On a weekend afternoon, time seemed to stretch endlessly, and a hush flowed gently through the air.
“Lisbeth Tu!”
Every child knows: when your mother calls your full name, it’s time to be alert.
Tulia’s voice drifted in from the balcony, laden with accusation. “The Silk Nightdress I hung out to dry last night on the balcony—did you take it?”
This all-too-familiar scene instantly pulled Lisbeth’s thoughts back to a few weeks ago.
Back then, driven by the secret curiosity of adolescence, she had secretly taken her mother’s delicate Lace Brassiere and clumsily tried it on.
The size was wrong, so the straps kept slipping. In a panic, she could only hastily hide it away.
Did Tulia find out later?
Maybe. But she hadn’t really gotten angry, choosing instead to comfort her daughter with a tolerant “it’s perfectly normal at your age” sort of reasoning, soothing her anxiety.
Tulia had yet to realize how much this behavior would plant “hidden dangers” for her own future—but that was something for another day.
Right now, she only thought: it’s fine if the child is too embarrassed to speak up about something, but if it happens again and she keeps hiding it, it’s time for a serious talk.
Lisbeth sat at her desk, holding Intermediate Magic Engraving, preparing to study on her own. Without looking up, she replied in a calm voice, “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Tulia emerged from the kitchen with a Rolling Pin in hand, feigning a fierce look as if she would strike her daughter’s palm.
But today, her long hair, usually coiled up, hung loosely over her right shoulder, giving her a particularly gentle look.
With that Rolling Pin and her deliberately puffed cheeks, she wasn’t intimidating at all—if anything, she looked rather cute.
Lisbeth closed her book, raised her head, and, face unchanged, maintained her steady tone.
“I don’t know. But I guess it was Aunt Sophia.”
She had indeed hidden away another piece of clothing for her own collection.
But she’d kept it under the pretext of helping Tulia throw out old things, so this matter had nothing to do with her.
“You’re talking nonsense again! Who else is there in the house who’d steal my—” Tulia’s words came to an abrupt stop.
Only now did she suddenly recall that the house did indeed have a new, elusive resident: Sophia.
With that troublemaker’s temperament, pulling a stunt like this… was highly likely!
In Tulia’s mind, Sophia had long amassed every despicable bad habit imaginable.
And, as if summoned, the culprit appeared.
Sophia emerged from the bedroom on the second floor.
She had changed into a well-fitted Silk Robe, its texture, color, and style nearly identical to the one Tulia usually wore.
—Although not the missing one.
There was a smile at the corner of Sophia’s lips. In her hand, she held a freshly washed, still-dripping Silk Nightdress, and descended the stairs at a leisurely pace.
“Darling,” Sophia approached Tulia, her voice as warm as honey, “I saw your nightdress had some dust on it, so I washed it for you. I was just about to hang it out to dry.”
“And,” Sophia handed the clean nightdress to Tulia, her fingertips unintentionally grazing Tulia’s hand, “next time you buy one, remember to get this kind of fabric. It’s much more to my liking.”
All the blood in Tulia’s body rushed to her head in an instant. Her cheeks flushed hotly, a mix of shyness and irritation surging within her.
—She’s doing it on purpose! Absolutely on purpose! Wearing her own clothes, then speaking such shameless things with that gentle, considerate tone!
This was an out-and-out pervert!
Lisbeth looked at Sophia’s smug demeanor, furious but unable to act—after all, that was Tulia’s old lover.
“Aunt Sophia! Please have some self-respect! That belongs to Tulia!” Lisbeth’s voice was ice-cold.
For a moment, the air in the living room seemed to freeze, the temperature dropping to zero.
Tulia rushed to hug Lisbeth. “I’m sorry, I wrongly accused you! I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like that!”
She bent down to pick up the Rolling Pin from the floor and walked up to Sophia.
“Just wait until I deal with her. Sophia, come with me!”
With that, Tulia seized Sophia by the wrist and dragged her into the adjacent bedroom, leaving no room for argument.
Bang—!
The door slammed heavily, sealing off the world outside.
Immediately, dull and continuous thuds sounded from the room.
“Wham! Bang—!”
“You scoundrel! I’ll teach you to act crazy again! I’ll teach you to steal again!!”
“Bang! Bang! Bang!”
The Rolling Pin struck the mattress and the comforter, making heavy, rhythmic thumps.
She pretended to be punishing Sophia harshly inside the room, hoping to reclaim her lost dignity.
But in reality, Sophia merely stood quietly to the side, watching as Tulia vented her anger on the bedding and pillows.
There was a gentle, indulgent smile on Sophia’s face.
She knew Tulia wouldn’t dare really hit her, and this little “outburst” was just a way for her to release her feelings.
When Tulia finally exhausted herself, gasping for breath, Sophia slowly came forward and hugged her from behind.
“All done, my little Pet.”
“Finished letting off steam? Now, shouldn’t you give me… a little reward?”
Tulia felt those arms around her waist, locking her in place like two red-hot irons.
The shame she felt inside burned even hotter than the warmth against her body.
“Let go!”
She shouted in annoyance, gripping Sophia’s wrists tightly, veins bulging as she tried to break free by force.
Her body twisted violently in Sophia’s arms, but her struggle was as futile as an ant trying to shake a tree.
“No.”
“Just give up already!” Fighting head-on was pointless; she could only resort to a “normal” excuse.
“I have a new life now, Sophia! I’m Lisbeth’s mother, I opened a Chicken Roast Shop here, I just want to live quietly! I don’t want you disturbing my peace!”
Tulia’s voice rose, as if to build a wall of “reason” around herself.
“Quietly?” Sophia’s head tilted gently, her hair brushing against Tulia’s cheek, sending a shiver of tingling itch.
Her tone was pure contempt. “Can your so-called ‘quiet’ life compare to what I can give you? Or do you really think you can escape my shadow?”
That disdain struck another heavy blow to Tulia’s pride.
She steadied herself, gathering a faint, blood-patterned swirl of Magic Power at her fingertips.
She planned to use her Bloodline Power—one she thought could subdue Sophia—to break free from this damn hold.
But just as the Magic Power formed, Sophia’s bewitching voice sounded at her ear.
“What is it, my little Pet?”
Sophia lowered her head, her chin pressing against the top of Tulia’s head.
“Trying to use the power I gave you… to stop me?”
The blood-red Magic Power at Tulia’s fingertips instantly dissipated.
All will to resist vanished in that moment. She drooped her head, utterly defeated.
“Sophia, I’m begging you,” her voice dropped low, trembling with humiliation, a pitiful plea, “at least spare me some dignity in front of Lisbeth, will you? She’s a good child—she can’t see this…”
At last, Sophia released her embrace and turned Tulia around.
She reached out and gently lifted Tulia’s chin with her fingertips.
“Did you forget your place, Tulia?”
Sophia’s thumb brushed softly over Tulia’s lips, her touch gentle, but her words cut to the bone.
“You’re just the little Slave I bought with money. You have no right to bargain with me.”