Chapter 786
Chapter 786
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 786
Chapter Title: Catfight Championship (3)
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1.
Rinne and Dorothy were immediately ushered in as honored guests the moment they emerged from the Brain Prison.
Even if they were destined to be expelled from Gehenna later on, they were still high-ranking witches for the time being.
Though they couldn't step beyond the estate grounds, they were assigned guest suites complete with dedicated maids to ensure every comfort.
"Phew..."
Among them, Pecha—who had drawn the short straw to serve as Rinne's personal maid for the next couple of days—shoved the tray laden with a fine tea set while letting out deep sighs.
Pecha had only been told by Head Maid Galina to treat the guests with utmost care.
Given the politically sensitive nature of the visitors, Rinne's identity remained unspoken even within the manor.
A servant's lips had to be sealed—that was basic etiquette.
Yet the servants' quarters buzzed with more gossip and info-trading than anywhere else in the estate.
It took Pecha less than an hour to learn the truth about the guest in Eastern-style traditional robes.
A wanted criminal, no less.
She didn't know the exact details of what that entailed, but Pecha remembered her as one of the scariest witches among an already terrifying lot.
'Pecha, aren't you in deep trouble now?'
'Vera, they say wanted criminals treat human lives like flies.'
Her fellow maids Lena and Marsha teased her over the lottery results.
Vera, who had been assigned alongside Pecha to the busty witch and now looked pale as a ghost.
Would someone from the prestigious Gemernai Count Family actually harm lowly servants? Still, the fear wouldn't fade.
-Ding-a-ling
"Guest, I've brought your bedtime tea."
"Come in."
Pecha rang the bell once, then entered with the tray, hyper-aware of her posture.
She nearly swallowed a gasp.
She would've let out a piercing squeak if she'd let her guard down.
The guest stood stone-faced in the middle of the sitting room, sword drawn.
Pecha's legs buckled, and she collapsed in a heap.
I'm done for.
Pecha, age 20, passes away pointlessly in the Gemernai guest room, love unknown.
Even an epitaph flashed through her mind.
"......"
The guest impassively eyed Pecha, then her own hand, before sheathing the blade.
Thank goodness she wasn't about to be cleaved in two.
"My apologies. Sorry for startling you."
"N-no, it's fine."
Pride swelling as a pro maid, Pecha regained her composure, boiled water, and began a simple tea intro.
"Gehenna's finest dimensional blend, 'Dignifying Garden' Autumnal Flush. Low fermentation gives it a fresh aroma—best enjoyed straight, with faint champagne notes."
"Got it."
With that, the guest fell silent.
Quite the stoic type.
-Bubble bubble
-Clink, clink
Going through the usual routine calmed Pecha's nerves a bit.
The guest didn't seem malicious, and she'd even apologized for the sword scare.
Maybe she wasn't so dangerous after all.
Besides, her first impression had been brusque and intimidating, but she was stunningly beautiful—like Odil, Odet, or the Countess herself.
The human heart was simple; beauty disarmed wariness on instinct.
"......"
-Clatter!
Pecha, sneaking peeks at that refined beauty, dropped the teapot lid.
The guest's piercing gaze had locked right onto her.
"S-s-sorry!"
Sneaking glances was rude enough.
Compounding it with a spill? Who knew what fate awaited.
"It's fine. Have some yourself."
"Pardon...?"
"Sit and drink."
"Th-thank you...!"
The guest's casual nonchalance bordered on magnanimity, even inviting her to join. Pecha was moved—and reflective.
Rumors couldn't be trusted after all.
Who would slander such a generous witch?
But as Pecha savored the illicit luxury of premium tea, anxiety crept back in with time.
"......"
That intense stare from the side.
Her cheeks burned under the fervent gaze.
Suddenly, the tea offer felt less than pure.
Late night, alone together. A dangerous yet noble guest. Pecha, mere maid. Witches' high sapphic tendencies.
Was this a nocturnal service request?
The guest rose silently and approached, confirming Pecha's fears.
Settling beside her, the guest's hand slid to Pecha's waist amid her shivers.
She explored leisurely, appraising every curve.
"U-um... G-guest...?"
"Stay still."
Hands roamed her waist, gave her breast a light squeeze.
