CHAPTER 78: DO NOT TOUCH THE GODDESS’S HAIR

’Very well?! What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ Finn thought, anxiety creeping back in like a bad rash.

The maid calmly drew her arm back and flipped the knife in a clean, practiced motion—blade now pointed inward. She raised it above her, then let it drop. The knife slipped neatly into her sleeve with a soft click, as if it slid into a hidden holster.

’Wait, that’s where she keeps them?!’ Finn stared, stunned. ’No... no way. She threw like ten of those at us. Where the hell is she hiding the rest?! Her skirt? Her socks? Her eyelids?!’ She really was one of those silent killer maid types you only saw in movies or anime. Probably had a whole armory tucked into her bloomers.

"So... so... you’re letting us live?" Finn asked carefully, like a child begging for a fifth scoop of ice cream when he already had four.

"Was I not clear from the start?" she replied flatly. "I told you I hadn’t killed your friends. Nor you. You should be capable of using that thick skull of yours to figure that out."

Finn let out a breath of relief, though her attitude still pissed him off.

"Well, my life was on the line. How was I supposed to know?"

"Use your brain. After some quick analysis, I determined that you all resembled apes wearing skin suits rather than functioning human beings."

"Hey! We are not idiots or apes—well, okay maybe the girls, but definitely not me," Finn declared proudly.

’Especially Majestria when she’s pissed off,’ Finn thought, chuckling to himself.

The maid silently walked past him, back toward the slime pit where Chestelle and Lickthorn had been left dangling like cursed ornaments.

"Then explain how you acted when you were alone," she said without looking at him. "Either an ape... or a man with the IQ of a walnut."

Finn winced. That one hit deep. But he couldn’t argue. He had pretended to be roadkill five minutes ago.

He pushed himself up, brushing dirt off his pants and straightening his shirt. Then turned to see the maid approaching Lickthorn.

"What are you doing now?"

"Releasing your friends."

"Oh!" Finn jogged over, closing the distance quickly.

They both looked up at Lickthorn, who was still dangling upside down from a branch by her belt. She was giggling to herself in a way that deeply concerned Finn.

Her face was pressed against the tree, so she didn’t even realize they were standing there. Her weird giggles echoed off the bark like haunted doll laughter.

The maid lifted her hand and made a strange twisting gesture with her fingers.

Suddenly, the knife embedded in the tree shot back into her hand with a metallic zing—cutting Lickthorn loose.

THUD.

She crashed headfirst into the ground, a pile of leaves crunching under her weight.

"Ough..." she groaned.

She flipped onto her back, dazed, and looked up at them. Her lips curled into a weird, perverted smile.

"Hi, Finn."

"...Hi."

The maid didn’t reply. She was already walking toward Chestelle, who was still in her ooze form with several knives sticking from her chest mass.

She calmly yanked them out one by one, making Chestelle squirm like jelly—until she poofed back into her humanoid form with a loud, wet blorp.

Chestelle sat on her butt, blinking blankly and scratching her head like a confused cat that had just woken up from being eat too much catnip.

And then... there was only one left.

Majestria.

The goddess of sass. The divine tormentor. The woman currently sobbing behind a tree because her hair was tied to a branch.

Finn blinked slowly.

’...She really did get it the worst.’

While the other girls stayed behind, recovering both their bodies and their dignity, Finn and the maid now stood before the final casualty.

Majestria.

And Finn was stunned.

Like, he knew it was bad—but this? This was apocalyptic.

She was dangling from a low, flimsy tree branch, her entire glorious waterfall of hair tangled and twisted around it like some divine bird’s nest. Her back pressed against the trunk, her feet barely brushing the dirt. If she moved even a little, it’d rip out strands.

And if Finn had learned anything about women—and that was a big if—it was that hair was sacred. Holy. Priceless. A woman’s pride and joy. The golden rule: never mess with it.

’Shit...’ Finn stared at her with an expression of genuine concern.

This wasn’t the usual sarcastic, god-complex Majestria.

No.

She was broken.

She clutched her face in her hands, sniffling and shaking like her prom date ditched her for her dad. Like she just walked into her wedding and found the groom banging the flower girl behind the cake.

This wasn’t just a bad moment.

This was hair humiliation trauma.

The maid calmly stepped forward, unsheathing a knife with that same cold, mechanical grace. She approached Majestria without hesitation.

"Get away from me..." Majestria said, voice low, defeated.

The maid raised a hand toward her hair, like she was considering the unthinkable—cutting it.

Majestria began to wiggled trying to get away. Hurting her scalp in the process.

"Stop moving. I’m only going to cut it to get you down."

Both Majestria and Finn’s eyes widened in horror. Like she’d just said she was about to euthanize a kitten.

"HEY—Wait, hold on!" Finn leapt forward, throwing himself between them. "Let me handle this, okay? I... I know how to deal with her."

The maid blinked, unreadable as ever. "It would be fastest and most efficient to simply cut her hair."

"Do you not understand the importance of beauty and hair preservation?!" Majestria shrieked like a scorned empress.

The maid opened her mouth to respond—but Finn jumped in again.

"Haha, okay, yep—gonna stop you right there. Let me take care of this. I got it. I’ll be quick. Please."

The maid paused. Then gave a slow nod.

"Come back to where you found me. We will discuss matters there."

She turned and walked off, leaving Finn alone with the divine disaster hanging by her follicles.

Finn turned back to Majestria, who looked like she’d aged twenty years from sheer emotional damage.

’Damn... I really do feel bad for her.’

What followed was a delicate, painful process.

It felt like hours. Finn carefully untangled strand after strand, like defusing a bomb made of conditioner and regrets. He got scratched by twigs. He nearly cried. At one point, he had to pull a piece of bark out of her tangled hair with his teeth.

Finally, at long last, he freed her.

Majestria slumped forward onto the leaves, holding a thick lock of her hair like a grieving general reading the names of fallen soldiers.

She sniffled, inspecting every split end like it had personally betrayed her.

"...I’ll never forgive that maid," she mumbled.

Finn, still feeling sympathetic, gently patted her head. Then realized what he was doing and stopped immediately.

"C’mon," he said awkwardly, trying to fix the worst of her tangles. "We’ve got a discussion to join. Also, your hair still looks great. Really. You’re like... a divine mess. A hot one."

Majestria just groaned.

And together, the chaotic duo started walking back.

***

They eventually made their way back to the group.

The maid now stood before all of them—Chestelle, Lickthorn, Majestria, and Finn.

The whole dysfunctional squad.

Finn had done his best to help fix Majestria’s hair on the way back, gently brushing through tangles with his fingers, whispering supportive things like, "You still look good." But halfway through, she’d stopped walking, turned to him with murder in her eyes, and said:

"Touch my hair again and I’ll shove a comb through your ribs."

He took the hint.

Now she was silently braiding it herself, each motion filled with divine resentment and sass, muttering something about "split ends being the true enemy of goddesses."

The maid scanned them all with a blank expression.

Chestelle sat with her legs crossed, chewing on a leaf she probably wasn’t supposed to eat.

Lickthorn was lying on her back, still giggling about being hung upside-down. She looked like she enjoyed the whole thing a little too much.

Majestria braided like she was on a mission from the hair gods.

And Finn stood there awkwardly, arms folded, wondering if his dignity was still somewhere back in the tree.

Why does he still think he had dignity to begin with?

Finally, the maid spoke...