Lady Bernkastel and a Piece's Preposterous Perils

(All characters appearing in this story are 18 years or older, regardless of age in the original work. This story may contain spoilers for the visual novel Umineko no naku koro ni, especially through episode 6).

October 4, 1986.

On the island of Rokkenjima, the Ushiromiya family, including adults, grown children, and servants, gathered for the heady matters of inheritance and succession. The stakes of this gathering, which all parties expected to be tense, would develop in ways unknown even to their mastermind, blurring lines between truth and lies; mystery and fantasy; hatred and love.

However, this story doesn't begin in that mansion.

The blue sky and sea which had borne the visitors on its waves were already growing dark. A storm was blowing in, and had already laid tragic claim to a nearby vessel. Among its unfortunate voyagers was a single young woman who had proven resourceful enough to secure safety for herself before being thrown to the mercy of the tides and drifting to this island. She was the final arrival before the storms would make travel to and from impossible.

The lovely figure of the collapsed, doll-like stranger exuded a kind of beauty that might see her mistaken as a mermaid. Still, it could be considered a fall from grace for the woman, who clearly had the bearing of the upper class or nobility. Her majestic blue hair was splayed all about her; her fair complexion was drenched in stinging salt water. The mysterious survivor let out an undignified cough as she slowly rose to her feet.

"Where... is this?" she slurred as though drunk.

Her last memory, after all, had been falling from a ship-

"No. I was... reading something. I remember a book... a story of some kind... and feeling ill..."

... Lady Bernkastel was clearly delirious. Certainly, many of her memories had likely involved reading books; she was clearly a well-read intellectual. But the human mind can be a tricky thing, especially in times of duress. Slowly, the answer began to return to her. She must have been reading a book on the ship and gotten seasick as the turbulence grew. That would explain everything.

"... Human? It's been a long time since anyone mistook me for an ordinary human, and a long time since anyone dared to call me 'delirious.' I am the Witch of Miracles, Bernkastel..."

The self-declared witch attempted to stand proudly as she announced herself, as though there were any party to hear her. She had risen too quickly, however, and found her bare knees knocking in defiance of her authority, leaving her stumbling like a new-born foal. Unfortunately, she didn't truly realize the predicament she was in, standing in such a poor state of dress on the coast amid a growing storm. That didn't become clear until a high wave ripped to the shore, colliding in an alarmingly sharp smack across the young woman's pale buttocks and knocking her face-first into the sand...!

Face down, bottom up. It was a ridiculous look for a woman of her caliber, especially as she'd become aware of a new and concerning truth. From the hard feeling of synthetic material below her breasts instead of beach sand, and from the revelatory sensation of the sea's sudden spanking, she'd become aware that, apart from the life jacket she'd washed up in, she wore not a scrap of clothing. If anyone was fortunate enough to be strolling the beach, they'd be getting an eyeful of her nude form, including her perfectly peachy bottom that waved helplessly in the air.

Bernkastel lifted her face from the sand, spitting it out and wiping it off of her humorless scowl. It was rare for Bernkastel to show such emotion nakedly, but it was rare for her to appear so nakedly, either.

"Who?"

She spoke a question to the air.

"I'm asking who's watching me. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to earn my mercy. I'm saying this is a chance for a miracle, get it? The miracle where I grant you a swift and painful **** instead of the most gruesome torment I can grab from a sea of fragments."

... Lady Bernkastel, allow me to explain-

"There's no need. I'm fully aware of what's going on now. Besides, this awakening has been a new experience, even for me. It ought to help stave off boredom for some time. I'd like to thank you for it personally, so I'll be returning by simply stating it in red: 'Bernkastel, the Witch of Miracles, was not present on Rokkenjima at any point.'"

... When Lady Bernkastel realized she was still standing butt naked on the island of Rokkenjima, she took a moment to calmly consider what must be happening to her. She was, in essence, an ordinary, powerless human. In a way, she could be thought of as a piece on a gameboard-

"Huuuh? Is there a gameboard as nonsensical as this, in all of Beatrice's miserable collection?" Bernkastel spat, running out of patience for the conversation she was having with herself. "You missed your one chance to announce yourself, you know. Did you fall off a ship yourself, recently? Did you contract amnesia? Have you forgotten what I, your master, can do to you? That your life is less than nothing in my hands? That your continued existence is a miracle at my whim, a whim I can move on from at any time if I decide it becomes boring or disgusting? ... Let's be clear here. I'm here because I saw what you were writing. This story of yours, written about me, your master, is... revolting. Disturbing. Alarming, even for a long-lived witch like myself. Unfortunately, that alarm seems to have had an unprecedented effect. As the Witch of Miracles, my reading was interpreted as a memory, one that I'm now living. Now, thanks to your carelessness, I'm stuck here, **** to experience whatever unskilled garbage you wrote about me in your diary to its completion. There's nothing for it..."

The witch sighed.

"I suppose I should be thankful it's only the one stupid work. Fine. Tell me how to end this story."

... Lady Bernkastel, that's-

"Keep it short! I can hear your obnoxious, breathless stammering even when you speak in the written word."

There was no ending. Yet! There was no ending yet, but it was being worked on as quickly as a miserable servant possibly could. However, until it was reached, Lady Bernkastel would, with deepest apologies, have to please, perhaps, at her leisure, proceed through the events of the story. Which, she would hopefully understand were actually intended as flattery of her magnificence... And also, she would surely be understanding and merciful that what one fantasizes about in private shouldn't be used to judge that person harshly, as those fantasies were never meant to-

Lady Bernkastel was scowling. Very understandably scowling, and what a lovely, understandable scowl it was. Yes, Lady Bernkastel had had quite enough of talking to the mewling, apologetic voice in her head, which was quickly retreating to a more important task. That being the case, Bernkastel understood that the events around her would revert to their original writing and surely hold no hard feelings towards a servant simply trying to-

The voice left.

