Krauvi’s lips curl into a warm, reassuring smile as he extends a richly detailed catalogue toward her. “Please, take a seat and peruse at your leisure,” he invites, his tone soft and encouraging. He then turns his attention back to his intricate clothing designs, his movements fluid and focused.

She takes the catalogue, her eyes widening as she flips through its many pages. The sheer volume of designs and options makes her heart race with a childlike thrill. “Oh, so many!” she exclaims, her voice a blend of awe and joy, her earlier worries momentarily forgotten as she immerses herself in the vibrant array of choices before her.

Kraivu chuckles kindly, his button color shifting from the compassionate green to the blue focusing color he had once before being interrupted in his work.

She turns page after page, her eyes feasting on the fierce and imaginative designs sketched in his special catalogue. From small entities with peculiar shapes, forms, and blobs, to larger, stronger entities that boast more than three limbs and legs, she absorbs every detail she could use for her desires. Nodding in approval, she is given a notebook and an ostrich's pen, and she begins to jot down the details, colors, materials, and twisted intricacies.

Out of the vast array of colors, she selects the base color for mourning on their planet—a deep charcoal grey that signifies respect and modesty towards the departed and others. She opts for something modest, a beautifully ornamented two-piece suit with purple beaded accents, consisting of almost feminine trousers and an intricate blouse that exudes respect and elegance.

Her choice crystallizes into a refined two-piece suit: a pair of elegant, almost formal trousers paired with an intricately adorned blouse. The suit, highlighted with purple beads, offers a blend of sophistication and restraint, reflecting both respect and taste.

Feeling a sense of relief and contentment, she takes a deep breath. “I am done. I believe this choice is fitting given the circumstances,” she murmurs, her voice tinged with a touch of sadness as she reflects on the loss of the Noxits, her thoughts clouded by the mystery of their demise.

Krauvi’s expression brightens with approval. “Excellent. Leave the catalogue here, and we’ll proceed with the measurements.” He retrieves his ruler and other tools, his button eyes glowing softly with a deep, focused blue.

She sits up straight, her posture reflecting her rigorous training. Krauvi’s gaze shifts attentively from her elevated chest, revealing her perky nipples that rise and fall with her heaving chest, down to the graceful curve of her waist, accentuated by the sweat that clings to her skin. He takes in the sight of her ribs, shaping her waist beautifully into a narrow hourglass figure that ends with her well-rounded hips, trailing down her legs, and finally resting on her V-shaped genital area and trembling red knees.

She shudders, realizing he's observing her from head to toe, absorbing every detail. With a professional demeanor, he lifts her arm, gauging its length. Then, with his unwavering buttons, he measures her shoulders, kneeling to assess her waist as it rapidly attempts to draw air into her lungs. He then moves to her hips, almost caressing her knees from top to bottom, measuring, subtly tracing with his otherworldly fingertips, groaning as he loses himself in her admiring gaze. His eyes shift from the deep focusing blue to a radiating pink energy.

Krauvi’s coughs grow more frequent as he diligently measures her, his focus wavering as an unfamiliar arousal takes hold. He struggles to maintain his composure, his breath becoming shallow and uneven. “E-Excuse me…” he mutters, his voice betraying his growing discomfort. His form, once steady and confident, begins to subtly shift, revealing his inner turmoil.

His form slowly shifts beneath her, as he kneels to take the measurements. From his buttons, two chilling, blank white eyes now assert themselves, taking in the room. His beaded, rigid wires transform into flowing, smooth black hair adorned with beautiful colored hair beads that resemble him. The hair cascades lazily over his shoulders and back, long enough to inspire awe.

He stands up, coughing and trying to compose himself. She notices a thick, twisted rope belt at his waist, his upper body now completely naked, revealing his muscles glistening with the sweat of unspoken desire. From the twisted yellowish rope belt at his waist, hangs his very loose white pants, billowy and bright. Despite the looseness of the fabric, his arousal can still be seen through them.

She sighs shyly, shuddering, and asks, "I suppose the general gave you this form too... like the others...?"

He blushes, yet remains firm and kind, replying, "Yeah, long ago, so he could get accustomed to the looks. He thought it would be fitting if I could shift like him, especially on the battlefield... Never let them know who you truly are, right? Hehe..." he says, chuckling, his bulge clearly visible, flexing from time to time.

Krauvi's laughter fades, leaving behind a charged silence. His gaze softens, yet remains unwavering, drawn to the way her body responds to every word, every slight movement between them. She notices his hands twitching slightly, as if resisting an instinct to reach out, to bridge the gap that still exists between their bodies. His fingers flex and curl, and she can see the strain in his taut muscles.

