Chapter 19 : Master, I Didn’t Mean To

Blinding white light exploded in the dark.

Milly flinched, instinctively raising her arm to shield her eyes.

A delicate clink echoed—the chain around her neck rattling as she moved.

When her pupils finally adjusted, she realized the light came from a simple brass chandelier above.

Its iron cage was draped in cobwebs. Dust-coated glass diffused the warm glow into hazy, uneven patches on the floor.

The dim light cast the cage’s silhouette onto the moss-streaked stone walls, revealing its full form.

The bars were as thick as fingers, engraved with feather-like patterns, curving upward into a dome of thorned vines—like a grotesque, oversized birdcage.

Her gaze followed the chain from her wrist—

And froze.

Just one meter outside the cage, nestled in shadow, sat a throne woven from blood-red vines.

Stacy lounged there, legs crossed, idly twirling a transparent crystal between her fingers.

On the low table beside her, a half-empty teacup sat—lipstick stain still fresh on the rim.

She’d clearly been waiting here… for a long time.

Milly had no idea how long she’d been unconscious.

But judging by Stacy’s posture—calm, patient, watchful—had she been sitting here since locking her in?

She hadn’t stirred when Milly woke.

Hadn’t interrupted her curses.

Had she just… waited?

Waited for Milly to slip up?

No way…

Cold sweat slicked Milly’s back.

Was this really necessary?

Normally, wouldn’t someone just throw her in, leave, and come back when she made noise?

But she’d underestimated Stacy.

Of course she had.

This woman lived for twisted games.

Milly approached the bars, meeting Stacy’s gaze.

Before surrendering completely, she gambled on the slimmest chance: that her rapid speech had blurred the words, and Stacy hadn’t understood.

“Master… I was just… practicing on my own.”

“Really?” Stacy’s voice was honey-sweet. “Lying comes with punishment, you know.”

Milly’s mind raced.

She’d cursed in her native language—most of it, Stacy couldn’t understand.

But in her rage, she’d mixed in a few words from the language Stacy had forced into her brain.

She couldn’t remember which words.

Had she said anything too bad?

And—would Stacy have implanted insults into her mind?

Unlikely.

She decided to double down.

“Master… truly, just practicing. That’s all.”

The next moment, her face froze.

Stacy stopped twirling the crystal.

She held it up—toward Milly.

And inside it—her voice played back.

Clear. Loud.

Every curse. Every angry syllable.

This… this was an otherworldly voice recorder?!

She’d assumed Stacy might’ve heard a few words.

But recorded?

If she’d known Stacy had this, she’d have confessed immediately.

As the playback reached the critical moment—when Milly had slipped into the taught language—Stacy slowed it down.

On purpose.

To make sure Milly heard.

Then rewound.

And played it again.

And again.

Until the fake calm on Milly’s face shattered.

Game over.

Her heart lurched.

But she forced herself to meet Stacy’s eyes.

So what? A few slightly offensive words.

Most insults were in her native tongue—Stacy couldn’t understand them.

She might’ve heard the foreign words, but not known they were insults.

“It was practice,” Milly said, lowering her head, voice trembling with fake innocence. “I mean… I didn’t mean to say those words. They just… popped into my head. Came out before I could stop them.”

She pointed to her temple.

“So much was forced into my brain today… all these new words… I didn’t even realize I was saying them. Master… I really didn’t mean to.”

This was her last defense.

If Stacy didn’t buy it—she’d take the punishment.

Another round of carving.

Another set of scars.

Her body was already covered. What were a few more?

She braced herself.

But then—

Stacy stood.

She rose from the throne and walked toward the cage.

Click.

The lock opened.

Milly stole a glance at her face—blank. No anger. No amusement.

Impossible to read.

Finally, Stacy seemed to decide.

She lifted Milly’s chin with her fingertip.

“Hmm. That does make sense.”

Phew.

Milly exhaled—relieved.

But then—

The chain around her neck tightened.

She stumbled—off balance—and crashed into Stacy’s arms.

“It makes sense,” Stacy said, laughing softly.

Her fingertip traced the scar on Milly’s collarbone.

Milly flinched—clenching her teeth.

Stacy released it—then grabbed her jaw.

“Still… using words like ‘die’ and ‘pervert’ for practice? That’s not a good habit, little Milly.”

The pressure was perfect—not enough to break bone, but enough to make blood rise in her throat.

Metallic. Familiar.

“I think I need to teach you… which words are appropriate for practice.”

The moment Milly tasted blood, the sigil on her collarbone flared purple.

Dormant magic awoke—like a nest of venomous spiders—crawling up her veins toward her throat.

“Say these,” Stacy whispered, writing burning letters in the air.

When Milly saw them—her pupils shrank.

Practice? These weren’t practice words.

They were praise.

Compliments. Worship.

Adoration.

Stacy hadn’t believed her at all.

A tendril snaked from beneath her skirt, wrapping Milly’s wrist—guiding her fingers to stroke the pulsing vein on Stacy’s neck.

Each touch sent the wild magic rampaging beneath her skin.

Warm breath brushed Milly’s twitching lips.

“Go on, little Milly.”

The grip on her jaw tightened.

Bone creaked.

If she didn’t speak—her jaw would break.

“I… understand.”

The first forced compliment left her lips—

And the scar on her waist exploded with violet light.

Pain twisted—transformed—into a sweet, trembling moan.

Stacy felt the shiver in her arms.

She licked her lips—excited.

Once Milly absorbed the magic, she’d carve a new sigil over the healed skin.

She could already imagine the screams coming.

Her face flushed with anticipation.

She was eager to begin—

Then—

A vine with an eyeball at its tip descended from the ceiling.

Stacy watched its vision—then her smile vanished.

“Tch… Now of all times?”

The magic in her fingertip dissipated.

She shoved Milly back into the cage.

Locked it.

And left.

Those pesky insects disturbing her fun…

She’d give them a quick, painful end.