Celine covered her body possessively, as if guarding it: "I've already put it on, how could I return it to you now? Wait here, I'll go get the money for you."
At this very moment, she could already feel the extraordinary Mana that the Sexy Lingerie set provided.
After wearing it, she felt that both her Mana and Defense had increased significantly.
There was no way she could return it now!
[Sexy Stockings: Erotic Value +100, Mana +30%!]
[Host Mana Points +20%!]
[Host gains an additional 30% Mana Amplification from wearing Sexy Lingerie! ]
At the same time, the prompt from the God-Level Tailor sounded in Roger's mind.
Roger was very satisfied with this result.
Once he received the payment for the Sexy Lingerie set, he would have completed the transaction.
The total cost of the Sexy Lingerie set and the service fee was fifty Gold Coins.
For Celine, fifty Gold Coins was no small amount.
Her monthly allowance was only ten Gold Coins, and although she had saved up a few dozen Gold Coins privately, it was just enough to cover the cost of the Sexy Lingerie.
This had completely drained her small savings.
Celine rummaged through her wardrobe and took out her money box, pulling out fifty Gold Coins, which she handed over to Roger.
"You take this much money and still take advantage of me? It's really outrageous and despicable!" she grumbled angrily.
Roger accepted the Gold Coins and said, "You get what you pay for. Fifty Gold Coins is a fair price, we both get what we need. Don't make it sound like you're at a loss here."
Celine shot him a glare. "Stop with your excuses, I'm not a child."
"Alright, that's that. There are other customers waiting for me, so I need to hurry back," Roger waved his hand and turned to leave.
Outside, a gust of wind suddenly blew through, startling the livestock on the ranch.
Many of the horses let out terrified whinnies.
When the wind passed, a powerful wave of energy surged through the air.
"What's going on?"
Roger felt uneasy, his senses sharpened as he detected the source of the energy fluctuation.
He looked into the distance and saw two groups of people fighting at the foot of the mountain.
One group was the guards from the Garrison Command, and the other was a gang of unknown assailants.
Judging by the situation, it seemed that the Garrison Command guards had been chasing down the gang of thugs, but they were being overpowered and now the tables had turned.
Among the eight assailants, there was even a level nine Mage!
In Windmill Town, that would be considered a top-tier expert.
The dozen or so guards were all Magic Warriors, their average strength only around level seven.
Together, they couldn't even match that one level nine Mage.
Both Magic Warriors and Mages had levels ranging from one to nine.
Once they broke past level nine, they would ascend to a higher realm.
A Mage would become a Grand Arcanist, and a Magic Warrior would become an Arcane Warrior.
While the names were similar, the difference in strength was over three times as much.
A level one Grand Arcanist or Arcane Warrior could probably defeat ten level nine Mages or Magic Warriors.
Since Roger had transmigrated, this was the first time he had witnessed such a large-scale battle.
Especially the level nine Mage, whose fireball spell was three meters in size, almost like a small sun, crashing toward the guards.
Four or five of the guards hurriedly put in all their strength to defend, but in the end, they were blown away by the massive fireball.
Three people were instantly killed in the explosion.
"Impressive!"
Roger stared in shock at the battle below the mountain. "In the face of absolute power, everything else seems so weak. When will I ever become that strong?"
Having witnessed firsthand the incredible magic cast by the level-nine Mage, Roger was deeply inspired.
It even sparked a desire within him to grow stronger.
With the level-nine Mage's intervention, the battle quickly drew to a close.
Seven or eight members of the guard were dead, and the remaining ones scattered in fear, desperately trying to escape the thugs' pursuit.
Roger watched quietly.
This battle was an eye-opener for him, shattering his previous understanding of the magical world.
"I finally understand. As long as you're powerful enough, you can control others' destinies, and wealth and power can be easily obtained," he thought to himself.
At the foot of the mountain.
