Chapter 9: The Little One Who Was Almost Broken

The vines tightened, yanking her ankle. Milly’s dangling body swung like a pendulum beneath the crystal chandelier, her snow-white hair trailing like shattered moonlight.

“Proper address is the foundation of etiquette.” Her mouth was freed, the tendril releasing her tongue. “One final demonstration—say Master.”

Veins bulged on Milly’s strained neck. A garbled sound squeezed from her throat. “Say… say your mom…”

The tendril seized her tongue again, cutting off the last syllable in a choked whimper.

‘More stubborn each time. After everything she’s been through, why won’t she just obey? Have I not been thorough enough? It can’t be that she’s a masochist, can it?’

Stacy’s lips curled into a smile, a bloody starlight flashing in the depths of her pupils. Her glowing purple fingertip tapped the tendril. Tiny, sharp barbs sprouted from its surface, tightening around Milly’s tongue. A faint, metallic taste of rust filled her mouth.

It wasn’t just the pain. Milly’s pupils constricted. Something was wrong with her senses.

A bead of sweat rolling down her eyelash felt like a searing steel ball. The friction of fabric against her skin was like a high-voltage current. Her senses were amplified. Even the slightest touch sent waves of overwhelming stimuli through her body.

A manic gleam appeared in Stacy’s eyes. This was the perfect opportunity. She looked down at the suspended Milly, her fingertip tracing a phantom line across her tense stomach. The stimulated skin instantly broke out in a rash of shivers, and the silver bell on her garter jingled softly, like a startled wind chime.

“Your mouth is stubborn, but your body is honest.” Stacy’s voice was as cold as colliding icicles, her fingertip tracing the curve of Milly’s waist. Milly’s breathing grew ragged, her pale skin flushing pink. The tips of her feet arched into a fragile bow in the crystal light. A trickle of blood slipped from her bitten lip, staining her jade-like collarbone red.

But it wasn’t over. Stacy’s thumb pressed down below Milly’s ribs, feeling the violent rise and fall of her chest. Milly’s shoulder blades were clearly visible under the light, fluttering like a butterfly’s wings with every tremor. When her fingertip reached the end of her ribcage, a broken gasp finally escaped her lips.

“Ma… Master…”

The fractured sound made Stacy’s pupils shrink. She suddenly closed her hand, completely enveloping Milly’s waist. Her spine arched like a fully drawn bowstring, and the hanging vines groaned as if about to snap. Stacy’s silver hair brushed against Milly’s sweat-soaked forehead, her own smiling reflection visible in Milly’s constricted pupils—the smug satisfaction of a hunter watching its prey’s final struggles.

The crystal chandelier cast fragmented light spots, plating Stacy’s profile with the cold gleam of a blade. She released her grip and took a step back, admiring Milly as she twitched like a beached fish.

“Is this your limit already?” Stacy’s fingertip lifted Milly’s chin. “But Little Milly, I can’t hear you.”

“Master…”

Her consciousness was already numb. The word came out as a reflex. But Stacy’s cold fingers pinched her sweaty chin. “Where’s the volume you had when you were hissing at me earlier, Little Milly?”

All shame was gone. Milly just wanted the agony to end. With a final, desperate abandon, her voice echoed through the chamber, much louder this time.

“Master!”

Good. All restraints were released, and Milly’s body fell like a doll with its strings cut. Before she hit the ground, Stacy caught her by the nape of her neck and pulled her into an embrace. Silver strands of hair fell across Milly’s sweat-drenched forehead. “Now, I don’t need to teach you again, do I?”

“Ma… Master…”

The broken whisper escaped her lips. Stacy stroked Milly’s unfocused eyes. If she had just been this obedient from the start, she wouldn’t have had to suffer. This was the third time. Why couldn’t this little one learn?

She placed Milly on the bed and was about to tidy her disheveled nightgown when she noticed the fabric felt warm.

‘No way… how could this happen?’

After cleaning Milly up and changing her into a new nightgown, Stacy saw that her eyes were still vacant. The little one’s mouth hung open, occasionally letting out a few babbling sounds.

‘I didn’t break her brain, did I?’

Perhaps she should use the neural resonance spell less often. This modified spell of hers amplified a person’s senses manifold. She’d never had a chance to use it before, and it was unexpectedly potent on Milly. It seemed a bit dangerous. One time was enough to leave a lasting impression. After all, if she got addicted and lost control, the little one would be broken for good.

She just wanted to give Milly a little punishment, not actually drive her to her death. Once was enough.

While the little one was still out of it, she considered what to teach next. Daily vocabulary seemed like a good start. She wouldn’t teach too much on the first day; thirty words should be enough.

As she planned the thirty words, she occasionally checked on Milly. The little one was drooling with her mouth open, completely undignified. She still needed some time. That was fine. It gave her time to think of suitable punishments for any mistakes Milly might make.

As time passed, the color slowly returned to Milly’s eyes.

The first thing she saw upon waking was Stacy sitting beside her, reading a book and occasionally writing something down.

A flicker of hatred crossed her eyes, but she quickly suppressed it. She was no match for Stacy. The pervert had literally hung her up and beaten her.

Although her senses had returned to normal, her tongue was still sore, the taste of rust lingered in her mouth, and the bruises on her ankle where the vines had been throbbed with pain. In short, her whole body ached.

Seeing Milly awake, Stacy put down the ancient book. The little one’s eyes were filled with fear, but just before that, her expression had been quite different.

“Ma… Master.”

Noticing she was being watched, Milly let out a timid voice. For the sake of that “Master,” Stacy decided to let it go and proceed to the next step.

It was lesson time. First, learning the characters. Stacy would write the words on a piece of parchment and then give Milly the corresponding meaning in her mind. Milly had thirty seconds to memorize each character. If she made a spelling mistake, an ink-stained tendril would write the character on her body. To avoid being covered in ink, Milly desperately tried to memorize the strange, rune-like characters.

Being drawn on was one thing, but if she made a pronunciation error, the damned Stacy would make a tendril enter her mouth and press on her tongue. It was disgusting.

By the time dusk stained the windows, Milly was collapsed on the carpet by the floor-length mirror. The white-haired girl in the reflection looked haggard, her exposed arms and legs covered in writing, almost looking “righteous.”

“Three mistakes out of thirty words.”

Stacy collected Milly’s answer sheet. Three mistakes or less meant no punishment. Noticing the bruises on Milly’s ankle, Stacy’s fingertip glowed with a faint light, and the wounds healed at a visible rate.

Milly looked up at Stacy suspiciously. She couldn’t believe Stacy would be so kind as to heal her. But then, Stacy suddenly took her hand and led her out of the chamber.

They passed through the throne hall and entered an unfamiliar room where a dining table large enough for dozens of people stood.

“Little Milly did quite well in her studies today. You must be hungry now.”

After a day of suffering, was this a trick?

Or… was it reward time?