He breathes deeply, his chest rising and falling with the intensity of his suppressed desire. “I… I should be done soon,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, though he makes no move to step away. His eyes roam over her once more, his gaze lingering at her lips, the soft curve of her neck, and the way her damp hair clings to her skin. The tension between them crackles like electricity, the air thick with unspoken words and unsatisfied longing.

She shifts slightly, feeling the heat radiating from his body, her own pulse quickening in response. Her skin tingles where his eyes land, and she catches herself leaning closer, drawn to his warmth, his scent—a mix of sweat and something uniquely his. She doesn't dare speak, not wanting to break the fragile spell that seems to have woven itself around them.

Krauvi swallows hard, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple, and he reaches out almost instinctively, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. His fingers linger at her temple, and she closes her eyes for a moment, feeling the roughness of his touch against her skin, a touch that sends a shiver of desire coursing through her.

A small device on his belt begins to glow, projecting a flickering hologram into the space between them. The holographic image crackles to life, pixelating momentarily before settling into the form of Vontum’s imposing figure. His eyes burn with a strange intensity, his lips curling into a cruel smile.

Krauvi immediately stiffens, instinctively stepping back as the hologram takes shape. He swipes his hand through the projection, and the image becomes clearer, more defined. Vontum’s dark, skeletal visage is unmistakable, his expression twisted into a mockery of concern. His deep, guttural voice fills the room, cold and ancient, with a malicious edge that cuts through the air like a blade.

"Is everything… alright in there, Krauvi?" Vontum’s tone is sharp, probing, and his dark chuckle follows, reverberating through the space, a low, sinister rumble that seems to echo in every corner.

Krauvi jerks back, his eyes widening, a flash of fear and surprise crossing his features. His body stiffens, and he takes a hurried step away from her, his form straightening into a posture of rigid attentiveness. His fingers twitch at his sides, his breath still heavy, but he manages to force a smile, though it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Y-Yes, Vontum," Krauvi calls out, his voice steadier now, though there is a faint tremor beneath the surface. "Just completing the measurements… ensuring everything is in order, as per the General's instructions."

Vontum's chuckle grows louder, more ominous, and she can almost feel the weight of his gaze, even though he isn't physically present. "Good… very good," he drawls, his tone dripping with a malevolent amusement. "I trust there have been no… distractions, Krauvi?"

Krauvi swallows again, his jaw clenching tightly. "None, sir," he replies quickly, his eyes darting to her for a fleeting second before returning to some unseen point ahead of him. "Everything is proceeding as planned."

There is a brief pause, then Vontum's voice rumbles again, darker, almost conspiratorial. "Excellent… The General expects your full dedication." His words hang in the air, heavy with an unspoken threat, and then, with a final, sinister chuckle, the presence dissipates, leaving behind an eerie silence.

Krauvi lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, his shoulders slumping slightly as the tension eases, but only just. He glances at her, his expression a mix of apology and regret, as if caught between duty and something far more primal. He takes a step closer, his fingers brushing against her arm, the touch hesitant but deliberate.

"I… I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice low, barely a whisper. "I didn't mean to… let things get out of hand." His eyes search hers, and for a brief moment, he seems lost, as if caught between two worlds—the one he's sworn to serve, and the one he feels pulling him toward her.

She nods slowly, understanding the unspoken battle within him. She can still feel the imprint of his touch on her skin, the heat of his breath, and though the moment has been interrupted, the tension between them remains, simmering just below the surface, waiting for the next opportunity to reignite.

Krauvi swallows hard, forcing down the surge of arousal and tension that threatens to betray him. He straightens his stance, attempting to regain his professional composure, his hands moving more deliberately now, more like the focused worker he is supposed to be. His breathing slows, but the heat of the moment still lingers in his cheeks and in his chest.

She looks at him, her eyes glistening with the weight of her situation. "I guess the torment is coming again," she murmurs, her voice thick with an emotion that cuts deep, mingling regret and resignation. Her words hang heavy in the air, and her gaze drops, unable to meet his. "I do miss the life I had before... before becoming this," she confesses softly, a single tear escaping down her flushed cheek, shimmering as it catches the dim light.

Krauvi feels a pang in his chest at the sight of her tear, his heart aching with a mix of compassion and frustration at her fate. He grunts, his face tightening in displeasure, but his eyes soften with sympathy as he meets her gaze. "I know it isn’t easy… and I wish I could offer you more than words," he says, his voice steady but tinged with emotion. "Try to be strong, alright? Prove to the General that you're worth something more… something beyond their expectations."

