Thanks to the devoted nursing over the past few days, Piel's body had changed remarkably.
When I first brought her here, she was so emaciated that her bones seemed ready to poke through her skin, leaving deep hollows inside her bandages. But now, with the food I'd been giving her, she'd put on some weight, and color was returning to her skin.
Even her face, now free of swelling, showed faint signs of vitality. It was a pleasing sight.
The problem was... only her body had recovered.
Her expression never changed when she heard my words—she just obeyed.
Whether I opened the door, told her to sit, or said to eat, her response was always the same.
I'd tried seating her at the table for two days straight, but in the end, Piel always slid down to the floor.
A beast cannot eat at the same table as humans.
That single sentence had her completely bound.
So in the end, I'd tear off a piece of meat and give it to her, and she'd eat it from the floor like a dog, without even using her hands.
Her body had come back to life, but her mind was still dead.
I paused mid-slice on the meat atop the table and let out a deep sigh.
'Haa... What a headache.'
Fine, let's say eating from the floor was a result of forced conditioning after being dragged here as a slave.
I could concede that a hundred times over and call it unavoidable.
But even when I tried to change her clothes, that became another wall.
"N-no! How could a wretch like me dare wear clothes meant for humans? If anything, I should go naked every day, but I'm always grateful for even this straw mat to cover my hideous body so no one has to see it!"
Eh... whew...
Wheeeeeew!
Is it normal for a kid who looks barely elementary-school age to spout lines like that without batting an eye?
Yet she clutched at her tattered rags with both hands to hide her private parts when standing alone, lest they show through the tears...
Her instinct to cover herself clashed with the implanted lesson that "hiding is a sin," leaving her completely twisted up.
So in the end, I changed tactics.
"Piel. Sit next to me. That's an 'order.'"
"An... order?"
"Yes. An order."
I said it calmly, but inside, it felt like walking on thin glass.
I now knew how heavy a simple "sit" was for this child.
Like applying antiseptic to a wound—stinging and painful, but something I had to believe would lead to healing.
Today, as the large barbecued dish arrived, Piel crawled to my side on reflex.
Her small frame moved with ingrained resignation and obedience.
I gazed at her tiny back as she placed her hands on the floor and knelt down, then got on my knees in front of her.
To match her eye level.
I extended my hand slightly.
The moment my fingertips touched, Piel's shoulders flinched.
She didn't run, but the tension of a creature ready to bolt was palpable.
But I didn't grab tight.
Just enough that she could pull away if she wanted—enough to leave room for her to follow.
And I pulled up a prepared chair not across from me, but right beside—close enough our shoulders might brush.
"Truth is... I don't like looking down at people."
"I-is that so?!"
"Yeah. So I'd like you to sit next to me. For the record, this isn't because you've done well—it's because I want it that way. You just have to obey."
Even as I spoke, I had no sense of what words would "trigger" her and which were "safe." My own fingertips trembled from it.
But there was no turning back now.
"C-can... I do that?"
"Of course. You can."
The very fact that a beastkin like her would ask so timidly if she could sit beside a human was heartbreaking.
Still, Piel mustered her courage.
She stood trembling on tiptoes in front of the chair, then slowly—agonizingly cautiously—lowered her hips.
Like setting down a cracked bowl, she sat in the chair beside me.
And I sat at the same time.
Same height, same place.
A position where no one looked down on the other.
In that brief moment, Piel held her breath.
My mere sound of sitting froze her body solid.
Yet she didn't flee.
That alone felt like greater progress than any treatment I'd tried so far.
Right up to that moment.
I was just someone who'd read about Piel's hell in words.
Believing I'd understood it was the most horrific arrogance in front of this trembling child.
"Piel, shall we eat together? I'll feed you, so just open your mouth."
"..."
"...Piel?"
"H-heh... heh!"
It happened in that instant.
In the few seconds it took to spear a piece of meat with my fork and turn to her.
The child who'd just gathered the courage to sit was gone. In her place on the chair huddled a beast.
Her shoulders convulsed, teeth chattered, eyes lost focus as they stared into her own nightmare.
Her breath came in ragged gasps, hand rose to her mouth and bit into her own flesh.
She didn't stop even as blood seeped out.
I knew at a glance.
This wasn't mere surprise.
Breathing, pupils, muscle tension, self-harm—textbook panic attack.
And the trigger? My simple order to sit in the chair.
"Piel, look this way. It's okay, it's—"
Before I could finish, a choked sob burst from her throat.
"W-wuwaaaaaah!"
Vomit poured onto my shirt in an instant.
"?! Damn it... Karen! Are you outside?!"
"Young Master? I told you not to come in— Eek?! Th-that filthy slave bitch dared to vomit on the Young Master—!"
