"One thousand four hundred... That's double the average from last month over the past two weeks. Is it because of the heels?"
Chescia brushed aside the fine strands of silver at Funis's cheek, watching the girl's reaction with amused eyes.
Funis slightly tilted her head, her arm shielding her eyes more tightly, preventing the witch from seeing her true expression at that moment.
She already knew the answer and asked anyway.
The girl could only grumble in her heart.
The snug, smooth yet faintly matte texture of the stockings already provided quite a bit of stimulation to her feet. And stepping into equally smooth leather shoes while wearing them often caused her soles to slip inside. On hot days, the sweat soaking her socks only made things worse—just walking could unleash a tidal wave...
Even flat shoes during light steps were bad enough. Add heels and combat training, and the misery became easily imaginable.
Her delicate toes were constantly under pressure, the sensitive soles sliding downward endlessly. Funis lived in this hell daily, all due to Chescia's twisted preferences. She had no choice.
"Should we raise the heels again? Nine centimeters, maybe even eleven? I imagine your calves—tense and stretched for the occasion—would look absolutely breathtaking," Chescia whispered close to Funis's ear.
"Yih♡—!?"
Fear.
Panic.
Funis failed to stifle the sound, letting out a soft, coquettish cry.
Just imagining her own flustered state in high heels sent a tingling shock surging up her spine and into her brain, leaving her mind blank and body weak.
The arms she had been desperately using to cover her eyes slid away gently, revealing those amethyst eyes, misty with moisture and dimmed in light.
Too humiliating.
To outsiders unaware of the truth, Funis appeared noble, silent, cold, and sharp—following Chescia without a word, mysterious and elegant.
But in reality, the girl had paid unimaginable effort behind the scenes to maintain that façade.
And Chescia, knowing the truth, showed no concern for her dignity in private. The contrast between her public and private image was precisely the perverse fun the wicked witch derived from it.
The once-reliable middle-aged man had become a pathetic little girl who lost composure at a few whispered words. If his adopted daughter Charlotte were ever to see this shameful state, then Sera Fred would be socially dead in every conceivable way.
That must never happen!
Funis had already decided to bury this secret deep in her heart. When the day came that she could truly die, both Sera Fred and Funis would vanish from this world.
"What beautiful eyes... Why do you always try to hide them?"
Chescia pinned the girl's weakened arms above her head into the flowerbed, lowering herself to meet her gaze.
Her black hair flowed like a stream through the veil's gaps, like a curtain cascading over the sweet, private world of the two girls. A seductive fragrance filled the air.
Snapping out of her daze, Funis bit her lip tightly, her gaze at Chescia full of resentment and anger. "I hate these eyes. I hate this body. I hate who I am now. That's why I—"
Her emotions gradually grew more intense.
But as Chescia leaned in closer, Funis suddenly quieted down.
"Mn, M-Miss Witch... your h-horns touched me♡～"
Funis wriggled in protest, only to realize that the witch had pressed her silk-covered round knee against her abdomen, leaving her immobile.
Too close.
She could even feel her breath.
Scorching, aggressive, full of desire—desperately trying to seize something from her.
"Girl, be still," Chescia said with a tone that brooked no refusal. "Don't forget. This is your obligation."
She slightly turned her face, pressing it against Funis's cheek. Their horns, separated by the translucent veil, rubbed gently in slow motions.
"Uuh♡～"
The horns of a succubus were rich in nerve endings.
To a succubus, their horns were, in essence, no different from certain other organs.
Both Chescia's and Funis's breathing grew more rapid and frequent. Between the black curtain of hair, their slightly parted lips released honeyed mist.
In her haze, Funis gazed at the alluring girl lying atop her. The witch's proud, cold face now flushed with a rosy hue, sweat glistening, her moans enchanting.
To Funis, the witch was her enemy, her mentor, her elder sister, her guardian.
But to the witch, perhaps Funis was nothing more than a tool to vent her desires.
That was her obligation.
It had nothing to do with her own will or feelings.
Perhaps Stacie could never have imagined that not long after she closed the door and turned her back, the Funis she admired would be pinned beneath the very Chescia she revered. The delicate silver bells hanging from the base of her transparent horns rang out endlessly in repeated tremors.
Amidst the rose bushes, Chescia gently licked behind Funis's ear.
"Hopefully that bit of affection hasn't made you stupid. Do you remember where I left off earlier?" she asked in a low voice.
Her chest rising and falling slightly, Funis tried her best to steady her breath. The silver bells by her horns quieted a little. "You mentioned a... new idea... regarding my training progress..."
Chescia let go of her, remaining straddled upright. She looked down at Funis with an almost scrutinizing gaze. "Over the past year of training, do you think the use of guns and swords was more important, or was adapting to and becoming familiar with your new body more important?"
"I believe it's the latter, Miss Witch," Funis answered obediently.
Chescia's question wasn't without meaning.
Even without relying on Transcendent abilities, Sera Fred had been an expert in swordsmanship, hand-to-hand combat, and quick-draw revolver shooting. The Temperance Court's training was strict and professional. Chescia had even specially commissioned a set of short thrusting sword and revolver for her, precisely because of her combat experience and habits from when she was male.
In terms of shooting and thrusting techniques, Chescia wasn't more skilled than Sera Fred. What she could teach was merely how Funis could perform battle stances and movements in a more ladylike and refined manner.
But this body, classified as a young succubus, was new and unfamiliar to Funis.
The repeated daily combat training wasn't so much for sharpening technique as it was for adapting to her new body.
Though Chescia had never explicitly stated it, Funis had gradually understood the deeper intent behind being made to meet daily training goals.
She had to admit—Chescia was an excellent mentor.
Funis had once thought she could learn nothing from that despicable witch, gain nothing from her.
"Since you've already figured it out, then you should also understand that making you wear higher heels is part of the training," Chescia said with a gentle smile, which sent chills down Funis's spine. "After two more weeks of adjustment, I'll order several new pairs of nine-centimeter heels from New Lunz. Please be prepared, girl."
"Eh?" Funis wailed into her hands.
"As for the 'new idea' I mentioned before—" Chescia's smile quickly faded, her tone shifting, "I believe it's time to prepare your Witch Path advancement ritual."