Chapter 34: Unwanted Feelings Stirred

A Misstep Uncovered

Was the brothel fun?

In the past, Rita might’ve hesitated, perhaps even harbored naive fantasies about such places.

After tonight, her answer was resolute.

“Not fun!”

“If it’s not fun, why go? Must be some charm there.” Cecilia’s matter-of-fact tone made Rita’s hair stand on end.

I had reasons! Life-or-death ones—I had to go!

Worse, not only did she fail to solve her problem, she stumbled into new, graver ones.

Yes, no solution! Rita was still starving!

“Cecilia!” Rita stammered, explanations swirling in her throat. Despite being in the right, she lacked confidence. “There’s… a reason.”

“Rita.”

One word from Cecilia silenced her.

It felt like her mom calling her full name—wrong or not, fear was inevitable.

Cecilia asked, “Do you still wish to serve me?”

What kind of question is that?

Alarms blared in Rita’s mind as she frantically searched for the right answer.

A Princess’s Doubts

While Rita wrestled with her thoughts, Cecilia’s heart pounded like thunder.

She held a trace of fear toward Rita—her ability to see curses, her mysterious fighting style, the countless enigmas surrounding her.

Fear of the unknown was human instinct.

Days ago, Cecilia avoided summoning Rita, partly because she hadn’t recovered from the bathhouse terror.

Yesterday’s call was a necessity: faced with ruin or confronting her fear, Cecilia chose the latter.

As the Kingdom’s Fourth Princess, she couldn’t show an ounce of fear before Rita.

To tame a beast, one must appear stronger.

Cecilia waited calmly for Rita’s response.

After a long pause, Rita gave up thinking, blurting out, “Of course! I’m always your person.”

“Then, consorting with black market folk, visiting a brothel alone… you admit to these?” Cecilia pressed, her heartbeat growing heavier, clearer.

“Uh…” Rita opened her mouth, a flood of excuses ready, yet they felt like deflections. She nodded weakly. “I admit.”

“And the Holy Knight’s code, do you remember it?”

“I do…” Rita’s voice weakened further.

“Holy Knights, blessed by the divine, bind themselves to vows: no marriage, no titles, no land, devoting their lives to serving royalty and the divine.”

Cecilia recited what Rita knew well, her tone suddenly stern.

“Spinning lies to me—can that be called honesty?”

“No…”

“Letting desires cloud your body—have you forgotten a knight’s honor?”

It’s not like that! I’m a succubus! I’ll die without that!

Rita’s mind churned, but she didn’t dare speak.

“I haven’t…”

“You vowed to serve me. If others saw your actions, would they tarnish my name?”

“Yes…”

“Though not yet a Holy Knight, you’re mine. Hiding things, acting without thought—does that not betray loyalty?”

“Yes…”

Cecilia pursed her lips, pausing briefly.

“Then, as a future Holy Knight and my subordinate, do you object to the punishment I’ll bestow?”

So that’s her game!

No wonder Cecilia asked if Rita would keep serving her.

What could Rita say? What could she do?

Praying Cecilia wouldn’t dock her pay, she answered pitifully.

“No objections… please, Cecilia, punish me…”

A Strange Stirring

Thump.

Cecilia’s heart skipped heavily.

What was this feeling?

Seeing Rita’s expression, a new, unfamiliar emotion sprouted in Cecilia’s heart.

Unlike the countless servants and maids who merely obeyed, unlike those who schemed for gain, Rita—once untamable—now bowed sincerely, sparking an indescribable thrill in Cecilia.

“Many methods teach lessons, but shame and pain seem most fitting.”

Cecilia steadied her uneven breath, forcing her tone to calm.

“Strip.”

Huh?

Rita couldn’t believe her ears.

Shame? Pain? And strip?

“You’re… not parading me through the streets, right?” Rita asked timidly.

“Of course not. Your shameful state is for no one else to see.”

Sh-shameful!

What’s she going to do to me?

It’s not my first time being embarrassed! Fine, I’ll strip!

Steeling herself, Rita emptied her mind, grabbed her waistband, and yanked her pants down.

“Why are you taking off your pants?” Cecilia’s face flushed. She quickly grabbed a handkerchief, pretending to wipe her mouth, hiding her reaction.

“That’s… not it?” Rita froze mid-motion, pants at her knees, her awkward yet oddly suggestive expression locked in place.

Of course not.

Punishment wasn’t meant to be crude. Pain to the sword-wielding hand, the standing feet, or the prideful cheeks—teaching discipline through shame—was the proper way.

By “strip,” Cecilia meant only gloves and boots.

How did Rita not know such basics?

“So, Cecilia, do I… keep going?” Rita bit her lip, her voice faint, her flushed cheeks and helpless look reigniting the strange spark of desire Cecilia had just suppressed.

Clearing her throat, Cecilia hid her instinctive heavy breathing behind the handkerchief.

Normally, she’d correct Rita and stop her.

But in this late-night room, just the two of them, undisturbed, having seen Rita’s blushing face, with this inexplicable urge to dominate rising within her…

A wholly improper thought, yet one Cecilia couldn’t resist, began to take root in her heart.

“Cecilia…” Rita, still bent over, her trembling fingertips caught Cecilia’s eye.

Fine, let it be.

Cecilia set down the handkerchief.

“Keep going.”