Teresia lived in Light Village, a small settlement within the Doranbar Kingdom, with her mother as her only family.
Since the village bordered the capital city of Loest, many villagers commuted there for work.
Every day before dawn, her mother Kana would leave for the city.
At those times, Teresia stayed home alone, tending to chores.
Today was no different. She cooked two bowls of potato soup, hoping for her mother’s swift return.
As if hearing her silent plea, Kana came home earlier than usual—but her expression was unlike any Teresia had seen before.
Tears streaked her pale face; her swollen red eyes held a grief so deep it seemed lifeless.
Before Teresia could ask what happened, Kana pulled her into a crushing embrace.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Teresia…”
Kana’s apologies tumbled out as fresh tears flooded her cheeks.
Her sudden breakdown left Teresia frozen, bewildered yet sensing the sorrow thickening in the air.
…
Teresia’s dread proved true.
She learned what had happened.
She was to be sent to Duke Wudewen’s manor.
Though raised in Light Village, she’d always dreamed of a fairy-tale romance—she loved Cinderella’s story and hoped to meet her own prince.
But tonight, that dream would shatter.
Duke Wudewen was a powerful noble in Doranbar, infamous among commoners. Teresia could already guess how his household would treat her.
As dusk fell, she followed Kana to the duke’s estate.
At parting, Kana’s tearful apologies blurred into silence—Teresia heard nothing.
Numb, she trailed a maid through the manor corridors. Like a puppet, she let them strip her coarse homespun dress and guide her into a wide wooden tub.
Fragrant steam rose around her as she bathed among bubbles.
The warmth was comforting, yet it couldn’t fill the emptiness inside.
Later, maids dried her skin and hair, dressing her in new clothes.
The fabric was finer than her old linen, but joy wouldn’t touch her.
She walked on. Though night had fallen, the manor’s corridors blazed with light.
Normally, she’d marvel at its splendor. Now, every glittering detail felt like a funeral procession—crushing and heavy.
“We’re here. This is Young Master Derek’s room.”
The lead maid stopped abruptly, turning to Teresia with pity in her eyes.
After speaking, she retreated, leaving Teresia alone.
Teresia stared at the door before her. It looked like the maw of a demon—stepping through meant falling into hell.
She wanted to flee, but had no choice.
She thought of her mother’s shattered face.
Raising a trembling hand, she knocked…
…
*Teresia?!*
Derek’s shock was absolute at the sight of her.
He’d expected Kana to send a girl, but not this soon.
He’d been reborn less than a day ago—no time to plan how to refuse.
And this Teresia was still a child.
Seeing her small, frail frame, Derek sighed inwardly: *This isn’t the Teresia I knew.*
As the party’s healer, her generous curves had always been part of her charm.
How did he know?
In an R18 world, effort reveals every heroine’s secrets.
Naturally, he’d seen Teresia’s… (*Endless gratitude to the artists who bless this world with beauty.*)
But considering her impoverished life in Light Village outside the capital, her current thinness made sense.
Don’t underestimate her, though. Soon, those flat plains would rise into a majestic mountain range—Teresia’s Plateau becoming the Great Teresia Peaks.
*Ahem.*
Focus.
This wasn’t the time for distractions. He needed a way to handle Teresia.
She was a unique character: though a healer, her damage against villains ranked second only to the protagonist Leon Lancelot in *Destiny*.
Her mastery of light magic and innate affinity for it made her lethal against dark-aligned foes—a perfect counter.
If he recalled correctly, his own magic specialized in lightning and darkness…
Meaning Teresia was one of the trickiest members of the hero’s party.
In the original plot, Kana died at Duke Wudewen’s hands. Teresia never met Derek.
After her mother’s death, Teresia struggled alone in Light Village.
But half a year later, a key figure arrived:
Bisca Shalier—one of the Holy Church’s Defender Knights, and Teresia’s aunt.
Years ago, Bisca had lost contact with her brother (Teresia’s father) and was taken in by the Church.
After rising to Defender Knight, she began searching for family.
In Light Village, she found Teresia.
Grieving her brother and sister-in-law’s deaths, Bisca took her niece to be raised by the Church—forging the future Holy Maiden, Teresia Shalier.
