Lilith suppressed her trembling breaths, her eyes fixed intently on Wang Yue’s back.
Her small face was flushed and dry. An inexplicable, terrifying surge of excitement welled up from her heart, especially as she watched that snow-white, flawless back tense slightly, bracing for the coming lash.
Ah…
I’m too excited…
My blood feels like it’s boiling…
A guttural sound, somewhere between a sob and a laugh, escaped Lilith’s throat. Her body felt as though it were fighting the pull of a powerful magnet, her feet shifting back and forth in hesitation.
Hurry up, Lilith. Get it over with. I have things to do, Wang Yue urged silently.
Lilith bit her lip and clenched her trembling fingers. She had no choice; she had to do this.
She swung her arm back and lashed forward!
Crack!
A red shadow blurred through the air, striking Wang Yue’s back!
The young black-haired girl’s entire body went rigid. The color drained from her face, leaving her deathly pale, yet she gritted her teeth and remained silent.
Why aren’t you screaming?
Lilith panicked internally. The plan was to use cries of pain to elicit sympathy from the students and stir up resentment against the administration. She hadn’t expected the young black-haired girl to be so uncooperative.
“I… Wang Yue… will not scream,” the girl kneeling before her forced the words out through clenched teeth.
“You…”
Lilith huffed, her body shaking as she neared the limit of her self-control.
While making Wang Yue cry had always been her ultimate desire, this display of stubborn resistance was far too enticing.
Lilith widened her eyes, as if trying to etch this image forever into her mind—the delicate, white back arched like a bow, shimmering with a beautiful sheen of light sweat. Between her rounded, slender shoulders lay elegant, thin shoulder blades, leading down to a supple waist and two mysterious, alluring dimples—and then, the bloody lash marks that tore through all that beauty.
Lilith ground her teeth, her expression shifting wildly. Her temples throbbed with a pulsing heat; she felt she was on the verge of losing her mind, of turning into a beast.
Another lash fell. The young girl’s delicate frame shuddered violently. Every muscle in her body constricted, trembling as if a powerful electric current were surging through her. Her face was a patchwork of flushed red and ghostly white, yet she continued to endure in silence, refusing to let out a single sound.
…
Beep!
The sound of the lock disengaging echoed through the room. The automatic door’s mechanism released; they could leave at any time.
The whip clattered to the floor. Lilith’s pupils were dilated, and she had bitten her lip so hard that a streak of bright red blood ran down her chin and onto her neck, stark against her fair skin.
Then, she let out a moan of utter despair, choked with tears. She didn’t dare look at the “bloody branches” she had personally painted onto the pure white canvas of Wang Yue’s skin.
Crystal tears fell as two paths of sorrow carved their way down her face, making her look incredibly pitiful.
Wang Yue leaned forward first, bracing herself with her hands on the floor before slowly standing up. Fighting the searing pain in her back, she turned around and looked calmly at the sobbing, broken mess that was Lilith.
“Why are you crying?”
“Don’t cry.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
Wang Yue walked over slowly and wrapped her arms around Lilith’s waist again, gently patting her back.
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”
Lilith was shaking uncontrollably. A shiver ran deep into her marrow—she couldn’t tell if it was guilt, pleasure, or a twisted mixture of both.
She felt as if her psyche were splitting. She was hurting the person she loved most, yet she was experiencing an unprecedented sense of euphoria. Every pore in her body seemed to radiate comfort; she was so happy she almost wanted to sing.
And yet, she was filled with such intense remorse, like someone who had accidentally shattered a beloved porcelain doll, weeping inconsolably over the shards…
Wang Yue held the increasingly limp Lilith and slowly knelt back onto the floor, moving her hands to cradle the back of the girl’s head and back, pressing Lilith’s face into her chest.
Lilith’s internal monologue flowed into Wang Yue’s heart without a word being missed:
How can I feel excited… I’m such a bastard… I’m sick… I’m a monster… Ahhh…
Wang Yue rested her cheek against the top of Lilith’s head and tightened her embrace. The silhouettes of the two girls pressed together in a soft, close fit, their rising body temperatures warming one another.
“It’s okay. This is to save everyone. Besides, your restraint surprised me. I thought you might have flipped a switch and started torturing me for real… I’m glad you stopped when you did. I like an obedient Lilith.”