Bernkastel still had many questions. With an eerie, implacable certainty, she was already aware of many of the events that might take place before a certain clock struck 12 in the mansion, the identity of who might be responsible for those events, and the rules which governed how those events might come to pass. Yet, she also felt there were additional rules she didn't fully understand. That said, it was clear something had been done to her. Before her visit to Rokkenjima was through, Bernkastel would declare the one who had put her through these inappropriate perils.

"Seriously? You need to hear me say your name that badly? Erika Furudo."

However, there were still many investigations to take part in and many trials to experience before she could come to that conclusion.

"Shit."

Unfortunately, Bernkastel still hadn't gathered her bearings. Standing up still felt nigh impossible. Additionally, it didn't seem likely anyone would be visiting the beach any time soon, which was both a blessing and a curse...

... Meaning the witch might be pleasantly or unpleasantly surprised to find out that assumption was premature. She'd collapsed again, but she could tell someone was watching her. Now, someone was approaching her with urgency, as anyone might run to the aid of a drunkenly stumbling young woman on the beach during a storm.

"This is bad..." Bernkastel thought to herself. Frankly, she didn't care if a couple of humans saw her naked. Would an intelligent being be ashamed to walk bare in front of a chessboard and its pieces? No, she was alarmed because she found herself remembering Beatrice's fifth game. In that game, her own piece had gained an initial advantage by presenting itself in a manner that was both graceful and pitiable at once, earning the family's trust. Now, Bernkastel was naked, and she was...

She was... passing... out...?

The last thing she heard before losing consciousness was a woman's voice, saying they needed a way to carry something...

---

Bernkastel realized she hadn't appreciated until now how witches didn't need sleep. Waking up was proving to be a pain in the ass, putting it mildly.

In this case, literally. Bernkastel was still coming to terms with where she was, but she could tell that she was moving, and she knew she was uncomfortable. She couldn't picture where she was, but it was cold metal on her wet, nearly-naked body, and it was too small. Even as a relatively small woman, she could feel her limbs hanging over the sides of whatever carried her. She had a mental image of being stuffed in a trash can, uncomfortably folded over.

As her eyes adjusted, she realized the reality wasn't much better. She saw Kanon, the young man who served the Ushiromiyas on this day. The servant was wheeling her with effort up a grassy hill, adjacent to the paved path he'd clearly rather be using if he wasn't transporting a body in a wheelbarrow.

"... A wheelbarrow?!"

The mental image of what she must look like dawned on her. The life vest might be offering her some protection, but from Kanon's point of view, he could probably see everything else from the front, including the neat blue patch between the naked witch's legs. The young man was looking away dutifully, but the gods above must surely be feasting their eyes on the bare-naked noble's shameful vulnerability...!

"You. Human... Kanon, isn't it? I can walk. Get me out of this damn-!"

"Milady... Guest!" Kanon spoke, clearly unsure of how to address her, having not been introduced and being shocked to hear his own name. For various reasons, he seemed both distressed and frustrated. "You're weak, and I've been ordered to help you! Please sit still and don't-!"

His warning came too late. Bernkastel had begun struggling against her unsightly conveyance, but she hadn't realized that she was no longer traveling uphill. Kanon had crested a slope. Unfortunately, Kanon was also the least hardy of the male servants present on the island. A slight bit of struggling was enough to cause him to lose his grip on the wheelbarrow...

It turned out it moved much faster on a downward slope. Once eager to get out of it, Bernkastel was now hanging onto the sides of her container for dear life, her blue hair flying around her as she looked at her destination in horror. She was heading towards the mansion... the rose garden! Under ordinary circumstances, it was a breathtaking sight, but all Bernkastel could think of was the thorns. She could see the threshold of the garden paved path coming up... She'd be launched!

"Erikaaaaaa!!"

THUMP!

The witch's uncharacteristic, panicked wail fell on deaf ears as she flew from the speeding wheelbarrow like a projectile. There were a hundred painful places to land in this garden: her mind reeled with rose bushes, brick pavers, iron gate spikes!

Of course, Bernkastel was a Witch of Miracles. If there was one miraculous place to land in the garden, she'd manage.

SPLASH!

A loud noise alerted the guests of the mansion. Surely they'd just been sitting down to enjoy a lavish dinner, but none of them were hungry enough to ignore the commotion going on outside. Sure enough, when the Ushiromiya family began to pour out of the mansion, they were greeted by an incredible sight:

Bernkastel, who called herself a Witch of Miracles, had landed squarely in the fountain fixture in the middle of the garden. She'd collided with the central ornament face first, breaking it, then slid down. Such was the way the Ushiromiyas now saw her, frantically spitting up water as she thrashed in a shallow pool, clothed only in a life safety vest that barely hid her breasts.

There were surely different thoughts running through each of their heads: Krauss, the eldest of Kinzo's children and the one who considered himself the island's caretaker, stood aghast at the inexplicable damage; Eva, the second, covered her son George's eyes on reflex; most of the others stood silent and uncomprehending, even the servants.

There was only one young man foolish and imprudent enough to give voice to what many of them were thinking...

"That girl's wearing a life jacket to swim in a fountain?" The red-headed Battler remarked, as confused as anyone else.

