"Why isn't he here yet?! Why isn't he here yet?! Why isn't he here yet?!"
Trissy sat on the soft bed, repeating the same words in her heart. Although her previous escape had not exactly been pleasant, she now wished she could be treated like a puppet on strings again and taken straight out of this manor.
But nothing happened.
That great existence had disdainfully tossed her the dead cat's "honorific name" and then offered no response.
She seemed to hear water droplets falling from a showerhead somewhere far away.
She seemed to hear the man wearing nothing but a bathrobe slowly approaching.
Her mind had even begun to conjure an image of herself being pressed onto a bed by a strange man.
It made her hair stand on end and sent chills through her entire body.
Yet she also realized that she had now lost the ability to resist.
Just as she, a Demoness of Pleasure, could never have been knocked down by a carriage suddenly appearing at an intersection, nor could she possibly wag her tail at a man and say something like, "Save me, they're chasing me."
But she had indeed done so. Even now, looking back, she felt that she really should have done it then, because it had been the easiest way to escape the "pursuit."
But she had ultimately noticed the problem. She had acted far too decisively—so decisively that it had not resembled her at all.
If it had truly been her, even facing death, she could never have so smoothly acted cute with a man.
But she had done it. Moreover, the moment she saw that carriage bearing the royal crest, she had nearly completed an entire series of plans.
And she had made the terrifying decision to "offer herself in order