Before Karen's scream finished, Piel tumbled from the chair to the floor.
She groped the ground with both hands, gasping, then heaved again, scraping out whatever remained in her stomach.
The vomiting wouldn't stop.
It felt like her body wasn't expelling it—fear was.
And it should have ended there.
But the moment she saw the vomit on my clothes, Karen's expression vanished.
The next one wasn't anger—it was the face of family rules activating.
Her feet moved before her words.
Thud—!
"Kuhk?!"
Piel's stomach took a kick, her small body flipped through the air and rolled to the corner of the room.
The sound of hitting the wall was dry and crisp.
Warm liquid spread between her legs on the floor, mixing with the vomit.
Yet Piel didn't cry.
Like reciting an answer from memory, she dragged herself up, knelt on the floor, and raised both hands straight above her head.
She didn't look straight ahead.
She didn't close her eyes.
Her trembling body stayed as is, while her hands rubbed together in the air.
A body begging forgiveness before judgment, awaiting punishment before it came.
This wasn't a simple reaction.
It was discipline. Brainwashing.
The only survival method this world had taught her.
"I, I was wrong... I'm sorry... I was wrongI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry..."
"Pi... el."
"IwaswrongI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryIwaswrongI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryIwaswrongI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry—!"
Karen's voice was ice-cold.
"A filthy slave bitch begs forgiveness after doing something like that? Young Master, this is clear treason. As your attendant, I'll dispose of this trash immediately."
At those words, Piel's eyes flickered.
Eyes that already knew her place in the order of death.
Her rubbing hands sped up madly. Skin peeled, blood smeared, but she couldn't stop.
Karen sneered.
And grabbed the fox girl's hair like picking up a kitten.
In that moment, I raised the fork I'd just used for meat.
"Y-Young... Master?"
I said nothing.
Instead—
Stab.
The fork pierced through the back of my hand.
"Kyaa, kyaah?! Y-Young Master!"
"Shut up. I'm too heated right now... cooling off."
Blood dripped from my palm to the floor.
This was punishment I gave myself as a doctor—for being arrogant and stupid enough to repeat a mistake.
With a sigh, I yanked the fork from my hand seconds later.
"Karen."
"Y-yes! Young Master."
"And speak properly. Not 'attendant'—surveillance, right?"
Karen's mouth shut.
"And you kicked Piel not out of worry for me, but because you were pissed that filth splashed on an expensive product you plan to sell later. Right?"
Her hand froze solid.
She'd probably calculated that pretending her cruelty was "for Lucas" would boost her standing and earn trust.
The original Lucas would have lapped up that fake loyalty and grinned like an idiot.
The moron who'd beam at a little flattery.
But the one before her now wasn't that Lucas.
I aimed the fork tip at Karen and continued.
"From now on, if you ever lay a hand on my people while pretending it's 'for me,' no matter what—it won't end like this."
"Y-your people...? Haha... Young Master, surely you're not tossing aside a first-class maid like me for that trash slave—"
"Right. I trust her more, so shut up and listen."
The moment I finished, Karen could do nothing.
Her face showed she realized her calculations were wrong—that she'd lost completely.
And I approached Piel, frozen in pain, to check her soiled body.
"M-Master... I'm... dirty..."
"So?"
"Wh-what do you mean 'so'... If it's the vomit on the floor, I'll lick it all up..."
Her eyes trembled at the edges.
This child wasn't speaking from guilt—it was training.
I thought my anger was easing at that, but damn, it brought out my old temper after so long.
"Piel. You shut up too."
"Y-yes?!"
Piel flinched.
"Do you think your body belongs to you? You're mine. And mine... are soon my 'family.'"
"F-fam... ily?"
"The vomit on the floor, the urine—all of it, I'll clean. So don't act like a criminal. If you do... I might really stab my hand again."
Piel's eyes shook wide at the blood flowing from my hand.
But before she could be startled, I issued the next order.
"Karen. Prepare hot water. Piel and I will bathe together."
"Y-yes?! Young Master, surely not with a slave—"
"Ah, fuck, I said shut up."
Even called half-witted, she was still of noble blood.
For someone of that status to enter the same bath as a slave who washed in cold livestock troughs?
Karen's face hardened instantly.
The denial screamed from her features before her mouth could open.
But she couldn't argue.
The Young Master clutching his dripping, bloody hand.
The master barely containing his rage, veins bulging.
That face seemed untouchable by anyone.
"From now on, anyone who says 'no,' 'I don't want to,' or 'someone like me...' to my words gets a fork in my hand too. If you want to see that, yap away. Otherwise, shut up and move."
That one sentence flipped the room's air completely.
No one dared stop it.