That wasn't correct, but it was the same conclusion most of them had come to, one which would, unfortunately, be their first impression of a woman who should have commanded so much respect. As she rubbed her sore nose and finally managed to find her footing, she must have realized it.

It was far too late to regain her dignity now, but she had to try. She held the fixture she'd broken off of the fountain between her legs to hide her private place. Although she was flushed red, her deep and humorless eyes seemed to challenge any of them to laugh while she was facing them.

"My name is Bernkastel. Good evening... Now, let's skip to the part where you give me Jessica's old clothes."

The fountain ornament she held was, unfortunately, beginning to crumble as well. Although it had been nearly intact when she picked it up, a good half of it had dropped cleanly off with a loud splash, and more rubble continued to shake free. Now, it was not even knee length when held at the waist, carefully positioned to cover the pubic hair.

"Quickly, please." Bernkastel added. She sounded impatient, not ****.

As the eldest servant, Genji, directed most of the family back into the mansion, granting her some much-wanted privacy, Kanon began cleaning up the rubble around her impact zone, paying her bare bottom not so much as a curious glance. Perhaps self-described furniture couldn't appreciate such things...

Krauss and Natsuhi had also approached, presumably to help their awkward new guest along as hosts. Bernkastel cleared her throat, deciding how she should address them. She saw Krauss as a buffoon and Natsuhi as a pitiable fool, and she felt trying to talk to either of them was going to be like being pulled out of the audience at a circus performance and asked to come on stage with clowns. Still, she'd already lost one chance at a first impression. She was hoping for minimal conversation before she was led away to make herself decent.

Therefore, it came as a bit of a shock when Natsuhi forcefully grabbed her wrist, all but dragging her into the mansion behind her. She could hear Krauss apologizing on his wife's behalf behind them, going through the usual pleasantries and formalities she would have expected both to extend... but Natsuhi was bee-lining through the mansion as if possessed, holding Bernkastel's wrist in one hand while nursing a headache with the other.

Still, Bernkastel appreciated this. "At least someone here can see a naked woman suffering and grant her some common decency without hesitation. Natsuhi's a good hostess, at least," she thought to herself. Her legs were also working again, well enough to keep pace with the woman's hurried glide.

They arrived at a guest room, where Bernkastel expected she'd be given a particular old outfit of Jessica's. However, she was surprised when the wife more or less slammed the door in her husband's face, then led her guest to the edge of a bed.

Natuhi sighed, releasing her grip and taking a seat. "Lie down."

"... I'm fine," Bernkastel replied as politely as she could. "I appreciate your concern, seeing as I just washed ashore here, but I'm not tired."

"Lie down, young lady!" the hostess demanded again, with the **** of a mother commanding her daughter.

Perhaps understanding that, Bernkastel naturally took the position a daughter would in this situation, lying flat so her stomach was on Natsuhi's lap and her bare bottom was in the air. It was less like a choice she was making, more like a natural body response. For a moment, she felt as if she was in a slow-motion dream. Her mind was plotting out how a conversation was supposed to proceed from this position. There ought to be a reasonable-

That thought was dashed as Natsuhi's firm palm suddenly connected with her guest's bottom in a sharp smack!

"You...?! How dare you?!" The witch bared her fangs at the woman in indignation. What was happening here? How could the story progress in this way? In fact, weren't there many things wrong with this scene? For one thing, what was with the unpleasant and feeble humanity she had in this story? For the first time, now that her rear end was at the front of her mind, she was noticing she didn't have a tail. More importantly, she clearly didn't have her power. She should be able to disappear into shadows, which she fully intended to-

Smack!

Or otherwise, she should be able to put a stop to Natsuhi with her magic. No, not just stop her-- she should destroy the impudent woman for daring to lay a hand on her-

Smack!!

"J-just hold on a moment, let me think!" Actually, wasn't this strange behavior from Natsuhi, in the first place? Bernkastel was aware the rules of this gameboard ought to make it so a piece could only act within their nature. No matter who the player was, they wouldn't be able to make Natsuhi act out of character. Wasn't her character to be a dignified and timid host? "How dare you to this to a guest?!" she tried again, trying to **** the piece Natsuhi into the role she ought to fit.

Instead, she got another firm swat on the ass. It was getting easier and easier to imagine Natsuhi punishing her daughter this way, which made it easier to imagine her punishing a naughty brat who'd interrupted her important family conference and broken the centerpiece of their garden just the same. It was making more sense, but that didn't make it any less revolting or humiliating. Bernkastel was clearly a grown woman with a developed body. Did Natsuhi spank her own daughter at her age?!

It should go without saying that Bernkastel hadn't been hit in quite some time, nevermind having her **** backside paddled. The sensation of tears welling in the corners of her eyes was equally foreign. She was trying to thrash free now, no longer caring about impressions or upsetting her host. In fact, she'd be happy to claw her way out, if she could. Somehow, Natsuhi was preventing that, and Bernkastel found herself losing a contest of strength against the woman who was physically older and yet a fraction of her own multi-human lifespan in age.

That meant she would be held in place until Natsuhi was satisfied, her poor pale-and-pretty bottom being turned red with discipline.

Bernkastel was furious, but she had experience in being trapped by someone's whims. She was an expert in trying different means to escape. If one method wasn't working, she need to try another. So, she stopped her resistance and worked to control her voice even as another vindictive slap shook her sore bottom. "Gh! I apologize, ma'am. I'm sorry about your fountain."

"... And?" Natsuhi asked, holding her palm poised in the air.

