Rem slammed the black tights onto Anastasia's polished desk, the sticky, shameful fabric pooling between them like a loaded weapon.
Her blue eyes burned with fury as she leaned over the desk.
"Lady Anastasia," she hissed, voice shaking with barely restrained rage, "I have a husband. I know exactly what semen looks like. I know what it smells like."
Her fingers stabbed toward the tights. "I put these on today—and they were sticky. I could feel it clinging to my thighs! And you don't need to lie to me!"
She trembled with anger, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.
"Master Julius is the only man here. So explain this!"
(Anastasia's heart leapt with twisted glee — "Master Julius." Even in rage, Rem instinctively gave Julius that title. And the tights... they had touched her skin. Julius's seed and Rem's bare thighs, pressed together. It was glorious.)
Anastasia smiled thinly, trying to keep control.
"Rem, please," she said, lifting a hand as if soothing a child. "Calm yourself. You're upset. There's surely a reasonable—"
But her attempt to cool Rem down only made it worse.
Rem slapped her palms flat on the desk, eyes blazing.
"I don't want you to patronize me! I deserve a straight answer!" she barked.
"Maids' uniforms are cleaned separately! They're kept in their own laundry room! You can't pretend this is some random accident!"
Anastasia's smile faltered. (Inside her chest, irritation flared.)
Who did Rem think she was, screaming at her like this?
Anastasia Hoshin, head of the Hoshin Company, reduced to being yelled at by a damn servant?
Anastasia bit her tongue, struggling to stay composed. She couldn't blame Julius — she would never tarnish his image in Rem's eyes. She needed Rem to still admire him... and eventually crave him.
But Rem's furious eyes demanded something. An explanation Anastasia couldn't give.
And suddenly, deep inside her, the poisonous jealousy twisted again.
(How dare this stupid little maid not appreciate the blessing she had just unknowingly received? Julius's seed, touching her perfect legs, and she acted like it was an insult?)
Anastasia's hands curled into fists on the desk.
She rose from her chair, eyes narrowing dangerously.
"That's enough," Anastasia snapped, voice cold and sharp.
"You forget yourself, Rem."
The maid's eyes widened, shocked at the sudden shift.
"You are my maid," Anastasia hissed, stepping around the desk.
"You do not scream at me like some common gutter rat."
She jabbed a finger toward Rem's chest. "You serve this mansion. You serve me. And I will not tolerate you throwing tantrums in front of your master!"
Rem stiffened, anger and confusion mixing across her face.
Anastasia advanced another step, her words slicing like a whip.
"You should be grateful. Grateful to wear that uniform. Grateful to walk these halls. Grateful you even have the honor to breathe the same air as Master Julius! Do you understand me?"
Rem's fists clenched at her sides, trembling with rage — but for once, she was stunned into silence.
Anastasia's chest heaved as she loomed over her, victorious for a brutal moment.
Inside, her mind seethed: You should be on your knees, thanking me for what I gave you. Not screaming like some filthy, ungrateful little maid.
The black tights sat on the desk between them like a black flag of war.
Rem straightened her spine, wiping the wetness from her eyes with the back of her hand. Her voice cracked but stayed firm.
"I am a maid, Lady Anastasia. Not your slave."
Anastasia's jaw tensed.
"Stop screaming at me," she snapped. "I'm not in the mood for your dramatics after the disaster you made with the documents last week."
Rem's face flushed red with anger and shame.
"That wasn't my fault! You ordered me to do paperwork when I told you I didn't have experience! I came here to clean, not to be some clerk!"
The words sliced through the air. Anastasia's face darkened, but she forced herself to stay calm.
Rem's lip trembled with rage. "And now... now you want me to wear tights stained with a man's seed? You humiliated me! I'm not going to stand here and pretend it's normal!"
Anastasia's nails dug into her palm.
(Inside her mind: _Humiliated? You little bitch — in a few months, you'll have Julius's seed inside you, dripping down your thighs, and you'll beg for more. And you dare call this humiliation?)
She exhaled sharply, pushing down the boiling rage.
"Rem," Anastasia said, voice suddenly soft, desperate. "Please. Wait. Let me explain."
But Rem shook her head.
"I'm quitting. I'm not staying in this house one more second."
Anastasia's heart slammed against her ribs — real panic rising.
