I want to see her helpless… I want to see her cry… I want to see her relying on me…
Beatrice looked down at Aurora, who was diligently cleaning below. Her fingers tightened slightly around the broom handle.
The more hardworking and steadfast Aurora behaved, the more enraged she felt.
“So annoying… How infuriating…”
Her tone was icy, her eyes filled with seething anger as they stared at Aurora.
*****
On the ground—
Aurora was meticulously wiping the windows along the corridor. All the grime and smudges clinging to the glass were being thoroughly removed under her hands.
The tall panes now gleamed, nearly transparent. Her wiping motions were forceful yet graceful—refined through years of experience as a maid.
She dipped her rag in water, wrung it out, and was about to go over the glass once more when—
Splash!
A bucket of cold, dirty water came crashing down from above, drenching her completely. The stench of filth soaked into every inch of her body.
Aurora set the rag down, brushed her wet hair away from her eyes, and looked up at the culprit.
“Do you have any other orders, Master?”
Her voice remained calm, but a flicker of anger flashed in her gaze.
“Oh? Are you mad at me, my dearest Aurora?”
“I’m not angry, Master.”
“Really now?”
Beatrice stepped in front of her, grabbed her filth-covered face, and yanked her closer.
“Aurora, I still prefer you when you’re crying.”
“Would you cry for me?”
“I… I’m afraid I can’t grant your wish, Master.”
She wanted to see her cry? Had she not cried enough these past days?
If Beatrice liked her weak and vulnerable, then she’d just have to hold it in and not cry!
“Are you disobeying my order again?”
“Master, I’m simply not someone who cries that easily.”
“Heh.”
Seeing her dare to talk back, a flame of fury ignited within Beatrice.
Fingers brushed against Aurora’s lips, parting the two closed petals, then slowly slid into her mouth.
Aurora was startled by the sudden act. She stumbled back in panic, trying to pry Beatrice’s hand away.
But the moment she pulled free, Beatrice leapt off her broom and pinned her down, kneeling atop her body.
Trapped once more, Aurora’s back was pressed against the glass, and her wrists were seized by Beatrice’s hand, forced against the cold surface behind her.
“Be good. Open your mouth.”
Fingers crept over her lips, gently prying them apart again.
A delicate finger probed deeper into Aurora’s mouth. It carried no distinct taste, only the faint fragrance of silverbloom lingering in the air.
The intrusion went deeper, inching toward her throat. Saliva pooled uncontrollably, her body reacting against the violation.
When the finger grazed her throat, Aurora gagged reflexively—yet the finger didn’t retreat. Instead, it teased deeper, relentlessly stimulating her gag reflex.
Watching her struggle, Beatrice’s eyes burned with excitement. Her smile twisted into something terrifying—the kind she only wore when toying with her prey.
“Mmmph…”
Aurora’s thighs were pinned, her legs thrashing helplessly, kicking up streaks of filthy water across the ground.
The nausea swelled. Something surged up her esophagus—
“Hhk—!”
A clear liquid spilled from Aurora’s lips, staining her black-and-white skirt as it mixed with the grime below.
Beatrice’s hand was now slick with the expelled fluid, but she showed no disgust—only exhilaration as she gazed at Aurora.
Because now, tears streaked Aurora’s face. Reflexive, agonized tears. Yet to Beatrice, they were proof—her proof—that Aurora belonged to her.
“You threw up.”
“Good girl. It’ll feel better now.”
The soiled hand caressed Aurora again, pulling her into a tight embrace.
She soothed Aurora through her retching, all while savoring every whimper of discomfort.
“Are you… satisfied now, my mistress?” Aurora wiped her lips weakly once the vomiting subsided.
Cradled in Beatrice’s arms, her silver hair was stroked over and over—like a toy being cherished by its cruel owner.
“It’s not enough. Far from enough.”
“But unfortunately, I still have classes to attend. I can’t keep playing with you.”
“If possible, please don’t ever play this torturous game with me again.”
“Heh. You’re not so obedient anymore, Aurora.”
“But that’s alright. I’ll turn you back—bit by bit—into how you used to be. Into what I want you to be.”
“…”
What she wants… does she mean the weak me? The useless me? The selfish me?
Aurora didn’t want to go back to that.
She wouldn’t go back.
She was going to show Beatrice through her actions that she had changed—that she was no longer the girl who only knew how to hide awkwardly behind her.
“Clean yourself up. We’re going to the Academy this afternoon.”
“You’ll be coming with me as my personal maid.”
“The Academy…”
After Beatrice left, Aurora remained kneeling on the ground alone.
She coughed a little and slowly stood up from the floor.
Looking at the mess on the ground, she sighed.
“Guess I’ll have to clean it all over again.”
“The Academy, huh…”
As she wiped the floor, she kept thinking about how she could make Beatrice accept who she was now.
“Maybe if I keep showing her how hardworking and dependable I’ve become, she’ll come around eventually?”
With that thought, she nodded firmly, cheering herself on in her mind.
‘Let’s do this, Aurora!’
Back in the servants’ quarters, she found a fresh maid uniform.
“I’m filthy… I wonder where I can take a bath?”
If I go ask Beatrice now, she might torment me again…So instead, she used a basic water spell to rinse herself off.
After drying off, she put on the clean maid outfit.
She twirled once in front of the full-length mirror, then patted her cheeks and gave herself another pep talk.
“Mhm, no flaws allowed.”
“Let’s go, Aurora—give it your all!”
Click.
The door to the servants’ quarters suddenly swung open.
Beatrice, now fully dressed in her black witch’s attire, looked at Aurora with an expression that seemed to say “Are you an idiot?”
“What are you shouting about over there?” she asked coldly.
She walked up to Aurora, her tone icy as she warned, “If I ever find out you’re thinking about running away again, I’ll make sure you suffer a fate worse than death.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Hmph. Since you’re ready, come with me.”
She shifted to one side, gesturing for Aurora to get on.
“Why don’t I make you a wheelchair? I can push—”
“I don’t need that thing!”
Beatrice’s sudden outburst startled Aurora, making her flinch.
She hadn’t realized just how much Beatrice detested wheelchairs.
Aurora thought that using a broom as a mobility tool might actually be more convenient—after all, Beatrice was a witch and surely more accustomed to using a broom.
But then again, that would mean constantly expending magic to keep the broom flying, and lifting it off the ground in the first place already required a significant amount of energy.
If she doesn’t want it, then there’s no point pushing the matter.
After Aurora climbed onto the broom, Beatrice took off, carrying her toward the Academy…