I Hate Being Walked Like a Dog
The moment I stepped into the mansion, she appeared as if she'd been waiting—as if on cue.
Ah, she really was waiting.
To torment just me, my sister—who hates anything tiring or bothersome—stood there until her legs must have ached.
What devout dedication.
"It's great to finally play with you after so long, Sister."
Though I felt plunged straight into hell, I steadied my voice and replied calmly.
Anemia-induced lethargy? That had vanished ages ago.
My heart, which had softened around Kane, froze solid in an instant.
I knelt obediently before her, matching her height—like a dog begging for its collar.
"Good girl. My little sister looks best when she's this obedient."
Liliet smirked at my compliance and patted my head.
Such natural condescension, treating me like a beast. But for us sisters, this was everyday normalcy—or at least, acceptable by our standards.
I wasn't resisting, either. I bowed my head meekly, ready for the collar.
"My dear Sister."
On a day when I felt full of energy like yesterday, sure, I'd fight back. But today? No strength for that.
Just let her do whatever. Besides, my body knew the cost of rebellion all too well—I had no desire to pay it.
If I just surrendered a bit of myself, it'd be over quick. No need to escalate.
Especially since I'd gotten that encouragement that I could do well.
Of course, that very encouragement made this rock-bottom humiliation feel even more wretched. But everything has its black and white sides.
"How perfect it suits you. A necklace is nothing—a collar looks far prettier."
"Thank you, Sister."
But this bitch? No white side at all.
She's all black. Pitch black, or something's seriously wrong with her.
I've lived almost my whole life with her—there's no tragic backstory. She's just born rotten.
Tormenting her near-same-age half-sister this viciously says it all.
Liliet kept stroking my hair even after patting it, pressing down harder to blatantly signal her displeasure.
So, what was I supposed to do?
"You really suit crawling on the floor, little sister."
"I suit crawling on the floor."
"That's right. Never forget—you belong on the ground."
"I'll remember."
What else? Yield to the pressure.
She pressed my head down hard, so I flattened my chest to the floor too.
Always chipping away at my pride like that.
Think it'd break me? Right now, it just might.
Fuck.
This is all Kane's fault.
The stark contrast between day and night choked back my surging emotions. I locked them down tight.
I hadn't cried since I was five or six—showing tears to her would spell disaster.
So I held it in, head bowed low to hide.
"You're extra meek today. Wonder why."
Liliet leaned in close to my ear, whispering.
Then, in a chilling tone:
"Because of Kane? Huh? A wretch like you?"
Hearing her voice, I noted the good and the bad.
Good: the potions hadn't arrived yet.
Bad: she reeked of something filthy brewing.
Whatever it was, I had no clue—and that was the problem.
In situations like this, I'd normally read her face, but with my head down, no chance.
"Could be! Come on, puppy—walkies?"
Ah, fuck, I really don't want to.
I hate this shitty life.
But I had to, right? Defy her, and who knows what hell follows.
Liliet tugged the leather collar tight around my neck, urging me on as I hesitated.
Feeling it constrict, I forced out the words I loathed.
"...Woof."
"Good girl. Let's go."
Thanks to her—or curse her—the creeping disgust for humanity drowned out my self-pity.
Resignation from my runaway thoughts returned instead.
Just endure 30-40 minutes.
Her legs were trembling; might be shorter.
"Dogs don't wear clothes, pup. Strip."
"Pardon...?"
"Little sister. Aren't you a dog right now?"
"Woof..."
I stripped as ordered.
Being walked naked on all fours was a monthly ritual since childhood—once or twice at least.
Familiar by now.
Better than beatings; she usually let me go after this.
Knees wrecked, sure—but beats shattered bones everywhere.
Kid me cried a lot from the shame of nudity before a woman, plus my body couldn't keep up.
Now? Indifferent, except it felt doggish.
Past life influence faded quickest here.
Why cling so desperately to such "family"?
Even without attachment, solo survival was impossible here.
My ability only sharpened my eyes a bit.
This world—somewhere between pure medieval and fantasy—left women powerless alone.
If truly medieval, without proving my worth, I'd never have lasted or met Kane.
Sold off around 13-15, probably.
Would've happened regardless.
As I shed yesterday's clothes and folded them aside, idle thoughts swirled like always.
Liliet cooed,
"Little sister. Walkies?"
"Woof."
"Short answer? I'm gracing you with a walk—our house dog should bark more."
"Woof woof woof."
How far does she want to drag her near-twin sister down?
Making me mimic a dog extra hard today, and chatty too.
Hates seeing me cozy with Kane that much?
Then she should've gone for him herself.
No—hate that too.
He had to be mine. I need some breathing room.
I crawled after her across the brick garden path—managed well enough not to hurt worse—staying low.
One lap in, thinking it done—then she grinned unsettlingly.
"A bit chilly tonight. You okay, little sister?"
"Woof..."
"Good, good. More walkies then."
What bullshit.
She planned two laps anyway. My answer meant nothing.
I was freezing, knees and elbows scraped bloody—but trailed her like a dog.
Rebellion's price wasn't this minor pain.
Where'd she learn torture? Punishment via agony kills the fight.
That's why I bide my time instead of bolting unprepared.
Caught escaping? Disaster.
So endure till perfect timing.
I sighed inwardly, leaving bloody streaks on the garden as I crawled.
"Two whole laps today? Fun?"
"Whiiiine..."
No strength for proper barks; I panted like a real dog.
Bleeding across a vast garden twice on blood-starved legs? Insane.
Yet Liliet pushed through, legs wobbling.
Not even over, from her smile—eyes gleaming with schemes.
But my vision spun from blood loss; just end it quick.
"Do that thing. What dogs do on poles or walls."
"Pardon...?"
"You know. Piss like a filthy dog right here."
"Sister... that's...!"
"Liliet. The garden's messy enough—don't make it worse."
"Mother?"
First interruption to my torment-filled life—a command, no less. Forgot to dog-act in shock.
But savior? Hardly.
The First Wife, who tormented me as viciously as Liliet.
She'd blocked Liliet smashing my last dignity.
Not out of kindness—hated garden filth.
Still blocked. Unsettling for me.
Why show up personally? What now?
"The garden's filthy from your blood. Clean it yourself."
"Yes..."
"Mother, perfect timing! You didn't see her face?"
"Garden's dirty enough. Time's on our side—stop here. She's the Third Prince's fiancée; hang her and our house loses face."
I won't die because of you lot. I'll live, leave, watch you crumble.
Three years without me? Bankrupt. You know zilch about management.
"Hey. Stay put till cleaning's done."
"Yes..."
"Dogs bark like dogs."
"Woof."
Only then did Liliet and the First Wife head inside.
Left alone in the dark garden, I dragged my staggering body for cleaning tools and started.
No treatment; knees and arms kept bleeding. Potion-resistant, no healing—helpless.
"Fucking bitches..."
I cursed the mother-daughter duo—different pains, same misery—as I cleaned through dizzy vision.
Child wrecked body; parent crushed spirit. Maddening.
"Fuck..."
Alone, tears I'd held back gushed.
After warmth from outsiders, my lot felt pathetic.
Naked, tears streaking skin to floor—I rubbed eyes to stop, worsening the mess.
"This just makes more cleaning... Stop it..."
Still, I endured.
Kane said I could do well.
But my body couldn't.
Barely 10% done, I collapsed.
Blackout.
...
"Ughhh..."
"Awake? How's the body?"
Kane sat before my revived eyes.
Why?