"Sebas is colorblind. If you wear camouflage and move really slowly, he won't see you sneaking into Mistress's kitchen. Probably. (This needs to be tested.) (Next-loop-Shoes, please test this.) ...did anyone try this trick? (Still not?) Guys, I don't think this works."

— Exploiting the time loop, written by Shoes

[https://i.imgur.com/lEL3Anu.png]

The day Miranda would leave the mansion had finally arrived—the interesting part of the loop would come after she was gone. Bezel adjusted the fake slave cuffs on his wrists. Shoes never managed to get inside Miranda's quarters, and by the tenth failure Bezel had to conclude that there was some kind of alarm system installed there. Much like with the outer walls of the estate, none of the slaves could cross undetected.

This was the sole reason Bezel decided to participate in this loop. Infiltrating Miranda's private rooms was dangerous and something he had never attempted, but he was running out of options.

The main hindrance was Miranda herself. Bezel was confident that he could deal with any guard on his own—especially if he caught them unawares—but he had no idea how powerful Miranda was. He had never seen her fight, but she was supposed to be insanely strong.

Bezel made his way to Miranda's display of footwear, trying to find the black shoe she would want to wear. He considered skipping this encounter, but the truth was that he needed this as a cover for avoiding work this day. The servant would question him, then notify Chief Ormus. That was the key here. If the servant didn't do that, Ormus would send someone to find him, which would cause all kinds of headaches later on. Perhaps he could have just left Shoes alive so that he didn't need to bother, but . . . that would have made things too unpredictable. If someone realized that Shoes had a twin, the changes that rippled out from that discovery could potentially blow his whole mission. All things considered, Bezel believed that he had the best chances if he followed this string of actions.

There was just one itsy-bitsy complication with that.

Bezel cursed inwardly as he held the shoes with the long ribbons in his hands. They looked much more complicated than he remembered. Had those ribbons been always attached to the shoes that way? How the hell would he tie them around Miranda's leg?

“Ah, Shoes, is it?”

A voice startled Bezel, and he looked back to find the servant standing behind him.

“Yes, sir.”

“Perfect, perfect!” the man said. “Don’t go anywhere, Lady Dawngrove will be here soon. She is leaving.”

“But sir! Chief Ormus will punish me if I don’t show up in time for work,” Bezel protested. “We have important work to do at the Research Facility today.”

The servant raised an eyebrow. “The Research Facility? Professor Sylven rarely tolerates your kind there.”

“You’re right, sir, but this is an exception. We are building new homes for Professor Sylven’s newest experiments.”

“I didn't know about that one,” the servant said, looking thoughtful. “Very well. I’ll tell Chief Ormus that you’ll be late.”

"Thank you, sir," Bezel told him, but he was already gone.

Back to the shoes, then. Bezel spent several excruciating moments staring at the black ribbons, trying to remember how to tie them. Goddamned fashion. He debated ditching his whole plan and getting the hell out of there, but there were two guards and a slave who overheard the previous discussion. It would appear strange if he just turned and walked away now.

In the end, he settled for another pair of shoes; black and formal like the other, but without the ribbons. He barely had time to kneel down before Miranda and her retinue approached. The slave—named Fatty, if Bezel remembered correctly—scrambled to get on his knees as well, trembling in fear. Bezel tried to act as if he was in awe, but truth be told, he wasn't a good actor. He just hoped that Miranda wouldn't pay too much attention to him; she was busy arguing with her butler, after all.

Miranda came down the stairs in the company of her butler and two of her maids. Bezel had always wondered if the two maids were actually twins. Matching clothes and names aside, their cute faces and well-rounded bodies looked very similar. Compared to the two of them, Miranda was flat like a board. Bezel supposed that she tried to compensate her lack of curves with expensive clothes and tons of makeup, but in his opinion she didn't really succeed. Miranda's face would have been passable if she went with a natural look, but she wore her makeup like a mask instead.

“I’m not going to repeat myself, Sebas,” Miranda whined, “I’ll bring Vince, but Grom and you definitely need to stay here. This yearly council is a farce. I’m not going to bring my whole retinue when they have better things to do!”

“This farce, my Lady, is the annual gathering of Ylvasil’s leading Houses. I cannot stress enough how important—”

“Yes, yes, whatever. I’m not going to—oh, Shoes, very good. Follow me.”

Miranda walked to the display of footwear at the side of the foyer, and Bezel hurried after her.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Something formal that matches my dress,” Miranda murmured to herself.

“Mistress, would this be to your liking?” Bezel asked, presenting the pair of shoes he had chosen. His voice wasn't shaking, but he made his hands tremble a bit.

“Hmm,” Miranda regarded the pair of black shoes. “Yes, this looks good. Taking some initiative now, Shoes? How very bold."

"I-I just had a feeling that you'd like this, Mir— Mistress."

Damn. Had Miranda ever remarked on him taking the initiative? Bezel didn't think so.

“At least your fashion sense is improving,” Miranda complimented him as she sat down on a cushioned chair. “Alright, get on with it.”

Bezel was genuinely relieved when he got down to his knees to put Miranda's shoes on. Bullet dodged! He didn't know what he would have done if she had told him to bring the shoes with the ribbons instead.

He started with Miranda's right foot, slipping off her indoors shoe. He marveled at how ugly her pedicure was. Good thing that the shoe she was going to wear didn't have an open front. Miranda commented on Shoes's improving fashion sense, but in Bezel's opinion it was she herself who needed to improve. Either that, or fashion these days was just plain stupid.

