Chapter 16: I’m Afraid of Losing Control

The bathroom echoed with the sound of running water.

Steam rose, condensing into tiny droplets on the tiles.

Mili curled up in the corner of the bathtub, arms wrapped tightly around her bent knees, trying to shield her frail body.

Her exposed skin prickled with goosebumps from shame and fear.

She buried her face in her knees, too terrified to look at the woman.

Seraphina sat on the edge of the tub, holding a damp white towel, wiping Mili’s back with movements that seemed gentle but carried forceful pressure.

From her slender neck to her slightly protruding shoulder blades, down to her fragile waist…

Each touch through the wet towel felt like a venomous snake slithering over her, making Mili tremble uncontrollably, stifled whimpers escaping her throat.

“Don’t move.”

“Relax…”

The woman’s low voice hissed like a demon’s whisper in Mili’s ear.

Her warm breath grazed Mili’s neck.

“You’re making me… excited.”

“I might not be able to hold back.”

Seraphina draped the towel forward, her calloused fingertips brushing Mili’s tense skin, deliberately lingering near private areas…

After a while, the girl before her became a mute gourd, stiff as a statue.

Aside from silent tears streaming down, even her sobs had ceased.

This reaction left Seraphina puzzled, feeling oddly unsatisfied.

She was rarely in such a good mood, and this girl was so uncooperative?

Her fingers traced the curve of Mili’s spine, pressing hard along the vertebrae until the girl shuddered in pain.

“Stop crying.” Seraphina’s voice carried impatience. “I’m helping you bathe. You should thank me, hm?”

“…”

“Tch—”

Boring.

She clicked her tongue in irritation, grabbing the body wash and squeezing it into her palm, then began roughly lathering Mili’s body, heedless of whether it hurt.

The humiliation and helplessness were more torturous than any physical pain, pushing Mili to the brink of collapse.

After what felt like an eternity, the ordeal finally ended.

Seraphina yanked her up, wrapped her head to toe in a soft, dry towel, then carried her horizontally and tossed her onto the bed.

Night deepened.

Mili curled up in the corner, wrapped tightly in the blanket.

Her tears had run dry, her body teetering between exhaustion and defiance.

The room’s main light was off, only a small bedside lamp casting a dim yellow glow, stretching Seraphina’s shadow long across the wall like a lurking specter…

Whenever Mili closed her eyes, those horrific memories resurfaced, growing more monstrous, shredding her sleep.

The occasional rustle of turning pages cut through the quiet night, like a bored reaper counting prayer beads.

“Can’t sleep?” Seraphina’s voice broke the silence, low and resonant in the stillness.

Mili’s body jolted.

She didn’t answer.

The woman tilted her book, glancing at the small figure on the bed.

“I understand.” Her tone carried a strange gentleness.

“The first time is always… uncomfortable.”

“…?”

What was she talking about?

First time? Uncomfortable?

“But you’ll get used to it…”

“I’ll make you get used to it.”

“You need to learn to be more… cooperative, to please me…”

Mili stayed silent, afraid her indignant corrections would provoke worse.

“You know,” Seraphina looked out at the night beyond the window, “I rarely care for anyone personally.”

“You should feel honored.”

Mili kept her eyes shut, praying it was all a nightmare.

But the voice continued.

“Tomorrow—”

Before she could finish, Mili passed out from exhaustion.

Hearing the girl’s faint, even breathing, Seraphina closed her book.

The pages rested on the table of contents, which she’d been flipping through aimlessly, not reading a word.

Her attention had always been on the curled-up figure in the bed.

Watching her fear, her reactions, every subtle tremble.

This feeling…

It was intoxicating.

Unlike the thrill of a quick kill—ending her would be a waste.

Keeping her tightly leashed, usable only by her, was the best way to maximize her value…

But something felt lacking…

What was it?

Hm…

Seraphina stood, stretching her stiff neck, her silver hair glinting coldly in the dim light.

She walked to the bed, lifted the blanket’s edge, and leaned down to study Mili’s pale face.

Even in sleep, the girl’s brows were furrowed.

Dried tears clung to her long lashes, making her look like a fragile, restless animal, pitifully vulnerable.

Seraphina reached out, curiously tugging at the girl’s sweat-dampened bangs with her fingertips.

“Such a fragile thing…” she murmured, her tone unclear—pity or disdain?

She straightened, turned, and left the room.

Outside in the corridor, Evelyn was waiting.

“Your Majesty.” She bowed slightly.

“What did the medical team say?” Seraphina asked as she walked, her voice reverting to its usual icy calm.

“The director just submitted the report,” Evelyn followed, reporting steadily:

“She believes… Miss Mili’s physical condition is extremely weak.”

“Prolonged high-stress fear could cause irreversible mental and physical damage.”

“Additionally, from a medical perspective… Your Majesty, the patient should avoid frequent water exposure, especially prolonged soaking…”

“Particularly when she’s so frail, with unhealed minor wounds…” Evelyn paused, choosing her words carefully:

“It could easily lead to… fever and infection.”

“A little water will kill her?” Seraphina’s steps didn’t falter.

“Half-dead and still so sentimental.” Her voice carried faint mockery.

“Eisenburg has no use for fragile weaklings or doctors who only theorize.”

“Her job is to ensure my ‘asset’ remains functional, not to question my methods.”

Evelyn listened silently, not responding.

She knew the Queen’s temper.

Anyone who questioned her decisions faced dire consequences.

“Tell her, if Mili shows any adverse reactions, use the best drugs and equipment to restore her.”

“I don’t want excuses.”

“She just needs to obey me.”

“And the nutritionist? How’s the new diet plan?”

“It’s been adjusted based on today’s data, Your Majesty,” Evelyn reported.

“Starting tomorrow, high-protein and micronutrient intake will increase to improve her condition for the upcoming surgery.”

“Good.” Seraphina nodded slightly. “When’s the implant surgery scheduled?”

“The department says it’ll take at least three days for final calibration to ensure perfection.”

“Three days…” Seraphina tapped her temple with her finger:

“Tell them to speed up. Two days max. The supply convoy’s almost here, and I won’t waste time on this.”

“If they can’t deliver, they’ll answer to me.”

“Understood, Your Majesty,” Evelyn replied without hesitation.

They reached the command room, where heavy metal doors slid open smoothly.

Seraphina stood before the massive floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking [Eisenburg]’s layered steel walls, a dormant beast in the night.

Beyond, the dark wasteland stretched endlessly.

“How long will Eisenburg’s food reserves last?” she asked suddenly.

“With current consumption rates, factoring in the new refugees—”

“At most… three months, Your Majesty.”

“Only three months…” Seraphina repeated softly, a cold glint in her eyes. “Too short.”

She needed more food, more resources.

Only then could [Eisenburg] stand unshaken in this wasteland, unyielding, and perhaps…

Expand outward.