Chapter 33

Chapter 33: Who Are You, Really?

As Fujiwara Yuki spoke these words, Shimizu Sakuya finally released the breath she’d been holding.  

She’s clearly embarrassed.  

For all her bold words and aggressive demeanor, her body didn’t seem to be cooperating very well.  

But Sakuya was used to this—duplicity had always been Yuki’s nature.  

“As you wish, Master.” Sakuya took two steps back before turning to face the marble-tiled wall, obediently standing still like a punished child.  

The marble tiles were smooth and polished, their surfaces adorned with intricate gray inkjet patterns. Steam from the bathwater condensed on the cool surface, leaving behind delicate droplets—much like Sakuya’s current mood, neither black nor white, but veiled in a haze of complicated emotions, blending into an ambiguous gray.  

Behind her, the soft rustle of fabric sliding off skin mingled with the gentle lapping of water. Bare feet padded against tile, step by step, until finally—a clear splash as a body submerged.  

The sound echoed through the spacious bathroom, shattering the tense, thought-filled silence.  

After a long pause, Yuki finally spoke again.  

“…You can turn around now.”  

Her voice was so quiet it nearly dissolved into the sound of water.  

Following the command, Sakuya began untying her apron while answering:  

“Then I’ll remove my maid uniform as well, Master.”  

As Miss Saito had explained, undressing naturally included her own clothes. How else was she supposed to enter the bath and perform her duties—scrubbing her mistress’s back, massaging her shoulders, washing her body?  

“Wait!” Yuki’s voice suddenly sharpened. “You—you can keep your dress on. No need to take everything off.”  

Her nervousness made Sakuya feel like some big bad wolf eyeing a helpless little rabbit.  

Biting back an amused smile, Sakuya removed only her accessories, leaving the black dress intact. She then picked up the basket of bathing supplies and approached Yuki.  

Yuki’s arms rested on the edge of the bath, her raven-black hair cascading over her shoulders (Self-censored—details in the comments). The ends dipped into the water, darkening slightly.  

Her skin glowed like a sunset, yet her expression remained perfectly composed—as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. She still held all the cards, controlling every ripple of emotion within.  

Her gaze lingered on the water’s surface, lost in thought, until the sound of footsteps made her look up.  

Her eyes swept over Sakuya without hesitation.  

Under that scorching stare, Sakuya asked, “Would Master prefer to bathe first or receive a massage—”  

Before she could finish, Yuki cut in: “Bathe first. Start with my back.”  

With that, she obediently turned over, resting her chest against the edge of the bath and propping her chin on folded hands.  

Yuki was slender, her back impeccably maintained without a single scar. Against the backdrop of her jet-black hair, her skin looked as smooth as polished jade.  

It reminded Sakuya of Snow White from fairy tales—  

No, wait—her nickname is Princess Kaguya, isn’t it?  

Taking in the sight, Sakuya stepped into the bath without a word.  

Warm water soaked through her dress, weighing the fabric down. Whether it was the steam or something else, Yuki’s breathing had grown noticeably quicker.  

Her nervousness was contagious, making Sakuya tense up as well.  

But she’d weathered far greater storms—this level of intimacy wouldn’t faze her.  

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Sakuya squeezed some body wash into her palms, lathering it into a foam before beginning her duties with slow, deliberate motions.  

(Note: To avoid moderation, specific details of this scene have been omitted.)  

For girls, physical contact with other girls wasn’t something to be wary of. Visiting public baths or hot springs together was perfectly normal.  

But Yuki was unusually cautious. In an instant, the dynamic had flipped—control slipping from her grasp, leaving her flustered as Sakuya took charge.  

The dense foam, the unfamiliar warmth of another’s fingertips, the softness of her palms—  

The water flowing into the bath maintained a constant 43 degrees Celsius.  

Yet to Yuki, the steam felt increasingly scorching, as if the Great Fire of Meireki—which had once consumed half of Edo—had returned to engulf her whole.  

The flames in her heart burned fiercer, chaotic thoughts swirling in her mind.  

After a long silence fraught with frustration and shyness, she finally asked a strange question:  

“If you had to choose between freedom and dreams, which would you pick?”  

Sakuya’s hands stilled mid-motion. She considered the question carefully before answering.  

“For me… dreams, I suppose. What about you, Master?”  

Then she resumed washing.  

Yuki shuddered slightly. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, her lashes lowering as her voice grew somber.  

“I… would choose freedom.”  

Then, as if realizing what she’d said, she let out a self-deprecating laugh and murmured.

“…Never mind. Freedom is the most useless thing of all.”  

Sakuya instinctively wanted to comfort her—poetic phrases like “Give me liberty or give me death” rose to the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to say them.  

After all, wasn’t she the one trampling on Yuki’s freedom right now?  

So she simply continued her work, leaning closer to whisper gently:  

“Then… just do what you want to do, Master.”  

Sakuya hadn’t thought the words carried much weight—she’d only meant to lighten the mood.  

But they struck Yuki like thunder, sending an uncontrollable tremor through her body.  

At that moment, Yuki cast aside all hesitation.  

She seized Sakuya’s wrists—still resting against her waist—and effortlessly pinned her against the bath’s edge.  

Trapped between Yuki and the wall, Sakuya felt like a bowstring drawn taut. Shock and fear flashed across her face.  

Yuki’s expression was unreadable, her golden eyes blazing like a volcano on the verge of eruption.  

She seemed desperate to confirm something.  

Closing the last bit of distance between them, their damp dresses (Self-censored—details in the comments) pressed together.  

In that instant, Sakuya’s face overlapped perfectly with a figure from Yuki’s memories—  

The same angle, the same backdrop—that person pinned against the cramped bathroom wall, their soaked clothes clinging as they kissed.  

The hazy memory she’d been trying to grasp all afternoon.  

“Who are you, really?” Yuki demanded, her voice urgent.  

Suddenly, Sakuya remembered—  

Back then, she’d said those very words to Yuki.

“Then… just do what you want to do.”