The Three States of Kaelan

Faint demonic light gently enveloped Saranya’s entire body.N

She lay sideways on the bed, relishing the sensation of Kaelan’s small hands wandering across her skin.

The wounds on her flesh were slowly mending.

“Mistress, what was written on the manuscript you gave Aivy?”

Kaelan’s expression was serene.

Having vented her frustrations, the young witch had entered a thoughtful, almost sage-like mode.

As her fingers kneaded Saranya’s shoulders, she offered her reply:

“Many things, actually.

Within it are my instructions on her spellcasting methods, rules she must abide by as a member of the coven and my companion, and… I explained why she should choose to cooperate with me, and the true significance of our endeavor to control Vero.”

“Hmm…”

Under Kaelan’s touch, Saranya lazily stretched her limbs, letting out a soft purr.

Yet, her tone was distinctly sour:

“But Mistress, you haven’t told me any of these things yet…”

“Indeed.”

Kaelan curved her lips into a faint smile, as if discerning the subtle hint of jealousy in Saranya’s voice.

“Then you—”

Before Saranya could finish speaking, Kaelan abruptly ceased her movements, leaning in to press her lips against Saranya’s.

“Mph! *Kiss*~”

The soft kiss made Saranya’s eyes sparkle with affection.

“Would you rather read those cold, lifeless words, or would you prefer I show you these things with your own eyes?”

“Um… where are we going?”

“Hillburg Manor.”

The two ordered some pastries from the tavern’s kitchen.

As they exited the tavern, Leif’s carriage, having just delivered Vireta and the Night Lily Knights, had returned to the entrance.

Kaelan promptly instructed the coachman to drive them to the Manor once more.

At the prospect of traversing the exact same route twice, Leif merely offered a helpless smile.

The butler had long grown accustomed to Kaelan’s capricious demands.

As dusk began to fall, Saranya dined with her Mistress inside the carriage.

They opened the window to let the night breeze from Vero’s upper city caress them for a while.

Afterward, Saranya helped her Mistress open the carriage’s wardrobe and select a dark purple, corseted gown.

It seemed her Mistress had a particular fondness for dark, slightly Gothic attire.

This style genuinely suited her, imbuing her with an air of delicate asceticism.

“Mistress, when you wear shoes, especially boots, it’s best to put on socks first, otherwise your feet will get stinky…”

Saranya held the heavy, black leather riding boots in her hands, gently slipping one onto her Mistress’s pristine, jade-like foot.

“Stop always telling me what to do.

I don’t want to wear them; it’s so much more comfortable barefoot.

If they get stinky, you can wash them for me…”

Seeing Kaelan pout, looking utterly childish and willful, Saranya could only shake her head with a wry smile.

“Saranya, wear the outfit on the far left.”

“Huh? Do I need to change too?”

“Less talk! I want to see you in that one.”

“Alright, I’ll wear it, Mistress…”

Saranya retrieved the garment her Mistress had indicated.

It was a battle tunic crafted from tanned gray wolf fur, deliberately styled after northern attire.

Overlaid with a layer of fine chainmail, its left shoulder bore a sculpted ice wolf’s head fashioned from a single piece of wrought iron.

The wolf’s eyes were two magic-sensitive crystals that would glow upon encountering magic.

For warmth, the collar was lined with a trim of slender, silver-gray mink fur.

The garment fit perfectly, suggesting Kaelan had commissioned it specifically for her.

‘How exactly did Mistress know my height, limb measurements, and vital statistics—such private information?

Could she have measured me while I was sound asleep?’

The image of Kaelan, armed with a tape measure, tiptoeing over to her while she was deep in slumber, holding her breath to secretly gauge her body’s dimensions, made Saranya’s lips curl into an involuntary smile.

‘Hehe, Mistress has such a heavy air of sneakiness…’

Saranya stood at attention before the mirror, turning sideways.

Her fingers traced the ends of her slightly curled hair, sweeping the cascading black strands behind her.

Then, she meticulously admired her upright posture, a hint of pride gradually blooming on her face.

‘Damn, I really look handsome…’

‘This ensemble must have cost more than Kaelan’s gown.’

“How is it? Do you… do you like it?”