If Rem walked out now, all her careful planning — everything — would collapse.
"Rem, listen!" Anastasia said, stepping closer. "I'm sorry! I took the tights—" she paused, then forced the next words through gritted teeth "—I took them to have fun with Julius. I'm ashamed. I didn't think. I tried to clean them, but... I didn't know how."
Rem stared at her, stunned.
Anastasia pressed on, faking her best wounded expression.
"You're my best maid, Rem. I trust you more than anyone. I was embarrassed to admit what I did. That's why I didn't tell you."
Her voice dropped to a whisper:
"I'm sorry."
Rem's arms crossed tightly across her chest. Tears still clung to her lashes, but her face was hard.
"I don't care," she said. "I'm still quitting."
Anastasia's fists clenched at her sides.
(Inside her mind: You dare. After everything I set up for you. After everything I prepared for Julius. You belong to this mansion. To us.)
Desperately, she added, "Rem—I'll give you a raise. Less work. Even promote you to head maid. Anything you want."
Rem only shook her head. "I can find another job. I'm done here."
Anastasia's mind raced.
No. You can't leave. You're too valuable. Too perfect. Julius needs you. He needs you right here.
And then — the perfect, evil idea clicked into place.
"You talked about your husband before," Anastasia said softly, tilting her head. "That festival Subaru wanted to create... so much passion in your voice..."
She smiled sweetly.
"If you stay... if you forgive this incident and continue your work here... I'll sponsor the festival."
Rem froze.
Anastasia moved closer, pretending kindness, hiding her inner fury.
"I'll pay for everything. The stalls, the decorations, the food. Subaru's dream, come true. You said he's been struggling, didn't you?"
She let her voice grow even gentler.
"And I know times are hard. Jobs aren't easy to find. I imagine you're carrying most of the burden for your little home, aren't you?"
Rem's lip quivered again. She blinked fast, clearly torn, clearly wounded.
Anastasia pressed the final blow, whispering almost tenderly:
"You're not just helping yourself by staying, Rem. You're helping him, too."
Silence stretched between them. The ruined tights sat on the desk like a coiled snake.
Inside, Anastasia's mind howled:
You will stay. You will serve. And soon, you will open your legs to Julius as you should. This body is meant for him, not for your pathetic, worthless husband.
But outside, she wore the mask of a gentle, regretful employer — waiting for Rem to make the only choice left to her.
Rem stood frozen at the door, one trembling hand on the handle. She didn't open it yet.
Anastasia saw the hesitation — and struck.
Her voice cracked, low and raw.
"Rem... please. I'm really sorry."
Rem stiffened but didn't turn.
Anastasia forced herself to sound broken, humble.
"I didn't know it was your tights. I just took a random pair. I swear it."
(In her mind: You stupid, clueless little girl. You wore an outfit I used to make Julius moan for me. You should be proud those perfect little legs felt even a drop of his release.)
"I didn't mean to hurt you," Anastasia went on, her voice trembling just enough.
"You've been working so hard. You did an amazing job with the paperwork... better than I ever expected. What I said before... about you messing up... that was just my rage talking. I'm sorry."
Rem hesitated, lowering her hand from the door.
Anastasia pressed harder, twisting the knife expertly.
"It's probably Julius's fault, anyway," she added with a bitter laugh. "He's so distracting sometimes, always wanting my attention when I'm trying to work."
(In her heart, she felt a stab of guilt. There hadn't been any mistakes. She had lied, again. But better that she soil her own name than let Rem ever blame Julius.)
"And if you stay," Anastasia said, voice soft, trembling, "I'll sponsor Subaru's festival. Not just once — if it's successful, I'll fund more. I'll even give Subaru a permanent position... help him find real work. A real salary. You two could start saving. Build a future. A home. A family."
Rem's hand dropped fully from the doorknob.
Anastasia took a shaky step forward. Her head lowered, hair falling around her face like a curtain.
"And... and I want you to know," she whispered, "I forgive you for yelling at me earlier. You were right. I deserved it."
Her voice broke.
"I have to steal... another woman's tights... just to get my husband to look at me again."
She laughed once — short, ugly — and the first tear fell down her pale cheek.
"I'm so ugly now... so sick... I can't even satisfy Julius properly. I can't even give him a child. I'm nothing but a burden."