Her victim had been working her best to put on a face of polite contrition, but she had to work to stop from letting her jaw drop in response to that. She coughed, then tried again. "And for being a rude guest."

"Hmph." Natsuhi finally released the tension in her arm, which allowed her captive to rise to a sitting position. "Dear!" she shouted, loud enough to travel outside the room. "Did you bring the clothes for our guest?"

Bernkastel listened to the shuffling outside the door as she took a more dignified seat... Then, she decided she'd rather not be sitting after all, wincing as she instead rose to her feet. This story was off to a hideous start for her, thanks to Natsuhi's unexpected behavior. Still, she'd heard Krauss trying to impotently reign Natsuhi in, earlier, so she was relieved to think she'd finally be in proper clothes soon enough. She'd given up hope that this would be a proper game: it was starting to seem more like an ordeal she'd have to survive. Still, with some clothes, even embarrassing ones, she thought she'd be able to handle it.

The door creaked open, and Krauss walked in.

---

In the main hall, a massive portrait of a mysterious blonde woman in an elegant dress overlooked the entrance, ordinarily drawing the eyes and demanding the attention of anyone who set foot in the mansion. Bernkastel had passed by it without surprise before.

It was as though the mistress of the mansion had been ignored. Perhaps that was why, now, Bernkastel was suffering such punishment.

Two servants of the Ushiromiya household had entered the hall. The first, sharing a legend about the woman in the painting with a tone that was reverent and gossiping all at once, was the elderly Kumasawa. She walked at a slow pace and spoke with fascination about the lady of the mansion, Beatrice. It was said that every strange thing which happened in the mansion could be attributed to that legendary figure, who was treated as a ruler of the night.

Only, the things that had happened to the second servant were strangeness in broad daylight. They could only be called "magical" on the basis of their improbability. Still, as Bernkastel attempted to make her way across the entrance hall with unsteady steps, she thought she could feel the portrait's amused sneer following her.

Bernkastel had undergone a transformation in the time since she'd entered and exited the guest room. She'd lost the life jacket which had been her only clothing before. She'd been toweled off. Then, instead of the childish but decent clothing she'd expected, she'd been granted the servant clothes of a woman not permitted to wear the Ushiromiya family's One-Winged Eagle... nor much of anything else, it seemed.

The witch had somehow been **** into a waist-coverage apron, the only truly covering article she'd been given. Besides that, she'd been made to wear a low-coverage two-piece swimsuit, gold in color and glossy in finish, along with a headband. The band had fluffy white ears standing at attention, and the bikini bottom had a fluffy tail. The outfit somehow got even more scandalous with the addition of high fishnet stockings dimpling into her soft legs, as well as platform high heels she could hardly walk in. Finally, her hair had been tied in two large pigtails, the only thing that gave her a passing resemblance to the appearance she'd thought would be the worst of it a blissful moment ago.

She'd been left looking like another person entirely, a glamorous bikini-clad bunny for some resort or casino. Krauss had come up with the idea for her to work as a servant for the night, and he and Natsuhi had come to the joint conclusion that she could work as a test model for an outfit the man had the wild notion would help sell the new attraction he hoped to open on the island. She'd even been made to walk with a hip-swinging strut when she left the pair, the provocative movement made even more ridiculous by the way her bright-red butt-cheeks could be glimpsed past the clingy swimsuit trying to creep into her crack.

When Kumasawa was summoned and asked to lead the new Ushiromiya maid to where she'd be working, the elder servant had taken the lead. With no one watching, Bernkastel quickly abandoned the mortifying hip-swinging. Walking in the heels was bad enough.

That brought them back to the present moment. Of course, there wasn't much of what the old servant had to say about Beatrice that Bernkastel didn't already know, but she did notice one odd thing. Kumasawa frequently suggested that "anything strange" that happened in the mansion was the work of the legendary figure. Just when she was about to ask about it, she noticed something else unusual.

The distinct epitaph that was supposed to be readable alongside the portrait was missing. In its place was a plaque with a simple sentence:

"WHO IS THE ONE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MYSTERIOUS SUFFERING?"

The elderly woman noticed her looking at the plaque and chuckled, covering her mouth with one hand. "Ho ho ho... I've heard it's a riddle... Supposedly, there's a reward for answering it correctly. Goodness me, I don't know the first thing about it, but perhaps you've got some idea?"

"Yes," Bernkastel answered succinctly. "It looks like there's not much of a riddle here. No mystery. Just the most disgusting, rote sort of fantasy. The kind an adolescent would write quickly and with one hand. All I want is to reach the end of it as quickly as possible..." She looked and saw Kumasawa was visibly confused, which made sense, considering the words hadn't been meant for her. "Ahem. Ignore all that. You never told me where we were going."

"Ah, well, there's a task the master wanted done that no other servant is assigned to today. I fear it's too much for the back of a poor old lady, ho ho ho! It's just through here."

Bernkastel thought she could feel the mysterious witch's eyes on the curves of her backside as she left. Indeed, if there was a mysterious, omniscient ruler of the mansion, whose amusement but theirs could the bikini be for?

There was a wedgie that needed fixing every couple of minutes, but Bernkastel **** herself to ignore it until she was away from those eyes.

She'd been so focused on getting away that she hadn't been paying attention to where she was going. She found herself standing in a dark doorway leading to a basement. "You want me to... do what here, exactly?"

"The furnace just needs a little cleaning," Kumasawa told her with an apologetic smile. "Just down those stairs."

