Chapter 8: An Unconventional Pact
Fingertips brushed lightly over the snowy white stocking, feeling its coolness and delicate texture.
Funis involuntarily swallowed. She was nearly naked, sitting sideways on the cashmere carpet spread at the foot of the bed, her jade-like bare feet resting beside her turning a soft pink, toes gently tapping.
This wasn’t the first time she had handled girls’ skirts and stockings. Charlotte wasn’t exactly a diligent girl, and Funis—as the doting father figure—had often washed her foster daughter’s clothes.
But this was fundamentally different. After all, washing someone else’s clothes didn’t require her to wear them herself. Spoiling her daughter wasn’t shameful.
Now, however, the one wearing this soft, fluttery dress and stockings was herself…
Funis sneaked a glance up at Chescia.
The black-haired, red-eyed witch was sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed, one leg bare and porcelain-smooth as she removed her long stocking, while the other remained clad in pitch-black nylon. Her black leather shoe dangled from her toes, lightly swinging in the candlelight.
She looked down at Funis with a playful yet cold gaze, laced with an undeniable authority.
“If you don’t hurry, I’ll have to help you~”
More than a threat, Chescia’s tone brimmed with anticipation and eagerness. It seemed she had long wanted to do this—and had waited quite a while.
“N-no need… I can do it myself…” Funis lowered her head, trembling.
Just imagining that scene gave her goosebumps all over. If it actually came to that, it would be pure humiliation—over her dead body.
Funis refocused her gaze on the white stocking in her hand.
She swallowed again.
There was no other choice—she had to grit her teeth and go through with it.
“Farewell, my male life.”
Closing her eyes, she whispered to herself, as if in prayer, in a voice only she could hear.
With great resolve, the silver-haired girl grasped the stocking’s edge, scrunched it up, and slowly slid her smooth, tender foot into it, wrapping it snugly up to her ankle.
Her first reaction was cold.
The silky texture was soft and cool. The moment the sole of her foot touched it, a chill seeped through her skin and into her bones, echoing inside.
Then came the subtle friction.
As Funis grasped the edge and gradually pulled the stocking up, every pore and nerve sensed the tingling stimulation. Her fragile constitution quickly buckled under the sensation—her movements halted intermittently.
Her soft gasps grew heavier.
In the candlelight, Funis could see the puffs of vapor from her breath, and the sweet, cloying scent drifting into the air.
“N-no, I must put them on quickly...♡”
Chescia’s burning gaze made Funis even more frantic. But the more anxious she grew, the clumsier her hands became, and the stronger the friction between stocking and leg.
“Uugh♡——!”
Her pink tongue peeked out, violet eyes rolled back in a daze—Funis was on the verge of losing consciousness.
This was terrible.
Forget the process of putting them on—even if the fabric merely clung to her legs, the stimulation wouldn’t stop.
To Funis, this flimsy silk wasn’t so much an over-the-knee stocking as it was a torture device—designed to disgrace and break her down.
The witch suddenly grabbed Funis’s arm, pulling the unguarded girl into her embrace.
“Hmph~ Looks like I’ll have to help you after all,” Chescia chuckled smugly.
“Eh? N-no... I can—eeek♡!?”
Just as Funis reacted and tried to wriggle away, the half-pulled-up white stocking was yanked sharply to her thigh. The tight lace cuff snapped crisply against her smooth, even, pale skin.
As she nearly fainted and collapsed, Chescia gently caught and turned her over, settling her securely on her lap.
“Mmgh♡——!”
Then came the second leg and second stocking.
The shock snapped Funis briefly from her daze, but Chescia firmly held her shoulders down, preventing any reflexive jerking away from the stimulation.
Thinking was no longer possible. Her entire body was limp. Funis let Chescia dress her however she pleased—corset, lace-up panties, even the outermost strapless gown were put on before she realized it.
A voluminous, ornate long dress. Slender legs sheathed in white over-the-knee stockings. Pale ribbons tied into butterfly knots nestled in her translucent horns and glimmering silver hair.
Only now did the silver-haired girl truly resemble a delicate doll.
Of course, that’s if one ignored her dazed eyes and flushed cheeks.
Chescia gently inserted fingers drenched in sweet, sticky nectar into Funis’s mouth. “Such a messy girl, dripping everywhere. I’ll have to return it all to you.”
She pressed firmly, forcing the teary-eyed girl to slowly and thoroughly lick them clean.
Right in front of them was a wide, floor-length mirror. Funis could see that sweet yet pitiful girl lying limply in the witch’s arms, black and white-stockinged legs intertwined, arms stretched high and locked tight, crystal-clear drool spilling from her lips.
No doubt it was intentional—Chescia wanted her to see this completely submissive, broken side of herself.
“Why…”
“What?”
Maybe she didn’t hear clearly, or maybe she was surprised that Funis could still form a thought in this state.
Chescia withdrew her fingers and gently asked in return.
“Why didn’t you kill me... why me...” the girl murmured, lips trembling.
Chescia smiled softly. “Because it had to be you. Because it could only be you. Because I chose you. Can’t you see? You’re so lovable now. I can’t bear to let you go.”
Funis dazedly looked again at her reflection.
A flawless crystal girl.
She didn’t understand.
“I haven’t had many dreams, but you always appear in them. You’re important to me, even if I don’t yet understand why.” Chescia leaned down silently, her smooth cheek brushing against Funis’s, the mirror image sultry and tender. “Remember? You’re special—whether as a succubus or as a witch. Your power of infinite healing and resurrection isn’t invincible—it’s because I gave you a portion of my mark.”
It was like being jolted awake with a shot of adrenaline. Funis became instantly alert.
She clearly saw the same mark appear on Chescia’s forehead as the one on the back of her own hand—hers, her Witch Mark.
“Your intuition was right—only I can kill you. No one else, not even you yourself,” Chescia said softly.
No—that wasn’t true.
There was another way.
“Or... if I want to kill myself... I’d have to first...” the girl’s voice quivered.
She didn’t know if it was fear or excitement.
She couldn’t tell anymore.
Chescia gently guided Funis’s hands to clasp around her own neck. The witch bowed her head, her wine-red eyes filled with indulgence. “Or, you can kill me first, and then end your own life.”
But could she really do that?
She was no longer the esteemed Fourth Sequence Transcendent trusted by the Pope. She was no longer the feared enforcer of the Temperance Court.
How was she supposed to kill the Crimson Witch?
How could she defeat a being powerful enough to rival an entire nation?
“Whether you accept it or not, to me, from the moment you became a succubus, you were already family.” Chescia’s smile deepened, her blood-red gaze growing more intense. “Since this is your wish, your request, I’ll gladly help you achieve it. I’m not someone who breaks promises easily.”
“I’ll raise you,” she said.
“Ten years, twenty, even fifty—I’ll wait until the day you’re strong enough to defeat and kill me.”
Chescia grasped Funis’s chin.
She looked into the eyes of this small, fragile, yet still resolute girl.
“That look—I love it. So tenacious and stubborn like a rock. So righteous and devoted like a hero. So brave and reckless like a fool… and now, such an adorable girl—it’s absolutely perfect.”
Chescia caressed Funis’s cheek.
“Alright.” The girl nodded.
She accepted it.
It was the first time since arriving here that she had truly accepted something of her own will. She had made up her mind.
“Very good. Then starting today, I’ll be your sister and teacher.” Chescia smiled with satisfaction.
“Now, can you tell me what you should call me?”
Funis lowered her eyes slightly, her head bowed, silver hair cascading gently over her shoulders.
“As you command... Miss Witch.”