After defeating the guards, the thugs, led by the level-nine Mage, didn't continue chasing them. Instead, they immediately withdrew and left Windmill Town.
Dozens of dead guards lay scattered across the ground.
Among them, two half-dead thugs were also sprawled out on the ground.
Their injuries were too severe, and their comrades couldn't even afford to carry them away.
Roger descended the mountain and passed through the battlefield.
The ground was stained with blood, littered with weapons and other equipment.
It was eerily quiet, with no one else in sight except Roger.
Glancing at the Magic Equipment scattered on the ground, Roger couldn't help but smile mischievously. "Since I've stumbled upon such a good fortune, if I don't do something, I'd almost be disrespecting their sacrifice."
With that thought, he bent down and picked up a few decent pieces of Magic Equipment.
Although it was a bit unethical, he wasn't greedy.
He only took a few valuable Magic Items, along with a sealed Spell Scroll, leaving the rest untouched.
He didn't even spare a glance at the money bags on the corpses.
Once he finished collecting, he quickly made his exit.
In total, he picked up three Magic Items: a magic orb, a dagger, and a palm-sized Arcane Shield.
What interested him most was the blood-red Spell Scroll.
This Scroll had likely been accidentally dropped by someone and could very well contain a high-level magic.
Roger, being poor, had only learned a few basic spells.
As for advanced magic, he couldn't afford the tuition, nor could he buy expensive Spell Scrolls.
Now, having found one for free, it was a pleasant surprise.
The Garrison Command, responsible for maintaining law and order in Windmill Town, frequently clashed with outlaw thugs.
It wasn't uncommon for people to die or lose things during these battles.
Even if Roger casually took some "spoils of war," no one would investigate.
Not long after, Roger returned to the Tailor Shop.
Hathaway was sitting in a chair inside, nearly asleep from waiting.
When she saw Roger return, Hathaway lazily stood up and said, "You made me wait so long, why didn't you just die out there?"
Roger grinned mischievously. "Do you say that to Kurinan as well?"
Hathaway pursed her lips. "I can't be bothered telling him anything. He's getting old, smokes weed constantly, and fools around with other women. His body's already ruined from all that. I don't even want to share a bed with him anymore."
"No wonder you've taken an interest in me," Roger said, suddenly feeling a pang of pity for her.
Hathaway sighed. "Enough about that. Help me order some sexy lingerie. There's a masquerade ball tomorrow - perfect occasion to wear it."
Roger nodded. "Alright, let me take your measurements." He turned to fetch his measuring tape.
Hathaway followed, looping her arm through his with a coquettish smile. "Why don't you come with me? It'll be wild. Super exciting."
Roger waved his hands in refusal. "No thanks. I'd like to live a few more years."
She pouted. "It's not a slaughterhouse. What's there to be scared of?"
Picking up the measuring tape, Roger gestured. "Come to the fitting room. I'll measure you properly."
"Hmm." Hathaway swayed toward the changing area.
They entered the cramped space sequentially. Out of habit, Roger knelt and reached for the hem of her dress.
Hathaway startled. "What are you doing?"
"Taking measurements." His tone remained professional.
Realizing her mistake, she covered her mouth with a giggle. "Oh! My imagination ran away with me. Go ahead."
Though she flirted effortlessly, this clinical approach flustered her. Yet her inherently provocative nature welcomed the physical contact - even anticipated it, relished it.
With practiced motions, Roger lifted her skirt and tucked the fabric into her hand, revealing milky thighs and black lace panties adorned with an embroidered skull motif - signature undergarments befitting the second-in-command's woman in the Skeleton Faction. The design screamed rebellion.
More startling was her completely bare pubic area, smooth flesh fully exposed to Roger's gaze.
"Like what you see?" Hathaway peered down coyly.
Roger blinked. "Your... undergarments are... distinctive."
She tapped his forehead playfully. "Idiot. I meant my legs and figure."
"Too focused on measuring to notice," Roger deflected, tape snapping taut between his hands.