Thump. Thump.

Suran could hear her own heartbeat clearly—a tangled mix of nervous tension and excitement. Guilt over a maid overstepping her bounds with her mistress, and the thrill of finally uncovering the truth.

"Miss, can you hear me?" Suran waved a hand before Lyasis.

"Yes."

A single word. No hesitation. Flat. Emotionless. Exactly as the truth serum demanded.

"Your name?"

"Lyasis Verlight."

"Your identity?"

"The legitimate heir of the ancient Night Demon bloodline. Tenth master of the Violet Clan."

"What do you like most?"

"Suran."

"..."

Suran froze. Silence settled. Her resolve wavered. She’d planned more questions to test the serum—but after that answer, she couldn’t bring herself to continue. She feared hearing more truths about herself. Truths that would make leaving Lyasis impossible.

*Focus. Ask about returning to Earth.*

She hadn’t yet realized her heart had shifted—from desperate escape at any cost, to steeling herself to walk away.

"H-how do I change back to my original form?" Suran swallowed hard, voice trembling.

"No way." Lyasis’s reply was absolute. "Your essence has fused with my bloodline. Reversion is impossible."

"So it is..." Suran sighed inwardly. Strangely, little regret surfaced. Eight years as a maid had softened her obsession with reclaiming her male body. But the longing to return home—to mend her broken family, live normally—remained undimmed.

She steadied her breath. "Then... how do I return to my original world?"

Holding her breath, she focused every ounce of attention. Missing a single word would shatter her.

Thankfully, the answer wasn’t "No way."

"Find the 'Lait Magic Crystal,'" Lyasis said. "Shatter it. A portal will appear where it breaks."

*Lait Magic Crystal?*

Suran’s brow furrowed slightly. *Familiar... where?*

Then—recognition. Her face paled.

"No... it can’t be *that* one?!"

Years ago, a troll tribe south of the Crimson Garden sought Lyasis’s aid to dominate rival clans. Back then, as the Nightmare Queen, Lyasis struck a deal: she granted them a Lait Magic Crystal—an ancient artifact pulsing with pure, immense magic. Empowered, they crushed all opposition, crowned rulers of the southern troll clans. In return, they pledged lifelong guard duty. Not out of fear—just convenience. A crystal for loyal "watchdogs." *If they fall later, I’ll handle the south then.*

But recently, they betrayed the oath. Abandoned duty. Hurled insults at Lyasis. Too busy, Suran assigned Holyflame Knight Plamia and her expeditionary force to subdue them.

And now—*that very crystal*, her only path home, was in *their* hands?!

If Plamia’s forces claimed it as spoils... Suran would be trapped.

*I must go. Now.*

As resolve hardened, Lyasis’s whisper cut through:

"Suran... are you going to abandon me?"

Suran’s body trembled. She glanced at Lyasis—still expressionless, eyes vacant, deep under the serum.

But why speak unprompted? Why *ask*?

Unease crawled across her heart like countless ants.

"I... I..."

Flustered. Tongue-tied. Even to a hypnotized mistress, guilt and instinct choked her reply.

Then—Lyasis’s grip faltered. Arm numb from holding the cup too long.

The teacup slipped. Scalding tea arced toward her.

Suran lunged. Caught it barehanded. Shielded Lyasis with her own body.

"Hss—" A wince. Burn stung her palm.

But her thought wasn’t pain—it was self-reproach: *Why didn’t I take the cup first? What if she’d been hurt?*

Not fear of exposure. Pure concern.

The maid’s instincts surged, threatening to drown her resolve.

*No. I have the answer. I cannot stay.*

Teeth clenched, Suran fled the Crimson Garden. Southward.

"In the end... I still couldn’t keep you."

Alone on the long chair, Lyasis slumped, gazing at the ashen-gray sky.

"Suran... will you ever come back?"