Drip.

Drip.

In the dim space, some unknown liquid was dripping rhythmically, one drop at a time, echoing through the silence like a ghost’s breath. The sound carried a bone-deep chill, like something out of a haunted domain.

Muen remained shackled, arms spread in that crucified position. His body couldn’t move—worse, the most sensitive and vulnerable part of him was completely exposed, unprotected. It was a posture that bred unease... and something else. A disturbing tension.

The whole situation reminded Muen of a rabbit about to be slaughtered. Or worse—of a certain kind of... roleplay. The kind that involved bindings ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) and power imbalance.

And in his current state... it could honestly go either way.

Because Anne, usually the picture of refined dignity, had transformed into something else entirely—like a seductive serpent, her soft, curvaceous body coiled tightly around him, greedily devouring everything that was Muen.

“H-Hey... Anne, could you maybe, um, get off me first? I think we should talk.”

Muen swallowed hard. The physical sensations pressing against him were sending heat into places he did not want heated right now. He mentally chanted every calm-heart mantra he knew, struggling to keep his voice steady.

Anne rose slowly, her tongue trailing across her glossy lips.

“What does Young Master wish to talk about?”

Her cheeks were still unnaturally flushed, her eyes slightly glazed. Deep in those eyes shimmered a mix of leftover hunger... and the quiet irritation of being interrupted.

“Well...”

Muen hesitated, trying to find the right words.

“You like me, right?”

“Of course~”

Anne smiled sweetly. “I’ve always liked Young Master. Liked you, and liked you, and liked you and liked you and liked you and liked you and liked you and liked you to the point of madness.”

“N-No need to say ‘liked’ that many times.”

Muen tried to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead—only to remember, of course, that his arms were still chained.

And that’s when Anne bent down and licked it off for him.

Her soft, warm tongue slid over his skin, collecting the salty moisture.

“Mmm... Young Master’s taste...” she murmured, wearing a blissful expression as if she’d just sampled a fine delicacy.

“......”

Muen froze.

Before he could even process what just happened, his jaw started trembling again.

This was bad.

This was really bad.

Anne’s level of yandere insanity was way more intense than he thought.

But it was too late to back out now. He had no choice but to press on.

“You know, Anne, you really... you didn’t have to go this far.”

“Hm?” she tilted her head, puzzled.

“I mean, you like me, right? So we could’ve just, I don’t know—started dating like normal people. Like a regular couple.”

Muen rushed the words out, clinging to the one possible escape route.

“You might not know this, but when Father left, he told me himself—he doesn’t care about class or status. So even though I’m the Duke’s son and you’re a maid, no one would stop us from being together.

You really didn’t have to do all this,” he added, glancing at the shackles. “This is literally a crime.”

“I see... so that’s how you think of it, Young Master?”

Anne rested her chin in her hands, her eyes dreamy, face full of pure bliss, like she was envisioning some radiant future.

“To truly become one with you, Young Master... just imagining it makes me happy.”

“Yes, right, that’s great. So just, uh, let me go now?”

Sensing a chance, Muen pushed harder.

“We can start fresh. Just date like a normal couple, get to know each other, build mutual trust, and then—”

“Ah, that won’t do.”

Anne’s soft voice cut him off.

“...Huh?”

Muen blinked in confusion, only to meet her eyes—

Now icy. Razor-sharp.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

“Dating you would be nice,” Anne said quietly, “but it wouldn’t even come close to satisfying my needs.”

“...Needs?”

“I already said it, didn’t I?”

Anne’s tone turned tender again. “What I want... is everything of Young Master.

If we dated, would you give me everything? Every thought? Every cell? Every breath? Would you be mine, in full?”

“No! That’s way too much to ask!” Muen growled, anger rising. “I’m a living person, not someone’s goddamn possession!”

“But I’ve spent ten whole years working toward that exact goal.”

Anne didn’t flinch. She gently stroked his face, eyes brimming with obsession.

“I failed. That’s true. And it’s unfortunate. So this... was the only method left.”

“...Ten years...?”

Muen’s gut twisted. He didn’t understand what she meant.

But some part of him—deep down—was already bracing for something horrible.

Something foundational.

“What do I mean? Of course I’m talking about everything I’ve done for you, Young Master.”

Anne’s voice was so calm. So loving.

“I guided you. Protected you. Spoiled you. Slowly, day by day, I turned you arrogant, proud, ignorant. I helped you become a useless, hated young master. Especially hated by all those simpering noble swine.

I made sure no one could ever truly approach you but me.

So that the moment you left me... you’d be completely helpless.”

“For ten years, I’ve been doing this—without pause—so you’d belong to only me.”

“...What?”

Muen’s brain detonated.

He stared at Anne, paralyzed, and saw the horror reflected in her maddened gaze—his own face, twisted in terror.

Wait.

What was she saying?

That in the original novel, Muen Campbell only turned out so useless because of her?

Because of Anne’s manipulation?

That couldn’t be. No one could be that insane. No one would go that far just to possess another human being—

...

No.

Maybe they would.

Because now that he thought about it, both the original novel and his own memories backed it up.

Muen trusted his maid Anne deeply.

So much so that even when he drugged the princess, he hadn’t hidden it from her.

Wait. No—

Come to think of it, wasn’t it Anne who suggested drugging Celicia in the first place?!

A light snapped on in Muen’s brain.

In the original story, Muen had grown furious seeing Celicia grow closer to the protagonist.

And Anne had said—

【In that case, why not make the princess yours, completely?】

That’s it. That was the moment.

That was when the original Muen made the decision to do it.

“...But why? Why would she do that? Wouldn’t that get her killed?”

In the original story, Anne had supposedly died as an accomplice.

Muen stared at her now, heart thundering, as a terrifying thought surfaced.

Did she really die?

If she was just an ordinary maid, she should’ve been executed without question.

But based on what she’d already shown—knocking him out in one move—did she really die that easily?

After all, the novel only described her death in passing.

What if she faked it?

What if she used some trick to make everyone think she was dead?

And then—

What if the original story’s “fated encounter,” where the protagonist caught Muen mid-crime... wasn’t fate at all?

Given what Muen had seen and learned since arriving in this world, “destiny” seemed a lot less reliable.

And what if—

What if the Muen Campbell of the original story didn’t lose his limbs and become a beggar because of debt?

What if he had been running away...

From someone?

The deeper he thought, the colder he felt.

The more he thought—

The more terrifying it became.