Surviving As The Villainess's Attendant

The searing pain didn’t fade. It deepened.

At first, it was like fire under the skin—now, it was as if something inside me had caught flame. My veins pulsed with pressure, like they were expanding beyond what my body could handle.

Then came the tearing.

"Aaagh—!"

The scream tore out of my throat before I could stop it, raw and guttural. My knees buckled, but Velra didn’t let go. Her grip stayed firm, even as my entire arm convulsed under her touch.

"You’re lucky," she said softly, almost absentmindedly. "Anyone else would be faint by now."

Lucky?

Another wave of agony hit, worse than the last. It felt like something sharp was slithering through my veins—tiny blades slicing through vessels, red-hot wires threading themselves into my bloodstream.

My vision dimmed at the edges. The torchlight blurred and doubled. My breathing hitched.

My body thrashed once, instinct screaming at me to escape, to run—but Velra’s other hand pinned my shoulder down, holding me in place like an executioner with a sacrificial lamb.

"AaaaaAARGH—!"