A Disquieting Awakening

“Cough! Cough cough…”

Saranya rolled onto her side, her ice-blue eyes slowly fluttering open.

Before her, a vast expanse of dark, cracked ship planks stretched out. The intricate, dizzying patterns of the wood grain swam before her eyes.

“Lady Saranya!” She had barely stirred, not even having drawn a full breath, when a small head with light golden short hair immediately drew close. “You’re finally, finally awake!”

“Paresha…” Saranya mused. ‘During the entirety of her slumber, this girl must have fixed her gaze upon her with unwavering intensity, utterly motionless. Otherwise, such a swift reaction would have been impossible.’

“How long did I sleep? Have you been here the whole time?”

“Not long… perhaps four hours. Yes, Xiao Sha has been here the entire time.” Paresha nervously licked her lips, her gaze dropping to avoid Saranya’s eyes. “It was Lady Kaelan’s task. She instructed me to care for you, never to leave your side for a single step.”

“Talia… where is Talia?!” A sudden thought struck Saranya, and she pressed Paresha for an answer.

The young priestess merely shook her head, her expression vacant.

A sharp ache stung Saranya’s nose. She pressed her scarred hands against her eyes, rubbing them vigorously, before forcing a reassuring, ‘I’m fine’ smile towards Paresha.

“I… I’m so sorry!” Paresha, sensing the forced nature of Saranya’s smile, visibly panicked. She immediately bowed her head deeply, offering a humble apology.

Yet, the girl had clearly done nothing to warrant such distress.

“Why are you always licking your lips…? Are you thirsty?”

“Uh! No…” Saranya attempted to shift the topic, hoping to dissipate the heavy atmosphere. Yet, Paresha reacted as if her tail had been trodden upon; she quickly clamped her moist lips shut, stammering incoherently for a prolonged moment.

“What?” Saranya murmured, a puzzled frown on her face. Instinctively, she raised a hand to her neck, her fingertips lightly tracing her skin.

Slowly, a disquieting sensation began to settle over her.

It wasn’t a significant matter, not in itself.

Ordinarily, fresh water was a precious commodity at sea. Adhering to the maxim of conservation, bathing on board was a rare luxury. Consequently, skin inevitably accumulated grime and sweat over time, and being coated in salt from the sea breeze and spray was an expected reality.

Moreover, she had recently been immersed in the ocean itself. Her body should have been thoroughly soiled, emanating a distinct, unpleasant odor.

But now…

Yet, why was her skin, from her brow to her ankles—her forehead, cheeks, chest, and waist—so remarkably clean and smooth, as if freshly emerged from a bath?

“Who… who wiped my body?” Saranya’s face tinged with a faint blush. Across from her, however, Paresha’s face was a vivid, steaming crimson.

No!

Saranya scrambled from the bedding, and though Paresha moved to assist, Saranya abruptly slapped her hand away.

“Lady Saranya…!”

No, no, no…

Her gaze swept the confines of the cabin. She found herself in an exceptionally cramped, private space, so minuscule it evoked the image of a capsule hotel room.

Within this tiny chamber, beyond herself, Paresha, and the bedding, nothing else existed. There were no vessels for fresh water, nor any washing implements such as towels.

She lay unclothed, covered only by a few linen scraps intended for staunching blood. In a stark contrast, even these freshly provided, supposedly clean cloths appeared considerably more soiled than her own skin.

Then, her gaze fell upon Paresha: the girl’s guilty expression, her lips repeatedly parting and closing, and the restless, pink tip of her tongue darting erratically within her mouth…

Saranya’s understanding dawned, her face instantly clouding with a dark expression. Instinctively, she hugged her own body tightly.

“Answer me, Paresha! Why have you been licking your lips? What did you, you bastard, do to me while I was asleep?!”

“Ugh! I… I ate something salty… truly… I swear it’s the truth…”

“You!”

Mortified and incandescent with rage, Saranya quickly checked her waist, shoulders, and her two delicate breasts. To her utter dismay, she indeed felt a trace of damp liquid upon those soft, pinkish mounds.