Bernkastel gave her an incredulous look. "You want me to clean the furnace down there? In this?" She withdrew what she'd assumed was a prop from the single pocket on the front of her apron, a tiny feather duster, practically the size of her palm. "With this?"

"Ho ho, well, I'm sure they'll be pleased if you simply do your best. You can't do worse than the young ones or me!"

The new servant didn't return her laughter. Instead, she pulled a chain to turn on the light in the basement where the furnace waited. "... Can I at least take off the heels?"

"It'll be our secret," Kumasawa noted with a smile and a wink.

"...That means I'm intended to keep them on. Which means that by the predictable and insufferable beats of this story I'm in, I can be punished again if I take them off. I'll manage." Leaving the confused older servant at the head of the stairs, the unwilling sexy maid began making her way carefully, step by step down into the basement. The indecent incidents had left her wary of making any assumptions about the rules of this world: if she rushed, she knew she'd find herself falling into some humiliating new position immediately.

The boiler room was a lot less eerie or exciting than it sometimes appeared in Beatrice's tales, but the tension still made Bernkastel's blue hairs stand on end. The furnace itself was in front of her... The thing was filthy with soot, and she didn't want to think about what that residue actually was. The witch could easily imagine her entire duster becoming pitch black the moment it touched the surface.

"I guess I should at least be thankful it's off. And I suppose I shouldn't question--" she began, stopping herself. If she pointed out that a cold furnace in a house like this ought to mean the whole mansion was cold, she might end up suffering the consequences of that logic correction, barely-dressed as she was. Better not to point out the inconsistency, as much as letting crummy writing like that stand bothered her.

While she pondered how she was meant to do this task (and, frankly, what could be interesting about reading or writing her doing so), she knelt so she could peer towards the back. Sure enough, the thing was long enough to fit a human body. More importantly, there was something in there... Towards the back, she saw something glimmering.

She had to take that as a hint from the gamemaster... or, perhaps, a challenge. There was no way she could choose to methodically clean the soot with that light begging her to investigate. Before she'd simply climb in, though... She checked the dial that would turn it on. It looked heavy and hard to move. it didn't seem possible to do suddenly or by accident.

Good. Bernkastel assumed Erika had no intention of burning her alive in this story, but she was finding out a lot of new things about Erika today.

Bernkastel took a last look around for a poker or something she could use to fish the glimmering object out. Sighing as she found none, lowered herself to a crouch and tried sticking an arm in. No luck: the unidentifiable object wasn't any closer than it looked. It was all the way at the back. Another big sigh.

She placed her elbows into the soot and lowered herself to enter the open grate. It was a tight fit, even for her relatively thin body, and she felt as ridiculous as she must look, her gaudy bikini-clad bottom, fishnet-clad legs, and golden high heels sticking half out. It only looked stranger as she lifted her feet from the floor to continue her crawl in.

The question of how she planned to exit the furnace was at the back of her mind. More important was what she was crawling for that warranted this effort. She was lucky it was emitting its own light, or it'd be too dark to see. For a moment, she thought it must be a burning coal she was wasting her time with. Then, she finally got close enough to see it clearly:

It was a golden butterfly.

Bernkastel had both the sharp wits and context clues to know she'd made a mistake. Unfortunately, she had hips just wide enough to get stuck, especially after the grate she'd been sure to secure suddenly rattled loose and fell. It landed without pain in the exact position to separate the curve of her bottom from the costume bunny tail, just in the right position to catch if she tried to scoot back.

The butterfly Bernkastel had been looking at now appeared to be a dark lump of coal after all. That meant the point all along had been to get Bernkastel stuck in the furnace and, frankly, disgusting with soot. She couldn't see how the rest of her was looking, but she could feel it, and the bunny ears that had been snow white were now pitch black in front of her.

The witch, who had been subject to a variety of traps and humiliations over her history as a traveler of the sea of fragments, had never been in a situation like this before. Holding her breath to try and avoid breathing in loose soot from her struggle, she began wiggling and bucking her hips to try and figure out what combination of movements would dislodge the gate holding her in place. Once the tail was clear, she could probably back up a bit more, and once she could get her feet on the floor for leverage, she was confident she'd be able to manage the rest...

... Even if her arms were stuck in front of her. She'd make it work by some miracle!

With her cheeks still puffed up with air, she continued to throw her other set of cheeks around recklessly. She tried putting more **** into it, not caring how it must look from the outside. After all, this only had to work once! This impromptu twerk show just needed to bounce the gate high enough to get her tail free! And since there was no one around to watch-

... That wasn't right. There was someone to watch, wasn't there? Had Kumasawa left the top of the stairs? No, she could tell that the person watching her-

"The one besides the shameless pervert writing this story!"

-wasn't standing at the top of the stairs. There was a presence with her in the boiler room, now.

That presence decided to lend a hand or two. Only, instead of grabbing the gate, which would be the logical choice, that person used thin, feminine fingers to search their way into the back of Bernkastel's swimsuit, curling and digging into the fabric from the inside.

Before Bernkastel could utter any classic mystery questions, the "Who? or "Why?" or so on, the question of "What" was answered for her. Without warning, and surely not for the benefit of freeing the victim, the assailant yanked upward on the elastic material of the bikini bottom. It didn't have the leverage of the straps, but it had plenty of enthusiasm, all the same. Bernkastel grit her teeth in a mixture of indignation, shock, and a bit of bearable pain, feeling her back jerked up against the grate as her butt was lifted and bounced by her garment.