The words poured out — bitter, self-loathing truths she usually kept locked away.
Tears streamed freely down her face now, unstoppable.
Rem turned slowly, stunned.
Her anger, her pride, wavered under the raw honesty before her.
Anastasia wrapped her arms around herself, voice crumbling to dust.
"I'm sorry, Rem. Truly sorry. For everything."
Silence stretched between them — heavy, choking.
Finally, Rem lowered her head and whispered, brokenly:
"I'm sorry too, Lady Anastasia."
Anastasia wiped the tears from her cheeks, forcing her voice steady.
"You can go for today, Rem," she said softly. "Take the day off. Rest."
Rem hesitated, guilt still etched into her face. But she bowed low, murmured a soft "Thank you, Lady Anastasia," and quietly left the room, shutting the door behind her with a gentle click.
Anastasia stayed standing there, alone, the empty office suffocating.
Fresh tears welled up and fell, staining her silk sleeves as she pressed them to her face.
(Pathetic. Ugly. Sick.)
The words rang in her mind like cruel bells.
She was a hollow woman now — worn down by illness, stripped of her youth, left with brittle bones and fading beauty.
She couldn't even keep Julius satisfied without stealing another woman's scent, her touch, her youth.
And she had almost ruined it all. Almost destroyed her perfect, beautiful plan out of clumsiness and anger.
But somehow... somehow she had tricked Rem.
Talked her down, bound her again with promises of money and dreams.
Anastasia sniffed, dragging herself back toward her chair. She sank heavily into it, feeling the crushing weight of her own worthlessness.
You're nothing. You can't even give your husband a child. You can't even keep your husband loyal without someone else's body.
Her gaze dropped to the black tights lying twisted on her desk.
And despite the hollow ache gnawing at her chest, a crooked, broken smile stretched her lips.
(Even if only by accident... Rem's perfect, soft skin had been blessed with Julius's seed.)
The thought warmed her like a drop of sunlight in a frozen world.
It was small. It was pitiful.
But it was something.
Anastasia leaned closer, brushing the tights with her fingertips.
(Contact. Finally. Even if Rem didn't know it yet.)
She pictured Rem again — standing flustered in her maid uniform, her legs bare under the skirt after discarding the ruined tights.
Still blushing. Still pure. Still untainted.
Not for much longer.
I'll shape her. Slowly, carefully. She'll become everything Julius needs.
Anastasia's gaze hardened with fresh determination.
Rem is perfect. The perfect maid. The perfect girl. The perfect vessel for Julius's future.
They were the same age — but compared to Rem's blooming, flawless beauty, Anastasia felt like a shriveled ghost.
Rem's skin was untouched by sickness.
Her face was vibrant, glowing with health and innocence.
Any man — even the most faithful — would fall under her spell eventually.
Julius just needed a little more time. A little more pressure. A little more careful guidance.
Anastasia dabbed her face dry with a handkerchief, hiding every trace of her earlier breakdown.
She sat straighter, smoothed her dress, and stared out the window at the rising sun.
The workday had only just begun.
The rest of the day passed in a blur, but Anastasia's mind never rested.
Her hands signed papers automatically, her eyes skimmed reports without reading — her thoughts were somewhere far sharper.
The plan needed adjustments.
First: The Festival.
She would sponsor it. She would throw the Hoshin Company's gold behind Subaru's little fantasy of music, games, and cheap stalls.
It would make her look generous. Make Rem trust her even more.
Second: Subaru's future.
Anastasia smiled bitterly to herself as she dipped her quill in ink.
Yes, she would "reward" him with a job — managing festivals, cultural events, little village projects.
But she would not pay him much.
Just enough to scrape by.
(Can't have Rem quitting her job, after all.)
Anastasia needed Rem dependent. Trapped. Grateful.
Third: The longer game.
Later — not yet, but later — she would quietly hire two village girls.
Pretty, flirty, naive.
She would plant them close to Subaru's new work, subtly encourage them to get close, laugh at his jokes, touch his arm.
Maybe, if he was weak enough, he'd slip.
And Rem would be left even more vulnerable — even more desperate for someone like Julius.
But that was later.
For now, the priority was tomorrow.
When Rem returned to the mansion, Anastasia had to fix things.
She had to rebuild the image of the kind mistress — the one who forgave, who cared, who protected.