With that discovery, the last vestige of hope within her heart evaporated entirely.

Her fists clenched tightly in response.

The realization that she had truly been subjected to such an act by Paresha brought tears of fury to Saranya’s eyes. She slammed her fist against the ship’s plank, wincing from the sudden pain, yet her gaze remained fixed on Paresha, wide with indignation.

“What is wrong with you, Paresha? What has gotten into you?! This isn’t you… This vulgar, perverse creature is not the Paresha I know! How could you commit such an act… Is this, by some twisted chance, another task Kaelan assigned you?!”

The mere mention of Kaelan’s name instantly terrified Paresha, stripping away her defiant facade.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!!! I was wrong! I was wrong, My Liege! Please, I beg you, do not tell Lady Kaelan. It was me, I did it! I merely intended to help you remove your soiled clothes… I, I am terribly sinful! You saved my brother… and yet I…”

With practiced ease, Paresha bent her knees, dropping to the ground with a soft thud. She prostrated herself at Saranya’s feet, sobbing, pleading for forgiveness. “I am unworthy… unworthy of being human… Lady Saranya, towards you… I truly could not resist… Perhaps I am truly, truly just livestock, precisely as Lady Kaelan once declared…”

Unbeknownst to Saranya, at some indeterminate point, the young priestess had shed all the reverence and admiration she once harbored. The Paresha before her now was limitlessly humble, utterly spineless, viewing herself solely as a tool to serve both Saranya and Kaelan.

“Please, do not reveal this to Lady Kaelan! If she were to learn… she would surely cast me aside… I cannot bear to be abandoned by either of you… Livestock… I am your livestock… I… I am willing to be your and Lady Kaelan’s livestock, I beg you… do not strip me… do not strip me of my very purpose.”

Could this truly be the same spoiled, arrogant noble bastard she once knew? The sole priestess of Vero City, a revered religious authority within her jurisdiction, reduced to this girl before her, debasing herself with such fervent abandon?

What was most tragic, however, was Saranya’s realization, gleaned from Paresha’s eyes, that the girl, uttering such self-deprecating words like a masochist, was not doing so under duress.

Paresha was relishing it. She savored the entire process, delighting in her own helplessness, in the act of prostrating herself before the master who wielded absolute dominion over her body and spirit.

‘Miss Priestess,’ Saranya thought, a bitter taste in her mouth, ‘you have utterly transformed into a pervert.’

The realization struck Saranya with a profound sense of irony, for Kaelan had, once again, emerged victorious.

This was not how things were meant to be.

Paresha Greystone, she was never meant for this. She should have been a glorious priestess, wielding divine arts, a beacon of faith leading her congregation from delusion. She should never have willingly debased herself into a lowly s*ave.

“……”

The more Saranya dwelled on these thoughts, the more her irritation flared. A furious, nameless fire ignited within her, its sharp point aimed directly at the individual beside her.

“Kneel properly, livestock, show me what livestock looks like…”

As if on cue, Paresha complied. The girl dropped to all fours like a dog, prostrating herself on the ground, her gaze lifting to Saranya with an almost worshipful intensity, as if Saranya herself were the Pale Moon Goddess she professed to serve.

“You… useless, cowardly wretch!!!”

Saranya seized Paresha by the neck, brutally slamming her against the cabin wall.

She disregarded the searing pain of her wounds, for a layer of ice armor had already encased her skin, effectively numbing her senses.

Turning to Paresha, Saranya observed the girl’s expression. Despite being violently slammed against the cabin wall, Paresha’s face was etched with a look of pure ecstasy. Her small mouth parted slightly, releasing faint wisps of breath. Her light golden hair, damp with sweat, clung to her cheeks, though a few rebellious strands escaped, provocatively tickling her nose.

Disappointment and fury churned within Saranya, and Paresha’s reaction only intensified her volatile emotions. It was as if an unseen whirlpool had materialized between them, inexorably dragging them both into a deepening abyss.