All that motion had successfully gotten the tail clear of its obstruction, but it seemed that had been a goal for the unseen perpetrator, as well. As soon as the cottony tail was on the other side of the grate, the mastermind was able to get what they'd evidently come for. Despite a cat-like hiss of protest from the one wearing the bikini and her best efforts to kick wildly, the bottom was yanked down and off of the unfortunate Bernkastel, sending her heels clatter to the floor with the **** of the yank. A familiar laugh sounded in triumph before disappearing.

The air was still as Bernkastel finished struggling her way out alone. When her bare feet touched the cold floor of the basement, she fell backwards onto her sore and naked butt.

The bare-footed thing that emerged from the basement was recognizable as Bernkastel only by its intimidating grimace. Otherwise, it was a bizarre apparition, like a spliced creature: the pitch-black shape of a young woman from the waist up, her already-embarrassing pigtails now sticking this way and that like a dirty used broom, her rabbit ears crooked and ruined; a sweaty and naked figure in fishnet stockings only from the waist down, bearing faint sooty handprints in obscene places from where she'd been manhandled. The blackened apron protected her dignity from the front, but it'd be impossible not to stare at her fully exposed and bright red bottom from behind.

Bernkastel heard the family dinner going on in the dining hall and decided to take a shower in the first unoccupied bathroom she could find, clothes and permission be damned. She stormed through the hallway, stifling coughs and not really giving a care to any messy footprints she might be leaving behind. It was now clear to her this story intended to punish her whether she played along and did her job or not; why bother putting care into it? Similarly, she decided she didn't care if some errant Ushiromiya scheming their way through the mansion caught a glimpse of her naked ass.

By this point, she was aware Erika's writing didn't just have control over what happened to her; to some degree, it also affected her decisions. She wasn't consciously aware of any unusual choices she'd made or ways she had acted, but the fact remained that a number of the situations she had ended up in where the results of choices she had made. At the very least, Bernkastel thought she would have avoided this outfit by hook or by crook if she was fully in control of her destiny.

All of that said, taking a shower right now wasn't a mistake. It was natural. She'd been tossed in sea water, carried in a wheelbarrow, and coated in soot. Taking a shower was the right thing to do, and no one was around, so it was private.

Honestly, she'd rather take a bath than a shower, but something about that seemed more ****. She'd enjoy one when she was out of this nightmare... one with candles, scattered petals, and a bath bomb made of a certain someone's crushed and powdered bone.

Still, there was no reason she couldn't enjoy her shower. Stepping into a bathroom, she quickly tore off the apron and bikini top, grimacing without humor at her reflection in the mirror. Her stripping had left strategic windows of pale skin against the soot coating her. She whipped off the hairband and ties as well... naturally, her hair didn't just naturally settle back into its normal, dignified straightness, but continued to stick out in stiff, sooty strands.

She started running the water hot as she sat on the edge of the tub and peeled the trashy stockings off of her legs. Like so many things, they'd left their mark for the night on her: the things were tight in a way that might be erotic to look at, but left an unflattering criss-crossed pinch pattern on her skin. "I've never been tortured this way before... I might have to keep it in mind. Yes, I might consider it the next time I see Erika. After I get tired of all the classics I have planned, of course." That thought finally put a smile on her face.

She had no plans to take a long and leisurely shower. No matter how good it might feel, the thought of Erika's written description going into detail about every nook and cranny she decided to wash was-

"Cold!! AAAAaaaaaaaghghhhh!!!"

Bernkastel yowled in a way no creature had ever heard from her, leaping back in the tub from the shower she'd so adventurously entered a second ago. Of course it was cold! The boiler wasn't on earlier. Didn't it only make sense that the water was freezing cold?

Of all the enraging indignities she'd suffered tonight, this was the one that made Bernkastel the most furious. She bared her teeth in hatred at the cold shower, hissing at it almost like an actual cat. Was this sadism after all?! Did Erika want to hurt her, **** her? Have her fall into despair? Be **** to submit?!

But she was covered in soot and sticky from salt water and one thing was true: she needed a shower, right now! And she'd endured **** before, so much ****! She wasn't going to let a cold shower beat her! She could do it!!

Counting to three and taking deep breaths, the powerful, world-traveling Witch of Miracles, esteemed member of the Senate, stuck a toe into the cold stream and winced before plunging bodily into it. Hopping back and forth from foot to foot and howling, Bernkastel was determined to wash herself! God and she alone would witness the way she screeched and groaned as she gave her hair the quickest shampoo of her life. No one else would see the way she lathered up with lightning speed, wincing and crying out as cold water hit her exceptionally sensitive spanked bottom, her tears mixing with the frigid water. Yes, Lady Bernkastel would be happy to know there was no one to witness the exceptionally humiliating indignity of her bouncing around like a whiny child being **** to bathe.

Miraculously clean, she shut the water off and took deep breaths. Deep, long, breaths. Meaningfully, she stood up and slung her curtain of damp blue hair, running her hands through it. Then, she stood perfectly still, regaining her calm, dignity, and charisma. If one simply ignored the way her shoulders and knees slightly shook, there was would be no trace of the lightning-quick shower prior.

She shut her purple eyes as she pulled aside the shower curtain and stretched for the towel rack. It had to be nearly midnight by now. Somehow, she was sure that she'd encounter the end of this story at midnight. That was the most logical place for Erika to have placed it. Hell was far more bearable with a finish line in sight, she would know better than anyone. With that thought, she was able to maintain her calm as she pulled the towel from the rack...

... It was a washcloth, no bigger than her palm. There was no other dry cloth. Of course, there was a golden fucking butterfly on it.

