Suran had lost a portion of her memories.

She couldn’t recall who she was or where she came from. All she remembered was this: on the brink of death, as her consciousness faded, the Nightmare Queen descended, saved her, and bestowed power upon her—a true rebirth.

When Suran awoke, she lay collapsed before the gates of the Crimson Garden. Snow fell heavily beneath a freezing sky. The butler and several maids found her and brought her inside.

Living within the Crimson Garden, Suran never met the Nightmare Queen—only her descendant: the young Lyasis II.

The butler explained the Queen had departed. Their duty as servants was to raise the young mistress, ensuring she would inherit the Crimson Garden and become the next Nightmare Queen.

To repay her savior, Suran became a maid of the Crimson Garden, devoted to attending to the young mistress’s daily life.

Little Lyasis took an immediate liking to Suran. To hasten her growth into an exemplary maid, the butler and maid squad subjected her to specialized training: cleaning, cooking, sewing, gardening… Suran mastered each skill swiftly.

Yet strangely, each time she mastered a skill, the instructor would vanish without a trace.

Eventually, only Suran and little Lyasis remained in the entire Crimson Garden.

Lyasis explained simply: “You’ve surpassed your predecessors. They no longer need to stay.”

Suran assumed she’d cost others their livelihoods, forcing them to return home. She felt guilty for a time.

Still, she never forgot her mission. She had to move forward.

Serve little Lyasis. Help her become the great Nightmare Queen of the future!

“Loyalty. Steadfastness. Never betray.”

With unwavering tone and gaze, Suran swore this oath to Lyasis.

Eight years had passed since Suran became a maid of the Crimson Garden.

In that time, she was not only a maid but also Lyasis’s guardian—dedicated to nurturing her physical and emotional growth.

Yet, whether by nature or long-suppressed instinct, despite Suran’s constant care, Lyasis developed… a peculiar inclination.

……

Crimson Garden. The manor kitchen.

Suran gazed at the freshly made chocolate cake before her, a faint blush warming her cheeks.

“Huff… huff… Calm down. It’s clean. I can do this perfectly again.”

She murmured to herself, “I absolutely cannot disappoint the young mistress.”

Steeled in resolve, she covered the cake, placed it on the serving cart, and wheeled it toward the dining hall.

Stained-glass windows adorned the dining hall ceiling, each pane glittering like gemstones. When the blood moon rose, they would glow crimson.

Fresh from her bath, Lyasis wore a black mini-dress trimmed with white lace cuffs. She sat primly on the high chair, humming softly. Her black-stockinged feet—too short to touch the floor—swayed rhythmically, brimming with anticipation.

Soon, Suran arrived with the cart.

She lifted the silver lid. The chocolate cake, Lyasis’s favorite dessert, appeared.

But the plate held only cake—no knife, no fork.

How was the young mistress to eat?

A maid’s oversight?

“Suran, come here,” Lyasis beckoned with a gentle smile.

Suran approached and bowed her head slightly.

Instead of scolding her, Lyasis reached out, unfastened the collar from Suran’s neck, hopped down from the chair, and said, “Proceed to the next ‘processing’ step.”

Suran drew a quiet breath and nodded respectfully. “Yes, young mistress.”

No utensils were needed.

This reward required special “processing.”

Suran lifted the plate and placed the cake on the floor before the high chair. Then she seated herself upon the chair, slipped off her shoes, hitched up her skirt, and peeled away her white pantyhose—revealing slender, fair legs and bare feet.

In the next moment, she pressed her delicate bare soles gently onto the chocolate cake.

“Young mistress, please enjoy,” Suran said, gazing down with quiet intensity. “Do not waste food. Eat every last crumb, understood?”

“Yes… I will obey,” Lyasis replied.

She had already fastened the collar around her own neck and knelt at the maid’s feet.

In that instant, their roles reversed.

And this—this was the “reward” Lyasis truly craved.

……

“Thank you for the meal.”

Sated, Lyasis licked the last crumbs from her lips and rose with contentment.

“Young mistress!”

Returning to herself, Suran hastily dressed her feet, stepped down, and knelt before Lyasis, offering her neck forward.

Lyasis deftly removed the collar and fastened it back around Suran’s neck.

Mistress and maid resumed their proper places.

“You did well, Suran,” Lyasis said with an elegant smile. “I am very satisfied.”

“…It is my honor, young mistress,” Suran murmured, kissing the back of Lyasis’s hand.

By day, Lyasis was the noble, graceful heir of the Night Demons—Suran’s master.

In truth, she harbored a hidden masochistic streak.

Not a sudden awakening, but an innate nature long suppressed, finally unleashed.

When Lyasis was “in the mood,” she and Suran would swap roles for a private game.

Lyasis reveled in it—often commanding Suran to “bully” her.

Suran was required to maintain a stern, domineering presence throughout. After each session, guilt would grip her: *How could a maid treat her mistress so?*

Yet… how could she disobey her mistress’s command?

This conflict deepened Suran’s loyalty with every game—a silent atonement for her transgressions.

*Jingle… jingle…*

Wind chimes rang outside the manor.

A visitor had arrived.

“Excuse me a moment, young mistress.”

Suran bowed, turned, and opened the manor doors.

Bathed in the blood moon’s glow stood the envoy: a demon with a human body, a crow’s head, and a hat tilted low.

“I pay my respects to Lady Suran.”

He removed his hat, bowed deeply, and spoke: “A ‘Sunlight Crusade’ has camped beyond the Thornwood Forest. Our scouts confirm their leader is the ‘Hero of Humanity’—the Holyflame Knight, Plamia. Awaiting your orders.”

Suran’s eyes darkened slightly. Calmly, she replied: “Ignore them. Let them pass through the Thornwood. Conserve your strength. Once they reach here… I will handle them myself.”