Chapter 20

Chapter 20: Passive Threat

Funis still hadn’t fully understood the true meaning of Chescia’s words, but she had already experienced the alluring elegance of the witch’s figure.

When the luxurious silk garments collapsed in folds onto the floor, the once plain room was instantly engulfed in a sea of flowers. Color replaced the monotony of raw wood. The half-open window was gently pulled shut by creeping vines, and the faint sound of wind vanished from her ears.

The black lace corset outlined Chescia’s seductive form with clarity.

Unlike Funis, who was still rather flat, the proud softness of the witch’s chest was something the girl had already experienced before. But this was the first time she had seen it so directly with her own eyes.

Although Chescia always forced Funis to be her cuddle pillow, made her rub horns with her, beyond that, she had long maintained a certain distance. Pressing together through only a thin layer of silk nightwear had been their final boundary.

They were neither too distant nor overly close.

The ambiguity of their relationship, shaped by the succubus identity and their peculiar attitudes toward each other, had always left things indistinct. Yet, Chescia had never crossed the line in the past year—as though she were deliberately protecting Funis, despite the daily intensity of her desire and predatory gaze.

But today, something had changed.

After that helpless sigh, it seemed Chescia had abandoned something within herself.

The beauty of the witch’s figure left Funis unable to look away. She stared dumbly as Chescia kicked away her gown with long black-silk legs, walking toward her in a graceful feline stride, forgetting to cry or protest.

“Miss Witch? By ‘education,’ you mean…?” Funis’s face flushed.

Chescia had come up behind her, brushing aside her long hair and stroking her underarm.

She leaned in, and the thigh covered in black over-knee stockings pressed firmly between Funis’s slightly parted legs. Looking down, Funis could even see the lace band tightly squeezing Chescia’s soft thigh.

“A girl’s body is very fragile.” Unlike her usual teasing tone, Chescia was exceptionally serious this time. “I have to confirm you haven’t done anything reckless—and make sure you won’t in the future.”

But this topic, for Funis—who was once male—made her heart race and her face burn. She panicked.

“Reck… reckless, I didn’t really dare to do anything, just, just a little... outside—mmpf!” Realizing what she was saying midway, the girl bit her tongue in embarrassment.

“Hm~” Chescia’s gaze dropped. She seemed to notice something amusing, and her smirk returned. “My dear girl, you stripped off your dress in such a hurry, forgetting your precious scrolls and insignias, yet you couldn’t bear to take off your stockings and heels even when you got to the mirror~”

“Wha!?” Funis startled.

She hadn’t even realized she was still wearing stockings and shoes—even though they were usually the root of her suffering.

But looking at her reflection in the mirror—her legs elegantly shaped by white stockings, calf muscles taut and soft thanks to the heels—Funis felt that perhaps it wasn’t such an unforgivable flaw. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as she thought.

Simply put, Funis liked the way she looked—elegant and beautiful in long stockings and heels.

It even excited her.

“Falling in love with the girl in the mirror is never a good thing. The tale of Narcissus, after all, ends in a beautiful tragedy. And besides, you used to be a man.” Chescia wrapped her arms around the girl’s waist, hugging her from behind. “Can I really trust you out there alone? The thorn of the Black Rose shouldn’t be a lustful little thing obsessed with what’s between her legs. You need to be sharper—colder.”

The witch nudged the girl’s heels from behind, the glossy black-and-white Mary Jane shoes clacking softly in the mirror, her stockinged legs brushing against each other.

“I-I’ll control myself... Miss Witch... uuh♡~” Funis gasped softly.

But the friction between her legs made her unconsciously stick out her tongue, her gemstone-like pale purple eyes going hazy and unfocused. Her moans grew faster and heavier.

“That’s not convincing at all. Hardly reassuring.” Chescia shook her head.

The witch raised her hand, and the vines suspending the girl’s arms loosened. She gently supported the limp, unsteady Funis from behind.

Holding her hand, Chescia led Funis to the bed, then pushed her down.

The white bedsheets sank under her. The fragile, helpless crystal girl fell into them, mesmerized by the beauty of Chescia’s feminine form. She bit her lip, eyes dreamy.

“Miss Witch, please… be gentle.” Thinking something might be taken from her here, Funis turned her head and murmured bashfully.

“You used to resist so much. What’s going on today?” Chescia found it amusing but kept her face stern.

“I-I don’t know…” Funis covered her face.

Yes.

What was going on?

This woman was her enemy, her foe—someone she had to kill. How could she say something like that to her?

But Chescia was also her sister, her mentor, the person she relied on—someone who knew all her secrets. Whenever trouble arose, the first person Funis thought of was always Chescia. It seemed like Chescia could do anything.

Funis couldn’t understand her own heart.

She believed Chescia was bad—but couldn’t completely break away from her.

The resistance was always there—but not wholly unreceptive.

“Did you meet Sandina?” Chescia asked.

“Yes, Miss Sandina. I met her. She was very kind.” Funis nodded.

Their fingers interlaced. Chescia gently clasped Funis’s hands, pressing down as a rosy fragrance enveloped her.

“Nothing else you want to say?” Chescia asked again.

“I suppose you already know—Miss Sandina killed Charlotte’s birth father. She’s also my enemy. I will take revenge. Someday,” Funis said softly, eyes downcast.

Chescia studied her expression and approved.

“Gloomy, sorrowful, calm on the surface—but there’s fire inside... Perfect. This is my ideal Black Rose Thorn. Keep it up, girl.” She smiled.

Funis pressed her lips together, not responding.

A curtain woven of flowers and leaves now fully covered the glass window. The room dimmed, and the air grew sweet and ambiguous.

“No one can hear us now. Only you and I. I won’t let anyone else hear your voice.” Chescia’s hand slid downward, tugging lightly at the side ribbon of Funis’s undergarments. “Remember to apologize to Sandina in the morning. The bed will be filthy by then.”

Just before the most critical moment, Funis seemed to regain her cool and indifference.

The mercurial girl and the equally mercurial witch—there was never a steady rhythm to their interactions. At times they were warm like family, sweet like lovers, and at others they were enemies ready to tear each other apart.

“Can I consider this... you forcing me?” she asked softly.

“Of course, good girl. You can think whatever you want.” The ribbon pulled long—Flossan Snow Cotton soaked through with moisture dropped to the floor. Chescia answered just as softly. “If possible, I’d want you to remain pure and innocent forever—and let me always be the one to invade.”

Strange.

Was this what she meant by “education”?

Funis couldn’t help but feel that the witch was trying to shoulder all the guilt—so that Funis could hate her without hesitation afterward.

“And I bet you’re dying to know about the Bloodwine Society’s debt collectors and lenders. The Society girls are always so capable—it’s shocking how quickly they dig up info. When this is over, we’ll discuss it all.” Chescia added.

Funis hadn’t even brought up what she’d discovered, yet Chescia already knew.

Maybe for her, solving this trouble wasn’t much effort. Maybe she just wanted Funis to gain experience. Or maybe she had her own reasons for not acting directly.

As for the “lender”—Funis had only heard the term “debt collector” from those low-ranking gang members. She’d never heard of “lenders.”

To find the secret warehouse’s location, she needed that intel.

“So this is the price for making me submit.” she said quietly. “I hope you’ll keep your promise, Miss Witch.”

“Mmhm~”

Chescia didn’t answer directly—but she had never broken a promise.

The witch leaned down. Soft lips met hers. She licked gently, tasting every corner of Funis’s cheek and lips, then bit down lightly.

A long kiss.

And friction.