"Freya, are you alright?"

Under Morningstar’s persistent calls, Freya finally stirred slightly.

"M... Master..."

Her voice was faint. She opened hazy eyes toward Morningstar, mind blank, words failing her—only instinctive, shallow breaths remained.

The more Morningstar watched her, the more familiar it felt. *Wait… you can’t be…*

Realization struck like lightning. She froze. Flashes of scenes from erotic manga she’d once read flooded her mind. Holy crap. Seriously?

A simple back scrub reduced Freya to *this*? Was her technique *that* good? Or was Freya just hypersensitive?

She’d only ever seen reactions like this in novels or doujinshi—artistic exaggeration, she’d thought. After transmigrating, curiosity led her to test it herself. The sensations *were* stronger than before… but never this dramatic. No screaming, no prolonged trembling, no blank-eyed daze afterward.

"This girl’s straight out of a doujinshi heroine. No wonder she’s got airhead potential."

*Why didn’t I feel it like this? Was it because someone else was doing it to her?*

Freya’s state stirred Morningstar’s curiosity. Everyone has desires—especially a lustful Dark Sorceress like her. Still… the thought of *someone else* scrubbing *her* back made her cheeks flush.

Truthfully, shyness didn’t suit the Dark Sorceress—she tormented others, never the reverse. Yet the image sent warmth creeping up her neck. The more she dwelled, the stranger her body felt. She glanced down, dipped quickly into the water to rinse off. *Can’t let Freya see…*

"Master… please stop teasing me," Freya whispered weakly. She’d never endured anything like this.

Last time, being consumed by her master brought intensity—but his sinister energy overwhelmed her mind too fast. She never felt the slow buildup, the terrifying surge. At first, pure fear: *Something awful is coming.* And it did. For a heartbeat, she felt death-close, soul lifting toward the sky…

Yet in the quiet aftermath, a flicker of something else lingered.

"I wasn’t teasing! I just thought you were dirty and wanted to help. You’re not broken, are you?" Morningstar patted Freya’s cheek. Relief washed over her as clarity returned to those eyes. *If she broke this easily, she’d be no fun later.*

"If scrubbing your back did *this*… what if I flipped you over?" A mischievous grin spread across Morningstar’s face.

Freya flinched. "No, Master, please! I’ll do anything—*anything*—just not this!" Her face pleaded, genuinely pitiful.

"Fine. Since it’s your first time, I’ll spare you."

"Thank you, Master—"

"—You thought I’d say that?" Morningstar cut in with a smirk.

"Huh?"

Before Freya could react, restless hands pressed against her shoulders, feigning an attempt to flip her.

"You *promised*!"

"I’m the Dark Sorceress. You called me the source of lies—so a little lie’s fair game, right?"

Freya clutched her wrists tightly. Morningstar wasn’t even trying hard. Just teasing.

"Wah… Devil. You’re a devil."

Hurt and flustered, Freya forgot "Master" entirely, voicing long-buried thoughts.

"Exactly. I’m a devil. Resist me. The more you resist, the more I enjoy it."

"Wah…" Realizing resistance was futile, Freya went limp. She lay still, silent, wide eyes locked firmly on Morningstar.

That sudden surrender threw Morningstar off. Her playful mood deflated.

"Why stop?" Freya murmured, surprised the hands had withdrawn. She’d expected more torment.

"Ugh. Fine. Let’s just bathe." Morningstar sank back into the pool, submerging half her face, blowing bubbles.

*Wait… I just rinsed myself here…*

"Ew. Shouldn’t be dirty… right?" She lifted her head, uneasy.

"Hm? What was that?" Another faint grinding sound. *Rats?* Then she remembered—the Little Dragoness was tethered outside.

*Of course she heard everything… and is probably grinding her teeth right now.*

Morningstar would never let that girl bathe with her. Too much trouble.