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Among the many ways Camilla tormented the half-blood demons, her favorite was hot tea.
Even as they suffered, they ultimately did whatever she said. Every time she witnessed that, Camilla felt a rush of absolute control — a deep, intoxicating joy. While some in the empire admired the superior abilities of mixed-blood demons, others looked down on them as mere hybrids, regardless of status. Camilla belonged firmly to the latter. She secretly despised them, calling them mongrels under her breath.
*They speak the human tongue, but they are no different from livestock.*
That contempt gave Camilla a private sense of superiority she savored. With the Grand Duchess's backing, she indulged in tormenting the half-bloods as freely as she always had.
The corners of Camilla's lips curled ever so slightly.
"That — please stop it!"
Mina screamed as though she had finally reached her limit.
"Things may have been different before, but now... if Her Highness finds out about this, she won't let it go so easily!"
"What?"
A flicker of cold amusement crossed Camilla's elegant face. Rebecca — *blaming* her for punishing a half-blood demon? That was laughable. Rebecca had enjoyed these sessions more than anyone. If anything, it was Rebecca herself who had once urged Camilla to be more careful, afraid she would be caught by the Grand Duke and dismissed.
And Camilla had worked hard to shape Rebecca into exactly what she was now.
Ever since becoming the Grand Duchess's lady-in-waiting, Camilla had been patient — subtle, methodical. Little by little, over a long stretch of time, she had cultivated in Rebecca the belief that these creatures were something lesser, something apart from noble mortals.
At first, Rebecca had often shown discomfort. But plagued by a deep need for affection and prone to fits of anxiety, she had slowly been drawn into this shared indulgence. She had finally opened her eyes to the secret pleasure of it — that swift, gratifying release of tension.
And now a *half-blood* dared to speak back?
Camilla's eyes hardened as her temper flared.
"I'm punishing a lying creature, and in the meantime, you have the audacity to lie again?"
She struck Mina hard across the cheek, then shrieked in a voice sharp enough to cut glass.
"If you're going to spew filth from that disgusting mouth of yours, then what use are any of you?"
Camilla continued to scream as though something feral had taken hold of her.
"Put your hand out — *now*, you wretch!"
Mina stared at her and thought: *This woman is the real monster.* How much longer would she have to endure this?
She bit her lower lip and bore the pain as long as she could — until she couldn't anymore.
"I'm telling the truth! I didn't lie!"
"I said *quiet!* There is no truth in anything you say! It wasn't enough that you lured me to this wretched estate with your treachery — now you have the nerve to call yourself Her Highness's personal maid?"
"...Because I *am* Her Highness's personal maid!"
Camilla let out a sharp, contemptuous snort.
"You really are shameless. It seems the only thing that will knock any sense into you is a proper beating."
With that, Camilla began tearing through the living room like a woman possessed, searching.
*The whip the Grand Duchess uses to discipline them — it has to be somewhere.*
When she couldn't find it immediately, she stamped her foot in irritation.
"Ugh!"
Then her gaze landed on the fireplace.
*There.*
Camilla retrieved the whip and returned. The color drained from Mina's face the moment she saw it.
"Please — please believe me!"
Mina's pleas were useless. Worse than useless — they frayed what little remained of Camilla's patience.
"Creatures like you only understand one language."
Camilla raised the whip, her eyes alight with something close to madness.
*Whoosh* —
The crack of the whip cutting through the air sent a chill through the room.
The very moment Mina flinched and curled in on herself —
*Bang!*
Both women's heads snapped toward the door as it was thrown wide open.
Standing in the doorway, surveying the scene with eyes redder than the dying sun, was Grand Duchess Rebecca.
"Your... Highness?"
Camilla exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders releasing the instant she recognized who it was.
*Thank goodness. I thought it might be the Grand Duke himself.*
That would have been a disaster. But it was only Rebecca.
Camilla relaxed and let a practiced smile settle onto her lips.
"You startled me, Your Highness. I thought for a moment it might be someone else."
"Someone else?"
Rebecca stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind her. Her gaze swept the room — unhurried, deliberate. Mina's tear-streaked face. The teapot still leaking steam. The reddened backs of Mina's hands. The whip in Camilla's grip.
Silence.
Rebecca said nothing for a moment, then crossed to the sofa and sat down, crossing her legs with practiced ease. The corner of her mouth lifted slightly as she looked at Camilla.
"Of course it is me. No one comes here except my own staff, Madame Dmitri."
"Oh? Then... is what this creature said actually true?"
"...Creature?"
A vein appeared faintly on Rebecca's pale forehead — but Camilla, too caught up in her own excitement, didn't notice.
She had known the Grand Duke and Duchess were at odds, but she never imagined things had deteriorated this far.
*Society will have plenty to talk about for months.*
Camilla inwardly savored that thought. Outwardly, she arranged her expression into something sympathetic.
"How unfortunate. I am truly heartbroken on your behalf, Your Highness..."
"Is that so."
Camilla set down the whip and promptly settled herself beside Rebecca on the sofa.
"Please, call me Camilla as you always have. 'Madame Dmitri' puts such distance between us."
She spoke softly, warmly — yet for some reason, Rebecca simply stared down at her.
*Why is she looking at me like that? Something feels... off.*
Before Camilla could dwell on it, Rebecca removed her arm from Camilla's and stood.
"You've returned from your vacation earlier than expected?"
"Yes, by a few days. I still had time left, but I couldn't bear to stay away. I simply *had* to see Your Highness..."
