Chapter 58: The Real You
Lilia stepped forward in those high heels that felt like they could snap her ankles, walking with the montum of a racewalker.
The newly changed maid outfit had pitifully little fabric—especially that outrageously short skirt. Every step made her feel a chilling draft behind her.
Although the system had sworn that the layer called “Absolute Territory” optical camouflage could block all prying eyes, the psychological sense of insecurity still made her want to tug the hem of her skirt downward.
“Hey,” Lilia called out in her mind, “that so-called ‘Maid Talent Tree,’ and all these ssy mission rewards—no matter how I look at it, they seem tailor-made to please Hera, don’t they?”
The system interface remained deathly silent. The blue light screen even flickered weakly twice, pretending to have a bad signal.
“Stop playing dead. That hugging mission last night, and now these combat talents—are you so kind of parasite living in Hera’s stomach?” Lilia complained irritably. “Or are you her long-lost daughter?”
Still no response.
Lilia rolled her eyes and quickened her pace.
That female demon was definitely still in a bad mood right now.
The door to the Bedchamber, which had been blasted to the brink of collapse by magic last night, had sohow already been repaired.
Lilia took a deep breath and adjusted the expression on her face.
She gently pushed the door open.
The massive floor-to-ceiling curtains were half drawn, letting in the faint morning light of the Demon Realm, which fell upon the figure sitting on the single sofa by the window.
“Master, good morning.”
“Mm.”
She hadn’t been blasted away. It seed the safety level was temporarily above the passing line.
Lilia swiftly got up from the ground and consciously walked toward the small kitchen.
Every day she had to make sothing different—no repeats allowed.
This requirent was harder than getting the national football team to qualify.
In the past few days, she had already made things like toast and seafood porridge. What should she make today?
Since it had to be different, she might as well return to basics.
In truth, she was just being lazy.
After being used as a Human Body Pillow all night and the shock earlier that morning, she just wanted to make sothing simple and quick, finish eating, and find a place to catch up on sleep.
Lilia skillfully heated oil in the pan.
She took sothing that looked and tasted like tomatoes, scored crosses on them, blanched and peeled them, then cut them into small pieces. She beat the eggs, adding a little water and salt so they would turn out tender when cooked.
When the oil reached the right temperature, she poured in the egg mixture. With a “sizzle,” the aroma instantly burst forth—an unmistakable scent of ho-cooked food, full of everyday warmth.
She set aside the golden eggs, left so oil in the pan to stir-fry the tomatoes until they released a rich red sauce, then returned the eggs to the pan, finishing with a sprinkle of bright green chopped scallions.
Tomato scrambled eggs. The ultimate comfort food of all humanity.
Considering Hera’s picky palate, Lilia also smashed a cucumber—crushing it with the back of a knife—then mixed it with minced garlic, vinegar, and a bit of chili oil. She also boiled a light bok choy tofu soup.
Ten minutes, done.
Looking at the two dishes and one soup on the tray, Lilia felt a bit uneasy. Serving street-stall-level food to the supre ruler of the Demon Realm—would that seem too perfunctory?
Whatever. As long as she gave them so impressive-sounding nas, this woman wouldn’t understand anyway.
Lilia carried the tray out of the kitchen.
Hera was still reading.
“Master, breakfast is ready.” Lilia gently placed the tray on the small round table by the window.
Hera closed the book and turned her head. Her golden eyes first swept over the dishes on the table, her brows furrowing ever so slightly.
“What is this?” She pointed at the red-and-yellow dish.
“This is… ‘Crimson Fla with Golden Clouds.’” Lilia made it up without changing her expression. “A specialty dish that regulates magic circuits and calms inner fire.”
Hera raised an eyebrow, clearly noncommittal about the na, but said nothing. She stood up and sat at the table.
Lilia picked up the chopsticks, preparing to serve Hera as usual.
“Sit down.”
Hera suddenly spoke.
Lilia’s hand trembled, nearly poking Hera in the nose with the chopsticks. She stiffly raised her head. “Master?”
“I told you to sit.” Hera’s voice carried no fluctuation, yet held unquestionable authority. “There are two sets of utensils here.”
Lilia lowered her head and realized she had accidentally brought an extra set of tableware.