He pauses, his tone becoming more earnest, more genuine. "I’ve seen it before… The General, he’s not always unyielding. He can change, in time. But for now, yeah… from what I’ve gathered, they’ve got some special training lined up for you. A different kind of trial," he adds, his fingers deftly working on a small metallic device, a craftable that clicks and hums under his skilled touch. His hands are busy, but his eyes stay fixed on her, trying to offer some comfort in the uncertainty that looms over them both.

The soft hiss of the elevator doors breaks the tension, drawing their attention to the back of the room. Both turn to see Fereyan step out, his demeanor more relaxed than usual. His voice, normally hardened by his past ordeals, seems almost softened in the low light, and his voice carries a new calmness that is almost jarring. "Time to go," Fereyan announces, his tone smooth and surprisingly gentle. "There are still a few hours until the burial. The General wants you to rest, to find some comfort before then. And Mr. Krauvi here…" he nods towards Krauvi, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, "…needs his concentration." There's a flicker in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment that he' tho his helmet hides evrything, he's aware of the tension in the room, and perhaps has experienced it himself.

“Yes, sir Fereyan,” she replies, her tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. Her voice, though light and teasing, carries an undercurrent of nerves, sending a shiver down her spine like a cat sliding across ice. Her mock submission is a small rebellion, a tiny act of defiance against the overwhelming control they all seem to exert over her.

Fereyan chuckles, his laugh deep and genuine, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Good girl, you're learning, I see," he says approvingly, missing the playful edge in her tone. He takes her words at face value, his mindset focused on obedience and discipline, blind to her subtle mockery. To him, it seems like a sign of progress, a small victory in a larger game. He nods with satisfaction, as if her reluctant compliance is a step in the right direction.

She blushes, her cheeks warming into a deep crimson, her brow furrowing as she glances over at Krauvi. He meets her gaze with a subtle chuckle, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. He understood exactly what she had tried to do — and how miserably she had failed. She shoots him a playful glare, but there’s no real heat behind it, only a faint, grudging admiration for his insight.

Together, they step into the silver elevator, the doors sliding shut behind them with a soft hiss. Fereyan presses the button for the General’s hallway, and they settle into a tense silence, the confined space charged with unspoken promises and mutual understanding. They exchange a calm glance, but beneath the surface, their eyes speak of things unsaid, a private language only they seem to understand.

The elevator dings softly, and the doors slide open, revealing the familiar, dimly lit corridor that leads to the General’s office. The hallway is empty, as always, a cold and silent passage now eerily vacant with everyone preparing for the burial. Their footsteps echo softly against the marble floors, a steady rhythm that fills the silence.

They arrive at the General’s office, the door slightly ajar. As they step inside, she notices the room is devoid of its usual intimidating presence. The desk is empty, the chair turned away as if abandoned in haste.

~I guess he's preparing too…~ she thinks, a flicker of relief mingling with apprehension.

Fereyan turns to her, his posture relaxed but his tone still carrying that edge of authority. "Now," he begins, "we wait patiently for Krauvi's decorations, and in the meantime, you can use this as an opportunity to relax." He pauses, and his gaze softens slightly. "The General wants you at your best for the burial. " He reaches out and pets her head with a dominant, almost paternal hand, his touch surprisingly gentle, "and since you’ve been a good girl and called me ‘Sir Fereyan’…" he smiles dominating her with his pressence “…you’ve earned a little reward that you truly deserve.”

Her eyes widen, glowing with a mix of surprise and curiosity, her mind racing with newfound purpose. "Well, I'll be damned," she muses silently, a smile tugging at her lips. ~So, this is how they buy me off? A little taste of freedom. Not bad… not bad at all. Maybe this is the game they’re playing, or maybe it’s what they want me to believe— a bit of compliance for a bit of kindness.~ She beams up at Fereyan with an innocent smile and takes the small ticket from his hand.

She reads it aloud, amusement flickering in her eyes. "‘Super Relaxing Day VIP Ticket,’ aka SRDT VIP,” she murmurs, the name itself almost ridiculous in its simplicity. She can't help but let out a small laugh. She steps closer to Fereyan and, on an impulse, wraps her arms around him, hugging him tightly. He hesitates, but his arms slowly come around her in return, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks.

