In the morning, Chloe was assigned to help the server workers.

  She scrubbed floors, replaced wilted flowers, washed dishes—moving from task to task without pause. The work itself wasn’t unfamiliar. Back at the church, she’d done the same chores since she was little: cleaning halls, carrying water, tending altars.

  Because of that, she worked efficiently. Almost too efficiently.

  The other beastgirls noticed.

  They weren’t friendly. Some avoided her outright; others watched with thinly veiled irritation. A human didn’t belong here—and certainly not one who worked better than they did.

  More tasks were quietly dumped onto her. Extra buckets. Longer corridors. Jobs meant for three or four servants at once.

  Chloe didn’t complain.

  She simply did them.

  Mop first. Then rinse. Then dry, she told herself, gripping the handle tighter.

  Chore duty… I’ll clean it all. I’ll earn my coin. I’ll free Mr Ben.

  She moved quickly down the hallway, water sloshing in her bucket as the stone floor slowly gleamed beneath her feet.

  Normally, three or four servants worked this corridor together.

  Today, Chloe was alone. And she was nearly finished.

  A few steps away, three servant girls watched in silence. One of them bit her lip, nails digging into her palm.

  As Chloe bent low to wring her mop, a foot suddenly slid out in front of her.

  She didn’t see it in time.

  “—Ah!”

  Her balance vanished. Chloe pitched forward, crashing into the bucket. Water splashed everywhere—over the floor, the walls, her clothes. She landed hard, soaked and stunned.

  Laughter rang out.

  “Look at her,” one girl snickered.

  “So clumsy.”

  “She can’t even stand properly.”

  “Hey, you made a mess. Clean it up.”

  Chloe pushed herself up, water dripping from her hair. Her cheeks burned, but she bowed her head.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I’ll clean it right away.”

  That only made the servant girls angrier.

  As Chloe knelt to mop up the spill, a heavy foot came down on her hand.

  “Aah!” she cried. “Hey—please, you’re stepping on my hand!”

  The girl looked down lazily.

  “Oh? Was that your hand?” she said, pressing harder.

  “Sorry. Didn’t notice you blocking the hallway.”

  The other two laughed.

  Chloe tried to pull free. Her fingers slipped against the wet stone, her strength failing her. After a moment, the girl lifted her foot—and Chloe fell backwards, landing hard on her rump.

  “Ow!”

  The laughter grew louder.

  “She’s hopeless.”

  “Why is she even here?”

  “She should be fired.”

  “Maybe she should be a jester instead—make customers laugh.”

  Chloe clenched her fists and stood.

  Her hands were shaking, but her eyes were sharp now.

  “I know what you’re doing,” she said, pointing at them.

  The girls blinked, surprised. “Huh?”

  “You guys are bullies,” Chloe said, voice firm despite the tremor. “You think I don’t recognise it? I’ve seen people like you before.”

  She took a breath, chest rising.

  “You are making fun of me because it makes you feel powerful. You mock the weak to forget your own fear. I see that kind of rot every day.” Her finger trembled. “Your souls are being stained.”

  The girls scowled.

  “So what?” one snapped. “What are you going to do about it?”

  Chloe swallowed, then spoke with conviction.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “You still have time,” she said. “I’ll pray for you. Repent now, before your sins consume you. Grudges don’t disappear—they come back to haunt—”

  The girl grabbed Chloe by the hair.

  “Shut up!” she snarled. “You humans are the real filth! You burned our homes, slaughtered our kind, and now you preach to us?”

  Her grip tightened. “I should kill you right here.”

  “Ah—! Stop!” Chloe cried, hands clawing uselessly at the girl’s wrist.

  The other two servants stiffened.

  “Hey—this is too far.”

  “Let her go. This isn’t worth it.”

  But the girl’s eyes were wild now.

  “I’ll teach her a lesson,” she hissed. “Right now.”

  A shadow fell across them.

  A calm, dangerous voice cut through the hallway. “I heard a commotion.”

  The girl froze.

  Standing there was Kazyak—tanned skin, sharp eyes, with ruffled hair. Her presence alone was enough to drain the noise from the hall.

  She looked at the scene slowly.

  “So,” Kazyak said flatly, “what’s going on here?”

  She stood with her arms loose at her sides, expression bored—almost lazy—as her eyes swept over Chloe and the three servants.

  The air dropped several degrees.

  “A-Ah, Miss Kazyak, it’s nothing,” the aggressive servant said quickly, forcing a laugh.

  Kazyak tilted her head slightly.

  “Nothing?” she repeated. “Then why is your hand tangled in her hair?”

  Her gaze flicked to Chloe. “Is this some new greeting I’m not aware of?”

  Chloe said nothing.

  Her fists were clenched at her sides. Her eyes burned, glossy and swollen, as if she were forcing the tears back through sheer will.

