelt down, bringing herself to eye level. "That’s very sweet, child, but we can’t take your food."

"It’s okay!" The boy pushed the bundle into her hands insistently. "Our Lord Viktor gives us lots! He says doing good deeds earns good points."

Gwen’s eyes narrowed. "Lord Viktor?"

"Uh-huh!" The boy nodded vigorously. "He’s the best! He built the fountain and the new school and makes sure everyone has enough to eat. Papa says he’s a blessing from the gods!"

Vivian unwrapped the cloth slowly. Inside were two pieces of bread—still warm, fresh-baked, smelling absolutely divine.

Her stomach cramped immediately, saliva flooding her mouth. When was the last time they’d eaten? Three days? Four?

"Thank you," Vivian said softly, tears gathering in her eyes. "This is... thank you."

The boy grinned and ran back to his friends.

Gwen stared at the bread, then at her mother. "Don’t eat it."

"Gwen—"

"It could be poisoned. Or drugged. This whole place feels wrong."

"He was just a child—"

"A child who’s been brainwashed!" Gwen’s voice rose. "Did you hear him? ’Lord Viktor this, Lord Viktor that.’ It’s exactly like our tribe leader! Everyone praised him too, said how generous and kind he was. And look how that turned out!"

Vivian’s face fell. She looked down at the bread in her hands, conflict clear in her expression.

Around them, the normal sounds of town life continued. More children laughing. Vendors calling out. Wagon wheels creaking.

And underneath, that strange humming vibration.

Gwen grabbed her mother’s arm. "Come on. We need to leave. Now. Before—"

"THE LORD OF THIS LAND IS A DEMONIC BASTARD!"

Both elven women froze.

The voice was loud, male, coming from somewhere to their left. They turned.

There, standing on what looked like an improvised platform (really just some crates stacked together), was a man.

He wore a dark cloak despite the warm weather, hood pulled up to shadow his face. In his hands was a wooden sign, words painted in crude black letters: "VIKTOR IS A DEMON. DO NOT TRUST HIM."

The man’s voice rang out again, somehow cutting through the ambient noise: "Don’t be fooled, people! Your precious Lord Viktor is deceiving you all!"

The crowd’s chatter died down. People stopped, turning to look at the cloaked figure.

But their expressions weren’t curious.

They were... shocked?

"What did he just say?" a woman near them gasped, clutching her market basket to her chest.

"He’s insulting Lord Viktor!" a man sputtered, face reddening. "That ungrateful—"

The cloaked figure raised his sign higher. "Listen to me! That tower—" he jabbed a finger toward the massive structure looming over the town, "—it appeared out of nowhere! One day nothing, the next day that! Don’t you find that suspicious?"

"Lord Viktor explained it!" someone shouted back. "It’s a blessing from—"

"A blessing?" The man’s laugh was harsh, bitter. "And these coins he’s giving away for harps? Free money for musical instruments? Think about it! He’s clearly colluding with whoever runs that tower! They’re connected, manipulating all of you!"

The murmuring grew louder. Some people looked uncertain now, glancing between the cloaked man and the dark tower rising above the rooftops.

But most looked angry.

"You don’t know what you’re talking about!" a burly blacksmith pushed through the crowd. "Lord Viktor saved this town! Before he came, we were starving!"

"My children have full bellies for the first time in years!" a woman yelled.

"Blasphemer!"

The first stone flew before anyone could stop it.

It was small—just a pebble really—thrown by someone in the back of the crowd. It missed the cloaked man by several feet, clattering harmlessly on the cobblestones.

But it was enough.

"Get him!"

"Throw him out!"

More stones followed. Larger ones. The cloaked man jumped off his makeshift platform, stumbling as a rock clipped his shoulder. His sign fell, trampled immediately by the surging crowd.

"Wait—listen to me!" His voice was panicked now, the confident preacher tone gone. "I’m just trying to warn—"