Her grimace immediately returned. Of course, she hadn't brought any clean clothes into the bathroom with her. Of course, she was about to have to walk out into the bedroom in order to find something to wear. With her recent luck, she'd probably bump into someone immediately, or find the only clothes available to wear were men's undergarments, or slip on a bar of soap...!

With such infuriating thoughts running through her head, she just barely dabbed at herself as a token effort towards dryness. Damn the Ushiromiyas and their damn hardwood floors, which were just going to have to get dripped on for the sake of a higher being! She threw the door open, ignoring the scattering of golden butterflies, and stepped through brazenly, ready to tell off whoever or whatever was waiting for her in the bedroom.

Except... she wasn't in a bedroom.

Somehow, inexplicably, Bernkastel found herself stepping through the doorway and onto a tablecloth. She was in a dining room. Not just a dining room: THE dining room. The one where all of the Ushiromiya family was gathered (except for Maria, who I've elected to leave out of this story).

Bernkastel had just finished telling herself she didn't care who she ran into, but now that she was literally almost stepping off of a table and into the lap of one of the young men seated at the far end, she was compelled to turn right back around the way she came. Unfortunately, that only served to flash the whole room with the rest of her body they hadn't yet seen. She took stumbling steps through empty air, finding the door she'd just walked through was gone.

Then, she tripped on a tray and actually did faceplant, landing straight in an elaborate cake the head chef had prepared. Cream frosting and decorations scattered everywhere as the whole party gasped.

Everyone remained silent as Bernkastel remained with her face down in the dessert and her ass up in the air.

Finally, she heard a voice speak up, quickly joined by others. "... M-magic... was that magic? Hey, who did this to you?"

"Yes, tell us who is responsible! Was it some sort of witch?"

"Beatrice? The woman from the portrait? Was it her?"

"Tell us who you think is behind this...!"

Bernkastel remained face down in the cake for a moment longer, as if she was ignoring them, or perhaps as if she were dead. She wasn't still for any of those reasons, however. Instead, anyone looking closely would see how her hands had balled tightly into fists, her nails digging into her palms. Finally, she emerged from the cake with her head thrown back madly, screaming around frosting at the ceiling as if she were cursing the heavens.

"ERIKAAAAAAAA!!!"

Everyone was stunned again into silence. Battler's voice was the one to cut through it first. "Who's that? I mean, uh... It was Beatrice, right? I mean, you stepped through thin air to get here. It had to be the kind of magic a witch like that would use-"

"Your rambling, artless, impudent, worthless, blasphemous piece of fan fiction ends here, Furudo Erika! You're the one responsible for this... this farce! This rubbish work of inane nonsense, crafted solely to turn your better into a laughingstock, to **** her into situations that shitty television sitcoms wouldn't dare to dream of! I am your master, and I command you to write the ending here! Write that I exit this nightmare and tear you limb from limb in the many, many ways I am planning, or I will redouble those ways to the limit of my creativity! Erika! You-"

---

EPILOGUE

The night had started off strangely, but the Ushiromiya family members were finally able to enjoy their dinner. Certainly, Gohda might never recover from the wrongs done to the cake he'd slaved over, but otherwise, everyone was in high spirits again. This was, of course, thanks to the charm, wits, and charisma of their lovely blue-haired guest.

The Ushiromiya family weren't complete idiots. At the very least, they understood decorum and hierarchy. They understood that although this guest may have arrived suddenly and required their help, she was a superior sort of human being, worthy of being treated as a master for the duration of her stay. As such, she was made comfortable, invited to dinner, and pampered by a servant.

That guest's name, of course, was Lady Furudo Erika.

And that servant's name...

"More tea, my mistress?"

Bernkastel stood stiffly behind her mistress and smiled just as stiffly, holding a kettle ready to decant. Her outfit was befitting her status as a maid of the Ushiromiyas, with a white beret. Well, that was enough, wasn't it? Her body was so beautiful, it'd be a shame to hide it under the rest... Therefore, it was normal that she wore not another scrap of clothing. It was just the kind of style to show off her flawless skin and Venus-like proportions, the kind of body which surely would never be mistreated by being spanked or anything else. Her tails swept to-and-fro slowly behind her, looking more wary than amused.

Erika nodded and raised her teacup. The first couple of times she'd done so, she'd gotten tea poured on her head or had to dodge a kettle. Now, her servant seemed to understand the order of things much better. Games have rules, and when those rules are followed, games end. She was so happy to have a friendly relationship with her beloved servant again...

As she poured the tea, Bernkastel brought her eerie, smiling face in front of Erika's, giving her a look into the empty pools of her own eyes. "It's my pleasure... My mistress. As you can see, I've done a great deal of reflecting. I understand my mistakes."

"Yes, <very good!>" Erika replied with a more defenseless smile in return, seeming eager to accept the words at face value. "You understand that our current situation isn't anything personal, and it certainly isn't anything permanent! It's only, I set up a very simple, easy test for the ending of our game... I provided clues that would easily lead a keen mind such as your own to name Beatrice as the culprit. However, this test had another possible outcome. If you were to irrationally name me, instead, despite my complete non-presence in the story, it would indicate that your mind was perhaps too, erm... emotional! Understandably so, but still, too emotional! Unbecoming of one such as yourself. I simply need to make sure those emotions of yours are calibrated correctly and not too, um, unduly affected by the nonsense of your lowly servant's tale! Once you are calm and reasonable and I sense our relationship has been repaired, I will happily end this story."