The one Rem could trust her body and soul around.
Anastasia rose from her desk, pacing slowly across the polished floor, thinking through every word she would say.
She would apologize again. Gently.
Praise Rem's work — make her feel needed, respected.
Maybe offer her small gifts — better meals, easier shifts, new books for her to read during breaks.
Anything to stitch their bond tighter.
And after that?
A formal meeting with Subaru.
Negotiate the sponsorship in person.
Let him feel like he was winning. Let him babble about dreams and community.
Meanwhile, Anastasia would quietly size him up — measure how pathetic he really was.
How easy he would be to manipulate.
She chuckled under her breath as she settled back into her chair.
Rem thought today was a victory.
She thought she stood up for herself.
In truth, she had simply walked deeper into Anastasia's web.
And soon — very soon — Rem's perfect, blushing body would be Julius's for the taking.
It was only a matter of time.
The day drained every last drop of strength from Anastasia.
By the time she entered the bedroom, her body ached with exhaustion, her mind fraying at the edges.
Julius was already in bed, sitting up against the headboard, reading a leather-bound book.
He looked up immediately when he saw her.
His violet eyes softened, and he smiled warmly — the kind of smile that made her chest ache.
"You're working too hard, Ana," he said gently, setting the book aside.
He reached out, wrapping his arms around her without hesitation, pulling her into his chest.
She didn't resist. She couldn't.
Anastasia buried herself in the warmth of his embrace.
His scent — fresh, clean, masculine — filled her nose, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the burning that welled there.
(It should be Rem here. A beautiful, healthy, perfect girl. Not me — not this broken, useless thing.)
If only she weren't a failure.
If only she weren't sick.
If only she could give Julius the family he deserved.
They could have made love every night, laughed, dreamed, built a future together.
But she had ruined everything.
Even now, even as Julius kissed her hair and whispered how much he loved her, Anastasia knew the truth:
His love was blind. Foolish.
He didn't see how pathetic she truly was.
Anastasia kept her face hidden in his chest, not daring to speak.
She didn't want to bring up Rem. She didn't want to hear Julius say anything about the fight.
And Julius — sweet, perfect Julius — didn't push.
He just held her quietly, stroking her back until she relaxed.
(He must know about the fight. He must have heard the shouting. But he's too kind to say it.)
Slowly, Anastasia's breathing evened out.
The room blurred into soft darkness, and she drifted down into sleep.
In her dream, everything was twisted and beautiful.
She and Rem knelt together on the floor — the marble cool against their bare knees.
Both wore skimpy bikinis: Rem's was pale blue, matching her hair; Anastasia's was deep purple, tight against her small frame.
Around both their necks gleamed shiny dog collars, silver tags glinting in the dream-light.
Leashes dangled from the collars, leading up to the hands of the man who sat like a king in a grand armchair — Julius.
Julius's expression was calm, amused, as he gently tugged on their leashes.
Rem and Anastasia bowed low, their voices soft and desperate:
"Please, Master Julius," Rem whispered, her face pink with devotion.
"Please use us," Anastasia breathed, her voice trembling with need.
They crawled closer, nuzzling against Julius's thighs like obedient pets, basking in his attention, begging for even a scrap of his love.
And Julius... Julius only smiled, perfect and untouchable, as he held their fates in his hands.
In the real world, Julius glanced down at Anastasia's sleeping face.
A small smile played across her lips as she dreamed, her breathing slow and even.
He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
"I love you, Anastasia," he whispered into the darkness.
Satisfied that she was finally resting peacefully, Julius pulled the blankets higher over them both and closed his own eyes, drifting into sleep — never knowing the dark, beautiful world his beloved had disappeared into.
The dream blurred and deepened.
Anastasia and Rem both knelt at Julius's feet, their leashes held tightly in his strong hands.
The marble floor felt cold against Anastasia's bare knees, but she didn't care.
This was where she belonged.
Where they belonged.
She and Rem pressed their faces to Julius's thighs, nuzzling, whimpering for his attention like perfect little pets.
"Please, Master Julius," Rem whispered sweetly, her blue eyes wide with pure devotion.
"Please use us," Anastasia added, her voice thick with need.
They competed for him — kissing his knees, stroking his legs, whimpering for every scrap of attention.
Rem's face shone with pure, blissful worship, her loyalty to Julius overwhelming.
