Princess's Struggle for Survival-Chapter 491: Mistress

Feeling Lyra’s gaze lingering on her, Astrid withdrew her hand from beside her skirt, straightened her legs, and gently rested her two slender, black-stockinged feet, smooth as dark chocolate, against the blanket, elegantly overlapping them as she moved.

"Am I really that captivating to look at, Lyra?"

Astrid casually brushed aside a strand of silver hair that had fallen forward. The hem of her skirt, slightly wrinkled from being pressed by her sword sheath earlier, remains half-rucked, revealing a sliver of delicate, snow-white skin that glistened under the soft moonlight, exuding a proud, icy fragrance.

Hearing Astrid’s words, Lyra’s ears turned faintly red, and she answered in a small voice.

"Mm..."

"Astrid... you’re still as beautiful as ever."

She once thought that meeting Astrid in her dreams might carry some sort of romanticized filter, after all, who could resist embellishing their beloved with all the beauty the world had to offer?

But now, seeing Astrid in reality, that so-called filter seems never to have existed at all.

She was even more stunning than the fleeting dream images, and far more real.

Seeing the faint sparkle in Lyra’s eyes, like stars falling onto a sapphire sea, Astrid slightly narrowed her beautiful eyes, her fingers resting on her thigh.

"So... you’re not sleepy anymore?"

Earlier, Astrid had been sitting at the desk, listening as Lyra’s slippers tapped lightly against the floor before she walked straight to the bed and collapsed onto it without hesitation, clearly exhausted.

Lyra nodded, her fingertips instinctively reaching for her thigh, lightly gripping and rubbing the fabric of her thigh-highs without attempting to hide it.

"I was really sleepy just now... but the moment I saw Astrid, I wasn’t tired anymore."

Who could remain calm after being suddenly reunited with someone they’d been apart from for so long?

Besides, Lyra was a Peak tier Magnus and Master Knight with exceptional physical conditioning. If she truly needed to stay awake, she could endure days and nights without rest, once her body clock passed the threshold, mental willpower would suppress fatigue.

The reason she rested daily like an ordinary person was simply to fully restore her mental energy, ensuring she wouldn’t fail as the commander responsible for one-third of the defensive line when the battle broke out unexpectedly.

Hearing the barely-contained joy in Lyra’s voice, Astrid leaned forward slightly, bending her waist as her face tilted toward the pink-haired knight who was no longer the naive girl she once was.

Bathed in silver moonlight, the girl’s delicate face was veiled in a cool glow, her long lashes like soft brushes resting gently over her clear blue eyes.

Compared to her days in the capital, Lyra now exuded a noticeably more composed presence, both in expression and demeanor, her earlier air of an endearing, slightly clumsy beauty having faded.

The military truly was one of the fastest ways to change a person.

Yet, seeing the gentle light in Lyra’s eyes, Astrid couldn’t help but feel a pang in her heart.

That pure innocence since when Lyra first arrived in the capital, once as blank as white paper, had now matured, strengthened by experience and tested by life-and-death trials. It was no longer pure, yet it could still soften into tenderness before her.

Beneath that gentleness, however, lay a resilient core that Astrid found impossible not to cherish.

She wanted Lyra to grow, grow strong enough to face everything yet to come, to become someone truly capable of realizing her ideals and ambitions.

But at times, Astrid also wished Lyra wouldn’t mature too quickly. Growth always came with pain, and a kind-hearted girl like her shouldn’t have to endure so much hardship.

At her core, as Astrid Calliste, the villainess who repeatedly targeted the protagonist in the original story, her ability to help Lyra was ultimately limited. Often, it was up to Lyra herself to respond.

For instance, in this border conflict, without Lyra’s presence, the army’s ability to hold the line long-term would have been questionable, and the casualty rate would certainly have been on a completely different scale.

After being stared at for so long, Lyra thought perhaps her earlier words had been too intense. She bit her lip slightly, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks.

