Chapter 19
Chapter 19: Private Tutoring
It was like lying down in your room, stripping naked and preparing to contemplate the ceiling, only to look up and discover your own mother pushing through the door, standing at the threshold with a kind smile directed your way.
The epitome of awkwardness.
That was exactly how Funis felt right now—no essential difference.
She had just recovered from her shock and was preparing to bend down to pick up her dress when she realized that vines had already descended from the ceiling, binding her arms tightly.
The silver-haired girl was immediately hoisted up, her back suddenly straightening. In the mirror, her waist and abdomen curved gracefully, her skin delicate and pale as silk.
“You seem to be in quite a good mood. I’ve never seen you this cheerful before.”
The dark figure that had burst through the window was undoubtedly Cecia.
Removing her veiled hat and placing it beside the bed, the dark-haired witch lifted her skirts and rose. She approached Funis from behind, her heels clicking crisply as they echoed in the small room.
Lace-edged gloves passed through long hair, slowly caressing the junction of waist and hips—curves as beautiful and undulating as mountain ranges, fingertips lingering gently.
The friction of silk against fabric.
Tingling sensations spreading.
“Witch… Miss, I just felt a bit hot, so…” Funis’s voice trembled.
“But no matter how hot it gets, you wouldn’t need to remove this too, would you?”
Cecia brushed aside the girl’s hair at her neck, moving past shoulders smooth as cream. Her wine-red eyes gazed downward, from chest to waist to below the abdomen.
She gently tugged at the ribbon on the side of the undergarment, though not with much force—pulling it taut briefly before immediately releasing it.
The girl in the mirror didn’t even dare breathe too heavily. Funis wanted to close her eyes, yet feared that Cecia might actually undo that area. Tears swirled in her eyes as even her light panting carried soft sobs.
“Flossan snow cotton—a marvelous plant that can absorb water thousands of times its own weight. Fabric woven from this material isn’t cheap, but it’s become your only option for undergarments. How much modesty can a girl retain after her disguise is stripped away?”
Cecia gave just the slightest tug.
Drip.
The sound of liquid hitting the floor was clear.
Funis’s originally porcelain-white face immediately flushed crimson, her ears and neck burning red as if they might bleed at any moment.
“Inferior, pathetic lies have no reason to exist. I should have taught you that, young lady.” Cecia whispered in her ear.
The girl pressed her lips together and persisted for a while longer, but eventually gave up.
“Fine… I admit…” her voice was very small.
A pause.
Funis glanced sideways at Cecia, hoping that saying this much would be enough for her to understand.
But the girl still underestimated the witch’s wickedness.
Cecia gently stroked Funis’s slender waist, then leaned close and asked in a soft, seductive voice: “Admit what? I didn’t hear clearly. Hmm… or are you not being honest enough?”
Like being struck by lightning.
Funis couldn’t believe this woman actually wanted her—a former man—to personally speak such unspeakable things aloud. This was nothing short of naked humiliation.
Gritting her teeth.
The silver-haired girl’s pale purple eyes held anger, but she still couldn’t defy the witch’s will.
“I… I admit…” Funis said with disgust and a crying voice to Cecia, “I couldn’t help myself anymore… so…”
She couldn’t continue any further.
“So… so that’s why…”
Because it went against both her male soul’s wishes and the proper modesty a lady should maintain, the moral education and ethical knowledge from both lives no longer allowed her to continue. Funis was so anxious she wanted to cry.
“Couldn’t help yourself~ What an adorable way to put it.” Fortunately, Cecia didn’t mind. On the contrary, she was enjoying it, adopting a nasal tone to mimic the girl’s urgent, angry, and flustered manner of speaking. “I can understand—after all, it’s your first real combat. You’ve never experienced such intense physical activity before.”
“Have you counted? Approximately how many times? When you pulled the trigger, when you thrust your sword into an enemy’s throat—did it happen at those crucial moments?”
But the witch still wasn’t planning to let Funis off, quickly beginning a new round of interrogation.
Of course it would!
Normally, just sitting still while wearing stockings was already so intense, let alone during combat when she had to maintain flexible positioning at all times. Jumping left and right in high heels, if her concentration slipped even slightly, she might lose control right there on the spot due to the excessive stimulation.
Count?
There had been too many times to count at all…
But Funis could only complain silently. She had no face to speak these utterly shameful thoughts aloud.
Unexpectedly, Cecia suddenly released Funis. She walked silently to the side and picked up the leather ammunition pouch the girl had carelessly thrown on the floor earlier. The metal zipper was half-open, and parchment and a crest slipped out lightly.
The tinkling sound of them hitting the floor made Funis’s delicate body tremble.
She didn’t dare look.
“Important things thrown carelessly on the ground like this—were you really in such a hurry?” Cecia frowned.
Funis remembered how she had entered the room humming while tossing off her clothes—that really wasn’t something a sensible person should do. She had no rebuttal.
She could feel that Cecia was truly angry.
Although Cecia’s reasons for anger were always strange and peculiar, it always meant the girl had done something wrong.
The witch walked back to Funis’s side with a dark expression, her sharp gaze examining the girl’s delicate body from top to bottom. Vines suspended her arms in an alluring pose, thick silver hair cascading over her shoulders, half-concealing her exposed chest and back.
“When did it start?” Cecia demanded coldly.
Funis glanced sideways and was immediately frightened back by that almost temperature-less gaze. She trembled as she answered: “Three… three months ago? I accidentally touched it while bathing…”
“And then?” Cecia continued her merciless questioning.
“Once a week…”
“Is that so?”
“At first… at first it was once a week… then… more and more frequently…”
Her voice grew smaller and smaller, until it was like a mosquito’s buzz at the end.
Funis couldn’t lift her head, but the vines were still hanging from the ceiling, so she couldn’t lower it either.
Her round toes in white stockings fidgeted awkwardly inside her leather shoes. After being soaked with sweat, the soles of her feet were somewhat slippery, waves of stimulation coursing through her spine and into her brain.
“And now? How often?” Cecia continued her interrogation.
Like a boiling kettle, Funis’s face flushed red, as if steam might emerge at any moment.
“When you’re not here…”
“Meaning whenever I’m not around, you can’t help yourself at the first opportunity?” Blood flowed around Cecia like a stream, her face stern. “Young lady, I told you to protect yourself when out alone. Is this how you protect yourself?”
“No… don’t… Witch Miss, please don’t…” Seeing those blood streams approaching like iron chains and needle points, Funis was immediately frightened pale.
The girl couldn’t break free from the vines’ restraint. She closed her eyes in fear, tears falling uncontrollably from the corners of her eyes.
Cecia pressed her palm to her forehead and sighed deeply. The blood streams around her silently dispersed and collapsed.
Funis waited for a long time but never experienced the bone-deep pain from her memories. She slightly opened her eyes, only to discover that Cecia had also undone the butterfly bow ties at her own collar.
“Since this is education, let’s educate you thoroughly—including how to be a proper girl.”
The dark dress rustled to the floor.