Please, Devour Me [04]
By the sound of the carriage coming to a halt, they had apparently arrived.
Cecilia, still cradled in Chloe's arms, kept her eyes squeezed shut through the haze clouding her mind. She didn't even have the strength left to lift her eyelids.
Her body swayed. With every step someone took, a jolt traveled up and brushed against her cheek. Before long, even the movement stopped — and in its place, air of an unfamiliar temperature touched her skin.
Murmuring. Whispering. Footsteps, the rustle of fabric. Countless sounds tangled together.
So noisy. Will you all just shut up. I wish everyone would keep it down. How am I supposed to sleep like this.
Cecilia tried to let it all wash over her, but a few phrases lodged themselves deep in her ears, unnaturally vivid — like the very reality she'd been trying to turn away from.
"…That's her, isn't it? The witch."
"How did such a naive young lady fall under the spell of that creature? Everyone, be careful. We need to keep our wits about us, all of us. Understood?"
"Perhaps she fell prey to that wicked woman's tongue. They say there've been plenty of victims like her. Wasn't it the same with the princess of the neighboring kingdom?"
"Shh! What if the curse spreads? Ever since that woman arrived, I wonder if the misfortune won't reach this estate as well… Ugh. What rotten luck."
One whisper piled atop another, low voices layering over each other. Witch. Wicked woman. Curse. The words landed on Cecilia with an awful familiarity.
They weren't wrong, after all. She had grown into exactly that kind of person. The most hated woman in the world — and Cecilia had played that role more perfectly than anyone. A few more insults heaped on top of the pile now would change nothing.
And yet, something unexpected happened.
Perhaps it was the exhaustion pressing down on her… but her body reacted on its own. The murmurings and the stares kept scraping at nerves already worn raw, and before she knew it, Cecilia's hand had seized the front of Chloe's clothing.
Clinging, as if searching for a place to hide.
…What am I doing? How pathetic.
Even she found the behavior mortifying. Of all people, this woman. But her hand had already latched onto that fabric, and no will remained to let go.
Chloe stopped walking. Her gaze dipped once — just for an instant — to the trembling Cecilia in her arms. And when she raised her head again, every trace of warmth had been wiped cleanly from her face.
The air in the room froze solid.
"…Just now."
A low voice. The murmurings cut off abruptly.
"Who was talking."
No one answered. Silence was all that came back. No one seemed to know what they were supposed to say.
But beyond her closed eyelids, Cecilia felt something. Something was sweeping across the room — a sticky presence crawling over her skin like oil.
This is… mana?
Darkness was blooming at Chloe's feet. Black mana coiled and knotted together, slowly taking shape. A hand. A grip sculpted from shadow — it pressed against the floor and pushed itself upright.
The maids' faces drained white.
"Hyiik!"
"M-Miss…!"
Screams erupted. Someone stumbled backward and fell. As the shadowy hand slid smoothly outward, the room descended into chaos in an instant.
"F-Forgive us!"
"We were wrong, Miss! It won't happen again—!"
"We won't say another word, ever!"
The sound of knees hitting the floor rose from every direction. Begging filled the room. The same mouths that had been tearing Cecilia apart moments ago were now pressed to the floor, groveling for their lives.
Cecilia shut her eyes against the commotion.
…Why would she go this far in a rage over it?
She couldn't understand. It was nothing more than maids gossiping. Yet Chloe had seethed with killing intent, as though punishing those who had dared sully something that belonged to her.
I'm used to talk like that, anyway. As if words like that could ever hurt me.
To Cecilia, it had always been simply the way things were. But Chloe had bared her fangs so fiercely over something so ordinary. They had only spent a few days tangled together — and she was protecting her this much.
She really is a strange woman.
The Chloe Cecilia knew hadn't been like this. The archetypal noble — pride reaching for the heavens, a woman who bowed her head to no one. The kind of person who wouldn't give a fig for anyone else's opinions.
Then, without warning, one very old memory floated to the surface. It had been years ago, hadn't it.
…When we were young, we used to spend quite a bit of time together.
Those days, faded now to gray. There had been times when the two of them laughed side by side. When had it all gone wrong? She couldn't remember. Something had slipped in between them — what was it, again?
The fragments of memory blurred, just out of reach. Every time she tried to grasp them, her head throbbed. It had been something important, but she couldn't quite tell.
She swept her bleary eyes around the room. A high ceiling. Unfamiliar walls. And yet, somewhere in it all…
Strangely familiar. An unfamiliar room that didn't feel unfamiliar. A place she'd never been, and yet somehow nostalgic. That contradictory sensation tickled at a corner of her chest.
…That's odd. This place — I feel like I've seen it somewhere before.
In the instant she reached for the flickering sense of déjà vu —
Her consciousness plunged steeply downward. Something she'd been bracing with snapped clean through. She had no strength left to hold on. Her vision began to bleed black.
Someone's pleading, and the killing intent leaking from Chloe, both faded little by little — as though she were sinking into deep, dark water.
And at the very last —
Cecilia gave a small laugh.
…What a sight I am.