  The two other servant girls shifted uneasily and stepped away.

  Only the bully stayed put.

  She swallowed, then straightened her spine and met Kazyak’s gaze.

  “This human was acting cocky,” she said coldly. “She spilt a bucket and dirtied the hallway that the three of us painstakingly cleaned. I was just disciplining her. Someone has to teach a worthless human her place before walking all over our efforts.”

  Chloe snapped. “You’re lying!” she shouted.

  “I cleaned the hallway myself—you tripped—”

  Smack.

  The sound echoed sharply.

  Chloe’s head jerked to the side. A red mark bloomed across her cheek.

  “Shut it,” the servant hissed. “Don’t interrupt, don’t you see we are speaking.”

  Chloe froze—then slowly turned back, eyes blazing.

  Kazyak watched the scene unfold in silence. Then she nodded once, the corner of her mouth curling faintly. “I see,” she said. “You’re doing a fine job… teaching her place.”

  The servants exhaled as one. Shoulders loosened; a few even smiled. But Kazyak’s eyes remained cold.

  “Just one thing,” she continued, tone almost lazy. “Who asked you to do that?”

  The smiles vanished. The bully hesitated. “Asked? Well—no one. I just thought—”

  She never finished. Kazyak’s hand snapped around her throat and lifted her clean off the ground. “I see,” Kazyak said softly, eyes burning. “So you decided—on your own—that you had the authority to discipline another servant.” The girl’s legs kicked uselessly, heels scraping the floor as her breath cut off.

  Kazyak’s grip tightened. “Tell me,” she went on calmly, “did the dorm mother appoint you to that role?”

  The girl clawed at Kazyak’s wrist, nails scraping skin. “N–no… Miss—I—I can’t—breathe—” The other two servants trembled where they stood, knees buckling, sweat beading at their temples.

  Kazyak leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You were assigned to clean. Nothing more.” Her fingers pressed into the girl’s windpipe. “Stick to your place.”

  “I—I’m sorry—” the girl croaked.

  Kazyak smiled—sharp, joyless. “I’ve been watching this human for some time. I saw everything.” The girl’s face flushed a deep, panicked red, eyes wide and glassy. “And do you know what I hate more than humans?” Kazyak murmured as she leaned in. “Liars.”

  Chloe moved before she could think, her hands closing around Kazyak’s wrist. “Enough! Let her go!” she cried.

  “You’ll kill her!”

  Kazyak’s head snapped toward her. “The hell do you think you’re doing?” she growled.

  Chloe shook her head frantically, breath stuttering. “You can’t kill someone just because they lied! I tripped—I made the mess. I deserved to be scolded. People lie all the time—you can’t kill everyone for it!” The other servants stared, frozen. The girl in Kazyak’s grip was turning purple, eyes unfocused.

  Kazyak scowled. “She bullied you. Why protect her?” Her gaze hardened. “She lied straight to my face. Why are you trying to save her?” Her eyes narrowed. “What are you—some kind of masochist?”

  Chloe swallowed, then lifted her chin and met her stare. “Because hatred doesn’t end hatred,” she said. “I know humans hurt your kind. I know that anger is justified.” Her voice shook, but she didn’t look away. “But if we keep holding onto it, we’ll just keep killing each other until no one’s left. If the cycle has to end…” She drew a breath. “…then let it end with me.”

  Silence stretched. For a long moment, Kazyak simply stared at her. Then she clicked her tongue and released the servant. The girl crumpled to the floor, coughing violently, gasping as air tore back into her lungs.

  “What the hell are you even saying?” Kazyak muttered. “Church nonsense… cryptic garbage.”

  Chloe dropped to her knees at once, slipping an arm around the shaking girl’s shoulders. “Are you okay?” she asked softly. The other two servants rushed in.

  Kazyak watched them in silence, genuine confusion flickering across her face. “Tch,” she said at last. “With that attitude, you’ll never save your man.” Her eyes sharpened. “This continent belongs to the strong. Idealists like you always die first.”

  Chloe stiffened. Her lips parted—then pressed together.

  Kazyak snorted. “Whatever.” She turned away. “Back to work. No more petty feuds. If I catch another one, I’ll end it permanently.” She walked off.

  A hand slapped Chloe’s away. “I didn’t need your help,” the servant rasped.

  “I’m sorry,” Chloe said. That only seemed to anger her more. The girl raised her hand—Chloe turned her face, bracing—but the slap never came. The girl hesitated, jaw clenched, then lowered her arm. “…We have work to do,” she muttered, storming off. The other two servants lingered for a heartbeat—guilt and pity flickering in their eyes—before following.

  Chloe remained kneeling on the wet floor, soaked and trembling. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to the ceiling.

  Dear Lord, she prayed silently. Please lend me the strength to end this cycle of hatred… even if it must end with me.