Rodrika's voice made Stella's steps pause slightly. The girl's eyes narrowed for a moment, then she lowered her head and quickened her pace to get away.

"You've mistaken me. I'm just an ordinary maid."

How could Stella dare admit it?

In this shameful state, how could she match the battle nun of old who struck fear into countless demons and heretics?

Now, she was nothing but a dog to that woman.

Rodrika's voice called from behind: "Wait, Stella!"

"I said you're mistaken!" Stella turned back, looking at Rodrika. "I have duties. If I don't return early, my master will punish me."

Just as she turned away, Rodrika chased after her, shouting: "Stella, I know you! We've carried out missions together. The you back then was a completely different person."

Stella ignored her. She knew this fallen noble lady well—knew how Silphia had schemed behind the scenes to isolate her in the Holy Capital.

Both were victims framed by that woman. What good would licking each other's wounds do?

"...Do you really want to be that woman's dog forever?"

The words struck Stella's raw nerve. She turned again, her brown eyes fixed on Rodrika, and spoke slowly: "Even if I refuse, what can I do? With a single thought, she can leave me without a grave."

This was the price of failure.

Yet Rodrika's next words froze her in place—

"What if I told you the magic potion she made you drink has an antidote?"

Stella couldn't move. Her heartbeat pounded louder, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks.

"Rodrika, are you lying?" Her voice was tightly controlled, but the thrill bled through.

She held back hope—it felt too fragile.

Rodrika sighed softly. "Because of her, you trust no one now. Fine. Breaking your curse has conditions. If you're willing, find me in a few days—no, find the Hero."

"Come secretly. Don't let her know!"

Huh?

The Hero, newly summoned to this world, could counter such magic?

Stella doubted it. But why would Rodrika deceive her?

The Hero? Should she trust once?

Or was this a cruel joke set up by that woman and Rodrika?

Luring her with hope only to humiliate her?

The choice was easy. Her pride had been trampled to dust years ago. What was left to fear?

Without Silphia's permission, Stella couldn't leave. She'd only heard from patrolling knights that the Hero's summoning succeeded.

She'd longed to fight beside him. Otherwise, what was the point of their martial training?

To be maids?

Her heart, once stagnant water, rippled faintly at Rodrika's words.

A tiny spark of hope flickered in her gray eyes.

—

That night, Silphia slept on soft sheets, still dreaming of collaring Gao Ying.

Stella lay on a hard, cold bedboard, sleepless, turning Rodrika's words over. She had no reason to lie. So freedom wasn't impossible?

Meanwhile, Gao Ying, with Rodrika's help, brewed the first 'antidote'. In his past life, he'd gotten the formula from the Great Witch of the Witch Forest. The ingredients were easy to buy—only the ratios were unforgiving. A hair's breadth off, and it failed.

This potion nullified all Witch magic. Thankfully, brewing it needed no magic power or level.

Where had Gao Ying found it?

As the Goddess-chosen Hero, the destined one, an excuse was simple: "The Goddess's divine revelation." In this religious heartland, who'd dare question the all-powerful Goddess?

Gao Ying had warned Rodrika: keep it secret, especially from Silphia.

"Who escapes the knife from behind?"

He knew this truth well. At his current strength, avenging himself on Silphia was a fool's dream. It'd take a year to grow that strong.

He couldn't wait. If he couldn't touch her, others around her could.

While Silphia dreamed sweetly, Gao Ying's net of revenge spread silently, waiting for the butterfly to fly in.

Next morning, Silphia rose early. Determined to cook Gao Ying a homestyle breakfast, she couldn't linger in bed.

She wore a sheer silk nightgown—lewd, clashing with her pure Holy Maiden image. But no one would see. Boldness came easily; after all, she'd been a man in her past life. Sixteen years of transmigration hadn't erased that mindset.

She stretched, her curves glowing in the dawn light. The translucent fabric hinted at veiled allure, twisting innocence into temptation.

Silphia yawned toward the door: "Sophia, Elise, help me dress!"

The maids tumbled in, scrambling to button clothes mid-run. They hadn't expected her early rise. Blonde Elise tripped on loose shoes, yelping as she hit the floor headfirst.

The sight made Silphia giggle.

They crawled before her, hair wild, faces bare. Even Silphia felt a pang at their disheveled state.

Ah, proof they'd been molded into her shape.

"Hehehe, no rush. Tidy up first. You look like ghosts—it's annoying."

Silphia sounded generous, but the maids knew better. She was only kind when pleased. Normally, she was a fickle tyrant.

"Yes, Holy Maiden! Sorry you saw this!"

They apologized hastily, turning to leave—when Silphia's voice stopped them.

"Wait. Where's Stella?"