Demon King Castle Aisaridu, Interrogation Room.
Hualà awoke in a daze, her head heavy and spinning.
The air was thick with a foul stench—a mix of damp mold and blood—making her throat ache as if something was stuck inside.
Where am I?
She remembered she was just about to escape this prison.
How did she end up here?
The walls of the Interrogation Room were lined with all kinds of torture devices, each stained with dry, blackened blood—a horrifying sight.
Not far away, a branding iron glowed red-hot in the furnace, crackling as sparks burst out, fading on the ground near her.
Hualà tried to move her body but realized, with a jolt, that she was bound like a crab—blood-red ribbons passed beneath her arms and between her thighs, suspending her mid-air.
Her hands were tied above her head, and her pale legs, under her battle skirt, were spread unnaturally, held in a “V” shape by two shorter ribbons.
So indecent…
No!
That’s not the point!
The point is—what’s going on right now?!
She tried to make a sound, but with her mouth sealed by a ribbon as well, all she could manage were weak, muffled noises.
“Mm, you finally woke up, Miss Brave Hero~”
As Hualà floundered in confusion, a crisp, melodious girl’s voice—laced with mischief and glee—cut through the gloom of the Interrogation Room.
HualÃ’s face went pale in an instant.
She recognized the owner of that voice—the new Demon Queen known among the Human Race as ‘cruel and bloodthirsty’—Sidella Eve Cecilia.
Three thousand strands of silvery hair flowed down to her waist like moonlight.
From within the silver, elegant pointed ears peeked out, her skin pale as snow, and a tiny bat-wing hair ornament nestled in her bangs—all marking the girl’s identity before her eyes.
Blood Queen Sidella!
Her gothic dress, colored in deep purples and blacks, was both elegant and adorable.
Further down, milk-white stockings smooth as ice cream hugged her slender legs, ending above the knees, the tight bands digging gently into her flesh.
The forbidden zone they created drew the eye and sparked the imagination.
A girl this beautiful could have easily been the perfect daughter of a noble in the Capital, if only she were born among the Human Race.
If not for the fact that Hualà had lost to this very girl not long ago and was thrown into the dark dungeons of the Demon King Castle.
“Mm… Mmm! Mmm…”
HualÃ’s struggles grew wilder, like a fluffed-up tabby cat.
Sidella watched her with twisted amusement, raising the corners of her lips.
She drew a sword—the Saint Sword, proof of HualÃ’s status as the Human Race’s Sword Saint.
She undid the ribbon binding HualÃ’s mouth and, as the girl gasped for breath, spoke with a hint of laughter in her tone.
“Little HualÃ, still not giving up, huh? Really now, what’s so bad about becoming my personal maid? Why are you so resistant?”
Honestly, the Human Race hero’s pay was ridiculously bad—not only was it a 24/7 job with no meals or lodging, but the yearly salary was a pathetic two and a half gold coins.
In contrast, the Blood Queen’s personal maid was paid dozens of times more, with full benefits and paid leave.
Anyone could see which was the better deal.
But no one mentioned that being a personal maid meant being used daily and even being forced to bear her children!
No matter how long her body had hung in this shameful position—her bones aching as if they’d fall apart—HualÃ’s mouth was as stubborn as ever.
She shouted in embarrassment and anger:
“Sidella! Don’t even think about it! Even if I die, even if I jump down from here, I’ll never bear your children!”
Given another chance, she was sure she could escape this prison.
After all, she was a hero of the Human Race.
As long as she was careful—not like the time before last when she ate spoiled food and spent a day in the restroom before her escape, or the previous time when she tripped over a Slime at night and passed out, or the last time when she got lost and ran into Sidella’s Office—
She’d definitely escape.
HualÃ, completely lacking in self-awareness, firmly believed it.
Sidella wasn’t surprised by HualÃ’s resistance.
After all, this was the twenty-fifth time Hualà had been caught trying to break out.
She asked one last question, her tone turning uncharacteristically serious.
“I told you half a month ago, didn’t I? Your Kingdom has abandoned you.”
Sidella pulled out a letter sent from the Human side half a month earlier, the postage stamp half torn away.
“In other words, your Kingdom sold you to me as compensation for the truce.
The hero of the Human Race has fallen in battle.”
Sidella’s words were like a hammer, shattering HualÃ’s last hopes.
She expected Hualà to be angry, or heartbroken, or even fall into despair.
But none of that happened.
Hualà just mumbled, “I wasn’t really one to begin with,” under her breath.
“So what’s the punishment this time? Tickling my feet? Solving arcane math problems? Bring it all on. I still need to come up with my next escape plan, so don’t waste my time.”
After failing to escape twenty-five times, Hualà was completely unfazed by any punishment.
But this time, Sidella smiled—a look of twisted delight different from before.
She didn’t answer HualÃ’s taunt, but spoke to herself.
“This is your twenty-fifth failed escape this month~. What should I do to punish you this time?”
“If I don’t level up the punishment, you’ll never learn your lesson, will you, HualÃ~”
Under HualÃ’s bewildered gaze, Sidella drew the Saint Sword from the floor, turned the blade, and pointed the hilt at HualÃ.
With her other hand, she raised a slender, white middle finger before HualÃ’s eyes.
Sidella’s gem-red eyes locked onto HualÃ’s increasingly panicked gaze, her sharp fangs bared, her smile deepening.
“Will you choose the Saint Sword, or…?”
You know, when a beautiful girl shows another girl her middle finger, you should pray it’s just mockery.
“Eh! I… I don’t understand what you mean…”
Hualà looked away, gulping as she tried to play dumb.
Then Sidella added an index finger.
“Two. Oh, by the way—just so you know, I’m not counting numbers.”
Sidella smiled slyly.
Hualà didn’t want to choose either, but she had no choice.
As Sidella prepared to count to three, Hualà panicked.
“Two! I choose two!”
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I’m missing something here. What’s the threat?
I guess its a homage to redo of healer, where the girl is given a choice of a scorching hot metal rod or a man’s little johnson