The scorching breath brushed against Wendy’s neck, sending shivers cascading through him.
“We can go one step further…”
What drilled into Wendy’s ear was Astreia’s hoarse voice, like a slithering snake, endlessly beguiling him.
“Knock, knock, knock!”
But just as the prince’s rationality was about to snap and he was prepared to continue, urgent knocking suddenly wedged itself into the scorching, sultry haze.
The knocking was not loud, yet it instantly cracked the perfect “artwork” before the mirror.
“Princess Astreia? Prince Wendy? Are you in there?”
It was Layana Klein’s voice!
Sharp, frantic, saturated with a mother’s worry.
“Dean Aurelia is here too. Is Shanna feeling any better? Has anything happened?”
Mother…
Mom is here…
Those two words struck like twin thunderbolts, straight into Laxana’s already muddled mind.
Those violet eyes, rolled back from shame, abruptly contracted. Her unfocused gaze snapped back into clarity.
She saw it.
Saw herself—bound tight by black netting, ink stains scrawled across her face and legs, arms raised high, crouched in a humiliating posture, even her tongue hanging limp and powerless.
If… if Mom pushes the door open…
A scream on the verge of tearing her throat roared wildly in her chest. If Mom saw her like this—
Her legs, held in that half-crouch, buckled violently, and her whole body was about to collapse to the floor!
Yet a hand moved faster than her scream, steadier than her breakdown.
Wendy moved.
The prince stepped forward, pressing close behind the about-to-collapse Laxana from behind. One hand shot out like lightning—but not to cover her mouth.
Instead, with thumb and forefinger, he precisely pinched the numb root of her tongue!
At the same time, his other palm pressed heavily against the back of Laxana’s head, pushing her whole pretty face against the cold dressing mirror before them!
“Nnn—mmph…!!!”
The scream about to burst out was crushed and warped by this sudden dual stimulation, finally turning into an even more pitiful, more fragmented whimper.
Laxana was like a fully drawn bow, snapping taut, then utterly softening.
Her forehead pressed tight against the cold mirror surface. In the mirror, she could only see her own eyes, wide open from fear and shame, and the figure of the man behind her, controlling everything.
“Prince Wendy! I heard a sound!”
The knocking outside grew louder.
“Is that Shanna’s voice? What’s wrong with her? Open the door! Don’t make me use magic to break it down!”
Dean Layana’s voice now carried tears and a tone of command.
Wendy did not release his grip; instead, he increased the pressure.
“See how worried your mother is.”
He chuckled softly, blowing hot breath.
“Tell her you’re back to normal.”
He tilted his head, leaning close to Laxana’s ear, and said in a voice only the two of them could hear, “Now, answer her.”
“In your current state, tell her you’re fine, nothing’s wrong.”
Laxana trembled like a sieve, tears bursting forth, mixing with the ink on her face, carving two black tear tracks down the mirror.
How could she possibly do it!
She couldn’t even form a complete sentence right now!
“Whimper… whimper… Let… let go…”
The miserable plea earned an even more vicious whisper from the man behind her.
“See, you can’t do it. So what do we do?”
“How about… we play a game.”
Wendy’s gaze went past Laxana’s shoulder, meeting the witch in the mirror who had been watching with great interest all along.
Astreia had somehow already sat up straight, those long, elegant legs wrapped in pink-purple pantyhose gracefully together. She propped her chin on one hand, undisguised excitement and approval in her purple Magic Eyes.
This man could always turn a dull crisis into the finest theater.
Wendy, facing the Astreia in the mirror, silently mouthed a word—”Watch.”
Then he refocused his attention on the nearly broken “artwork” in his arms.
“Laxana, listen carefully.”
“Outside is your mother, Dean of the Central Academy’s Magic Department, Lady Layana.”
“Every time she knocks, I’ll add another ‘decoration’ to your body. Until… you respond to her concern in your most perfect state.”
“You don’t want… her to see with her own eyes what her most proud daughter looks like right now, do you?”
The prince’s voice was like a devil’s whisper, every word a razor-sharp needle piercing into Laxana’s heart.
“Knock! Knock! Knock!”
Layana’s knocking sounded for the third time, each strike harder than the last.
“First one.”
Wendy chuckled softly, releasing the hand pinching Laxana’s tongue root, sliding it downward, and lightly biting the snow-white neck marked by the netting’s alluring imprints.
“Nnn!!!!”
Laxana let out a sob suppressed to the extreme, her legs giving way. If Wendy hadn’t been holding her tightly from behind, she would have already collapsed to her knees.
The prince supported the young lady, forcing her to maintain the half-crouch.
He looked at the woman in the mirror, whose gaze had completely scattered, leaving only instinctive trembling, and smiled in satisfaction.
Outside the door, an anxious mother.
Inside, a daughter being “carefully sculpted.”
And not far behind them, a gorgeous and cruel witch, sitting on the bed like a queen, leisurely enjoying the entire spectacle.
The scene was absurd, obscene, and filled with the thrill of despair.
Wendy suddenly felt as if some switch inside him had been flipped.
The more desperate, the more dangerous… Why… without even realizing it, the corners of his mouth had slowly curled into a smile identical to Astreia’s on the bed… Why was he the more excited for it?
However, Laxana’s final whimper still hadn’t escaped the ears of the powerful ones outside the door.
“I heard that!”
Layana’s voice pitched sharply upward.
“Prince Wendy, open the door! Now! Has she recovered? What did you do to her?!”
The knocking grew denser, “thud thud” sounds without cease, as if trying to shatter the door panel.
“Layana, calm down.”
Aurelia’s relatively steady admonition also came through.
“Prince Wendy, you’d best open the door quickly and explain.”
The room fell into complete silence.
Wendy looked down at the pitiful beauty in his arms.
Laxana buried her face desperately in his chest, her tears of shame and anger soaking a patch of his collar. Every tremble carried despair.
He then raised his eyes to Astreia.
This instigator, this culprit, showed not the slightest tension—instead, she reclined against the wall with arms crossed, watching with keen interest.
Help?
Nonexistent.
The witch was currently wishing for nothing more than for the scene to descend further into chaos…