The muscular figure walked up to her but didn't sit on the low stool Elara had pointed to. Instead, he half-knelt and obediently took off his clothes, then presented a whip to her.
"Please use it, Master."
Elara looked at the whip in his hand, which was covered in fine barbs. Just looking at it made her eyes hurt.
This idiot really thought she was going to do the same thing as before? Couldn't he see she was already holding an ointment? Fine, the ghost that used to possess this body did enjoy whipping while applying ointment to keep the body going.
Elara stared at Uno's solid back, covered in old and new wounds, and fell silent for a moment. She could only get up, walk over, and take hold of his arm.
With confusion in his eyes, Uno was pulled up by her and pressed down onto the low stool beside her.
The moment Uno sat down, his face stiffened. "Master, I shouldn't be sitting with you..."
He moved slightly to get up, but he seemed afraid of hurting Elara with his strength, so the movement was very slight, more like a gentle rub. Elara easily pushed him back down.
"Don't move. I told you to sit, so sit."
Hearing her usual commanding tone, Uno pursed his lips. Maybe he thought she had come up with some new cruel method. In the end, he fell silent, lowered his eyes, and sat quietly beside her, waiting for the whip to strike.
But after two seconds, what landed on him wasn't burning pain, but a gentle, cool, soft touch.
Uno froze and slightly turned his jaw. He saw his master standing behind him. Somehow, she had thrown the whip far away.
Now, she held only the ointment in her hand. The pale green ointment was on her fingertips, and she was gently applying it to his back.
In that moment, Uno's usually blank expression finally changed, like a frozen cliff slowly cracking open, revealing a softness inside filled with shock and helplessness.
The gentle touch on his back was very soft, but his whole body tensed up. His usually calm heart was suddenly beating uncontrollably.
It was like back in the studio when he was surrounded by countless assassins, facing a battle to the death.
But as soon as he realized it, Uno forced himself to suppress that reaction.
Why should he react like this? She was his master. Whatever she did to him was allowed.
"Master, you don't have to..."
His voice was hoarse, and his tense body moved slightly again, as if he couldn't bear the feeling.
But the moment he moved, Elara pressed down harder on his shoulder. As she pushed him back into place, her tone became firmer.
"I said don't move."
Uno froze. The last rule of the shadow guards — always obey the master — echoed in his mind.
He pressed his lips tightly and forced himself to ignore the strange feeling inside, making himself return to his usual calmness.
He had to listen to the master...
So Elara walked around him a few times. She ordered him to raise his arms and to turn around. She worked for quite a while before finally finishing applying ointment to every injury on his body.
Looking at Uno, whose body now shone all over from the ointment, Elara finally smiled. She helped him put his clothes back on and stuffed the ointment into his arms.
"Take this ointment. If you get hurt again, apply it immediately."
Uno raised his hand to hold the ointment against his chest. His lowered face was hard to see clearly in the dim light, and after a long silence, he quietly replied yes.
Elara stood up and stretched, then glanced at the darkening sky outside the window. She had meant to lie on the bed to gather her thoughts before sleeping, but she had ended up spending all her time on Uno.
Still, not a waste. Taking care of her shadow guard properly wasn't time wasted.
Elara yawned and looked at Mathias, still sleeping soundly on the smaller bed. Then she walked toward her own large bed.
Lying down, she took a moment to adjust to the hard and cold mattress of this era. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Uno quietly standing guard in the darkness.
Elara suddenly remembered something and propped herself up.
"Uno, besides you, did the other shadow guards injure themselves too?"
"Yes, Master. Aside from me, the top ten shadow guards all took three hits as punishment. The top hundred took two hits, and the rest took one hit."
Elara: ...
When she thought of the fresh wounds on Uno while applying the ointment, it was obvious he had punished himself the most. It wasn't just three hits.
She rubbed her forehead, unable to agree with this brutal ancient training system. "Did it ever occur to you that if you all cripple yourselves, who's going to protect me when real danger comes?"
Uno immediately half-knelt again. His body straight and firm. "Master, as long as I still breathe, I won't let anything happen to you..."
"Stop stop stop." Elara interrupted him with a headache. She knew their loyalty was absolute, but that wasn't what she wanted to hear.
Lying back down, Elara stared at the ceiling and sighed. "I don't like this rule. Change it. From now on, no more self-punishment unless I say so. If I don't give the order, no one is allowed to hurt themselves. Got it?"
Uno didn't answer right away. He remained kneeling, motionless, for a long while before speaking. "But Master... the shadow guard rules..."
"The biggest rule is to always obey me, isn't it? Or are you saying that one doesn't count anymore? Or that you don't want to obey me anymore, Uno?"
Uno immediately lowered his head, bowing deeply in her direction, like the most devoted follower. "Uno would never dare..."
"Then it's settled." Elara cut him off and lay back down, finally feeling comfortable.
"Alright. Stop standing there. Go tell the others. Anyone injured needs to heal first. Also, tell them that their bodies all belong to me now. Without my permission, no one is allowed to hurt themselves."
Uno looked at the shadowy figure lying in bed. Her voice had softened with sleepiness, making her usual strong tone sound warm and gentle.