In *Destiny*, Holy Maiden Teresia was gentle and compassionate, yet fiercely vengeful—especially toward Duke Wudewen’s family for killing her mother.
Derek stressed this only to say: *Don’t underestimate her grudge, even as a child.*
If he forced himself on her now, she’d swear to grind his bones to dust for life.
*Eliminate her now?*
The thought was vile.
With the duke’s power, he could wipe out the unformed hero party.
But would that bring a happy ending?
Absolutely not.
*Destiny*’s true evil was the Witch Cult—a faction seeking to resurrect a witch and rule the world.
Resurrecting witches? Derek had no interest in that suicide mission.
But as a major boss in one storyline, his refusal wouldn’t stop others from trying.
The Witch Cult itself was a ticking bomb.
Without the hero party, no one would stop those fanatics.
So the party *had* to exist.
Derek’s conclusion was clear: avoid ruin by cutting ties with villains and never anger the heroes.
Let them fight while he lived peacefully.
Teresia was the party’s irreplaceable healer. He couldn’t afford her hatred—or let Duke Wudewen claim her life prematurely.
Mind made up, Derek exhaled sharply, ready to send Teresia away with an excuse.
But before he could act—
…
The door opened. Soft light spilled out, revealing a room even more lavish than the corridor.
Teresia didn’t see who spoke.
Not because they were absent—but because she couldn’t lift her head.
A night breeze swept through as the door opened. Her body locked rigid.
She’d thought herself prepared. Yet in this moment, she realized how fiercely she resisted.
She didn’t want to step forward.
Didn’t want to enter this room.
Silence hung inside.
Though she didn’t look, she felt eyes studying her—amused, assessing.
The scrutiny was torture.
The air thickened. The space pressed down, heavy and suffocating.
Despair clawed at Teresia.
In such moments, she always thought of her mother.
But now, Kana’s tear-streaked, ashen face flashed in her mind.
*Right. I can’t be selfish.*
*For Mother, I must do this.*
Biting her lip until it hurt, Teresia surrendered.
*Why isn’t Young Master Derek speaking?*
Minutes stretched. Still silence.
Was this a test?
The tension tightened her chest. She feared displeasing him—and endangering her mother.
*Teresia, you’re here to please him. But how? What does “please” mean?*
She didn’t know.
Yet at her age, she’d wondered about such things. From what she’d heard, it began with baring oneself.
She remembered the bath the maids gave her earlier.
*This must be it.*
*Should I… remove my clothes?*
Her hands flew to her chest. A trace of crimson stained her cheeks.
Fingers trembled—embarrassment warring with terror.
But what choice did she have?
Delaying might anger him.
Gripping her maid dress, Teresia’s gaze scattered…
…
While Derek plotted his escape, he never imagined Teresia was plotting too—and far more desperately.
By the time he noticed, she’d already moved.
*Puff.*
A soft sound. The loose maid dress slid to the floor.
Beneath it, she wore a thin lavender nightgown.
Still, bare skin gleamed—smooth shoulders dusted with golden hair, making her look heartbreakingly delicate.
But that expression…
Her eyes were hollow. Her face bleak. Derek sensed her teetering on the edge of breaking.
*If you hate this, just stop!*
Her sudden move trapped them both.
Panic surged through Derek. Yet Teresia didn’t pause. Her right hand rose, clutching the left strap of her nightgown.
*Holy shit!*
When he first played *Destiny*, he’d spent ages grinding Teresia’s affection just to see her blush shyly.
*Shyly.* Not like this.
Now he wanted to avoid that path, yet she was *this* forward?!
*R18 world or not—you don’t ignore the player’s wishes!*
As her fingers loosened the strap, Derek’s heart hammered against his ribs.
The left strap slipped—but her hand didn’t release it. Her last shred of dignity trembled in her grip.
The nightgown stayed. Derek breathed.
This hesitation had stalled their future enmity.
He had to seize this chance.
*(Teresia, put your clothes on and leave.)*
Derek spoke.
Then his blood ran cold.
Just as he feared—the subtitling crew clocked in…
His gentle words never reached his ears. Only a cold, commanding roar echoed:
**“Strip.”**