“Thank you so much… Sir Fereyan,” she whispers, her voice low and sincere. “Make sure to thank the General for me too, whenever you see him…” She pulls back, still smiling, her eyes sparkling with a rare hint of joy and eagerness. It’s been months since she felt this kind of release, this small taste of freedom — even if just for a day.

Near the door where they are placed, Tolius watches the exchange with a growing sense of frustration and envy, his expression darkening with every passing second. He scowls, his lips curling in a sneer as she so easily falls into this new dynamic with Fereyan, calling him “Sir” as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Tsk...Sir.." Tolius says in a mocking imitating manner puffing.

Sensing the tension, Fereyan cuts through the silence with a smirk. "Well, Tolius," he says, turning to him with a mocking grin, "if you're feeling left out, maybe you should try barking for some tickets yourself." He chuckles, a low, teasing sound that only fuels Tolius's frustration, the words digging in like a taunt.

He hesitates, his arms lingering awkwardly before finally wrapping around her waist, his hold tentative and unsure. Her lips hover near his ear, her breath warm against his skin, and she lets out a soft, teasing laugh that sends a ripple of heat through him. He feels her chest rise and fall against his, and his face flushes a deeper red. Her voice, a sweet whisper, dances over his senses, “I could get used to this… to you… so close…” She pauses, savoring the way he shivers under her touch.

Her words slow, drawing out each syllable like a caress. “And maybe… you could show me more… teach me about what happened earlier. I’m still so… curious… about your abilities…” Her breath tickles his ear, and she adds with a playful edge, “Unless you think I’m not ready… Sir Fereyan.”

His blush spreads to the tips of his ears. He stammers, caught off guard, his mind scrambling for a reply, but all he manages is a nervous laugh. “I— I think… perhaps, in time…” Her unexpected boldness has thrown him, and he struggles to maintain his composure, his voice faltering as he feels the warm flush creeping down his neck.

She smirks, satisfied with the reaction she’s drawn from him, and pulls back with a smile, her eyes gleaming with gratitude. As she exits the room, she gives both Fereyan and Tolius a parting nod, gratitude glistening in her eyes.

As she moves down the hallway, towards the special spa room her steps light, she glances out of a nearby window. Below, people are gathered in solemn clusters, preparing for the upcoming burial ceremony. There’s an undercurrent of mourning in the air, a palpable tension that seems to echo within her own chest. Her heart races inexplicably, like something inside her is awakening, stirring with a renewed sense of purpose. "Damn, I need that relaxing time," she mutters under her breath, clutching the ticket as she makes her way to the destination written on it.

Upon entering, a wave of calming lavender envelops her senses, the intoxicatingly meditative aroma immediately easing some of the tension in her shoulders. The sound of water droplets, softly dripping in a rhythmic, almost hypnotic cadence, fills the room, creating a serene atmosphere. A small figure approaches her, no more than a meter in height, her skin a translucent white that shimmers like liquid. The creature’s form seems almost ethereal, her body moving fluidly as she steps closer.

"Hello, my lady," she says in a gentle, melodic voice. "I am Ruru. Please, come with me."

She follows Ruru to a room filled with pools of gently bubbling water, jets sending up little sprays that catch the light. Floating flowers drift lazily on the surface, their petals a gentle soft silk touch. To the side, there are vertical massage tables and a cabinet brimming with aromatic oils and incense sticks. Her breath catches in her throat, her eyes widening at the sight.

"Oh… this… already relaxes me so much," she whispers, feeling a sense of awe wash over her.

Ruru smiles and leads her further inside, where a spread of delicious meats and fruits awaits. "Suit yourself," she says warmly. "You have five hours of relaxation… starting now."

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

She doesn’t waste a second, grabbing a piece of meat and taking a big bite. “What’s this meat?” she asks, her mouth still full.

“It’s called Chik meat,” Ruru explains, “from a very distant planet. I’ve heard the meat there is quite vast and exceptionally delicious.”

Before she can ask more, another being, slightly different in form but similar in appearance, approaches. Her name tag reads "Pol." Pol takes a bottle of oil and slips into the water with her, beginning to massage her neck, trapezius, and arms with expert hands, humming a soft, soothing tune.

She closes her eyes, slowly drifting into the relaxing rhythm of Pol’s hands. “Forgive me for asking, it’s my first time here… why are you making those sounds?” she murmurs, her voice heavy with relaxation.

Ruru responds kindly, “It’s a vibrational frequency meant to relax the body and align your spirit with the higher realms.”

“Everyone talks about spirits and energy, but I swear, I have no idea what any of it means,” she admits, her confusion softened by the comfort of her surroundings. “I only went to the army school… so, I’m not familiar with everything else.”

