The Meaning of the Brand
The doors of the Feast opened silently.
A woman as elegant as a noble lady slowly stepped inside.
Her steps were leisurely yet resolute, quiet yet carrying an undeniable weight of authority.
The garments she wore possessed a level of exquisite craftsmanship that belonged to another dimension, and with every step she took, a strange distortion rippled through the air, as if space itself were warping around her.
The moment she entered, the ambient noise of the Feast died down instantly, as if holding its breath.
Even the air in the room felt as though it had frozen solid.
Madame Tana’s eyes widened in momentary surprise, but she quickly composed herself and welcomed the guest without a hint of suspicion.
Her attitude was exceedingly polite and respectful, as if greeting a long-awaited, highly esteemed guest.
“What an honored guest. Today, our very own Miss Luciel will attend to you personally.”
As if possessed, Madame Tana ushered the woman forward and guided her toward Luciel’s room without a single shred of hesitation.
“I hope you have a wonderful time.”
The moment Madame Tana opened the door and quietly withdrew, Luciel, who was inside the room, was just finishing tidying herself up.
Wondering who could possibly be visiting so early in the morning, she turned her head—and froze instantly as realization struck her.
…A Constellation.
And not just any ordinary Constellation, either.
These were beings she could never have dared to challenge, even during her past reign as the absolute Emperor, when she conquered countless dimensions and bathed them in blood.
The ones hailed as the true masters of the Pantheon, standing far above the rest of the divine host.
The transcendent entities who traversed the abysses of dimensions: the Great Old Ones.
It was because of them that she had been unable to refuse the summons of the Constellations, dragging her into the Great Game.
And ultimately, she had suffered defeat at their hands.
Luciel raised her head and stared directly at her.
“What brings you here?”
The woman offered a faint smile before speaking.
“I was merely wandering the paths of the wind and decided to drop by. Luciel von Artina.”
“…Eltar Ernan.”
Luciel gritted her teeth.
“I never expected you to descend to a place like this. The Wanderer of Dimensions, wearing a mere human shell, no less.”
Eltar chuckled softly. In Luciel’s memories, this entity had always been a mere observer.
A being who never intervened in any affair, choosing only to record and watch.
Yet now, that very Constellation had manifested before her in the flesh.
“You seem to be doing well,” Eltar remarked quietly.
Luciel let out a sharp, mocking scoff.
“Does this look like ‘doing well’ to your eyes? It seems your sight has grown duller than before.”
Her voice was razor-sharp as she bared her fangs, pressing further.
“Why are you here? Did you come to explain why I must live such a wretched existence, selling my body? Are the Constellations so desperate for coin that they must loiter around a cheap brothel like this?”
Her eyes were cold as ice, swirling with a mixture of mockery, fury, and deep-seated despair. Yet Eltar did not avert her gaze. She stood her ground, calmly meeting Luciel’s eyes.
“As you well know, this is a punishment,” Eltar said serenely. “What you are paying with is not currency, but your pride. This is a ritual of sorts—a mere formality to record your defeat.”
Luciel clenched her fists, her anger flaring at those words.
“A formality? You reduced me to this just to scribble a single line in some ledger?”
Eltar nodded slowly.
“It was destined from the moment you entered the Great Game. Your power was far too dangerous, and that danger invited transactions and compromises. Some Constellations wished to possess you, some wished to destroy you, and others merely wished to watch.”
Rage burned fiercely in Luciel’s eyes.
“…So in the end, I became like this because you gods were busy playing with your abacuses.”
Eltar continued in her detached tone.
“To be precise, it is simply the convergence of mutual interests. As a result, you were sealed in the prisons of the Pantheon for thirty years before being sent back here.”
“For the next thousand years, you will live just as you do now. Once that time passes, you will regain your freedom.”
Luciel stood in silence for a long moment after hearing those words.
When emotion crosses a certain threshold, anger ceases to exist. Only a profound emptiness remains.
“…Ha. And after a thousand years, you’ll grant me freedom?”
Eltar nodded.
“A thousand years is more than enough time for a human soul to cool and for memories to fade. When that day comes, you will transcend your destiny and take your rightful place within the Pantheon.”
Luciel’s lips curled into a bitter, silent sneer.
“A thousand years? That’s longer than my entire lifespan. As expected, you Constellations have a completely warped sense of time.”
She let out a low, mocking laugh.
“So, if I drag myself through the dirt as a whore long enough, you’ll make me a Constellation? What, are you going to crown me as the Constellation of Whores?”
Eltar stared at Luciel, completely unfazed.
“…That is not a path you have the luxury of choosing.”
Luciel finally turned her head away.
“Fine. Then at least get rid of this tattoo. This filthy brand etched over my womb. A being of your stature should be more than capable of doing that. If only this thing were gone, I feel like I could finally breathe.”
Eltar shook her head in refusal.
“It is no mere tattoo. I suppose I must demonstrate. Kneel before me.”