Meanwhile, Astrid noticed the change in Lyra’s expression. From that face and reddening earlobes, she once again saw glimpses of the maid from the past, the girl who would turn bright red the moment she touched Astrid’s personal garments, too shy to even glance at the black skirt and stockings laid atop the pile, a true blushing maiden.

Some things had changed. Some things had stayed the same.

Reaching out, Astrid gently pinched Lyra’s cheek. The face that was usually stern and serious before soldiers instantly burst into flames, turning hot and red, shame rushing through her entire body.

"You’ve worked so hard all this time, Lyra," Astrid murmured softly, her crimson eyes reflecting the pink-haired girl beside the bed.

"Though I can see and hear everything from the capital, I’ve never personally witnessed the desolation of the Empire’s northern frontier, nor felt that bone-chilling wind that pierces through sleeves and deep into the body."

Constantly facing life-or-death trials, watching lives slip away beside you, compared to the sheltered, love-filled first twenty years of Lyra’s life, this military existence was nothing short of a nightmare.

"But you endured it... and you did wonderfully, Lyra," Astrid said.

"Just now, while inspecting the soldiers, I heard so many stories about you."

"You’re the commander who stands beside them. The Holy knight who places soldiers’ lives above all else. The bulwark of the Valeria Empire."

To become Charles’s recognized knight-captain in less than half a year and earn the soldiers’ deep admiration,

No matter who else tried, even Astrid herself, it might not have been possible.

Hearing Astrid’s unreserved praise, Lyra’s blush deepened. Her two white-stockinged feet, which had slipped out of her slippers during earlier movements, gently touched at the tips, modified rubbing together.

"I’m not that amazing..."

"Everyone fights hard for their families back home."

At that, the faint joy that had just bloomed in Lyra’s heart quickly faded, her fingers gripping the stocking cuff pausing mid-motion.

Although her troops’ casualty rate was low, it wasn’t zero. In prolonged battles, losses were inevitable, including members of her former command squad, the comrades who once shared meals at the same table.

War had taken their lives, shattered their hopes and dreams for the future. Everything had bled away into nothingness, becoming another cruel remnant on this snow-covered wasteland.

Sensing Lyra’s shift in mood, Astrid leaned closer, her body tilting as a warm, fragrant breeze brushed against the other.

"I’ve spoken openly to Dean Anthony about you."

"He said, ’Lyra is the pride of Elizabeth Academy of Magic, and the most brilliant Imperial knight I’ve seen in years.’"

Warm breath grazed her neck. In response to Astrid’s sudden closeness, Lyra stiffened her waist, the lingering sorrow in her heart partially dispelled by this small gesture.

"Did the Master Anthony really say that...?" Lyra asked softly.

"Of course," Astrid nodded, smoothly shifting the topic.

"Though... ’Master’, that’s the first time I’ve heard you use such a title."

Back when Lyra was a maid, she usually addressed nobles as "Your Lordship" and royal family members as "Your Highness." Astrid had never heard her use such a term before.

Lyra fluttered her eyelashes briefly, whispering, "Because the Dean... is truly worthy of respect..."

So even when speaking with Astrid, the honor came out instinctively.

Astrid let out a soft "oh," then leaned even closer. Her flawless face loomed larger in Lyra’s vision.

"What about me, Lyra?"

"Am I someone worthy of respect too?"

Lyra froze for a moment, then snapped out of her daze, answering softly.

"Astrid... of course you are..."

In Lyra’s heart, Astrid was a noble, but not like those who merely exploited the common people, sucking their blood while claiming superiority.

Astrid considered the Empire’s commoners in nearly every decision, striving to choose a wise ruler, crafting gentler laws to ensure peace for generations.

In this feudal empire still bound by medieval systems, without any advanced enlightenment movements, such a figure was like a clear spring amid rotten nobility. If Astrid were Empress, her actions would undoubtedly earn her the title of a sage ruler.

