A Maid’s Obsession and a Queen’s Predicament

Ophelia awoke to find Marta standing by her bed, her face positioned intimately close to hers, a gaze filled with a peculiar, almost morbid tenderness in her eyes.

“Marta…?” Ophelia gasped, startled.

Marta exuded an unsettling aura, one that instilled a subtle fear, as she held a bowl in her hands.

“Your Majesty, I have come to bring your meal.”

Ophelia tilted her head.

“Bring my meal? Isn’t that the maids’ duty?”

Though Ophelia’s maids held no respect for her, often leaving her to fetch her own meals, the question still stood.

“It is my duty now, Your Majesty, for I have dismissed all the maids; they were of no use anyway.”

Ophelia froze, utterly stunned.

She looked up at Marta, whose eyes resembled a deep, cerulean vortex. Marta maintained her smile, yet it evoked an inexplicable dread within Ophelia.

“Marta… she’s still angry, isn’t she…?”

‘The only explanation was that Marta was angry about yesterday’s events, wasn’t it…? Indeed, someone with social phobia (TL Note: A profound fear of social situations or interactions, often leading to avoidance) like me, lacking the protagonist’s abilities, really shouldn’t carelessly go around saving people, sob…’

“I am not angry, Your Majesty. If you wish to believe me, I can kiss the back of your foot again right now.”

Marta’s gaze was fixed on Ophelia.

In her eyes, Ophelia’s reflection shimmered.

Having just woken up, Ophelia’s expression was still somewhat hazy. She had slept in a white dress, which now lay disheveled, revealing the perfect curve of her legs and her fair, delicate feet.

The straps of her dress had fallen, exposing Ophelia’s smooth shoulders and delicate collarbones. Faintly, one could even discern the cleavage between her peaks.

Marta swallowed hard.

Her throat bobbed, her gaze fixated on those fair, delicate feet.

“If… if you were to ask me to lick them… I would be willing to…”

‘Stop, stop, I can’t handle it! Just thinking about that image felt wrong. Marta, such an ice-cold beauty (TL Note: A common trope referring to a beautiful woman who is emotionally distant or aloof), licking my feet? What even is this?’

‘Her inner soul was that of a shut-in otaku (TL Note: A Japanese term for a person with obsessive interests, often in anime, manga, or video games, and who may have poor social skills or be reclusive) with social phobia, one who used to fantasize about licking others’ feet. But having someone else lick hers? That was just too much, wasn’t it?’

“No, no, it’s not necessary,” Ophelia stammered, sitting up. “I… I was just worried Marta was angry. Since you’re not, that’s good. But why did you dismiss all the maids?”

“Because I, your subordinate, must protect you, I have decided to stay by your side without taking a single step away, starting from today. I will attend to your every need: your meals, your daily routines, your bathing, and your sleep. For example, from tonight onward, I shall bathe Your Majesty, and when you sleep, forgive my presumption, but I shall sleep… on the floor beside your bed.”

‘A beautiful girl never leaving my side!?’

‘This is truly exaggerated,’ Ophelia couldn’t help but think. She was accustomed to living alone, and now, suddenly, a beautiful girl was proclaiming she would live by her side constantly; it was just too much…

“No, no, there’s no need for that, is there? It would be too much trouble for Marta. I really don’t think it’s necessary,” Ophelia protested, her face flushing just imagining the scenario.

Marta fell silent.

That brief silence, however, filled Ophelia with a terrifying sensation.

Then, Marta set down the bowl she held and abruptly pushed Ophelia down onto the bed. She leaned in close, so close that Ophelia could discern the faint scent of Marta’s hair.

“My Queen.”

‘That look truly instilled terror, resembling the various yandere (TL Note: A Japanese term for a character who is initially loving and caring, but whose affection turns into an obsessive, violent, and destructive possessiveness, often leading to psychological or physical harm to others or themselves) characters Ophelia had seen in her anime series (TL Note: A Japanese animated television show).’

