I AM A MAGE BUT WITH MILF SYSTEM

“And if someone tried to force their way through without authorization?” Julian asked.

“They would trigger defensive mechanism. Nothing lethal—I’m not trying to kill intruders—but enough to incapacitate them and alert me.”

Julian nodded. Mara had clearly invested significant resources and planning into this operation.

They navigated several more turns, passed through two more concealed doorways, and they finally began descending a stairs.

“We’re almost out,” Mara said. “This exit leads to a storage room on the ground floor, which connects to the kitchens. That’s where we’ll find the mother.”

“What’s her name?” Julian asked.

“Helena,” Mara replied. “Helena Greaves. Widow of the drunk who got them all into debt. She has been working in my kitchens for almost a year now, trying to pay off what her husband owed.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs and emerged into what was indeed a storage room. It looked completely ordinary, with no sign that a secret passage lay behind one of the walls.

Mara led Julian to the door, opened it cautiously, and peeped out to make sure the coast was clear. Then they stepped out into the hallway that connected to the main kitchen area.

The sounds and smells of cooking immediately filled Julian’s senses.

“The kitchen is busy this time of day,” Mara explained in a low voice. “Preparing for the lunch service. Helena will be working the bread station most likely.”

They moved through the corridor and into the bustling kitchen area. It was a large, well-organized space with multiple cooking stations, enormous ovens, preparation tables, and storage areas. At least a dozen people were working—chopping vegetables, kneading dough, managing the ovens.

Mara scanned the room and spotted her target.

“There,” she said quietly, nodding toward a woman working at one of the large wooden tables.

Helena Greaves was in her forties, with the worn, tired look of someone who had lived a hard life. Her hair, once probably auburn like her daughter’s, was now grayed. Her hands were covered in flour as she kneaded a large ball of dough. Her face was wrinkled, but there was something gentle about her features—a kind nature that hadn’t been completely eroded by struggle.

Julian could immediately see the resemblance to Sarah.

“We need to get her alone,” Mara said quietly. “Can’t have this conversation in front of the other kitchen staff. Follow my lead.”

She walked toward Helena, her professional innkeeper persona fully in place.

“Helena,” she called out. “I need to speak with you privately. It’s regarding your children.”

Helena’s head snapped up.

“My children? Is something wrong? Are they hurt?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Mara assured her quickly. “But we do need to discuss something important. Please, come with me to my office.”

Helena looked uncertain. She glanced at the other kitchen workers, clearly worried about leaving her duties.

“It’s fine,” Mara said firmly. “I’ll have someone cover your station. This is important, Helena. It concerns your family’s debt and a potential opportunity.”

The word “opportunity” caught Helena’s attention immediately. Her expression shifted from worry to hope.

“An opportunity?” she repeated.

“Yes. But we need privacy to discuss it. My office. Now.”

Helena quickly wiped her flour-covered hands on her apron, said something to a nearby worker about covering her station, and followed Mara toward a side door.

Julian too followed behind them, observing Helena carefully. She seemed like a good woman—hardworking, devoted to her children and responsible.

As she walked ahead of him, Julian’s eyes took in more details of her appearance. Her face was average, but her body was particularly not bad.

Perhaps because of her active lifestyle, she had maintained what could be described as a mature hourglass figure. Her baggy dress couldn’t completely hide the curves beneath—a decent bust size, and an ass that was notably wide.

What Mara was about to do to her felt particularly cruel.

They exited the kitchen and moved down another corridor, this one leading to the administrative areas of the inn. Mara’s office was a modest room with a desk, filing cabinets, and a few chairs for visitors.

She gestured for Helena to sit, then closed the door firmly behind them.

Helena sat, her hands joined nervously in her lap, looking between Mara and Julian with confusion.

“Who’s this?” she asked, nodding toward Julian.

“Mr. Julian is a guest at the inn,” Mara replied smoothly. “He’s also a potential business partner in the opportunity I’m about to discuss with you.”

Helena’s confusion deepened, but she nodded either way.

Mara moved to sit behind her desk, adopting a businesslike posture. Julian remained standing near the door, observing the interaction that was about to happen.

“Helena,” Mara began, her tone becoming serious. “How much of your family’s debt remains?”

Helena’s expression became pained. “Still… still quite a lot. Maybe eight years of work at my current wages. Maybe more if there are any setbacks or additional fees.”

“Eight years,” Mara repeated. “Eight more years of backbreaking labor in my kitchens. Eight years before you and your children are free to leave, to build your own lives. That’s a long time, Helena.”

“I know,” Helena said quietly. “But we’ll manage. We have no choice.”

“What if I told you there was a way to pay off the entire debt in a matter of months instead of years?” Mara asked.

Helena’s eyes widened. “What? How? What kind of work would pay enough to—”

“Specialized work,” Mara interrupted. “Work that requires… secrecy. But work that would compensate you extraordinarily well.”

Helena’s expression became wary. “What kind of specialized work?”

Mara leaned forward, her voice becoming softer.

“We have a patron—a very wealthy man with very specific tastes in entertainment. He’s willing to pay enormous sums for private performances. Theatrical performances, you understand. Acting.”

“Acting?” Helena repeated, clearly confused. “I don’t understand. I’m not an actress. I work in kitchens. I bake bread.”

“The performance doesn’t require traditional acting skills,” Mara explained carefully. “It requires… a willingness to step outside your comfort zone. To portray intimacy, affection, closeness with other performers.”