57

It had been a full month—thirty-five days to be exact—since I began pretending to still be under the spell of Domination.

A delightful miscalculation, one might say: my fear about language acquisition had proven entirely unfounded, for my progress was astonishing.

Though I did not understand the mechanism, not only could I comprehend the Elven tongue I heard, but I could also read the words written in their books.

To not advance under such conditions would be unthinkable.

Furthermore, the fact that my living environment was far from pleasant only sharpened my motivation to learn.

After all, that damn hag treated me like an experimental animal—scraping my skin, drawing my blood, muttering whether some part of my body might serve as a “material.”

She was more like a scientist than a sorceress.

No, I reminded myself, whether it be science or magic, seekers of knowledge are the same at their core. I swallowed my rage and accepted it.

But acceptance did not mean the price of enslaving me was to be so cheap.

I understood her drive and ideals.

That was why I now savored the thought: how could I inflict the most devastating blow upon that damn hag?

The anticipation of that retribution was what allowed me to endure.

I knew her pride ran high.

Thus, it must be broken.

What would be the most effective way to shatter it?

(Ah, the very thought excites me.)

Anger, it seemed, once built too high, became almost comical—so much so that I sometimes caught my lips curling upward without meaning to.

I could not be sure, given the constraints of my facial muscles, but more often than not I found myself grinning, struggling to hold myself back.

It would not do for her head and torso to suddenly part ways, or her neck to spin three-hundred-sixty degrees on a whim.

(Yes! Research! What if I burned her precious results to ash before her very eyes?)

No…

That would not be enough.

She craved honor.

Therefore, her pride must be pulverized, and disgrace heaped atop it like garnish.

Let me help her be remembered by history as a fool.

But where could I find such a convenient stage?

(Come on, think. In what situation, what act would bring me true satisfaction?)

Of course, no brilliant schemes came immediately. Time slipped by as I brooded.

Some days—like today—I was left entirely alone. Perhaps her experiments had borne poor results lately, for I had not been given food in two days.

When she was like this, her shrill voice often rang out as she vented her irritation on me.

I ignored it. Pain and itching were meaningless to me now.

What possible use could my altered human flesh serve, anyway? She ought to know that rare materials are not always useful.

When dusk descended and night draped the land, my time began.

That hag fell asleep surprisingly early, and after she slept, I could dedicate hours to study.

Since the tenth day, I had been lodged in what was once a storage shed, remodeled into a kind of garage.

The stacks of books within became my textbooks.

Most were on magic, yet simply being able to read made them invaluable for language learning.

After all, memorization was easy: I could see a word, understand its meaning, and know its pronunciation instantly.

Whether single terms or full sentences, comprehension was effortless—I merely needed to commit them to memory.

I even felt a strange joy. I had never known study to be this rewarding.

But joy fades with repetition.

Now, my diligence was fueled only by my desire to one day punish the hag.

The problem was that the books here were finite, and I feared I had not yet covered the full scope of common vocabulary.

I had already finished every volume available. Without new material, progress stalled.

Nor could I slip out at night to procure more; guards stood watch, and the shed had no windows.

Still, the setup had been oddly convenient: if I blocked the door from within, no one could see what I did.

A few magical tools here emitted faint light, allowing me to read even after dark.

That such conditions aligned so perfectly was almost unsettling.

But whatever the cause—coincidence or contrivance—I would make use of it.

I had no luxury to be choosy.

All that mattered was retribution.

And yet, while I had already decided to destroy her research and anything like it, I had not yet chosen how best to break her pride.

The ideal was to humiliate her in front of a crowd—but such a chance seemed impossible.

She was a recluse by nature, rarely appearing in public.

Frankly, simply killing her and rampaging might achieve my ends.

But there were reasons I resisted.

One: to turn all Elves into my enemies was dangerous.

The Elves possessed forbidden arts—spells so potent that if they abandoned restraint, I could not guarantee my survival.

And two: the fruit I was currently eating.

It seemed someone within Lady Forshna’s faction—the same Elf who once defended me—had agents watching me.

When they saw I had gone without food, they would sneak me something.

The portions were small, but the taste rivaled that of cultivated Imperial stock. I was genuinely surprised.

Sometimes Lady Forshna herself brought them.

That alone gave me reason to see this through without sullying her.

So yes—I had my reasons to wait.

Meanwhile, that hag had simply made too many enemies.

My watchers included not only Forshna’s clan but also the Natural Harmony Committee.

(Heh… at this rate, someone else will crush her without me lifting a hand.)

I paused, mid-bite of my apple.

A thought was forming.

(If someone else were to bring her down… who would it be? Likely the Zesato clan. And how? What would those in power do?)

Ideas began to coalesce.

Not certain, of course, but as a plan, it was delicious.

(Yes… expose her! Broadcast her failures for all to see! Let the world know she has doomed herself!)

Concealing my abilities no longer mattered. Mercenaries had already seen too much, and my name had spread.

I felt my lips stretch into a grin and did not stop them.

A low chuckle—gagga—escaped me.

Now, I only needed to consider contingencies should no such chance arise.

I sank back into thought.

Day 37 of Domination dawned under a cloudy sky.

As one kept outdoors almost constantly, rain was inconvenient—yet given my inability to bathe or even wipe myself, I almost longed for it.

That morning, the hag ordered me to scrape at my own hardened hide.

She sat in a chair, scowling at dulled knives as I dutifully ground them to ruin against my impenetrable skin.

The message was clear: “I am a monster, ignorant of how to handle blades.”

Once, she had even used a magic sword to cut me—but apparently without its owner’s permission.

The furious protest that followed, coupled with threats to cut off her funding, forced her to return it.

Her face then—seething, humiliated—had been a sight to treasure.

Since then, nothing had gone her way.

I, of course, added fuel to the fire, deliberately “misinterpreting” commands, ensuring results fell short.

Her mood had soured to a constant simmer.

“Damn it! Damn it all! Every last one of you mocks me!”

Her outbursts grew ever louder.

And then came the knock.

Five Elves entered, bearing a sealed writ.

The hag glared, but one man calmly stepped forward, broke the seal, and read aloud:

“Kirishia Reibern. The Council of Sages delivers its decree. The suspension of your First, Second, and Third Seeker privileges. Furthermore, the destruction of all magic and documents classified as forbidden. These terms will be enforced by the Ritual of Binding.”

The hag’s staff slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor.

Her expression was not disbelief, but shock—

“You would go this far?”

The five envoys, their duty done, turned on their heels without another word.

She did not even retrieve her staff. She merely stared after them, stricken.

Then, as if to fill the void, a company of armed Elves marched up.

One of them smirked and said:

“Now then. We shall conduct the Ritual of Binding. You will accompany us, Lady Kirishia.”

“…Very well.”

She stood after a pause, voice hoarse, stooping to pick up her staff at last.

Head bowed, she allowed herself to be surrounded and escorted away.

And I… I only watched in silence.

For though her lips did not move, I heard it.

Clear as day—laughter.

The perfect moment was almost here.