Ruru’s smile is patient. “In time, you will learn. This frequency calls out to benevolent spirits, even gods, to guide you and answer your deepest pleas.”

“Gods?” she repeats, her brows furrowing. “Fereyan mentioned such beings, but I never really took it seriously…”

Silence falls over her, but it’s a comfortable one, enveloped by the sounds of gentle water and humming. After eating her fill, she sinks deeper into the warm waters of the jacuzzi, her muscles loosening with each passing minute. Ruru and Pol guide her to a massage table, where she experiences the most luxurious massage of her life, followed by a refreshing fruit shake and a plate of cheeseberry cakes.

As she’s scrubbed with a special grainy solution, her skin begins to glow with a gleamy pink hue, so radiant that even Ruru and Pol blush at the sight.

“Oh, I am so sorry for saying this,” Ruru murmurs, genuinely flustered, “but this lotion has never smelled so good on anyone. It’s… unique. It usually smells different depending on the species' skin.”

“Well, I guess I’m just special,” she says with a playful grin, feeling a bit of her confidence returning amidst the unexpected indulgence.

She settles deeper into the plush massage table, her body melting into its softness. Pol, still humming softly, begins the next phase of the spa treatment: a hot stone massage. Carefully, she places smooth, heated stones along the length of her spine, their warmth seeping through her skin and into her muscles, releasing the tension that had been coiling inside her for months. The stones are infused with calming energies, pulsing gently with each breath she takes, aligning with the rhythm of her heartbeat. As Pol moves her hands in slow, deliberate strokes, the stones seem to vibrate in tandem, creating a sensation that feels like an invisible current coursing through her body, soothing every nerve and muscle fiber. She sighs deeply, feeling herself drift closer to a state of blissful tranquility.

Next, Ruru takes over with a delicate facial treatment, her liquid-like fingers deftly applying a cool, luminescent mask across her face. The mask tingles at first, but soon gives way to a cooling, revitalizing sensation, as if the stress is being drawn out from her pores and replaced with pure, invigorating energy. The mask is made from rare herbs and minerals, designed to restore both physical and spiritual balance. Ruru expertly massages her temples, using circular motions that ease her into a meditative state. Nearby, gentle streams of water cascade over polished stones, their melodic trickle lulling her further into relaxation. She feels the mask begin to tighten, lifting and rejuvenating her skin, and as she breathes deeply, she swears she can feel the weight of her worries and fears lifting, evaporating into the calming mist that hangs lightly in the air.

Pol moves to her feet, beginning a reflexology session. She feels a soft, rhythmic pressure on the soles of her feet, as Pol’s nimble fingers work magic on her tired arches, releasing every bit of tension stored there. She lets out a soft, contented sigh, her mind quieting with each press and release, until all she hears is the soothing music of the spa and the steady rhythm of her own breathing.

Pol and Ruru continue their meticulous work, guiding her gently from the massage table toward a new area of the spa. This section is a marvel of their planet's unique blend of natural elements and advanced techniques—a vast, circular platform surrounded by cascading waterfalls that flow down from the ceiling like shimmering silver curtains. The air is filled with a heady blend of floral essences, with hints of lavender, star lily, and some otherworldly blooms that smell sweet yet unfamiliar. In the center of the platform, a large, reclining chair made from soft, pliable materials awaits her, contoured perfectly to support her body.

She takes a seat, feeling her body sink into the comfort of the chair, and Pol activates the controls. Streams of warm water, infused with restorative minerals, begin to flow down from overhead nozzles. The water jets land on her scalp with gentle yet firm pressure, massaging her head as they move in soothing, spiraling motions. The sensation is almost hypnotic; every jet pulsates against her scalp with rhythmic precision, stimulating blood flow, relieving tension, and sending waves of relaxation through her entire body. The water flows through her hair, and she feels it saturate her scalp, each drop a tiny vibration that seems to wash away lingering thoughts. Her hair feels lighter and softer already, as if the very water itself is renewing her from within.

As the water treatment continues, Ruru moves on to a full-body massage. She begins with a slow, circular motion, starting at the base of the neck and moving down along the spine. Her hands glide effortlessly over the skin, applying just the right amount of pressure to release the knots in her shoulders and back. Then, Ruru introduces a delicate combination of kneading and rolling techniques, her liquid-like fingers pressing firmly into the muscle tissue, manipulating the tension out of her body layer by layer. Her touch is intuitive, knowing exactly where to linger, where to press deeper, and when to move on, almost as if guided by some unseen force.