He watched for a few seconds, then lowered his eyes again. "Yes, Master."
There was no response from the bed, only the soft sound of her breathing.
Uno listened for a few seconds to make sure she was asleep. Then his tall figure silently vanished.
The next day.
Elara slowly woke up, feeling like something was blocking the space in front of her bed.
Whatever it was, it actually felt nice. It just happened to block the sunlight coming in from the window. Elara unconsciously shifted toward the shadow, shielding her eyes from the glare before narrowing her eyes and softly asking,
"What is it…"
Her morning voice was a little hoarse and sticky, softening the usual sharpness she carried. She sounded like a cat just waking from sleep.
"Your Highness, I'm here to help you wash up." It was a male voice, clear and smooth like jade.
Your Highness?… Elara paused for two seconds before finally opening her eyes to see the person in front of her.
It wasn't her assistant from the company who usually showed up with documents to force her out of bed for meetings. It was… a classic-looking beauty in white inner robes.
Oh right, she had already transmigrated. She was no longer in her company, but in the extravagant and cruel residence of a princess.
Elara shut her eyes again and stayed quiet for two seconds. Once her mind cleared up, she slowly pushed herself up from bed and looked at the man beside her.
His features were elegant, his complexion pale. It was Mathias.
Last night when she arrived and returned to the residence, Mathias had been so badly injured he was barely conscious. Elara had seen his face and body, but never with his eyes open.
Now that he was awake, the young heir of the Mathias family truly looked like someone out of a painting. Especially those eyes, now open, with a faint hint of dark green beneath their calm surface. Combined with his delicate features and gentle manner, he looked like a refined gentleman drawn from a scroll.
But those beautiful green eyes, while stunning, held an empty, shattered look… like a mirror broken and forced back together. The surface was whole, but the soul inside was nearly gone.
Clearly this was someone the original host had tormented to the brink of death.
Thinking of his injuries yesterday, Elara looked down at his body.
He was still wearing the same thin, almost transparent robe, and he still looked seriously ill. His face was as pale as before, his eyes reddened from fever. Kneeling beside the bed, his body looked so thin and fragile, it seemed like he would break with a single touch.
No wonder the original host had kept him around so long. He was the kind of fragile beauty that made you want to ruin him.
"Your Highness, I'm here to help you wash up."
Getting no reply from Elara, he lowered his eyes and repeated himself in a quiet, flat voice.
Remembering that he had always been the one to help the original host get ready, Elara didn't say anything. She just raised her hand from under the blanket and held it out to him.
Mathias didn't take her hand. Instead, he silently removed his upper robe, then presented a whip covered in tiny thorns, placing it where Elara could easily reach it. Only then did he reach for a silk cloth from the basin of warm water at his side and begin to wipe her down gently.
His movements were light, his expression completely calm.
Once he finished helping Elara wash, he brought over the clothes she usually wore and helped her get dressed, piece by piece.
Truthfully, though this young man had no spirit left in him and moved like a puppet that only breathed, his large, well-shaped hands were surprisingly skilled at these tasks.
For example, when tying her hair. His long fingers moved deftly, and even in his lifeless state, he managed to create a beautiful hairstyle for Elara without pulling a single hair or making her uncomfortable.
When she was fully dressed, the attendants outside came in carrying breakfast.
Elara sat down at the table. Mathias followed behind her but didn't sit. He knelt beside her with his thin frame upright, silently preparing to serve her food.
Elara looked at his face, even paler than before, and thought he was starting to look like a piece of bloodless white jade.
From the moment he helped her wake up, Mathias had been undressed, clearly prepared for punishment at any time.
In this cold morning air, after such severe injuries, he hadn't even covered up. His skin looked like frost could form on it, but he didn't seem to feel the cold. He just continued to serve her like a machine.
Elara picked up some food with her chopsticks. Watching the man beside her grow paler, she finally spoke.
"Alright, get up and eat with me."
Mathias, who had been waiting quietly for the whip, paused for a second. His green eyes lifted slightly, looking at Elara as if he didn't quite understand.
Elara didn't look back and just kept eating. "With how you look right now, how long do you think you can keep entertaining me? Get up, eat something, and we'll see if I'm still in the mood."
Mathias lowered his eyes again, his expression returning to that same emotionless state.
"Yes."
Even though he agreed, he still didn't rise. He continued kneeling at her side, picked up a piece of dry bread with his chopsticks, and began eating slowly.
The way he moved didn't even look like someone having a meal. It was more like someone completing a task because they had been told to.
Elara:… Just how awful was the original host's past life to turn into such a monster that she could torture someone like this…
Elara glanced at him again, then quickly looked away. Her eyes ached from seeing it, so she sped up and finished eating. After wiping her mouth, she got up and grabbed a shawl from the couch, throwing it over his bare back.
"If you freeze to death before I get in the mood, that's no fun. Put your clothes on, finish the food, and come back when you're recovered."
His cold upper body was suddenly wrapped in warmth. Mathias's long lashes trembled slightly. After two seconds of silence, he glanced sideways at the whip that still hadn't been touched.
Then he lowered his eyes again.
"Yes."