Chapter 19: Intimate Instruction
It was just like lying naked in bed about to call upon heaven for guidance, only to look up and find your own mother walking in, standing by the door with a kind, gentle smile.
The pinnacle of embarrassment.
That was exactly how Funis felt now. No difference in essence.
Just as she snapped out of her shock and bent down to pick up her dress, a vine suddenly dropped from the ceiling and tightly bound her arms.
The silver-haired girl was immediately hoisted into the air, her back arching sharply. In the mirror, her waist and abdomen curved in an exquisite silhouette, skin as delicate and pale as silk.
“Quite the good mood, huh? I don’t usually see you this cheerful.”
The shadow that had slipped in through the broken window was undoubtedly Chescia.
She set her veil-adorned ceremonial hat on the bedpost. The black-haired witch lifted her gown and approached Funis from behind, the crisp tap of heels echoing through the small room.
Lace-gloved fingers brushed through long hair, tracing her waist and hips—elegant curves like a winding mountain range. Her touch lingered.
Fabric slid.
Tingling sensations bloomed.
“Mi-Miss Witch... I just felt a little hot, so...” Funis's voice trembled.
“But it’s not so hot that you'd even take this off, is it?”
Chescia brushed aside the girl’s hair at the nape, fingers gliding past her cream-smooth shoulders. Her wine-red eyes dropped slowly, from the chest down to the waist, then below.
She lightly tugged at the side ribbon of Funis’s undergarment, but didn’t pull hard—just enough to tighten slightly before letting go.
The girl in the mirror dared not breathe too hard. Funis wanted to close her eyes, but was afraid Chescia would really undo that knot. Tears welled at her lash line, her soft gasps laced with faint sobs.
“Flossan Snow Cotton—a marvelous plant. Can absorb moisture up to a thousand times its own weight. The fabric made from it isn’t cheap, but you had no other option for your undergarments. Can a girl maintain any modesty once the disguise is stripped away?”
Chescia had only tugged slightly.
Drip.
The sound was clear as droplets hit the floor.
Funis’s porcelain-white face flushed crimson. Even her ears and neck looked cooked through, like they might start bleeding from sheer heat.
“Poor, sloppy lies don’t deserve to exist. Girl, I believe I taught you that,” Chescia whispered into her ear.
Funis pressed her lips together, trying to resist, but in the end, she gave in.
“Fine... I admit it...” she said quietly.
Pause.
Funis glanced sidelong at Chescia, hoping the implication was enough.
But she had underestimated the witch’s cruelty.
Chescia gently caressed Funis’s slender waist, then leaned in and whispered in a soft, teasing voice, “Admit what? I didn’t quite catch that. Mm... or are you being dishonest?”
It felt like a lightning strike.
Funis couldn’t believe she actually wanted her—someone who had once been a man—to say such shameful things aloud. It was pure humiliation.
Clenching her teeth.
Anger burned in her pale purple eyes, but she couldn’t defy the witch’s will.
“I-I admit...” Funis said with tearful bitterness, “I couldn’t hold it anymore... so...”
She couldn’t bring herself to say the rest.
“So-so I...”
It defied everything—her male soul, the dignity of a lady. The morals and logic instilled over two lifetimes wouldn’t allow her to continue. Funis felt like crying.
“‘Couldn’t hold it anymore~’ What a cute way to put it.” But Chescia didn’t mind. On the contrary, she was enjoying it—mimicking the girl’s flustered, angry, and helpless voice with teasing affection. “I understand. It was your first real fight. You’ve never gone through such intense physical exertion before.”
“How many times, I wonder? Did it happen when you pulled the trigger? When you thrust that stiletto into an enemy’s throat? Does it hit at those moments?”
But the witch wasn’t done tormenting her—on the contrary, a new round of interrogation began.
Of course it did!
Just sitting still in stockings was overwhelming enough, let alone fighting while staying agile, bouncing left and right in heels. If she let her guard down even slightly, the intensity could send her spiraling on the spot.
How many times?
So many she’d lost count...
But Funis could only grumble silently. There was no way she could voice these mortifying truths.
Unexpectedly, Chescia let go of her and silently walked over to pick up the leather ammo pouch Funis had tossed carelessly to the floor. The metal zipper was half-open, parchment and insignias slipping out.
The crisp sound of items hitting the ground made Funis shudder.
She didn’t dare look.
“Something this important, just thrown on the ground like that? In such a rush?” Chescia frowned.
Funis recalled how she’d been humming while tossing her things around when she entered. That behavior wasn’t at all fitting for someone with proper sense. She had no rebuttal.
She could tell Chescia was genuinely angry.
Even if Chescia’s reasons for anger were always strange, they still meant the girl had made a mistake.
The witch returned to Funis’s side, eyes cold as she scrutinized the girl’s delicate body. Her arms hung from the ceiling vines in a bewitching pose, thick silver hair cascading to blur her exposed chest and back.
“When did this start?” Chescia demanded coldly.
Funis shot her a glance, but retreated immediately under that near-freezing stare. Shaking, she replied, “Th-three months ago? In the bath... I accidentally touched something...”
“And after that?” Chescia pressed.
“Once a week...”
“Really?”
“At-at first it was once a week... then... it got more frequent...”
Her voice trailed off, barely a whisper.
Funis couldn’t lift her head. But with her arms suspended, she couldn’t lower it either.
Her rounded toes inside her white stockings fidgeted awkwardly in her shoes, soles slick with sweat, each pulse of sensation racing up her spine to her head.
“And now? How often?” Chescia continued her interrogation.
Like a kettle about to boil, Funis’s face turned bright red, almost steaming.
“When you’re not around...”
“So that means... every chance you get, as long as I’m not there, you can’t resist?” Blood swirled around Chescia like chains and needles. She scowled. “Girl, I told you to protect yourself out there. This is how you protect yourself?”
“N-no... Miss Witch, please don’t...” Funis saw the blood streams, as sharp as iron chains and needles, drawing closer. She turned pale with terror.
The girl couldn’t escape the vine’s grip. She closed her eyes in fear, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Chescia pressed her palm to her forehead, sighed deeply, and the blood dissolved into nothing.
Funis waited a long time, but the pain she remembered never came. When she cautiously opened her eyes, she saw Chescia pulling open the butterfly-shaped ribbon at her own collar.
“If this is education, we might as well do it thoroughly. Including how to be a proper girl.”
The night-dress rustled as it fell to the floor.