Reiko simply let herself fall onto the bed, feeling the mattress give beneath her weight.
Fear coursed through her body, and her head ached just from thinking about all of it, but exhaustion was stronger.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to drive away the glowing letters of that SSS, the censorship symbols, and Mara's gaze that felt as if it had pierced straight through her soul.
I'll think of something tomorrow, she promised herself in a final spark of clarity, before surrendering completely to sleep.
…
…
…
Mara's sleep wasn't interrupted by the faint light of dawn filtering through the window.
This time, instead, it was the firm, familiar hand of Alice gently but insistently shaking her shoulder.
"Good morning, sleepyhead. Time to get up—the day won't run itself," the woman said, her gentle voice already becoming something Mara recognized as part of her new routine.
Mara blinked, disoriented for a few seconds, until clarity fully settled in.
The hand on her shoulder was Alice's, of course.
And that blindfolded woman was—by some cosmic miracle or cruel twist of fate—her boss… and maybe something more.
"Hmmmm… is it already time?" she yawned, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand as she sat up in bed.
"It has been for half an hour," Alice replied, a faint smile barely curving her lips. "Reiko is still asleep, so try not to make too much noise."
At the sound of the name, Mara turned her head toward the neighboring bed, and there was Reiko—facing the wall, completely still beneath the blankets.
I'll talk to her later, Mara thought, although part of her—the same part that still felt the uncomfortable weight of that constant gaze—would have preferred to simply ignore the obvious distance Reiko had placed between them.
Mara got dressed in the outfit Mordred had given her.
Even though it was simple clothing, it felt comfortable.
Far more comfortable, without a doubt, than any feminine outfit she still couldn't quite feel like herself wearing.
As she went up to the first floor, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wrapped around her like a warm, promising embrace, so she followed the scent straight into the kitchen.
Alice was already there, moving between the stove and the table with a fluidity that completely contradicted her apparent blindness.
Every movement was precise and confident, as if every inch of the kitchen were mapped perfectly in her mind.
As if she had noticed Mara's presence, Alice poured a cup of coffee and slid a plate of scrambled eggs toward her.
"Today you'll learn the basics," Alice announced, her tone instructional but kind.
"Cleaning, reception, and how not to set the kitchen on fire when you heat water," she added. That last part carried a clear hint of humor, though Mara knew perfectly well it was also a very real warning.
Mara simply nodded with her mouth full.
The food was simple—nothing fancy—but every bite tasted like care.
Like something homemade.
And that… was something she had never truly had before.
The rest of the day passed exactly as she had expected, between damp rags, buckets of soapy water, and Alice's monotonous yet strangely reassuring explanations.
She learned how to make beds with perfectly tightened corners, how to smile—or at least try—when a female customer passed by the front desk, and the first steps to preparing a basic meal.
That last part, she sensed, would take time to master, but the rest didn't seem too complicated.
Still, there was one constant that slowly eroded her sense of calm throughout the day: that uncomfortable, persistent sensation of being watched.
It wasn't paranoia.
It was a physical certainty—a prickling at the back of her neck that appeared every time she let her guard down.
It wasn't until the afternoon began to fade, painting the walls in shades of orange, that she finally identified the source.
Every time she turned her head, there was Reiko.
At the front desk, flipping through a book without really reading it.
In the second-floor hallway, pretending to adjust a painting.
Her eyes never left Mara.
But if there was one thing Mara was sure of, it was that Reiko's gaze didn't feel hostile—or at least, that was what she wanted to believe.
"Is she bothering you?" Alice asked quietly as they stored some vegetables in the pantry.
"Who?" Mara blinked, feigning innocence.
Alice simply smiled, that small, knowing expression she always wore.
"She's… a bit shy, but she's not a bad person ... She's just cautious," Alice said, placing the last bag on the shelf before closing the pantry door.
"Cautious is one way to put it," Mara muttered to herself, still feeling the weight of that gaze on her.
This couldn't go on.
Sooner or later, they would have to talk and clear things up.
Living under the same roof with that silent tension would be unbearable in the long run.
Mara was lost in those thoughts, mentally reorganizing how she would approach the subject, when she stepped out of the pantry and ran into Alice again in the hallway.
The woman's expression had changed; now there was that faint spark of contained urgency.
"Oh, Mara, quick," Alice said with a wide smile.
"I need you to change right away because you already have a new client waiting for you. She's in the first room on the second floor. Please don't keep her waiting."
As she spoke, Alice made a gentle but unmistakable gesture with her hands, urging her to hurry.
"Okay, I'll be right there," Mara replied, heading to her room to change into the outfit Alice had given her for "special occasions."
As she dressed, a thought crossed her mind—a mix of curiosity and a hint of anticipation.
I wonder what kind of woman she'll be this time.
For a second, she allowed herself to imagine another beauty like Rae, or someone with Mordred's wild charisma—maybe even another elf.
Something—anything—that might distract her, even for a little while, from the weight of that constant gaze.
Mara went up to the second floor, stopping in front of the designated room and taking a deep breath.
But when she opened the door, what she saw left her frozen for a second.
In the center of the room, kneeling on a small rug, was a woman praying—or at least, that was what it looked like.
She wore an outfit resembling a nun's habit, but any resemblance to devotion ended there.
The skirt was long and black, yes—but it had a slit running from the hem all the way up to the waist, revealing a smooth line of pale skin.
A short black veil covered part of her hair, which was a vivid bubblegum pink, falling in long waves over her shoulders.
She looked to be around forty, but she wore impeccable makeup that sharpened her features, and a serene smile was painted on her lips.
Shit, I walked into the wrong room, Mara thought almost immediately.
She was about to murmur an apology and step back when the woman lifted her head and looked straight at her.
And then everything happened very fast.
With an agility that didn't match her appearance, the woman stood up, crossed the room in two silent strides, slammed the door shut, and—before Mara could react—shoved her hard.
"Huh?" was all Mara managed to say as she hit the floor, her back slamming against the polished wood.
When she looked up, the nun's face was already inches from hers.
And what she saw there wasn't devotion.
Nor shyness.
Nor tranquility.
It was an expression of pure, absolute, shameless perversion.
A wide smile, perfect teeth, and purple eyes gleaming with an interest that had nothing spiritual about it.
I think I just hit the jackpot, Mara thought, a mix of disbelief, fascination, and an absurd sense of gratitude toward whatever deity had given her a second chance at life.