“Mistress is truly odd.

Why would she think of trying to please a s*ave?”

“Nonsense, don’t be ridiculous… I wasn’t doing that at all.

I merely felt that if you weren’t dressed well, it would reflect poorly on my own dignity…”

“I like it.”

Saranya narrowed her eyes slightly, her gaze deep and intense.

This stare caused Kaelan to cross her arms, somewhat nervously clasping her elbows.

“Oh, um… don’t misunderstand, this isn’t a gift.

It’s a small reward for your loyalty.

Just remember your place at all times, that’s all…”

“Mistress, may I have a moment…?”

“Hey, what are you doing?!”

Saranya knelt on one knee, helped her Mistress into a seat, and adorned her with a crimson blood-agate earring.

“It’s still here…”

Kaelan was utterly disarmed by this sudden gesture, her expression instantly melting, her eyes misting over.

She raised a small hand, clasping Saranya’s fingers along with her own earlobe.

“Little Ya, I, I’m not even sure myself…

It’s just, perhaps… I think I… that thing… for you…”

“Hmm?”

The carriage suddenly swayed, then came to a halt.

From the front seat, Leif’s voice drifted back:

“Lady, Young Mistress, we’ve arrived at Hillburg Manor!”

“Oh! Alright! Just drop us at the main gate!”

Kaelan seemed to awaken from a dream, releasing Saranya’s hand and rising to pull open the carriage door.

“Mistress, what were you about to say just now?”

“It’s nothing, not important.

Let’s go…”

Saranya chuckled softly, following her Mistress out of the carriage and approaching the Manor’s grand gates.

Based on her observations, Kaelan seemed to possess a “malice” meter, with this malice slowly accumulating over time.

Kaelan also seemed to cycle between three distinct psychological states.

When her malice level was below halfway, her Mistress would be in State One, her usual cold and indifferent demeanor.

In this state, the young witch’s mind was filled with a nearly brutal rationality, a rationality that allowed her to handle matters efficiently and pursue her ambitions.

As long as Saranya was obedient, she could remain safe for the time being.

However, if her Mistress received any sudden stimulus that caused her malice to spike, she would enter State Two.

She would become extremely neurotic, her mind profoundly unstable.

At such times, her Mistress would tend to vent her emotions by tormenting Saranya, dulling her own mind to prevent more extreme behavior, until her malice index subsided once more.

As for State Three… it existed only in Saranya’s imagination.

She had never truly witnessed her Mistress in that state.

She had a feeling that if her Mistress’s malice ever reached zero, she would enter this third state, transforming back into the innocent, carefree half-elf maiden she had once been, long ago.

Saranya felt that her Mistress had been very close to that state just moments ago.

Yet, there was always a resistance, forcing her Mistress away from that most tranquil State Three.

It was like a curse, tearing at her Mistress’s mind every waking moment, driving her towards the brink of collapse.

The source of that resistance, it must be… a series of permanent psychological traumas, mustn’t it?

The mind is not like the body; its wounds can never truly heal.

The pathological desires born from a diseased mind would not simply vanish with a few kind words or benevolent interactions.

Instead, they would be suppressed and displaced, finding release in myriad ways.

And she, Saranya the s*ave, was merely the vessel her Mistress used to process these desires.

Her Mistress could manipulate and torment her with a clear conscience.

Afterward, she would apologize and even invite Saranya to take the dominant role, believing she was paying a great price.

Little did she realize, this was no price at all, but merely one part of their shared play.

Most terrifying of all, having fully mapped out her Mistress’s psyche and recognized these entanglements, Saranya actually wished for this twisted relationship to continue.

They were like two perfectly interlocking puzzle pieces, fitting together seamlessly, neither wishing to exist apart from the other.

Watching Kaelan’s elegant back, Saranya frowned, a subtle unease stirring within her.

Her Mistress and she were treading on thin ice.

They absolutely had to take the Vero enterprise seriously, shifting their focus from their relationship to external matters.

Otherwise, if they were to make even a slight misstep, jeopardizing her Mistress’s ambitions and leaving only the two of them to each other… they might very well collapse, plummeting headlong into an abyss of depravity.