After Gender Transformation, I Was Adjusted by the System into the Demon Queen’s Strongest Maid

Real?

If she were to reveal her true self, this study would most likely turn into a crime scene, and this day next year would be her death anniversary.

What was her true self?

A pure man’s soul from the twenty-first century, an unlucky bastard kidnapped by that damned System, a corporate slave who cursed Hera, that lunatic boss, eight hundred times a day in her heart.

If Hera were to find out that beneath this beautiful exterior of hers hid a rough man’s heart that was frantically spamming “holy shit I’m screwed,” this cleanliness-obsessed Queen would definitely chop her into pieces and throw her out to feed the dogs.

The fake smile on Lilia’s face froze.

Cold sweat slid down from her temples, traced along her jawline, and finally dripped into her collar.

“Is it hard to answer?”

Hera spoke softly, her breath brushing against Lilia’s nose, carrying a dangerously sweet fragrance.

Lilia’s calves cramped. She wanted to step back, but Hera had already seized the back of her head, leaving her unable to move.

“Or…” Hera narrowed her eyes slightly, her fingertips lightly pressing against the carotid artery at Lilia’s neck, “are you making up a new lie?”

Does this woman have mind-reading abilities?!

Lilia shuddered in fright and instinctively shook her head.

She couldn’t lie.

Hera had already made it clear—she hated that “false mask.”

If she tried to muddle through again with those clichés like “my loyalty to Your Majesty shines like the sun and moon,” she would definitely die a miserable death.

But she couldn’t tell the whole truth either.

Then she could only… take a gamble.

Bet that what this mad Queen wanted to hear as “truth” wasn’t the full truth, but rather a shift in attitude.

Lilia gritted her teeth and forced herself to look directly into those soul-stirring golden eyes.

“I’m very afraid.”

Her voice came out trembling.

This wasn’t an act—she was genuinely afraid.

Afraid of death, afraid of pain.

Hera paused for a moment. Not only did she not let go, she leaned even closer.

“Afraid of what?”

“Afraid of you.”

Lilia closed her eyes, threw caution to the wind, and spoke rapidly in one breath:

“I’m afraid you’ll kill me, afraid you’ll be displeased, afraid you’ll think I’m useless and throw me away. Every time I stand in front of you, it feels like my head is hanging by a thread, like if I say one wrong thing, it’ll be gone the next second.”

“Even when you smile at me, I feel like it’s the calm before a storm, like lightning will strike in the next moment.”

“Last night… last night my brain short-circuited from fear. I had no idea what I was doing at all.”

She finished in one breath.

Lilia panted heavily, feeling her back completely soaked, her clothes sticking uncomfortably to her skin.

It was over.

She had laid her heart bare.

What difference was there between this and defecating on the King of Hell’s desk?

Lilia waited in despair for the punishment to descend.

One second.

Two seconds.

The anticipated pain never came.

Only a very soft laugh.

Lilia opened her eyes in astonishment.

Hera was smiling.

Hera released her grip on the back of Lilia’s head and instead pinched her chin, examining her from side to side.

“Finally…”

Her fingers brushed against Lilia’s lips, pale from fear.

“You told the truth.”

Lilia: ?

This script was wrong, wasn’t it?

I just admitted I see you as some kind of natural disaster, and not only are you not angry, you’re actually pleased?

Is this Queen actually a masochist?

Or had she truly been lonely for too long, that as long as someone dared to speak honestly to her—even if it was criticism—she found it refreshing?

She picked up her chopsticks and placed a slightly cooled piece of tomato into her mouth, chewing slowly.

“Sit. Eat.”

Her tone was calm, as if that suffocating interrogation had never happened.

Lilia stood there, her mind struggling to process.

She passed just like that?

“Do I need to say it a second time?” Hera glanced at her.

Lilia sat down reflexively. The moment her backside touched the chair, she remembered Hera’s earlier warning and quickly adjusted her posture, not daring to assume that standard maid pose again, instead relaxing slightly.

Though she was still very stiff.

Hera didn’t look at her. While eating the simple plate of scrambled eggs, she spoke leisurely:

“It’s normal to fear me.”

“Fear is what’s real.”

“Those who constantly speak of ‘admiration’ and ‘adoration’ are either liars with ulterior motives or brainless fools.”

Hera lifted her gaze, her golden eyes locking onto Lilia.

Lilia lowered her head and shoveled food into her mouth, internally screaming: What do you expect me to do? I’m desperate too! If I hadn’t flattered you, I’d have been crushed to death eight hundred years ago, okay?!

“But,” Hera’s tone shifted, “since you fear me, why didn’t you run last night?”

Lilia’s movements froze.

If she said it was because of the System’s mission, she’d be dissected.

If she said it was to build favorability, she’d be killed on the spot.

“My legs were weak. I couldn’t run,” Lilia muttered vaguely.

Hera chuckled softly, seemingly not displeased with the answer.

“And with weak legs, you could still hold on that tightly?”

Lilia almost buried her face in the soup bowl.

Can we move on already?! Is this never going to be over?!

Hera looked at the little maid across from her who wished she could shrink into a ball, and her mood inexplicably improved.

This feeling—of someone who was terrified of her yet still forced to stay by her side—was unexpectedly… comforting.

Far more interesting than those puppets who only held hollow reverence.

As long as she stayed by her side.

As long as she was alive, real.

Fear or resentment—either was better than that stagnant, dead-water-like loneliness.

Hera put down her chopsticks.

“Finished?” she asked.

Lilia quickly set down her bowl and wiped her mouth carelessly. “Y-yes, finished.”

She hurriedly began clearing the dishes, wishing she could escape this suffocating space immediately.

“Wait.”

Hera suddenly called out to Lilia, who was about to rush into the kitchen.

Lilia froze in place, wailing internally: What now, my ancestor?!

Hera walked behind her.

Lilia could feel the Queen’s gaze fall upon her.

More precisely, on her absurdly short skirt and the thighs wrapped in white stockings.

“This outfit…” Hera’s voice was slightly low.

Lilia’s heart tightened.

As expected!

Leaving aside how revealing this outfit was, the biggest problem was where it even came from!

“I…”

“No need to explain.”

Hera cut her off.

“I want to hear the truth from you. Put away the nonsense—tell me when you’re ready.”

Hera moved in front of her, her gaze sweeping once more over those straight, slender legs, her expression dark and unreadable.

“But…”

“Since you are my possession, what you wear and how you wear it is naturally decided by me.”

Hera extended her hand, hooking a silver tassel on Lilia’s skirt and giving it a light tug.

“From now on, in the Bedchamber, wear this.”

She released her hand and turned toward the door, leaving behind only her cold silhouette.

“Remember, only I am allowed to see it.”

“If you dare let anyone else see…”

Hera paused, turning her head slightly, a cruel curve lifting at the corner of her lips.

“I’ll cut off those legs and turn them into specimens.”