Once Ruru reaches her legs, she uses a unique technique native to their world. She brings out a set of softly glowing, orb-like stones that hover slightly above her skin. With every pass, the stones emit a soft hum, emitting waves of soothing energy. They move up and down her limbs, generating a sensation like a warm breeze, relaxing the muscles and relieving pain in an entirely new way. Her legs feel like they are floating, the stress and fatigue of endless drills and training melting away under this alien, delightful touch.

Next, she feels the warm, delicate drips of a botanical serum, made from rare planetary plants, begin to trickle down her scalp. The liquid is thick and fragrant, like honey, infused with potent rejuvenating properties. It is spread through her hair, which is then wrapped in a soft, warm towel. The serum seeps into each strand, deeply nourishing and repairing any damage, leaving her scalp tingling and her hair feeling weightless. She closes her eyes, lost in the meditative lull of the water, her senses overwhelmed with calm and delight.

Then, with one final touch, Pol brings a basin filled with shimmering, heated sand from a nearby volcanic spring. She pours it gently over her feet and hands, and the sensation is like warm, liquid silk wrapping around her extremities, soothing her from the outside in. The sand, rich with volcanic minerals, begins to harden, forming a gentle, warming cocoon around her skin, drawing out impurities and leaving a soft, luminous glow behind. Pol hums a deep, melodic tune that harmonizes with the sound of the falling water, creating a symphony of sensations that flows through her entire being.

She sinks deeper into the chair, feeling as if she is floating between worlds, all tension and stress melting away, as if her very soul is being cradled by the universe itself. This is a kind of relaxation she never knew existed.

Miwa's hands continue their soothing dance, skillfully massaging the rare herbal blend into her hair, each stroke deliberate and gentle. The warm water cascades through her strands, infused with the essence of rare herbs from distant planets, known for their rejuvenating properties. The rich, foamy lather is fragrant, filling the air with a heady mix of lavender, sandalwood, and a faint hint of citrus, enveloping her senses in a comforting cocoon. Miwa rinses her hair with a final splash of cool, mineral-rich water, the droplets glistening like diamonds as they run down her scalp.

Once her hair is cleansed, Miwa delicately wraps it in a ruven, a towel made from a unique, ultra-absorbent fabric known for its gentle touch. The ruven absorbs the moisture effortlessly, allowing her hair to dry naturally while maintaining its newfound shine and softness. “Let the ruven do its magic,” Miwa murmurs, smiling softly. “It will leave your hair smooth, shiny, and with a scent that lingers like a soft breeze.”

While the ruven works on her hair, Miwa motions for another attendant, a petite woman with silver eyes and delicate hands, to take over. The attendant kneels gracefully before her, lifting her feet gently, and begins to work on her nails, carefully shaping and filing them with meticulous precision. She watches, slightly mesmerized by the attention to detail, feeling the cool touch of the file against her skin.

Meanwhile, another attendant brings over a small vial filled with a shimmering golden liquid. Miwa explains with a reassuring smile, "This is a special lotion, personally recommended by the General. It is said to be a godly substance, known for its ability to enhance beauty and leave a divine scent wherever you go." Her tone is light, but the weight of the recommendation makes her hesitate for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly.

"A godly substance?" she repeats, a note of skepticism creeping into her voice. She looks at Miwa, feeling a mix of curiosity and caution. But Miwa’s warm, encouraging smile reassures her, and she nods, accepting the vial with a gracious gesture. "Alright," she agrees softly, "I trust you."

Miwa pours a small amount of the golden lotion into her hands, and a sweet, almost intoxicating fragrance fills the room. As she begins to apply it to her skin, the lotion spreads like liquid silk, absorbing quickly and leaving her skin glowing, with a soft, iridescent sheen that catches the light. “This will make your skin feel like velvet and smell like a heavenly garden," Miwa murmurs, her fingers moving in slow, rhythmic circles, ensuring the lotion is absorbed evenly. She can feel her skin tingling with a gentle warmth, the fragrance settling into something both exotic and familiar.

Once the lotion has been applied, Miwa begins the finishing touches, moving on to her hands and nails, giving them the same careful attention. She feels a pleasant tickle as the attendant works, filing and buffing her nails to a perfect gloss, before applying a subtle tint that complements her natural color. Another attendant applies a soothing facial mask, mixed with fine clay and nourishing oils, to cleanse and brighten her skin, while yet another begins brushing her eyebrows, shaping them with delicate strokes.