“You see… I effortlessly pinned you to the bed. You didn’t even have the strength to resist.”

Ophelia was momentarily stunned.

It seemed to be true. Her strength was incredibly meager now; she had, in fact, used all her might to resist just now, but it was utterly useless.

Marta had encountered almost no resistance when pushing her down.

Her hand suddenly tightened, and Ophelia instantly felt a sharp pain. She couldn’t help but gasp, which only intensified the dark gleam in Marta’s eyes.

“Why don’t you understand? You, a belle of a troubled era (TL Note: A poetic term for a beautiful woman living in tumultuous times), so fragile and so endearing, you must be properly protected…”

As if startled awake, she suddenly took a step back.

Her gaze, which had been of lightless depth, transformed into an expression of alarm.

A red mark appeared on Ophelia’s pristine arm, a trace left by Marta’s sudden grip.

“Forgive… forgive me, I, your subordinate, lost my composure!” Marta’s expression instantly shifted to one of utter panic and helplessness.

Ophelia gently rubbed her arm.

‘Am I truly so delicate, weak, and easily pushed down? Sob, this body is just too weak…’

“It’s alright,” Ophelia said reassuringly. “Worry makes one act rashly (TL Note: A Chinese idiom implying that when one cares deeply, they may act impulsively or make mistakes). It just shows Marta cares deeply for me. I’m actually very happy about it~”

“Thank you, Marta.”

Ophelia forced a smile as best she could.

For some reason, Marta became even more flustered. The sun was shining brightly that day, its rays streaming through the window, casting a shadow over her forehead and obscuring her eyes. She bowed, then quietly retreated.

****

Having finished the meal by her bedside, Ophelia stood up.

In the full-length mirror by the window, she saw herself with white hair.

Her white hair, those red eyes still held such melancholy. The white dress barely covered her body; her figure was indeed too perfect. Paired with those melancholic eyes and that fragile aura, even Ophelia herself felt an urge to push herself down.

‘I can understand Marta’s momentary lapse of composure! Yes, I forgive her! This body is truly too alluring!’

Ophelia, who believed she now understood Marta, sat down. Though this world’s setting seemed to be one of swords and magic, there was a calendar and a pocket watch nearby, and the calculation and expression of time were identical to her original world.

This allowed Ophelia to clearly align with the original novel’s storyline.

At this point in time, the next female lead to be entangled with was a noble young lady, who was destined to be publicly repudiated by Prince Eli. Then, the male protagonist would step forward to take her away.

Then, Eli, angered and humiliated, would send a troop of soldiers to surround them. In the original text, the male protagonist would break through the encirclement, get injured, and then have the female lead tend to him. However, since I needed to earn cultivation points (TL Note: A common term in web novels referring to points gained through character development, influence, or relationship building), at this moment, I could try to reprimand those soldiers again, and while drawing in the male protagonist, also earn the female lead’s cultivation points.

She took a deep breath.

This event would happen tomorrow at three in the afternoon, and then she would have to face a crowd of people again. The thought made her so nervous she felt nauseous; she could only constantly recall her successful experience at the last banquet.

‘Calm down, calm down… Phew…’

She began to visualize tomorrow’s scene in her mind: when those soldiers surrounded the male and female protagonists, she had to step out boldly, elegantly, and gracefully command them to retreat, summoning the same imposing aura she had displayed last time!

“Your Majesty?” The door creaked open, and Marta poked her head in, a hint of suspicion in her eyes.

Only then did Ophelia realize that her vivid imagination had made her too excited; she had already stood up, one foot propped on a stool. Her face flushed, just as she was about to explain, when Marta’s face also turned red.

Because one leg was raised, and the white dress was quite short, the view beneath the skirt was utterly boundless, presenting Marta with an unobstructed sight.

As Ophelia, blushing profusely, awkwardly tried to pull her skirt down, Marta stepped inside. Her eyes once again took on that vortex-like appearance, her face was flushed, and she licked her lips.

“Your Majesty, there are no maids left. Shall I assist you with changing?”