“Huff… huff…”
She panted, her eyes somewhat glazed.
The faint smile of relief on the corner of her lips had not yet completely faded, instead taking on a layer of morbid satisfaction.
Isayat looked down at her from above, a fleeting, barely perceptible flash of satisfaction crossing those deep eyes that resembled the starry sky.
She walked slowly to Ling Xiya’s side, her cold fingertips gently brushing through the sweat-soaked hair on her forehead, the touch delicate.
“How does it feel, my maid?”
Isayat’s voice remained soft, yet it carried an indisputable magic.
“Giving up is not the end, but a new beginning.”
Ling Xiya trembled slightly, not out of fear, but because of the touch of those fingertips and the sense of security those words provided.
She subconsciously wanted to lean closer to those cold fingertips, as if they were a spring in the desert.
“Yes… Master…”
Her voice was weak, yet it carried a hint of attachment.
“Very good.”
Isayat chuckled softly and withdrew her hand.
“It seems you have already begun to taste the flavor of ‘The Grace.’ Remember this feeling, Ling Xiya. This is a happiness that can only be obtained by obeying me.”
—
From that day on, Isayat’s “The Grace” became more frequent and refined, and before long, Ling Xiya was released.
Isayat no longer merely guided her when Ling Xiya’s willpower was weak; instead, she integrated hypnotic suggestions into every detail of daily life.
Sometimes, while Ling Xiya was cleaning the Demon King’s Chambers, Isayat would say seemingly casually:
“This wiping motion is so docile; it pleases me. Obedience will make you happier.”
As the words fell, Ling Xiya would feel the cloth in her hand become light, and a small surge of joy would rise in her heart.
Sometimes, during a meal, Isayat would personally hand her an exquisite pastry:
“Taste this. This is a sweetness that only the obedient can enjoy. Your taste buds will remember this deliciousness that comes from submission.”
As Ling Xiya chewed the pastry, the cloyingly sweet taste really did seem to link with a sense of happiness from being recognized.
Sometimes, Isayat would have her stand to the side while she told ancient, tranquil stories in a flat tone with a strange rhythm.
Unknowingly, Ling Xiya’s eyes would become vacant, her consciousness sinking into that peaceful atmosphere, her heart filled with nothing but absolute trust in Isayat’s voice.
“You see, the outside world is full of conflict and pain,” Isayat would say, pointing to the eternal dusk outside the window.
“Only by my side can you find true peace. I will protect you and give you everything you want, as long as you rely on me enough and are sufficiently obedient.”
Ling Xiya’s gaze would follow Isayat’s finger toward the window.
Out there was once the goal she had fought for—light and Freedom.
But now, those words had become blurred and distant in her mind, even carrying a hint of uncertain fear.
She began to actively seek Isayat’s approval.
She would clean with more effort and serve with more meticulousness, just to receive an appreciative look or a gentle “well done” from Isayat.
Whenever this happened, she would feel a massive wave of happiness fill her chest, stronger than any time she had ever defeated a magical beast.
Her dependence on Isayat also grew day by day.
If Isayat did not appear in her sight for even a moment, she would feel a strange sense of irritation and unease, as if she had lost her pillar of support.
She would subconsciously search until she saw that familiar figure again and heard that familiar voice; only then could the weight in her heart drop.
She even began to fear being alone; only under the shroud of Isayat’s presence could she feel safe.
Isayat watched all of this.
She knew the time was almost ripe.
That once-resilient soul had been wrapped layer by layer in gentle chains, and was about to belong to her completely.
But before the final “harvest,” she wanted to perform a small test to see if this dependence had already seeped into the marrow of her bones.
A few days later, Isayat disappeared.
It wasn’t a permanent disappearance, but a temporary one.
She no longer appeared in Ling Xiya’s dungeon—or rather, a place Ling Xiya no longer considered a dungeon, but more like a safe corner Isayat “allowed” her to stay in—nor did she perform any form of “The Grace” for her.
At first, Ling Xiya thought Isayat was busy with important matters.
She worked hard to do her duties and waited quietly.
But one day passed, then two, then three… Isayat still did not appear.
An unprecedented sense of panic began to seize Ling Xiya’s heart.
“Master…?”