Suddenly, the womb tattoo began to glow. The strength drained from Luciel’s legs, and her knees began to tremble violently.
Despite straining with all her might to keep herself upright, the center of her gravity was forced downward.
“W-What is this…?”
Her body refused to listen. Every single muscle, every nerve fiber seemed to move in perfect compliance with the command. Entirely against her will, her physical form was submitting to Eltar’s decree.
Luciel’s expression stiffened.
“…This is impossible.”
This was not her choice. Her own body was betraying her mind.
“This is not my power,” Eltar explained calmly. “It is the power of the contract already etched deep within you.”
It was not her conscious will, but the brand itself that had established kneeling as a pre-programmed condition.
A physical imprint that reacted like a conditioned reflex to a master’s command. The moment Luciel realized this truth, she was struck with genuine horror.
Her face held neither anger nor shame, but only fear and utter confusion.
The realization that she possessed absolutely no control over her own body brought a despair far heavier than any humiliation she had ever faced.
“Because of this contract, the Constellations can only interfere with this world in the most minimal ways. It acts as a safety mechanism. Of course, there are rare entities who attempt to intervene even at their own expense. Your tattoo binds you, but at the same time, it serves as a device to protect this world.”
With those final words, Eltar slowly rose to her feet, indicating that she had said all she needed to say.
“Now, I shall resume my journey. I look forward to your next act. Pray, do not break too easily. Your story is far from over.”
And then, as if she had never existed in the first place, she vanished. Silence reclaimed the room, leaving behind not a single trace, scent, or shadow where Eltar had stood.
It felt so surreal, as if she had just woken from a fleeting dream.
Yet Luciel remained frozen, still forced onto her knees on the floor.
Her lips trembled slightly, and the icy touch of the floor seeped deep into her bones. The cold sweat pooling at her fingertips was a stark reminder that this harsh reality remained unbroken.
…This isn’t just a matter of surrendering to pleasure. I didn’t choose to kneel. I didn’t… make this choice myself.
Even as she rationalized it, the fact that she had collapsed so effortlessly pierced her to the core. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs, and the suffocating weight of humiliation made it difficult to breathe.
This was no mere brand, nor was it some twisted, sadistic preference. It was a mechanism of absolute obedience carved into her flesh by the Constellations.
A curse meticulously designed to react to commands, a binding device engineered to ensure she could never escape.
She realized now that her body was no longer truly her own.
Luciel took a slow, deep breath and opened her eyes. Stepping over the humiliation left on her knees, she forced herself back up.
Though her legs still shook, her gaze had grown harder than ever before. The faint breath escaping her tightly sealed lips was that of a warrior preparing for battle once more.
But do not think for a moment that I will remain on my knees forever, you wretched Constellations. Let us see just how long your arrogant little game can last.
A cold, defiant light flickered back to life within her grey eyes.
The one who stands at the very end is the victor. And that is exactly how I have always survived. I have no intention of selling my soul to a mere contract.
Just then, the door opened quietly, and a familiar presence approached.
“Luciel.”
It was Madame Tana. Draped in her usual form-fitting red dress, she stepped into the room, exuding her signature relaxed, decadent aura. There was absolutely no trace on her face of having just encountered Eltar.
“What are you doing standing there? You don’t have the luxury of daydreaming, do you?”
Without turning her head, Luciel spoke in a low, firm voice, doing her best to conceal her inner turmoil.
“Madame. Just now… did anyone come in here?”
Tana narrowed her eyes, studying Luciel for a brief moment before shrugging her shoulders.
“Hmm? What are you talking about? Are you still half-asleep? Or… did you have some strange dream?”
She patted Luciel’s shoulder lightly and added,
“Stop spacing out and get ready quickly. There’s a VIP performance tonight. It’s an incredibly important event, so prepare yourself thoroughly so you don’t make any mistakes.”
With that, Tana nodded and left, closing the door behind her. Left alone in the quiet room, Luciel realized once more that she had to face her destiny head-on.
She gathered the fragments of her shattered pride, her boiling hatred, and her helplessness, pulling her consciousness back together.
But she knew herself better than anyone.
The brand may have forced her to her knees, but rising back up was entirely her own choice.
“Do not give up, Luciel!”
In the mirror, Luciel’s eyes gleamed with a chilling resolve.
She was once again fully armed, prepared to absorb even the deepest humiliation and make it a part of her strength.
She picked up the outfit Madame Tana had prepared in advance for the VIP stage.
A glossy black bunny girl suit, tailored to boldly expose her cleavage and waistline, reflecting a provocative sheen like raw flesh.
Putting it on piece by piece, she stood before the mirror, letting her skin grow accustomed to the touch of the fabric as she gazed at her reflection.
She straightened the slightly misaligned fabric, smoothed out the wrinkles in her stockings, placed the bunny ears on her head, and slowly forced a smile onto her lips.
A thousand-year punishment, and an inescapable contract. Yet, she would never yield.