Anastasia lived for it — seeing that glow in Rem's eyes, seeing her surrender fully to the man who deserved her.
Finally, Julius smiled.
He leaned back in his chair, relaxed, dominant.
With a slow, casual motion, he unpinned his pants, letting his cock spring free — thick, perfect, throbbing with heat and power.
Anastasia and Rem both gasped softly, their cheeks flushing.
Immediately, without being told, they leaned in — two eager pets desperate to serve.
Their tongues slid along his shaft, warm and devoted, working together in perfect, desperate harmony.
Anastasia's heart hammered with joy and filthy pleasure as she tasted him — as she saw Rem's small, delicate tongue flutter against him, pure love in her eyes.
(This was how it should be. This was their place. At his feet, serving, loving.)
Julius's hand rested lightly on their heads, petting them both — approving, loving.
And then —
Finally —
He shifted.
He pulled Anastasia gently back by her leash, and placed Rem before him.
Anastasia smiled dreamily, feeling no jealousy — only a deep, aching pride.
She slid behind Rem, helping her, guiding her.
She let Rem's slender back rest against her lap, cradling her like a sister, like an offering.
Their fingers intertwined — Anastasia holding Rem's hand as Julius positioned himself.
Rem whimpered in pure devotion.
Anastasia whispered in her ear:
"Let him make you his. Let him fill you, little sister."
Rem nodded tearfully, whispering, "Yes, Master Julius... please..."
Julius gripped Rem's hips, pressing the head of his cock to her entrance—
And then—
A hand gently shook Anastasia's shoulder.
"Anastasia, love," Julius's soft voice whispered in her ear. "It's almost eleven. You're going to be late for your meeting."
Anastasia jolted awake, gasping.
The vivid heat of the dream clung to her skin, making her shudder as reality rushed back in.
The room was bright with late morning sun.
Julius smiled down at her, utterly innocent, utterly unaware of the filthy world he had just ruled inside her mind.
Anastasia's heart thudded painfully against her ribs as she scrambled upright, blinking rapidly.
"I—thank you, Julius," she stammered, trying to steady her voice.
"I must... I must hurry."
She threw back the covers, her skin still flushed with the lingering ghost of the dream.
As she rushed to dress herself properly, the shame and excitement twined together like snakes inside her gut.
(Later. Later, it will be real.)
For now, she had work to do.
Rem and Subaru were waiting.
Anastasia moved through her dressing room like a ghost, her body awake but her mind still fogged from the dream.
She couldn't remember all of it — just flashes, feelings, pieces of forbidden pleasure slipping through her fingers like water.
Rem's face... blushing, glowing, devoted.
A leash... a collar tight around that delicate throat.
Julius's strong hands pulling them both closer.
The memories made Anastasia's heart thud and her skin flush even under her silk robe.
If only I had dreamed that before I changed the maid uniforms, she thought with a wry smile.
I would have made collars mandatory... little black velvet collars... no maid would be complete without one.
She chuckled under her breath, stepping into the warm bath waiting for her.
The perfumed water embraced her skin, and she sank down with a long, shuddering sigh.
But reality tapped at her skull.
Her bond with Rem was still fragile after yesterday's screaming match.
She couldn't push too hard — not yet.
No collars. Not now.
(But later? Oh yes. One day soon, Rem would wear a collar. And she would wear it proudly.)
Anastasia allowed herself a few more minutes of peace, letting the warmth soak into her bones.
Then she rose, toweling herself off quickly, slipping into a fresh, elegant dress — light enough for the spring air, regal enough to meet guests.
Through her window, she spotted Rem already outside — kneeling in the garden, trimming roses with careful, precise movements.
The maid's blue hair shimmered in the morning light like a gemstone, her small, slim body framed by the flowers.
Perfect, Anastasia thought, a slow, satisfied smile tugging at her lips.
Rem was trying so hard — working diligently, trying to redeem herself.
And Anastasia would reward her for it.
Gently. Carefully.
First with praise.
Then with trust.
Then with love.
Until the day came when Rem wouldn't need to be ordered to wear a collar —
She would beg for it.
Beg for Julius's leash around her throat.
Anastasia tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, smoothing her skirts.
Today was important.
First, patch things properly with Rem.
Then, meet with Subaru — and lay the next trap with kindness and gold.