Bezel caught movement from the corner of his eyes, and glanced up to see the two maids staggering backwards. Sebas appeared to be swaying slightly too, which made Bezel realize that something must be terribly wrong. Miranda and Sebas weren't arguing—in fact, silence ruled the foyer.

"M-Mistress?" he asked, trying to sound afraid. "D-Did I do s-something?"

A guttural noise broke the ominous silence, and Bezel turned his head to see Fatty crawling away in terror, a spreading wet patch staining his trousers.

"Do something?" Miranda asked, her voice sharp as a knife. "You did nothing, Shoes. Nothing. That's the problem, isn't it?"

Bezel raised his head slowly, taking in the cold smile Miranda was regarding him with.

"When I push my aura out this much, ordinary slaves would either turn into a puddle of lust or become catatonic with fear. So tell me, my dear Shoes; why are you still coherent?"

Damn.

In hindsight, he should have paid more attention. Miranda must have amplified her aura just to test his reaction. Quite clever of her . . . or maybe it was just him who was being stupid, thinking that he could deceive Miranda with a half-hearted performance. He opened his mouth to speak, but Miranda held up a finger before he could have said anything.

"Be mindful what you say next," she cautioned him on a frosty tone. "Your life depends on it."

"Alright," he replied, then cleared his throat. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about what's going to happen next."

Miranda's eyes went wide, but she was too slow to react. Bezel's hand tightened around her ankle, then with a powerful jerk he flung Miranda over his shoulder as if she weighted nothing. The Lady of House Dawngrove sailed through the air, smashing into the wall on the other side of the foyer. Bezel rolled to his feet at the same time, heading for the stairs before the guards could react.

"How dare you!" Miranda shrieked, springing to her feet as Bezel started to scale the steps. "Guards!"

The guards were still reeling from her aura, but Miranda didn't need them anyways. Her powerfield materialized around her as a second layer of skin; semi-transparent, crimson-colored, and bubbling like boiling water. With a single jump she closed the distance to the bottom of the stairs, destroying the railing as she landed.

"You're dead, slave!"

Miranda continued shrieking but Bezel tuned her out as he sprinted down the corridor. He smashed through the great hall's double doors—ripping them off their hinges—and arrived to the gallery. There were people down in the hall, but nobody up in the gallery. He ran towards the stone railing and jumped over it, dropping down to the ground floor. As he landed in a crouch, everyone ran or stumbled away in panic—though on a second thought, perhaps it wasn't Bezel they were running from. He was only halfway through the hall when the stone balcony behind him exploded, and Miranda passed over his head with an impossibly long jump. She landed in front of him, skidding on the marble floor. Bezel took this opportunity to do an about-turn, sprinting back for the main entrance.

"Stop him!" Miranda shouted at the guards in the doorway. There were three of them, two being on their usual guard-duty while the third was there just to make Bezel's day more difficult.

The third guard reacted first, a wispy green aura springing into life around him. Bezel increased his pace as he saw the guard reaching for his sword, and barreled into him before he could draw it. The man's aura didn't help him one bit as Bezel ran him over without even slowing down.

The other two guards were holding pistols and stepping away from each other. A clever move from them; if Bezel wasted time by taking care of them both, Miranda would be able to catch up. They fixed their weapons on Bezel—normal ones fortunately, not Krinhanced guns—and fired. Bezel lowered his head as he ran, the bullets stinging his scalp and his shoulders. A moment later he reached the exit, none worse for wear. One of the guards lunged in a futile attempt to tackle him, but Bezel just grabbed him with one hand and tossed him at the other guard. Once he was outside of the hall, he took a sharp turn to the right and headed for the servants' corridors. His plan was to shake Miranda off in a place he was more familiar with, like the servants' quarters.

A quick glance backwards almost made him jump out of his skin. Miranda had used her powerfield to grow extra limbs—arms with sharp claws that dug into the stone and propelled her forward. Bezel couldn't keep moving straight ahead, because Miranda would catch him in no time. At the next opportunity he took another sharp turn to the right, but it wasn't enough to outmaneuver Miranda. Her crimson claws grabbed the corner of the walls, and she actually gained on him as she took the turn. She shot forward with a powerful lunge, but Bezel evaded it by rolling under her in the opposite direction. Miranda flew down the corridor, stopping her momentum by raking her claws alongside the walls.

"Damn you, bastard!" Miranda raged as she turned around. "Once I get you, you'll pay for— What are you doing?!"

Miranda looked at Bezel in bewilderment as he stood in the middle of the corridor, raising his arms above his head. He knew that there was no point for him to run anywhere—he couldn't outpace Miranda—so he decided to change tactics. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but the more he thought about it, the better he liked his new plan.

"I surrender," he calmly said.

Miranda closed the distance in a flash, reaching up with a powerfield-covered hand to close it around his throat.

"If you think I'll let you live," she hissed, "You're greatly mistaken."

Bezel didn't think Miranda could crush his throat that easily, but he didn't want to find out. He craned his neck so he could move his jaw to answer. "You can't kill me. I have information."

Miranda drew her mouth to a thin line, her eyes meeting his with a piercing glare. "By the time my torturers got every morsel of information out of you, you'll wish that I have killed you here."

"Oh, there's no need for torture," Bezel croaked around her vice-like grip. "I'll tell you everything freely. Just let me warn you that you won't like it." He gave Miranda his best mocking smile. "You won't like it at all."