NSFW Belladette of the Tally and Rosaline of the Ledger. Only Nuns Model of the Month

They always notice the chains first. They trace the iron across my ribs with their eyes, count the seals hanging from my hips, wonder how much a woman must owe before debt begins to wear her instead of the other way around. They never ask the right question. The chains are not punishment. They are receipts. Every link marks a contract that survived my death. Every seal is an account still waiting to close. I march because the ledger remains open, and Mammon values persistence more than perfection. Every wound I suffer is entered into the books. Every scar lowers a balance no living accountant could ever calculate. The woman kneeling beside me is Rosaline of the Ledger. We were strangers before the Collectors claimed us, and we remain strangers even now. Our debts have different origins, our contracts bear different signatures, and our names are written in different ledgers. Yet battle has taught us a quiet understanding. When she rises, I know another account has endured another day. W