Chapter 29 : This Bread Tastes… Wrong

“It’s like… I understand it all now.”

The fog in her mind had lifted.

The once-gibberish script was now as clear as her native tongue.

But Milly soon realized—Stacy hadn’t just crammed one language into her head.

There were several.

Beyond the one she’d been taught, multiple linguistic systems tangled together in her brain, overlapping and clashing. She wouldn’t be able to sort them out anytime soon.

Milly clenched her jaw, barely holding back a furious curse.

Stacy is insane.

She didn’t need to be a polyglot! One language for basic communication was enough! But no—Stacy had to go overboard and shove multiple foreign tongues into her skull like some deranged gift basket.

If she loved giving extras so much, why not open a cram school?
“Buy one language course, get three free!”

No wonder her brain nearly exploded earlier—she’d been force-fed an entire library.

Still… being fluent in multiple otherworldly languages was impressive.

Though the credit went to those cursed sigils on her body—the same ones that almost killed her with pain.

Maybe this was her “cheat ability”?

Wait—was her special power just extreme durability?

Unbreakable willpower?

Near-infinite suffering tolerance?

Now that she thought about it—since transmigrating, had she ever had a single good day?

Every day was punishment. Torment. Hanging upside down. Suffocating embraces. Now soul-burning sigils. Who knew what new horror Stacy would invent next?

She picked up the discarded scroll.

All the previously unreadable characters now translated instantly in her mind.

Pronunciation? Perfect. No mistakes.

She could pass the test easily.

Yet when she reached the last line again, she nearly tore the scroll to shreds.

“I am the mute dog of…”

She was not some dumb beast licking honey from the abyss.

But to avoid tonight’s punishment, she’d have to say it anyway.

Tonight, at least, she’d escape harm.

And now that she fully understood the language, the sigil-based torture should end.

This should’ve been good news.

But Milly felt no joy.

She knew Stacy.

Once the sigils stopped working… the pervert would invent something new.

Who knew what fresh hell awaited?

Better to keep things as they were.

Her body had adapted—even started converting pain into pleasure.

Why risk something worse?

So she made a decision:
Fake it.

Let Stacy think she wasn’t fully fluent yet.

Answer simple questions correctly.
Get complex ones wrong on purpose.
And the scroll?

Read it perfectly—but stumble through it. Make it sound hesitant. Unpolished.

Keep the charade going.

Keep the old system alive.

She practiced a few times—just enough to sound convincingly flawed without mispronouncing anything.

Unseen by her, the recording crystal captured every moment.

Once satisfied, she picked up her nightgown from the floor.

She needed to get dressed before Stacy returned.

Otherwise, she’d be literally offering herself naked on a platter.

But putting on the dress felt… off.

Was it electrified?

Just the collar brushing her collarbone sent a jolt straight to her core, making her toes curl.

“Mmm… what’s going on?”

Since waking up, her body had become hyper-sensitive.

It was just clothes—yet every brush of fabric sent electric waves across her skin.

A soft moan slipped out.

Then another.

The sensation intensified.

Fabric friction turned into crawling pleasure, surging through her nerves.

She collapsed, trembling, feeling the carpet beneath her grow warm, damp.

No way.

She hadn’t even touched herself—just put on clothes—and already…?

Was this the price of the pain vanishing?

She’d rather go back to the burning agony.

Gasping, eyes glazed, she stared toward the door—praying Stacy wouldn’t return until she regained control.

Then—

The ceiling light snapped on.

She jolted upright—like shocked by lightning.

Forcing herself to focus, she looked toward the entrance.

There—Stacy leaned against the wall, casually twirling a transparent crystal between her fingers.

A cold dread surged through Milly.

But she’d made her choice.

The show must go on.

“Master… I-I think I can read it now.”

Unseen by Milly, the crystal in Stacy’s hand was rewinding.

It paused—on the moment Milly passed out.

On screen: a spike erupting from Milly’s spine—piercing the skin—then vanishing as her body healed.

Just a flash.

But real.

Stacy’s lips curled.

She’d been wondering how to trigger her “surprise” for Milly.

Now, she wouldn’t need to.

All she had to do was guide it.

“Mmm. Little Milly worked very hard today,” Stacy said, her voice sweet. She approached the cage, wearing a gentle smile that made Milly’s skin crawl.

“If you get it all right… there’s a reward.”

Milly unrolled the scroll, reciting it exactly as rehearsed—each word correct, but delivered with deliberate hesitation.

She glanced up—checking Stacy’s expression.

No change.

Good.

After the final word, a scent hit her—warm, yeasty, comforting.

“Perfect. A good girl deserves a treat.”

Stacy unwrapped a piece of bread, broke off half, and tossed it into the cage.

Of course she couldn’t just hand it. Had to throw it like feeding a pet.

Milly swallowed her irritation.

But then—she froze.

The bread… looked normal.

No twitching. No eyeballs. No screaming.

Her anger vanished.

She grabbed it—shoved it into her mouth.

After two days of starvation—real food.

Tears pricked her eyes.

It tasted amazing.

Though… the crust was oddly soft, almost soggy.

And inside—it was sticky, like it had been coated in something.

Whatever. It was delicious.

But in all the days after, no matter how many different breads she ate…

None ever tasted quite like this one.