Miwa finally removes the ruven from her hair, revealing her silky, smooth strands that fall naturally around her shoulders, cascading like a waterfall of light. The herbs have done their work well; her hair looks healthier than ever, reflecting the light with every subtle movement, and the scent remains—a delicate, lingering fragrance that is both calming and alluring.

She sits back, feeling a transformation not only on her skin but deep within her spirit. Her face is prepared with a soft powder that accentuates her features, and her lips are given a slight, rosy tint. Her hands and feet gleam with a perfect shine, and her hair flows with a renewed vitality.

Miwa steps back to admire her work. “You look stunning, my lady. You are ready,” she says softly, bowing her head with a satisfied smile. She catches her own reflection in the mirror and hardly recognizes herself; she looks radiant, as if illuminated from within. She takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of the upcoming ceremony, but also a sense of readiness she hasn’t felt in a long time.

She catches her own reflection in the mirror and feels a jolt of surprise; the transformation is striking. Her hair, freshly washed with rare herbs, is now smooth and lustrous, cascading down her back like a waterfall of midnight silk. The fragrant oils have worked wonders on her skin, leaving it glowing and supple, almost ethereal in the soft light of the room. Her eyes appear brighter, her posture more poised. She feels radiant, as if she has been polished from the inside out, a new sense of calm and confidence settling over her like a cloak.

Just then, Ruru enters the room, her small frame moving gracefully, her translucent white skin shimmering with an inner light. She carries the suit made by Krauvi, neatly folded and draped over her arm. “My lady,” Ruru says with a warm smile, “Your attire has arrived. Crafted by Krauvi himself, just as requested.” She extends the garment with both hands, her delicate fingers holding it carefully, as if it were a rare and precious artifact.

She takes the suit from Ruru, feeling the soft, luxurious fabric beneath her fingers. "Thank you, Ruru," she says, appreciating the attentiveness in the creature's eyes. She turns toward the dressing room, a small, private space adjacent to the spa area, its walls lined with mirrors and soft lighting that enhances every angle. She steps inside, closing the door gently behind her.

With a deep breath, she begins to change, slipping out of the soft spa robe and into the suit. As she pulls the garment over her shoulders, it feels like a second skin, clinging to her body in all the right places, accentuating her curves. The fabric shimmers as it catches the light, the silvery-blue threads creating an almost liquid effect, flowing smoothly over her form. She adjusts the neckline, allowing it to sit just below her collarbone, and smooths the fabric over her hips, feeling the coolness of the material against her warm skin.

The mirror reflects the transformation once again. The suit enhances her figure, its intricate patterns swirling around her like constellations in a dark sky. She can see the careful craftsmanship in every stitch, every fold—a perfect balance between strength and elegance. She turns slightly, examining herself from different angles, and feels a swell of gratitude for Krauvi’s skill and care.

Satisfied, she exits the dressing room, feeling a renewed sense of purpose as she walks back into the spa area. Miwa and Ruru stand by, their expressions warm and approving. “Magnificent,” Ruru murmurs, her eyes sparkling with delight. “The suit complements you perfectly, my lady. It’s as if it was made for you.”

She nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It feels… right,” she replies softly, feeling the truth of her words resonate within her. She takes a moment to appreciate the serene atmosphere around her, the lingering scent of lavender and the gentle sound of water trickling from a nearby fountain. Then, with a deep breath, she straightens her back and makes her way to the exit.

As she leaves the spa, the doors glide open silently, and she steps out into the main corridor. Her footsteps echo softly against the polished floor, and she heads toward the silver elevator once more, feeling a quiet sense of anticipation building within her. She presses the button, and the doors slide open, revealing the sleek, silver interior. She steps inside, the doors closing smoothly behind her, and presses the button for the highest floor, where the General resides.

The elevator ascends smoothly, and she watches as the numbers climb higher, her heart beating a little faster with each passing floor. She feels the fabric of Krauvi’s suit move with her, flowing like a second skin, and for a moment, she allows herself to imagine what the General will say when he sees her. The thought brings a faint blush to her cheeks, but she quickly composes herself, reminding herself of the ceremony ahead.

Finally, the elevator arrives at the top floor, and the doors open with a soft chime. She steps out, her senses immediately alert to the change in atmosphere. She moves forward, her footsteps steady, as she makes her way toward the General’s private quarters, ready to face whatever awaits her next.

As she walks down the corridor, every step echoes against the cold, polished floors, her heels clicking with a steady rhythm. The walls are lined with dark wood panels and dimly lit sconces, casting elongated shadows that seem to stretch out towards her. Her heart quickens with every step, memories flashing through her mind like a reel of half-forgotten dreams — moments of tension, vulnerability, and strength, all intertwined with this place. The anticipation curls in her stomach, a mix of anxiety and determination.