Pecha froze like a mouse before a snake, heart pounding wildly.
Tears welled up.
She wanted to refuse, knew she should—but dared she?
"Stand up."
"Eek..."
That imperious tone compelled her to rise unwittingly.
The guest, bolder now, lifted Pecha's skirt, exposing her undergarments fully.
A one-sided ravishing by a witch she'd just met.
Yet twisted thoughts worthy of an erotic tale heroine bubbled up: deep down, not so bad.
The witch's allure overwhelmed even straight-laced Pecha.
Mom, sorry.
Tomboy Pecha becomes a lady tonight under the witch's touch.
"Guest, at least... a bath first..."
Steeling herself, Pecha squeezed her eyes shut and spoke.
"Nice measurements."
But the guest lost interest, pulling away to sit back down.
Stunned by the anticlimax, Pecha heard her demand.
"I want to buy the clothes you're wearing."
"Huh?"
"Those white stockings too."
"Huh?"
2.
"That's what happened, I tell you?"
Late night in the servants' dorm.
Pecha grumbled to her roommate Vera about the bizarre ordeal.
"Really?"
"She paid top coin, so I sold 'em, but I nearly died of fright."
"I see."
Pecha expected giggles and teasing, but Vera responded in a dazed half-tone.
"So, what about your side?"
"Really?"
Pecha clapped in front of the still-spacey Vera.
"Hey! Vera! Snap out of it! That sleepy?"
"Huh? Yeah. Yeah."
"How was your guest?"
"Oh, Lady Dorothy?"
Vera blushed, stroking her cheek.
"She was... so kind and charismatic. First guest this amazing."
"Lucky you. Sigh, it's late anyway. Night, Vera."
"Night, Pecha."
With final words exchanged, Pecha hit the bed and soon snored softly.
But Vera wandered a hazy dreamscape.
The enchanting witch's gentle voice and their time together lingered.
'Oh? Such a cute little thing as a servant. I'm ~so~ thrilled.'
'Tired? Rest a bit? Bed's fine.'
'Want tips for ultimate relaxation?'
'You're like a baby, Vera. So pure, untouched.'
'Lift your waist a little?'
'Hee hee, chirping like a tiny bird?'
'Don't cover your face~ Freckles are fine. I just want to gaze longer.'
'It's okay, okay~ No tears. Just drawing out bad energy—totally normal.'
'Good girl, just like that?'
A massage so refreshing it left her body feather-light, waist quivering, warmth lingering hours later.
"Haa..."
Truly ecstatic night.
3.
The cooking contest ended in a draw, no victor.
Eloa holed up alone, sipping her drink, deep in thought.
No resentment toward Si-woo, no sense of wasted effort.
As Dorothy said, expecting him to judge had been naive from the start.
Dragging him into their feud was unfair too.
Realizing this dragged on without resolution, Eloa changed clothes.
She hadn't spoken to Rinne since, but somehow knew the next matchup's theme.
Like a knight donning armor for the final duel, Eloa equipped her ace: the bunny girl outfit.
Black stockings, precarious high heels—complete.
"Still so embarrassing..."
The mirror showed her eternally ridiculous figure.
If someone called her immature and frivolous, she'd bawl without retort.
"......"
But she'd worn the bunny suit multiple times already.
Separate from her efforts, 'freshness' was sorely lacking.
First debuted at last harvest festival—rehashed since then?
'Men get bored easily. It's their nature.'
Dorothy had stressed change last night.
Now, the bold old bunny suit felt like outdated relic.
Eloa already had a 'new bunny girl outfit' in hand.
Knowing Si-woo's bunny fetish, she'd secretly bought it before.
Too daring upon arrival, it'd languished in the closet.
Vowing no more hiding or fleeing per Dorothy's advice, Eloa shed the old suit for her trump card.
"Eek..."
Finished, the mirror stole her breath.
An outfit too lewd to call clothing, too shameful to face.
But she had to endure.
If Rinne thought the same, she'd come armed too.
Wrapping herself in bedsheet like a nun's mantle, Eloa headed to Si-woo's room.
Midnight.
As expected, another arrived at his door.
Rinne, in maid attire instead of her usual kimono.
"......"
"......"
Mutual glares and scans exchanged, they twisted the doorknob together.
The final battle had arrived.