The Alluring Agony of Oseriel’s Silk

Expectation?

How peculiar.

Daphne began to suspect something was amiss with her own psyche.

If she had to describe her current mood, it was akin to the anticipation felt when, after dedicating countless hours and effort to dressing up a female character in a game, one eagerly awaits to see how beautiful their “daughter” has become.

Yet, the situation now was entirely different; it was she herself who would be donning the stockings and women’s clothing, not a virtual animation or model viewed through a screen.

Still, that peculiar feeling of anticipation inexplicably overlapped.

Perhaps it was because this half-blood female character, named Daphne, possessed such flawless beauty that anyone would be eager to witness her meticulously adorned.

Considering this, her sense of expectation seemed perfectly normal.

Daphne temporarily set aside her reservations.

The white stockings had likely rested upon the True Ice statue for over a millennium, making them incredibly cold. The moment her toes brushed the silken surface, they instantly recoiled with a sharp curl.

“Hiss—”

The cold was so piercing it felt as though it drilled into her very core; Daphne felt every nerve in her body tremble.

Her feet were simply too sensitive. With just a light touch, she couldn’t help but release another gush of sweet, cloying liquid, making the swaying and weight of the attached jewels even more pronounced.

This was hardly a major concern, given that her current physique caused her to leak even during normal walking. If she couldn’t grow accustomed to it now, her future would be unbearable.

“It’s fine,” she murmured. “I’ll get used to this eventually. It’s just a pair of stockings.”

Striving to forget the bone-chilling cold, Daphne ultimately gritted her teeth and slid her fair, jade-like right foot into the stocking.

Soft, silky, and chillingly cold—a myriad of strange sensations instantly enveloped her from all directions. The half-blood maiden’s abundant subcutaneous nerves were overwhelmed, as chaotic bioelectrical signals surged wildly through her neural network, culminating in a powerful rush up her spine that obliterated her mind into a blank slate.

She couldn’t help but let out a soft moan.

A brief palpitation, followed by rapid, continuous gasps, saw crystalline beads of sweat trickle down her slightly flushed forehead, while her rose-red eyes had already grown unfocused.

“This… this feeling…”

With immense difficulty, she managed to extend her entire slender right leg into the stocking, every sensitive inch of her skin now tightly encased.

The half-blood maiden, who had never experienced such a sensation, found herself utterly unable to think. Her usually sharp and cunning mind was now a chaotic mess.

‘Just one leg, and I’m already like this…’

‘No.’

The last vestiges of her sanity warned Daphne that this was incredibly dangerous.

Before, when her legs were bare, she occasionally had moments to catch her breath. Now, with the stockings on, it felt as if… this was simply beyond what any normal human could endure.

Just as Daphne was about to pull off the stockings and abandon this torment, she suddenly realized something incredibly important.

Despite enduring so much leakage, the white stockings remained astonishingly dry and silky smooth, as if possessing an extraordinarily powerful absorbent capability.

“Ah!?”

‘Could this be the reason Oseriel couldn’t bear to part with these stockings!?’

Daphne couldn’t help but imagine her future life. She pictured leaving a wet mark on every seat she sat on, a trail of dampness behind her as she walked, and her skirt hem always feeling as if it had been caught in the rain. Moreover, others would detect a pungent, sweet scent whenever they drew near…

From this perspective, it seemed she, like Oseriel, would also be unable to part with these stockings. Their absorbent function was an absolutely crucial, life-saving feature, capable of effectively preventing social mortification.

Upon realizing her reliance on these white stockings, Daphne resolved to endure the torment, no matter how excruciating.

But once her remaining left leg was fully inserted, the delicate-sensed maiden, quite predictably, rolled her eyes slightly, let out a soft gasp, and promptly fainted.

As if emerging from a forgotten dream, Daphne slowly and hazily regained consciousness.

She had slipped from beside the cabinet, collapsing onto the True Ice floor, where the frigid air clashed with the warm field generated by her cloak.

The moment Daphne recovered her senses, she immediately began to convulse violently and scream, her chaotic movements scattering the skirt and shoes that lay on the ground.

After several cycles of fainting and reawakening, Daphne finally began to adapt, finding a brief moment of respite.

[Module Panel: Alluring Attire Lv1]

[The End, Also the Beginning]

[Oseriel’s Spring-Drinker Silk]

[Stockings – White]

[Who is without worries? The Great Mother’s are merely more difficult to articulate.]

[Drink Sweet Spring: Absorbs water in almost limitless quantities. Only specific magic runes can release the absorbed water.]

[Thoughtful Steward: Automatically repairs damage after a period of time. When slipping, it will automatically adjust itself to the wearer’s optimal position.]

Through her continuous, shallow gasps, Daphne could just barely make out the interface displayed on the azure screen, which, while similar to an equipment panel, possessed subtle differences.

” ‘When slipping… automatically adjust to the optimal position?’ ” She read the line aloud, enunciating each word.

The reason was simple: she had only just managed to insert her left leg and foot before collapsing unconscious, and the stockings hadn’t been fully pulled up past her hip line.

‘Surely… it wouldn’t, would it?’

Just as Daphne was about to reassure herself, she felt the elastic band still clinging to her thigh twitch ever so slightly.

Her heart instantly plummeted, turning ice cold.

“N-no, don’t! I can do it myself—Ugh!”

Before the poor half-blood maiden could argue further, the white stockings wrapped around her upper thighs began to swiftly crawl upwards on their own.

The maiden lay convulsing amidst her scattered garments. Her beautiful rose-red eyes were unfocused and rolled back, and tears streamed uncontrollably from the corners of her eyes. Her dark red, pomegranate-like hair fanned out around her, spilling across the floor.

‘It’s just putting on stockings, why must I endure such agony?’

The more Daphne thought about it, the more wronged she felt. She had once been a lofty Pope, yet now she was a lowly half-blood maiden, forced to lie convulsing and wailing in this icy wasteland.

As if sensing her unspoken grievances, the stockings, like a living entity, immediately wriggled and moved again.

Fortunately, Daphne’s cries were like the melodious song of a nightingale, a heavenly sound echoing through the small, ice-colored room.

This was merely a small incident during their first encounter; these stockings would likely accompany our half-blood lady for a very, very long time to come.