It started with fear.
But fear, when watered with time and crushed under pressure, grows into something else entirely.
It grows into obedience.
That was the case with Rie.
The once-proud half-demon princess now knelt on the floor of her own room, face blank, lips tight, knees red from hours on the cold marble tiles.
Across from her, Eyla sat comfortably on her bed, her legs crossed as she nibbled on a fruit tart Rie had prepared with trembling hands.
The air smelled faintly of cinnamon and coffee.
"Mmm," Eyla hummed, licking a bit of cream off her finger. "Not so terrible today. You're improving, little mutt."
"..."
Rie said nothing.
Eyla glanced down and sighed dramatically. "What, no gratitude for the compliment? Tch… how ungrateful."
She leaned forward slightly and flicked the half-empty tart plate to the ground.
It clattered near Rie's hands.
"Clean it up."
Rie immediately reached out and began picking up crumbs with her fingers.
A sharp crack echoed.
Eyla had slapped her across the face—hard.
The blow left a red mark on Rie's cheek, her head jerking to the side.
"You clean like a rat, not a servant. Use the cloth, idiot. Or do you want to lick it up like a good little dog?"
"…Sorry…Eyla," Rie whispered, her voice barely audible.
Slap
Rie gasped and whimpered, but didn't resist.
"That's for forgetting to say Mistress earlier," Eyla whispered sweetly. "Do you want another?"
"S-sorry… Mistress Eyla…"
"I didn't hear you."
"I'm sorry, Mistress Eyla."
"Louder"
"I'M SORRY MISTRESS EYLA!!!"
Eyla chuckled. "There we go. So polite. See? this is what I am talking about just look at yourself. look how much obedient you become in just two years..."
"Did you finally understand your place mud"
"Yes mistress"
Eyla watched with smug satisfaction, then reached down to grab a lock of Rie's silver hair and yanked her upright to her knees.
"Say it"
"I am mud…"
SLAP
"Slow and lound"
"I... am... mud... beneath... the... Prince... the Princess... and Mistress Eyla...."
SLAP.
"Try again. Add your little truth, mutt."
Tears welled in Rie's eyes again. Her lips trembled. Her voice shook.
"I… I'm not a princess… I'm a filthy… half-breed mutt… only worthy of serving Mistress Eyla…"
As if satisfied and amused she let out a laugh "hahah as long as you know, now clean the mess"
She picked up the cup of coffee beside her and sipped it slowly while watching Rie scrub the floor.
She didn't stop until the ground was spotless.
Then, as if remembering something, she tossed a half-eaten biscuit on the floor.
"There. For your hard work," she said mockingly. "Eat."
Rie stared at it for a moment.
Then picked it up and placed it in her mouth without question.
Eyla smirked. "Good girl."
This had become their routine.
Eyla had made herself at home in Rie's life—her space, her soul.
She treated Rie's room like her own, lounging on her bed, using her perfume, slipping her feet into her slippers.
She took whatever jewelry or dress she fancied, selling the rest while parading around in what she liked.
And if anyone dared to ask, she would smile sweetly and say, "My master Rie gifted it to me."
Eventually, the secret slipped.
Eyla hadn't meant to tell the other maids, but it was hard to hide the truth when they saw what had become of the once proud, haughty girl.
Rie, who used to carry herself like a noble, now flinched at raised voices and avoided eye contact like a beaten dog.
The truth spread—and of course, Eyla bribed them. It didn't take much. After all, who wouldn't want a piece of the fake princess?
It became routine.
The maids would gather in Rie's room, giggling as they planned how to "play" with their little toy that day.
And the so-called princess obeyed—silently, obediently—afraid of what would happen if she didn't.
Eyla had trained her well. Still, no matter how perfectly she performed, the punishments never stopped.
Eyla was enjoying it far more than she'd expected.
At first, she worried that letting others in would lessen the fun.
But she'd been wrong—the maids were creative. They brought new ideas, new tasks, new punishments. It was exhilarating.
Then one day, a maid came running with news that made her stomach drop.
The head butler had summoned her.
Eyla cursed under her breath. The head butler—a Marquis-rank demon—was feared by every servant in the castle. Upright. Ruthless. Cold. If he had found out…
Her only hope was to survive. As long as she wasn't killed, she could endure anything.
When she stood before him, he asked only one question:
"Is what I've heard true?"
She confessed everything. There was no point in lying.
But instead of punishment, he said,
"Make sure this doesn't get out."
'What?'
She blinked in confusion. Did he really say that?
Seeing her expression, the head butler gave a rare, amused smile.
"That girl was always difficult. Causing trouble, making my work harder. Always bothering Princess Lily, and every time she did, the Prince would throw a tantrum and turn the castle upside down."
He leaned back in his chair.
"But since you've come, she's been manageable. Your actions have kept her in check. It's… convenient. Just don't go too far. Don't break her completely. And make sure no one else finds out. I'll handle the rest."
Then his smile vanished.
"But if this ever becomes a problem… I'll be the one to kill you first. Understand?"
Eyla understood. She was the scapegoat. The shadow tool used to silence the troublesome girl.
But only if she got caught.
And she hadn't been—for three years.
Now, with the head butler's silent approval, she was confident she never would be.
She smiled as she left the office, her steps light with twisted delight. From that day on, all hell broke loose—
There were days she didn't even have a reason.
She'd be bored, sipping tea Rie brewed for her, and suddenly stand.
A slap. A kick to her side. Hair yanked back.
No words.
She was her stress reliever...
Looking at the girl on the ground shivering she whispers—sweet as sugar, laced with poison.
"Why do you exist, Rie?"
"I… I don't know…"
She said tear dripping from her eyes...
Eyla crouch beside her, gently brushing the tears from her cheek.
"You exist to serve me. That's the only reason you weren't discarded like the mongrel you are."
"Yes… Mistress Eyla…"
"Good." Her smile was sharp. "Now tell me, why do you exist?"
"To serve Mistress Eyla… to be used for Mistress Eyla's enjoyment," Rie answered softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Eyla reached out and gently patted Rie's head.
"There, there. Don't cry…" she cooed, her tone sweet but chilling. "You know your mistress loves you, right? I'm the only one in this castle who does. I'm the only one who stays by your side."
She sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind Rie's ear.
"Look at them. No one cares if you leave your room. No one notices if you're even alive. But I do. What would I do without my precious little mutt?"
A sorrowful expression crossed her face—artificial, theatrical.
"You know I don't want to hurt you. I feel pain too, when you cry... or when I have to hit you. But if I don't teach you manners, who will?" Her voice dropped, almost tender. "As your mistress, it's my duty to shape you into something better, isn't it?"
"Now come here," she said, patting the space beside her on the bed. "Sit with me. No work today, okay?"
To the outside world?
Rie was the aggressor.
Eyla was the quiet, humble servant.
The poor noble fallen from grace, clinging to duty with admirable dignity.
"She's so cruel to that poor maid," they'd whisper. "Have you seen how Lady Rie treats her?"
The Princess herself had once approached Eyla, concern in his voice.
"She doesn't hit you… does she?"
And Eyla?
She lowered her gaze, hands trembling just enough to seem believable.
"N-no, Your Highness… Lady Rie... never hit me…"
There was sympathy in the girl eyes as she embraced her. So warm. So trusting.
It was almost too easy.
But unknown to her…
Unknown and Unseen to everyone…
In the corner of the room, a translucent figure stood silently—like an audience member watching a play unfold on stage.
But this wasn't just any performance.
It was a reenactment of her own life.
And the ghostly figure?
None other than Rie herself, watching the memory with a blank, unreadable expression.