Losing consciousness in the arms of the very woman she'd despised. Being protected while she passed out. Could anything be more ridiculous?
With that final burst of self-mockery, Cecilia let go. Chloe watched her in silence, then quietly gathered the limp body more securely into her arms.
◆◆◆
Light tapped gently at her eyelids.
Cecilia opened her eyes without a word. Sunlight streamed in at a slant through the window. It was a light faded to gray, but it was warm.
Morning, is it. She turned over — then froze. Something was wrong.
She felt far too good.
After a single night's sleep, she was refreshed to an almost unnatural degree. The pain that had crushed her whole body was gone. Strength had returned to her fingertips, and when she moved her legs, no scream of agony followed.
What on earth happened to me?
Cecilia slowly pushed herself upright. She felt so light it was almost disorienting. She raised her arm at once and held it before her eyes.
Clean.
The dark crimson marks that had been etched over every inch of her body — the bruised grip on her wrists, the welts along her forearms — all of it was gone without a trace. Only smooth, white skin remained.
Cecilia slipped out of bed and stood before the full-length mirror nearby. In the glass stood a woman familiar and yet foreign.
The grime of dust and sweat was scrubbed clean. Her tangled white hair had been gently combed. Not a single trace remained of the wreck of a woman who had starved and floundered for days.
Washed, groomed, every mark erased. Which meant that while she'd been unconscious, someone had handled this body from head to toe. And if so, the culprit was —
Could Chloe have ordered the maids to do it?
Cecilia gave a short laugh and stretched both arms toward the ceiling, savoring the rare refreshment. Her knotted muscles loosened, and a comfort she hadn't felt in ages settled over her.
"…Nnngh, feels like I'm alive again."
As she stretched, her whole body extended in one satisfying pull. It was the first human feeling she'd had in days, and for a moment Cecilia lingered in that drowsy ease.
But reality returned soon enough.
What do I do now? This is tricky.
She had escaped the basement. But that didn't mean she'd gained her freedom. She was still in the palm of Chloe's hand — only the location had changed, to somewhere even harder to slip out of.
How do I play this so I can survive?
Just as Cecilia was turning the problem over in her mind —
Knock, knock. A tap at the door. Then it opened with careful hesitation.
The one who entered was a woman in a maid's uniform — a neat apron, hair arranged with care. She bowed her head deeply at the threshold.
"…You're awake, then."
Cecilia couldn't tell whether she belonged to the same group of maids who'd been whispering the night before. But in her bearing, at least, there was a unmistakable wariness — as if she didn't dare treat her carelessly.
"The Miss has given her orders. You are to be looked after with the utmost care, honored guest."
Guest, is it. The corner of Cecilia's mouth twisted faintly. That title, spoken from a maid's mouth, hung in the air with an awkward, discordant ring.
"And so…"
The maid paused, choosing her words. Then she continued.
"It would be best to bathe first. Everything is prepared."
Cecilia looked at the woman. There was no reason to refuse — no, she wasn't in any position to refuse at all. She nodded slowly.
"Fine. I was feeling grimy anyway."
Following the maid's lead, Cecilia strode into the bathroom without hesitation. The wide tub was filled to the brim with warm water.
She slipped off the thin cloth draped over her and lowered herself carefully into it.
"…Haaah."
A sigh escaped her of its own accord. The warm water wrapped around her skin, and the body that had been chilled by the cold stone floor slowly grew accustomed to that heat. Cecilia leaned her head against the edge of the tub and closed her eyes.
A droplet ran down her soaked white hair, slid across her cheek, and fell from the tip of her chin.
"…How long has it been since I had this."
To be treated like a person. Warm water. Time where no one clawed at her.
Cecilia sank, just for a little while, into that unfamiliar peace. She couldn't let her guard down entirely — but for this one moment, her body melted before her mind could object.
She washed herself from head to toe. Her arms, her legs, the nape of her neck. She scrubbed away the traces that had been left on her, one by one — desperately, as if trying to peel away the past that had clung itself to this body.
A long while later, Cecilia stepped out of the water. She dried herself and reached for the clothes laid out in wait.
A single outfit, folded and set aside — and the moment she picked it up, her hand stopped.
"…This is."
A maid's uniform. Identical to the very clothes the maids wore.
Cecilia stared down at the fabric in silence. For all the talk of treating her as a guest, what had been handed to her was a servant's livery. Chloe's true feelings revealed themselves, bitterly and neatly, in this one garment.
A mark of possession — cherished, perhaps, but ultimately kept within reach of her hand. Cecilia let out a short, hollow laugh.
"…Well, it's better than being naked."
She had no complaints. This wasn't a position from which to be taking pride in such things. Cecilia calmly slipped her body into the clothes, and the unfamiliar texture of the fabric brushed against her skin.
She smoothed out her attire and swept her damp hair back over her shoulders. In the mirror stood Cecilia in a maid's uniform. Somehow, it looked terribly out of place on her.
"Now, then."
Cecilia moved toward the door.
Whatever Chloe had prepared — it was time to find out what it was.
Let's have a look, shall we.
Cecilia opened the door and stepped out.