Chapter 5: This Idiot Raphael Seems to Have Sold Herself?

“Guh… So this is what I look like now.”

In the bathroom, Raphael stood naked in front of the mirror, her small face flushed red.

The gentle curve of her chest rose and fell with each breath, her fair skin already dotted with beads of sweat.

Her delicate face, though still carrying some dirt, couldn’t hide the girl’s cuteness.

That face still faintly resembled her original appearance, just not as clearly.

After all, she had been the acknowledged beauty of the Demon Race—yes, a beauty.

With a face that blurred the lines between male and female, her looks were naturally nothing to scoff at.

Come to think of it, it was actually a coincidence.

Back then, some bold subordinate had dared to submit her portrait for the election.

In the end, under the Demon King’s approval, it granted her the title of the Demon Race’s number one beauty.

That incident still left her utterly baffled to this day.

Her long legs were slightly parted as Raphael couldn’t help but look downward.

What used to be a bird had become a crevice.

Though she’d used it when going to the bathroom before, given the harsh conditions back then, she had never examined this body of hers as carefully as she did now.

She gave it a light touch, then immediately averted her gaze—the strange sensation made her shiver.

“Guh… No, no, what am I doing?”

She stepped away from the mirror and walked toward the bathtub, already filled with hot water.

One foot stepped in.

The temperature was just right, so she lay down completely.

Her skin soon reddened from the heat.

“Guh… So comfortable.”

Wrapped in the warm water, the exhaustion that had piled up over the past few days began to melt away.

From beside the tub, she picked up a clear bottle, squeezed a bit into her palm, and rubbed it between her hands.

Soon, foam appeared.

She worked the foam evenly into her slightly tangled white hair, then picked up the showerhead and rinsed it off.

Rheinmut had already explained what these things were for, and under his guidance, she naturally knew how to use them.

After rinsing her hair clean, she squeezed some from another clear bottle beside her, lathered it up, and spread it over her body.

Her neck, nape, armpits, legs, and other areas were all covered.

She sat up in the tub, aimed the showerhead over her head, and let the water pour down.

White suds flowed down the girl’s pristine body to the floor, her small toes occasionally twitching.

She rinsed off the foam, twisted her hair up, wrapped it in a small towel atop her head, then took another towel to dry her body.

Soon, all water stains were wiped away.

“Wasn’t this thing supposed to be used like he said?”

Raphael removed the towel from her head, letting her white hair fall loose over her shoulders, and picked up the black object beside the mirror.

She pressed one of the buttons.

A warm wind blew out from the cylindrical device.

“This thing is amazing. That perverted Sword Saint said it’s called a hairdryer, right? Human technology has advanced this far?”

She couldn’t sense any magical aura from it, so she could only attribute it to humanity’s superior technological development.

They’d already created something that could mimic wind-element magic without using mana.

She aimed it at her hair and blew.

The white hair took quite some effort to dry.

Raphael let out a sigh.

‘Long hair is such a hassle.’

After drying herself and her hair, she looked at the clothes set aside and frowned.

“How am I supposed to wear this…?”

She picked up one of the lace panties, slipped her pale legs through them, and they hugged her skin snugly.

She knew how to wear these—back in the day, she’d bought plenty for her little sister.

Come to think of it, these, along with the maid outfit, had all come from human lands.

After going through an ordeal, she finally managed to put on the maid outfit.

“Ah… Such a pain. Why is this so hard to wear?”

Raphael pushed open the bathroom door and stepped out.

A few steps later, she spotted Rheinmut sitting on the sofa, eating the remaining half of his sandwich.

The moment Raphael appeared, Rheinmut stared straight at her.

There was no malice in his eyes—only appreciation, like he was admiring a beautiful painting.

He stood up and looked her over.

“Mm…~ I knew you’d look absolutely stunning in this, Miss Raphael. However…”

He glanced at her bare feet on the floor and, from somewhere or other, produced a pair of black leather shoes.

“Sit on the sofa.”

“Ah… ah, me? Y-yes.”

Raphael obediently sat on the sofa as instructed, while Rheinmut crouched down in front of her.

He grabbed one of her small feet, gave it a squeeze, and then lightly tickled the arch.

“Stop… It tickles… mm…”

The itching sensation made her curl her toes slightly.

One by one, Rheinmut slipped the black leather shoes onto Raphael’s feet.

She hadn’t expected the shoes to fit her perfectly.

After doing all that, Rheinmut leaned back a little.

He gave a small nod, his eyes filled with delight as he gazed at Raphael, simply finding her a delight to behold.

Feeling a bit unnerved by that stare, Raphael spoke hesitantly.

“U-um… What am I supposed to do wearing this outfit?”

Hearing that, Rheinmut smirked and produced a piece of parchment and a quill pen from who-knows-where.

The parchment was covered in script she couldn’t read.

He placed both items on the table, pointing at a spot on the parchment.

“Write your name here, Miss Raphael, and then drip a drop of blood on it.”

She nodded, picked up the pen, and began to sign.

This kind of thing had been routine back when she was in the Demon Race, so her handwriting was quite elegant.

In just a few seconds, she signed her current alias.

Emil Raphael.

‘If it’s a fake name, it should be fine, right?’ she thought.

Then, Rheinmut took out a needle and pricked one of Raphael’s fingers.

Blood quickly beaded at the wound, and he pressed that finger under the name she had just written.

Seeing Raphael so cooperative, Rheinmut nodded approvingly—which left her somewhat confused.

He repeated the process he’d just had Raphael go through, and soon everything was done.

The moment he pressed his own fingerprint down, the parchment emitted a golden light and then spontaneously combusted.

Raphael froze, then looked at Rheinmut, who wore a wide, mischievous grin.

She tilted her head and asked, “What is this thing? What does it do?”

Instead of answering, Rheinmut said of his own accord, “Come here, Raphael. Sit on my lap.”

“Huh?”

Hearing that, Raphael was about to move, thinking that going over would be fine, but sitting on his lap was definitely out of the question—it was too weird.

Yet her body moved uncontrollably, walking over and settling onto Rheinmut’s lap.

Her expression grew panicked.

She had no idea what was going on.

“Eh… eh, wh-what the… What’s happening?!”

Rheinmut brought his mouth close to her ear, exhaled, and answered her confusion.

“It’s a master-servant contract. The moment you signed it, you became my very own little maid~.”

He deliberately emphasized the word “very own,” as if afraid she might miss it.

Those words made Raphael feel as if she’d fallen into an icy abyss.

Just now, she seemed to have sold herself.