In the end, it was Wang Yue who comforted Lilith.
As Wang Yue walked out of the White Shed, crowds had gathered along both sides of the path, every eye fixed on her.
The blood seeping from her wounds had soaked the fabric of her shirt, blooming into “red plums” along the tangled lines of the lash marks.
No one spoke. The atmosphere was stifling, and the students’ eyes were filled with simmering rage.
This friction and opposition were exactly what Wang Yue wanted to see. Sometimes, silence was more profound than the loudest outcry.
Wang Yue straightened her back, walking forward with an unstoppable momentum, as if marching toward a bright future. Inspired by her spirit, the surrounding crowd suddenly erupted into thunderous applause.
Back in her dormitory, Wang Yue was in high spirits. Taking a few lashes was a small price to pay for such an excellent result. It was a bargain.
Besides, the one who whipped her was Lilith, so she didn’t feel she had lost anything.
The last thing Wang Yue wanted was for the young witches to start believing in Granahl, becoming pawns for an ambitious tyrant.
However, she couldn’t just shout the truth; that would lead to a very swift death.
Therefore, her strategy was to put on a play with Lilith to provoke resentment toward the regime. It was hard for the young witches to place their faith in someone they viscerally detested.
The stinging pain of the wounds tormented her. She tried to take off her clothes, but the blood had already dried, gluing the fabric to her skin.
“Wahhh… Master is so pitiful…”
The little maid, Dorothy, hurried over, intending to help pull the clothes off, but Wang Yue smacked her on the forehead and asked irritably:
“Are you trying to kill me with the pain?” Wang Yue asked irritably.
At that moment, Medeili entered the room carrying a medical kit.
Dorothy obediently stepped aside.
Wang Yue lay face-down on the bed. The sound of scissors cutting through fabric filled her ears as the material stuck to her wounds was carefully separated.
Before long, a warm sensation spread across her skin. The blood clots softened under the application of a medicinal liquid, and soon, a slender hand peeled the tattered cloth from her back.
“Does it hurt?” Plum’s voice was soft and warm, her tone laced with tenderness.
“Mmhmm,” Wang Yue let out a small, aggrieved whimper.
Soon, the cooling sensation of a salve chased away the burning pain of the wounds, replacing it with comfort.
Even though Medeili knew they were acting, she still felt a deep ache in her heart for the girl.
Once the magic potion took effect, she gently wiped away the scabs, her fingertips lightly grazing the skin to check for any scarring or discoloration.
Fortunately, the medicine was very effective. The skin was once again flawless and white.
Medeili’s little hand stroked upward from the small dimples at Wang Yue’s waist. Her palm remained pressed against the skin, gliding smoothly to her shoulders, her fingers curling as she felt the warmth of the skin.
Then, she leaned down, resting her face between the young black-haired girl’s shoulder blades, savoring the smoothness of her skin.
Plum’s caresses gradually evolved into gentle kisses, falling like crushed flower petals upon the snowy skin of her neck and back. Her lips pressed down, sending sparks of numbing electricity through Wang Yue. Her soft lips moved like a small animal, nuzzling and searching, her breath fluttering through the fine hairs at the nape of Wang Yue’s neck. Finally, her lips lingered at the junction of the shoulder and neck, sucking until she had left a strawberry.
Wang Yue suddenly felt a wave of happiness. The feeling of being cuddled and pampered was wonderful; her heart felt healed and soothed.
Having been restored in both body and soul, a spirited Wang Yue headed toward the place where the teachers were being held.
Gymnopedie was dressed in a military-style black suit. The peak lapels and gold buttons were striking, and a belt cinched her waist tightly. On her feet were a pair of high-heeled, knee-high riding boots.
She marched with a rhythmic stride through the classrooms that had been converted into jail cells. Behind the iron grilles on either side sat the teachers—over fifty of them, held in separate groups.
The older teachers still commanded a sense of authority, and Gymnopedie suspected they might still have tricks up their sleeves. She didn’t dare act too brazenly around them. Instead, her gaze shifted and landed on “Teacher Vida Who Never Grows Up.”
“Eh?”
The little girl’s mouth hung open as a sense of impending doom washed over her.