In the silent room, she would subconsciously call out in a soft voice, so weak it was almost inaudible.
No one responded.
She became restless, her food lost its taste, and she could not sleep at night.
While cleaning, she would frequently look toward the door, expecting that familiar figure to appear.
During meals, those exquisite foods also lost their former sweetness, becoming bland and tasteless.
Without Isayat’s voice, without her touch, without her recognition, Ling Xiya felt as if her world had lost its color and sound, leaving only boundless emptiness and cold.
That feeling of having her strength drained away struck again, but this time, it was accompanied not by pleasure, but by deep-seated fear and pain.
She curled up in a corner, hugging her knees, her body trembling slightly.
She missed Isayat’s voice, she missed those cold fingertips, she missed the sense of security and happiness she brought.
She realized that she needed her so much, just as a fish needs water or a flower needs sunlight.
Without Isayat, she was nothing.
Just as Ling Xiya was about to be completely swallowed by this unease and longing, a demon guard opened her door roughly.
“Hey, you can go,” the guard said expressionlessly.
Ling Xiya snapped her head up, her eyes filled with bloodshot veins and confusion.
“…Go?”
“Yes,” the guard waved his hand impatiently.
“The Demon King is merciful and has decided to let you leave. You can get out of this castle now, and never come back.”
Leave?
The word was like a bolt of lightning striking into Ling Xiya’s chaotic mind.
Freedom?
The thing she had once dreamed of was now right in front of her.
She could leave this place, return to the previous world, return to the sunlight…
However, the expected ecstasy did not arrive.
In its place was an even deeper sense of terror and reluctance.
Leave?
Leave Master Isayat?
No!
As soon as the thought arose, she immediately rejected it.
She couldn’t leave!
Leaving this place meant forever losing Isayat’s “The Grace,” losing that happiness she was addicted to, and losing the dependency she relied on to survive.
The outside world?
She no longer remembered it, nor did she want to.
She only knew that her world was Master Isayat.
Without her, what would she do?
Ling Xiya opened her mouth, her voice hoarse.
“I…”
Just then, another demon guard seemed to “happen” to walk by, intentionally raising his voice to speak to the first guard:
“Have you heard? The Demon King recently got a new maid named Eve. Tsk tsk, she’s a real beauty, much prettier than that human maid named whatever-ya, and much more docile. She’s really captured the Demon King’s favor!”
“Eve?”
Ling Xiya’s heart sank suddenly.
That name—she seemed to have heard it somewhere?
Prettier than her?
More docile?
Deeply favored?
A strange emotion surged in her heart: it was jealousy, and also a strong sense of crisis.
She was afraid—afraid that she would be completely replaced.
If Master Isayat had a better choice, would she no longer be needed?
Would she be completely forgotten?
No!
She didn’t want to be forgotten!
She wanted to stay by her side!
Even if it was just as an insignificant maid, as long as she could stay by her side, feel her presence, and occasionally receive a tiny bit of her attention, she would be satisfied.
Ling Xiya suddenly stood up from the ground, staggering as she rushed to the guard, a nearly desperate determination in her eyes.
“I’m not leaving!”
She cried out, her voice trembling with agitation.
“I’m not leaving here! I want to stay here!”
The guard seemed to freeze for a moment, then revealed a mocking smile.
“Stay here? Do you think the Demon King still needs you? With Eve around, you’re nothing!”
“I don’t care!”
Ling Xiya shook her head, tears falling uncontrollably.
“I… I can’t leave her… I need her… I need her… Please, let me stay…”
She even disregarded her dignity and knelt down, toward the direction of the Demon King’s Chambers, begging humbly.
Her pride, her courage, had long been worn away by “The Grace” time and again, leaving only a morbid dependence and craving for Isayat.
Hiding in the shadows, observing all of this through a Magic Crystal, a satisfied, cold smile finally appeared on Isayat’s face.
“Very good, Ling Xiya.”
She spoke softly, as if whispering to herself.
“It seems your soul truly belongs to me completely now.”
“However… I still have to give you a punishment for your previous disobedience…”
She waved her hand, and the newly created “Eve”—who possessed an appearance identical to Ling Xiya’s but more perfect, with eyes as vacant as an exquisite doll—silently withdrew.