An fell silent.
Indeed, demons in Hell were selfish by nature. No one would ever seek vengeance for another.
The demons below followed her only out of fear for her power and authority.
Once she died, their first thought would be scrambling for the vacant Overlord position.
"Three seconds. Tell me your choice. You know I have a meeting right after this..." Cecile raised her right leg high.
By the time she finished speaking, three seconds had already passed.
Whether An chose to die as an Overlord of Hell or remained silent, Cecile would kick her to death anyway.
*An Overlord of Hell, killed by a human’s kick?* The thought almost made her laugh.
"I understand! I understand!" An snatched the Collar and fastened it around her neck.
All traces of her earlier arrogance—when she’d threatened Cecile—vanished completely.
As a demon, survival came first.
Having clawed her way to Overlord status, how could she throw away ten thousand years of power so easily?
*Submit for now. Once Cecile leaves, I’ll rip this thing off. Then I’ll rally the other Overlords. Next time, I’ll kill this arrogant Witch.*
Cecile lowered her foot, releasing An’s ankle.
"Wise choice, An." Cecile’s praise was ice-cold. "Now. Your true name?"
A devil’s title meant nothing. Only their true name held power.
"Ruixue..." An stood up.
Cecile murmured a stinging Curse. An gasped in pain—a confirmation. Cecile glanced at her but said nothing.
Minutes passed in silence. An’s panic flared. "Hey, Cecile, what are you—"
"Ever seen Hellhounds in Hell?"
"Of course."
"How many legs do they have?"
"Four... sometimes six. Or eight. It varies."
"Any with two legs?"
"No..." An froze.
Her eyes dropped to the Collar around her neck.
Her face flushed slightly.
Slowly, she knelt before Cecile, head bowed. "Ruixue, Master... woof."
She nuzzled Cecile’s leg, sensing a flicker of satisfaction.
*Smooth as jade,* An thought, savoring the texture of that pale thigh.
Her gaze drifted upward, wondering what beauty lay hidden beneath Cecile’s black dress.
"Now explain yourself."
"The Overlords of Hell are plotting an invasion of the mortal realm. I thought... with your power, you’d easily see your successor was bewitched. My invasion strategy would fail. Then the plan’s success or failure wouldn’t be my burden anymore." An’s voice turned plaintive. "Master, believe me—I never wanted to be involved..."
Cecile didn’t buy it.
In the game’s finale, An had claimed Cecile’s soul after her death.
Cecile stroked An’s jaw like a pet. "The truth."
An choked on her words.
*How could she confess?* Admitting her desire meant death. But refusing... with her true name known... torture awaited.
"Let me guess..." Cecile leaned close, blood-red eyes locking onto hers. She recalled An’s greedy stare from long ago. "You wanted *me*, didn’t you?"
"Uh... yeah. A little..." An nodded hesitantly.
The Witch erupted into laughter—sharp, chilling.
"*Hahahaha!*"
Her fingers slid from An’s jaw to her lips.
With a firm push, she spread An’s mouth open, sliding two fingers inside.
She pressed down on An’s tongue, thumb braced beneath.
"*Mmph!*" An whimpered, confused.
"Your taste is excellent. But you chose poorly."
Cecile’s gaze shifted from glacial disdain to something disturbingly tender—like a master inspecting a pet.
"You bit off more than you could chew, An. The price of greed is steep... Pets must know their place."
Her three fingers stroked An’s tongue.
*Three Rules.*
A binding curse slithered from An’s tongue, spreading through her body like chains.
An shuddered.
Her mind clouded for an instant—then cleared.
But something had changed. Something she couldn’t grasp, no matter how hard she searched.
When Cecile withdrew her fingers, An unconsciously pressed her tongue against her palate, savoring the lingering taste.
*Thwack.*
A thick book slapped against An’s face.
She caught it. Stared.
*The Slave Handbook.*
Cecile rose from her throne and strode toward the violet-red vortex leading to the mortal realm.
"Contact me directly about the other Overlords’ plans."
"Yes, Master."
An’s reply slipped out instinctively. She froze.
*Why did I call her "Master"?*
*Xi—*
*Master.*
*??*
*Xi—Master. Master. Master...*
She tried to say "Cecile," but only "Master" formed in her mind.
*What did that bastard do to me?!*
Panic seized her. Even after Cecile left, she’d never be free.
She wanted to throw the handbook away—but her body refused. The conflict made her nauseous.
*Three Rules.* A rare, binding contract of equality.
Normally, both parties negotiated one rule each. Mutual consent forged the bond.
But Cecile held An’s true name. With Pride Authority tipping the scales, she’d twisted equality into six chains:
*(An’s Obligations — Cecile’s Entitlements)*
*Acknowledge Cecile von as Master — The contracting party becomes Cecile von’s dog*
*Study The Slave Handbook — The contracting party obeys The Slave Handbook*
*Protect Master’s interests absolutely — The contracting party feels no resistance or reluctance*