"How very wise." Bernkastel wore an unchanging smile as she continued to pour tea, allowing it to approach the rim of the cup. "As I said, I've been reflecting on my mistakes. I think reflecting on one's mistakes is very important." She let her eyes flicker down to the cup and cut off pouring just as the piping hot tea was about to become a threat. "Enjoy, my mistress."

Erika smiled, smelled the aroma, and took a small sip. "Ah, divine! Your taste in tea is so lovely, Lady Bernk- er, my servant, Bernkastel!"

"Thank you. I'm very happy with most of the things I put effort into creating. Ninety-nine percent of the time."

The lady at the table smiled as if that had been warm and genuine praise. "Oh, my shoulders have gotten stiff! Massage them, would you?"

"... Again, Lady Erika?"

"If you'd be so kind."

Bernkastel didn't even sigh or roll her eyes. When she put her thin fingers on her mistress's shoulders, she didn't even claw into them, draw blood, tear flesh, or break bone. She delivered a careful, controlled massage, like a model servant.

"Aaaah, heavenly! This is truly heaven! If only I could have servants this competent in all Beatrice's game boards...~ Yes, I believe you have passed the test!"

Bernkastel's eyes briefly popped wider. She almost dug her fingers in, but she worked to keep her excitement in check. She was sure her tormentor had finally lowered her defenses. Soon, the keys to the kingdom would finally be back in her hands.

And then...

"Onto the next test!"

Erika's declaration caught Bernkastel off guard, but not as much as suddenly being whirled around so her back was facing the seated dinner guests.

Erika wiped at a drooly mouth, regaining her composure. "The final test is simply to show how far you are in control of your faculties! For a dignified witch such as yourself, mooning a room full of witless pieces is trivial, is it not?" Everyone gathered simply laughed as though this was dignified dinner entertainment.

For a moment, Bernkastel couldn't speak. Did Erika actually expect her to go along with this? Fixing tea and giving her massages was one thing, but the only purpose of this was to totally debase her.

This had gone too far. Erika had to understand there were limits to what she could get away with. Erika didn't control her actions! Erika was a piece. Bernkastel was a player. She-

"Oh, excuse me!" Erika spoke up, shutting one eye and clapping her hands together. "My apologies, but I think you are confused about something. You see, I am, in fact, quite capable of controlling your actions. Out of deference to your magnificence and the positive relationship I wish to maintain, I have not exercised this right, but as the one in charge of this story-

"Pah!" Bernkastel grunted, actually spitting on the floor in disgust. "You're bluffing. You might be in control of most aspects of the story, but if you could make me do whatever you wanted, you would have already Meooow!"

Bernkastel suddenly dropped to all fours and began circling Erika's chair with her tails swishing happily and a rare, sunny smile on her face. She rubbed up against Erika's stocking legs affectionately, purring just like a cat as she did so. Realizing that the pet must be fishing for scraps, Erika benevolently lifted a piece of her entree off of the plate and dropped it onto the floor. She watched in satisfaction as Bernkastel greedily snapped the juicy piece of meat off of the floor and began to devour it guilelessly.

"Meow! Meooow Me what the hell?!"

Bernkastel spat the meat out onto the carpet and brushed at her tongue while looking at Erika hatefully. The guest of honor simply looked away politely and innocently, cutting her remaining entree as the guests laughed on. "Go ahead. Unless mooning the guests for their entertainment is a problem?"

Back in control of her body (for a certain degree of control), Bernkastel could only bare her very present fangs in a very wide, very **** grin. She could only keep her thoughts in a tight vice grip, focused keenly on her one chance at escape. She couldn't even plot, considering it was very possible Erika could read her thoughts as unspoken narration and take them as evidence of her guilt. Instead, she simply kept her cool. "Of course not."

"And saying it like a kitty cat wouldn't be a big deal, either!"

"Excuse me?"

"I always thought it would be adorable if you had a cat-like inflection!"

"What on Earth is a cat-like... Ahem. Nyo, ah, of course nyot. Nya. It wouldnyet be a big deal at all. Nya." Still forcing a grin in an act she thought put her thousands of cycles of suffering in perspective, Bernkastel made a show of pawing at the air cutely and waving her unprotected bottom. "If my mistress wants, I'll act just like a cute and pretty kitty. Nya."

"<Oh yes! Very good!!>" The delighted Erika clapped her hands. "Whatever happens now, I think this was worth it- I mean, ahem. Very well, I am convinced. But there is one more final test you must pass."

"... Anything for you, mistress. Nya."

"I just need you to tell me one nice thing you'll do for me after we're back."

After.. they were back... Bernkastel thought about it with whatever part of her brain wasn't straining to contort her face into a smile. As such, impulsively, she said the first thing that popped into her head. "I know how much you love reading, Mistress. That's why I'll leave you one whole fingernyail for turning pages, nya."

Realizing what she'd just said, Bernkastel began to sweat during the pause that hung in the air. How could she lose control like that? How could she let that slip? It had to be Erika's fault. It had to be!

"Th-that was... I meant- Hrrk!!"

Erika grinned cheekily at the handprint she'd made slapping her all-powerful mistress's behind, watching her tails stiffen and shoot up. "Ah, so close! But worry not: you're the Witch of Miracles! I know it's tough to hang in there, but I have total confidence you'll acclimate and pass the next test. You'll bring about a miracle of forgiveness, won't you, Lady Bernkastel?!"

"... Y-yes, Lady Erika...!" Bernkastel hissed through clenched teeth, rubbing her sole behind and preparing for Erika to rewrite the epilogue.