Chapter 30 : Bad Children Deserve Punishment

Her tiny tongue flicked across her fingertip, gathering the last crumbs. Afraid of missing any, she brought her finger to her lips—sucking it clean—only releasing it when every trace of flavor was gone.

It had been days since transmigration.

This was her first normal meal.

When she first bit into the bread, the scent of wheat and honey exploded on her tongue—so rich, so real—tears nearly spilled from her eyes.

But remembering Stacy’s twisted obsession with cooking, Milly forced herself to stay calm. She couldn’t show too much joy.

“Want more?”

Stacy dangled the remaining half-loaf, her crimson eyes reflecting Milly’s desperate swallow.

Milly rubbed her growling stomach. Half a piece wasn’t enough. But she knew better—Stacy would never hand it over freely.

There’d be a condition.

Still—her stomach ached.

She nodded, reaching through the bars with pleading eyes. “Master… I want it.”

“Simple. Just answer a few questions to test how much you’ve learned.”

At the end, Stacy emphasized the words—like a warning siren.

Milly’s heart lurched.

Did Stacy suspect something?

That crystal in her hand—was it a recording device?

But who cared? As long as she said she hadn’t learned it, that was the truth. She’d just pretend ignorance. For tough words, she’d claim she didn’t know. No matter what, she wouldn’t admit fluency.

Last time, she’d slipped up cursing in mixed languages. This time, she’d be perfect.

Confident, Milly nodded. “Master… what happens if I get it wrong?”

Stacy broke off a small piece, twirling it between her fingers. “If you’re right, this is yours. If you’re wrong… no punishment today. It’s just a check-up. No need for pain.”

Milly pinched her arm.

Did Stacy just say ‘no punishment’?

Impossible.

Yet hunger gnawed at her. That bread smelled too good.

“Then please… ask your question.”

The moment she spoke, Stacy traced burning letters into the air.

“Let’s start with this one.”

Milly stared.

Fear.

That was it? A basic word?

Was this a test or a reward? Maybe a simple trap—testing her reaction.

“Fear.”

She pronounced it clearly.

Stacy laughed softly, tossing the crumb into the cage. “Correct. Your reward.”

Too easy.

Milly ate it cautiously. The taste… different. Not like the special piece earlier. Odd. Both halves looked identical—why the difference?

But it was still delicious.

After swallowing, she gazed at Stacy—hopeful.

Please let the next ones be this easy.

Soon, another set of burning letters appeared.

But this one?

Complex.

A multi-layered glyph, unlike anything taught before.

She knew the correct pronunciation.

But per her plan—she had to fail.

She hesitated. Then spoke—voice tight, tailing upward like a hesitant guess.

Stacy chuckled—broke off another crumb—tossed it near the cage door.

“You’re wrong, little Milly.”

Wait—a reward for being wrong?

Milly picked it up, confused. The taste matched the last. Nothing tampered.

Next questions were absurdly simple:
Fire. Chain. Moonlight.

All rewards.

Each correct answer earned her a piece.

No lies. No tricks.

Yet Milly’s unease grew.

Why is she being kind?

By the seventh question, Stacy’s voice gained a dark pleasure.

“How about this one?”

A complex character.

Finally.

Milly fumbled—deliberately mispronouncing it beyond recognition.

Wrong? Yes.

But Stacy broke off another piece—crushed it into dust—and scattered it by the door.

“Wrong again. Crawl over and pick it up, little Milly.”

Of course.

Here it comes.

Biting back shame, Milly crawled. Ate.

Stacy’s smile deepened.

Good. Almost there.

The cycle repeated.

Simple words—rewards.

Hard words—wrong answers—still rewarded.

With each bite, Milly’s guard lowered.

Perfect.

Time to close the net.

When only a single bite remained, Stacy drew a greeting word—then twisted it into a serpentine script, alien and ancient.

“This one?”

Milly didn’t think.

She answered.

And the moment the sound left her lips—her pupils shrank.

Shit!

“I—I meant—”

To explain—but Stacy’s eyes blazed with dangerous light.

“Little Milly… I don’t recall teaching you other languages. You’ve mastered them all… yet chose to lie. Tell me—what should we do with a deceitful child?”

No chance to defend.

She’d known Milly absorbed all sigils.

The earlier questions? Just bait.

To lull her.

To make her slip.

“I—I didn’t—”

Her protest died.

The ground vanished beneath her.

Tendrils erupted from Stacy’s skirt—wrapping Milly—hurling her onto the bed.

“Bad children… deserve punishment.”

Straddling her, Stacy tore open Milly’s nightgown.

As Milly cried out, Stacy unleashed her wild desire—cruel, possessive, relentless.

Midway, Milly’s sobs softened—turned into whimpers.

When the moment was right, Stacy stopped.

Milly lay flushed, drenched in sweat, mouth hanging open—gasping.

“One choice,” Stacy whispered, fangs sinking into her neck. “Leave this world… or stay and endure.”

In the storm of pleasure and pain, Milly bit her tongue. “I… don’t know how.”

“Boring.”

Stacy pulled away—disinterested.

The sudden absence of pleasure was worse than any torture.

Milly curled up—dry-heaving.

Then—weight lifted.

The cage door slammed shut.