Chapter 13: Living Doll

Intense pain surged within her chest; she felt as if her whole body had broken down, her blood had lost its vitality, and her delicate frame swayed unsteadily.

She was about to collapse to the floor.

It was obvious.

Her once blank eyes gradually became clear, but the memories that returned did not fade with her shattered heart; on the contrary, they became even more vivid.

The Blood Clan was an unreasonable race.

While other races could declare death when their hearts were destroyed, for the Blood Clan, as long as their blood had not completely frozen, not to mention the heart—even if their heads were pierced through—they could continue to live.

Liliya was just like that now. She could feel life steadily ebbing from her chest, but the process was excruciatingly slow.

Left alone, it might take several months before she truly died. Until then, she would remain in this agonizing state, enduring it until the moment her life was finally extinguished.

“Rosalia…”

Liliya had only hoped to regain her memories, to recall the beautiful moments with Rosalia.

Yet, who could have known that what came back were not fond memories, but the recollection of how, with a mere snap of her fingers, the other woman had reduced the entire crusade party to ashes.

And she herself… had become just as before, tightly held in Rosalia’s grasp.

Her eyes widened, her breath coming in uneven gasps as she tried to get used to this new sensation.

Her Holy Sword had been shattered; the only weapon she had left to resist was this frail body.

She struggled to steady her breath, but all she could manage was to turn around and face the woman who had literally torn her heart out.

But the moment she saw her, her body froze once more.

Rosalia’s hand, which should have been cold and pale, was stained red with Liliya’s fresh blood, with bits of heart still clinging to it.

Perhaps she had squeezed too hard when crushing the heart, as even her enchanting face bore a streak of red.

The crimson trailed down her cheek, tracing a bewitching line along its curve. Like a little cat, she brought her hand to her lips, extended her tongue, and slowly licked the blood from her skin.

Where her tongue passed, the red was momentarily wiped away, revealing that cold paleness once more. In turn, her lips were gradually stained with red, as if she had applied the brightest lipstick.

She seemed to delight in this sensation, and each time her tongue slipped back into her mouth, she would let out a breathy sigh that could soften one’s bones, her crimson eyes growing even more dazed and feverish.

Dangerous and alluring.

Rosalia looked at Liliya, who had managed to turn her body around. With a curling smile, she extended that hand, slick with blood and crystalline droplets, and cradled Liliya’s face.

Her thumb gently stroked Liliya’s cheek, as if she were holding a fragile work of art.

“You woke up too early. You weren’t supposed to awaken at this time.”

She pulled her closer, her hollow chest pressing against the other’s alluring form. Though Liliya could no longer feel her heart, Rosalia’s intimate gesture still left her at a loss.

It was the body’s doing.

Liliya realized this almost immediately.

It was the blood she had taken in earlier; that blood was affecting her, making her body hypersensitive to Rosalia’s touch.

Such a thing, even a former Church Sword Saint would struggle to resist.

No… it was precisely because Liliya was once the Church Sword Saint that she found it so difficult to resist.

“Liliya, you must feel awful, right? Losing your heart hurts, doesn’t it? But as long as you’re in contact with me, you feel good, don’t you?”

This time, instead of whispering in Liliya’s ear as before, she looked her straight in the eye, noticing the deepened hatred there, and chuckled softly.

“The standard for a Church Knight is their adaptability to divine magic, but this so-called adaptability…”

Secrets that should never be known outside the Church slowly slipped from Rosalia’s lips, uttered right in front of the most successful creation of this generation’s Church.

“Actually, it’s nothing more than the degree of resistance to the Brainwashing Technique. People like you, whose emotions have been forcibly wiped away by divine arts—how could you possibly withstand the allure hidden in blood?”

“Heh.”

Rosalia’s words tore at Liliya’s nerves bit by bit, making it impossible for her to accept this reality.

Her hand slid down from Liliya’s face to her collarbone, and slowly moved to the hollow of her chest, caressing the edges of the emptiness.

It hurt, it tickled, and it was also…

Liliya pressed her lips together tightly.

It was also, pleasurable.

These two contradictory sensations caused Liliya’s mind to go blank for a moment. She couldn’t comprehend how feelings that should be mutually exclusive could blend together so harmoniously.

She wanted to push Rosalia away, to punch this demon to death, but her body refused to obey. All she could do was stand there helplessly, allowing Rosalia to caress her at will.

Blood soaked through Liliya’s nightgown, dyeing the once white fabric a deep red.

An artwork—Liliya was now a work of art, a beautiful Artisan Doll displayed in a glass case.

She could no longer control her own body, even if her mind was still clear. All she could manage was to glare at Rosalia; she couldn’t even open her mouth to speak.

She didn’t know how much time had passed.

Rosalia seemed never to tire of such actions; she hugged Liliya tightly, her body lightly rubbing against her, constantly arousing the sweetness within Liliya’s blood, driving her to the brink of madness.

During this time, Rosalia also tore Liliya’s ceremonial gown to shreds, using her tongue to lick the wound in her chest, until the injury gradually healed and the hollow could no longer be seen.

Even so, her chest still felt empty; her heart had not been restored.

She had truly become an Artisan Doll.

“I told you, there would be punishment.”

With a curling smile, Rosalia gazed at Liliya’s incomparably beautiful face, noting the blood that had already congealed there.

Her fingertips gently brushed over the scab, carefully wiping away all traces, restoring Liliya’s face to its original look.

Her movements were gentle, her eyes filled with a fascination Liliya couldn’t comprehend, so morbid it made one’s spine tingle.

Yet Rosalia was unfazed, maintaining those same movements, meticulously cleaning every trace of filth from Liliya’s body.

The ruined nightgown was completely torn away, leaving Liliya’s smooth skin exposed to the air.

Shame.

Back when she was still male, she’d had occasions to be unclothed, but never had she felt such humiliation as she did now.

The changes brought about by her body were even more severe than she had imagined, especially now, when her very soul had been torn apart and reassembled—the effect was all the more pronounced.

Unfortunately, an Artisan Doll cannot act of her own will. Without her master’s control, all she could do was wait, wait for her master to dress her in more beautiful clothes.

Fortunately, Rosalia was not in the habit of letting her little pet’s body be seen by outsiders. She quickly picked up Liliya, carried her to her own room, and found two sets of clothes inside.

Unfortunately…

The clothes Rosalia chose for her was a sheer gauze dress.

Through the pink fabric, Liliya’s shapely body was faintly visible. Other than that, Rosalia did not intend to give her any other undergarments.

This was the kind of attire Liliya hated most—clothing full of desecration, written all over with the word “lust”.

She thought she finally understood what punishment truly meant.

She had become Rosalia’s Artisan Doll, not even worthy of being called a pet.

All she could do was passively accept everything Rosalia did, watching helplessly as her own body was controlled, made to do things she either loved or loathed.

She could not resist—she could only silently accept it, until the day Rosalia grew bored and finally let her go.

And in the meantime, she would continue to endure the pain of her missing heart. If she wanted that pain to ease even a little, she would have to wait for Rosalia’s touch.

But that brought her no comfort—if anything, it only made her feel worse.

She had no way to refuse…