But that respect was wrapped in even deeper affection, so there was no need to single it out. Lyra rarely expressed this explicitly, though in a way, this was exactly why she loved the current Astrid, rather than Tristian from the previous timeline, with whom she’d gotten along well, but who had profited handsomely from war between nations.

From Tristian’s perspective as a duke’s son, acting in his family’s interest wasn’t wrong. But to Lyra, his actions had only plunged the nation back into war, aiding the tyrannical child ruler and bringing more suffering to the common people, one of the root causes of disaster.

Those who walk different paths cannot journey together. How could the original Lyra ever accept Tristian’s advances?

Hearing Lyra’s affirmative answer, Astrid rested her chin on her hand, her alluring pink lips parting slightly.

"Yet I’ve never once heard Lyra call me ’Master’~"

"Or perhaps, as a maid, there should be a more direct way to address me?"

"For example..."

Astrid paused, tilting her face slightly upward, her voice dripping with seduction.

"...Mistress."

That brief pause imbued the already shame-inducing term with an almost magical power, causing Lyra’s heart to tremble involuntarily.

Such titles weren’t uncommon between employers and maids. Many nobles who loved to flaunt their status enjoyed having their maids address them this way, as if using such terms could express absolute control over their subordinates, satisfying their greedy desire for possession.

And judging from the nobles Lyra had encountered during her time as a maid, those who used such daily addresses were mostly their "personal" maids.

Personal in every sense of the word, often required to serve even at night.

Fully aware of the implications, Lyra’s face instantly flushed red, her palms pressing against the edge of her thigh-highs. Even her white-stockinged legs, which had been neatly pressed together beside the bed, reacted almost like a knee-jerk reflex, unconsciously lifting slightly.

Calling Astrid... "Mistress"...

It was just too embarrassing.

Knowing Astrid was nothing like those Imperial nobles, and that she was probably just teasing or indulging in some playfulness, Lyra didn’t feel any aversion. Instead, she began wondering whether it was even feasible.

C-could she really overcome her shyness and say it aloud...?

And for some reason, Lyra’s mind kept replaying the image of Astrid tilting her face upward, uttering that word in an incredibly alluring tone.

Silky silver hair cascading down, her black dress slightly revealing smooth, round shoulders in the warmer room without a shawl, glossy lips parting as she spoke those words at a distance so close it was almost a kiss.

Mistress.

That single word, when spoken by Astrid, clearly carried far greater impact than if she said it herself. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

Dazed, Lyra suddenly felt warmth spreading through her legs. Looking down, she saw a sleek, black-stockinged leg pressed against her own, whether by accident or intent, its smooth fabric gently rubbing against her, even producing a faint, soft rustling sound in the air.

That Astrid, the princess who loved to tease her, hadn’t changed one bit.

She just... couldn’t resist her like this...

"Can’t say it?"

Astrid curved her lips, her breath warm and sweet.

"Or... would you like me to demonstrate again?"

As if to further provoke Lyra, Astrid moved even closer. Her soft, slender foot slides over Lyra’s creamy, white-stockinged ankle, a feather-light touch far harder to withstand than any bold move, like a gentle scratch right over the heart.

"Mm?"

Accompanied by that soft hum, the pink-haired girl’s mind was nearly blank. Lyra dared not think any further, instead forcing herself upright, emptying her mind.

It’s just a simple word... saying it shouldn’t be a big deal...

No hidden meanings... no inappropriate connotations...

Why had she become so flustered? Or rather, so impure?

"..."

Seeing Lyra completely dazed, Astrid chuckled, deciding not to tease her further. She smiled gently.

"You’re still so adorable, Lyra..."

Not crushed by the high-pressure environment, not scarred by severe war trauma, still harboring that innocent, lovesick girl who once blushed at the sight of someone she liked.

That was enough.

Hearing Astrid call her adorable, Lyra’s heart fluttered wildly again, her mind instantly clouded.

"...It’s not... impossible," she answered in a voice nearly shrunk into silence.