Camilla pushed past the faint unease and rose from the sofa as well. She smiled — warm eyes, soft voice.
"We are practically sisters, after all."
Rebecca was a woman starved for affection. Torn from the South where she'd been raised and transplanted into this cold, foreign place, she had always been vulnerable to the right words. Camilla had spent years exploiting exactly that — gently, carefully guiding Rebecca to suit her own purposes.
*A little sentiment always does the trick. "I missed you." "You're like a real sister to me." She folds every time.*
Camilla was just letting that thought bloom when Rebecca finally spoke.
"...That precious vacation, only a few days from its end."
"...?"
"It would have been better for both of us had you stayed home and rested."
Camilla blinked, caught off guard.
"Pardon...?"
"And regardless of how long you have served me — dropping in on the Grand Duchess unannounced is, I think, rather rude of you."
Rebecca's red eyes were measured, deliberate. They were reprimanding her.
*Why? What is happening? This isn't right.*
Sensing the ground shifting beneath her, Camilla quickly redirected.
"I arrived only a short while ago, and I found this girl here lying through her teeth. So naturally, I took it upon myself to discipline her."
"...Did you."
Rebecca lowered her gaze. Camilla took it as a cue to press on.
*Good. Nothing dissolves an awkward moment like a common enemy.*
Camilla's voice grew steadier, more confident.
"I told her to leave — I couldn't stand being in the same room as her — but she kept spouting nonsense about being Your Highness's personal maid. Can you imagine?"
"Your Highness, I really didn't —!"
"*There* — listen to that! Still talking back with that foul mouth of hers! Impertinent creature!"
"I'm not lying! Your Highness, please, just say something —!"
Mina wept. And as she did, Rebecca's gaze shifted to her — and the warmth there cooled into something sharper.
*Now.*
Camilla's eyes glittered with triumph.
She pressed her advantage immediately, letting her voice take on a wounded, trembling quality.
"I, Camilla Dmitri, have given everything to serve Your Highness with pride... and yet I am subjected to this — degraded by these wretched half-bloods. I cannot endure it."
"......"
"If I am forced to stand by and watch these creatures behave with such insolence, then I will have no choice but to resign my position."
It was an ultimatum. A calculated one. At this point, the Grand Duchess would either punish the girl on the spot, or — to prove her loyalty to Camilla — make an even greater spectacle of it.
Camilla waited, composed and confident.
And indeed, Rebecca responded immediately.
"Do you mean that?"
Camilla pressed her lips together to suppress a smile and nodded with a suitably pained expression.
"...Then there is nothing to be done."
Rebecca murmured the words quietly as she walked toward Mina.
*Yes. Finally.*
Rebecca stood before Mina for a long moment — expressionless, unreadable, silent. Then, in a voice utterly flat and devoid of inflection, she spoke.
"Did you enjoy yourself?"
It was a voice like slow-moving lava — calm on the surface, scalding underneath.
Camilla stood just beside Rebecca, letting one corner of her mouth curl upward. She raised her voice, eager to help things along.
"Well? Answer Her Highness! How dare you lie to me and then have the nerve to —"
The words died in her throat.
Rebecca's face had turned toward her.
"...You."
The smile fell from Camilla's lips.
Those red eyes — they were not looking at Mina.
They were fixed, clearly and coldly, on *her.*
"Your... Highness?"
As Rebecca stepped closer, a tremor crept into the corner of Camilla's mouth despite herself.
"Answer me."
Close enough now to feel each other's breath.
Rebecca's voice came again — quiet, glacial.
"While I was away, you came into my home uninvited and carelessly damaged what belongs to me."
A pause.
"Did you enjoy yourself?"
Camilla's shoulders jerked as if she'd been struck.
"Your Highness — this must be some kind of j-joke...!"
Rebecca turned her head away from Camilla as though she were no longer worth looking at and addressed the maids stationed outside the open door.
"Come in."
The situation had unraveled entirely — and in a direction Camilla had never imagined.
"Madame Dmitri." Rebecca's voice was toneless. Final. "Kneel."
The maids swept in without a moment's hesitation and seized Camilla by the shoulders.
"What — *what is this?!* You cannot do this to me — I am Camilla Dmitri, you have *no right* —!"
Camilla twisted and shrieked, her face contorting with fury and disgust at being touched by half-bloods. But for all her outrage, her human strength was no match for theirs.
Humiliated, sputtering, Camilla was forced to her knees before them.
"...You'll regret this," she hissed, scrambling for leverage. "If you don't release me this instant, I will tell everyone — *everyone* — what has happened here! You'll be finished in Northern society, Grand Duchess or not!"
It was her final card. Her voice shook with wounded pride as she played it.
But Rebecca looked entirely unbothered.
"You're right, Camilla. You are absolutely free to tell whoever you like."
"...If you make it out of here."
The blood drained from Camilla's face as the meaning of those words settled over her.
"I'll — I'll *scream!*"
Rebecca laughed.
It wasn't a short laugh. It wasn't polite. It was full and unhurried, and it went on long enough that Camilla felt something cold and crawling take root in her chest.
At last, Rebecca's laughter faded. She leaned down slowly, bringing herself level with Camilla's wide, frightened eyes.
The corners of Rebecca's red lips curved into a smooth, perfect smile.
"Camilla," she said softly. "I told you when I walked in — there is no one here but my own people."
Her voice dropped, quiet as a closing door.
"No one is coming for you."
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