“Don’t make say it a third ti.”
Hera cut her off, her tone already tinged with impatience. She lifted her eyes, those golden pupils reflecting Lilia’s panicked face.
Compared to being slapped to death by Hera, sitting down to eat seed like the more acceptable option.
“Yes…” Lilia moved like a puppet, stiffly shifting to sit opposite Hera. She only dared let the edge of her hips touch the chair, her back straight as a spear.
Hera didn’t pick up her chopsticks. Instead, she propped her chin on one hand, watching Lilia’s uneasy posture with interest.
“Eat,” Hera said.
Lilia shakily reached out with her chopsticks and put a piece of egg into her mouth.
It was clearly her best dish, yet it tasted like chewing wax.
Only after she started did Hera slowly pick up a piece of tomato and place it in her mouth.
The sweet-and-sour juices burst across her palate. Hera paused slightly. This cheap and simple flavor was unexpectedly… not unpleasant.
It even carried a strange sense of warmth.
An odd silence settled over the table, broken only occasionally by the faint clinking of utensils.
Lilia buried her head in her food, wishing she could hide her face in the bowl, not daring to look at Hera at all. Her strategy now was to lower her presence and treat herself as air.
“Are you afraid of ?”
Hera’s voice suddenly rang out.
“Cough—cough—cough!” Lilia choked violently, her face flushing red.
She hurriedly grabbed the nearby cup and gulped down water, patting her chest as she stamred, “N-No! How could I be afraid of Your Majesty! Lilia’s admiration for Your Majesty is like a surging river—”
“Lies.”
Hera put down her chopsticks.
She looked at Lilia, her gaze turning sowhat deep.
She liked how Lilia was now.
And she also disliked how Lilia was now.
That extre fear. That deliberate flattery. That cautiousness as if she wanted to stay eight hundred ters away.
The one who dared to hug her last night without caring for her life, who dared to whisper “I won’t leave” in her ear, seed to have disappeared with the sunrise.
In her place was once again this “perfect maid” wearing a mask.
Hera suddenly felt that the tomato scrambled eggs had lost their taste.
She stood up.
Lilia was so frightened she imdiately moved to kneel.
“Don’t move.”
Hera walked around the table and ca to Lilia’s side.
Every muscle in Lilia’s body tensed, her breathing nearly stopping. She could feel Hera’s pleasant, faint fragrance approaching, mixed with an overwhelming pressure that made it hard to breathe.
A slightly cool hand gently rested on Lilia’s shoulder.
Lilia shuddered violently.
“Lilia.” Hera leaned down, her lips close to Lilia’s ear. Warm breath brushed against her sensitive ear, sending a fine tremor through her body.
“You’re very good at acting.”
Hera’s voice was soft, slightly hoarse, revealing neither joy nor anger.
Lilia’s mind went blank as she frantically called for the system for help, but it continued to play dead.
“But I don’t like it.”
Hera’s fingers slowly slid up from Lilia’s shoulder, finally stopping at her slender, fragile neck. She didn’t grip it, only gently stroked that small patch of skin, feeling the wildly beating pulse beneath.
“That little mouse who’s always trembling, always trying to run away, full of lies—though irritating…”
Hera paused, her fingers tightening just a little, forcing Lilia to tilt her head back.
Their gazes t at an extrely close distance.
Hera looked into Lilia’s terrified crimson eyes, the corner of her lips curling into an inscrutable smile.
“But the bold, reckless you from last night seed much more interesting.”
Lilia’s pupils trembled violently.
What did this woman an? Had she discovered sothing?
“Master, I—”
“Shh.”
Hera’s slender index finger pressed against Lilia’s lips, silencing all her words.
“From today onward, in this room, in front of —”
Hera withdrew the smile from her lips. In those golden eyes surged an emotion Lilia couldn’t understand, yet instinctively found extrely dangerous.
It was possessiveness. Control. And a nearly pathological desire.
“Don’t let see that false mask of obedience again.”
Hera lowered her head, her forehead nearly touching Lilia’s, their noses brushing.
“Show your most genuine side.”
Hera’s voice was low, like the murmur of a demon. Every word seed hooked, as if to tear Lilia’s soul out.
“I want all of you—the real you.”
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