She finally reaches the heavy wooden door of the General’s quarters and hesitates, her hand hovering just above the surface. She takes a deep breath, centering herself, letting the sense of calm from the spa wrap around her like a protective cloak. This is a new beginning, she tells herself, summoning every ounce of confidence. She knocks, the sound reverberating through the thick wood. Moments later, the door swings open, revealing Tolius, who eyes her briefly, his expression unreadable, before stepping aside to let her in.

"Hello, sir. I am done for the ceremony," she announces, her voice steady but with a hint of tremor that betrays her nerves. Her confidence falters just a bit under the General's gaze.

"Ah, there you are," he says, his voice rich with authority, a touch of amusement flickering in his eyes. He stands tall, his presence commanding, yet there’s something inscrutable about his expression as he looks her over, his gaze lingering on her figure. He steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he examines the suit Krauvi had crafted for her. "I see Krauvi has put his skills to work," he comments, a thoughtful note in his tone. "It’s a fine suit," he continues, but his brow furrows slightly. "However, it doesn’t quite do justice to your curves. A shame, really."

She feels a flush of uncertainty spread across her cheeks, unsure whether to be flattered by his words or disheartened. "Oh..." she murmurs, her voice soft, wavering slightly. "Isn't this supposed to be meant for me?"

The General exhales a cloud of smoke from the cigar between his lips, the wisps curling in the dim light as he moves closer. His eyes remain fixed on her, intent, almost appraising. Without warning, he reaches out and takes a section of the fabric at her waist between his fingers, his touch firm yet strangely gentle. “Krauvi likely thought you should appear modest,” he explains, his lips curling into a slight smile. “But modesty doesn’t mean you should hide your form. And it shouldn’t be too tight either.” He leans in closer, his breath warm against her skin. “I have something else for you if you'd like,” he says, his voice lowering, almost conspiratorial. "I crafted it myself. But, of course, you don’t have to choose it if you don’t like it." His smirk deepens, eyes glinting with amusement. “It’s in the bedroom,” he adds with a teasing lilt.

Caught off guard by his proximity and the unexpected offer, she swallows, feeling a surge of heat rise in her cheeks. His presence is intoxicating, a mix of authority and mystery. Before she can formulate a response, he takes a step forward, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. With a subtle but deliberate pressure, he guides her towards the large mirror on the wall, the reflective surface catching the dim light and casting an ethereal glow around them.

As they reach the mirror, he positions her in front of it, standing behind her, his fingers gently but firmly on her shoulders. “Look,” he whispers in her ear, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down her spine. His hands glide down her arms, tracing the lines of the suit, and stopping at the fabric that bunches slightly at her waist. “See here?” he murmurs, his tone almost teasing, his breath warm against her ear. “This extra fabric… it hides your natural shape, dulls your beauty. Krauvi's idea of modesty is more like hiding what's meant to be seen."

He slowly moves his hands to her waist, pinching the fabric tighter against her body, demonstrating how the garment should fall. “There, that’s better," he mutters, his voice thick with a mixture of authority and something more playful, his fingers lingering a little longer than necessary. "See how it changes everything?”

She glances at their reflection, her eyes following his hands, noting how the subtle adjustments he makes accentuate her curves without making them overt. There’s an undeniable intimacy in the way he touches her, his fingers grazing her waist with a confidence that feels almost possessive. “Do you see now?” he asks, his voice softer, his gaze catching hers in the mirror. “How a simple change can make all the difference?”

Her breath catches for a moment, caught in the tension of the moment. She feels a strange mixture of vulnerability and exhilaration. “Yes…sir.. I see,” she replies, her voice barely more than a whisper.

The General's lips curl into a knowing smile, his eyes still locked on hers in the mirror. “Good," he murmurs. "Now, let me show you the other option." His hand slips away from her waist, leaving her skin tingling where his touch had been, as he gently guides her toward the bedroom, anticipation crackling in the air between them.

The General steps over to the closet, pulling out a long, elegant dress, made of the same luxurious fabric Krauvi had used. It shimmers subtly under the dim light, capturing her attention instantly. The off-shoulder design reveals a delicate neckline, with a fitted bodice that accentuates her waist and shows just enough cleavage to tease, tightening seductively around her chest. The dress cascades down to her ankles, clinging to her curves in a way that feels both daring and graceful. A long slit runs up to her hip, revealing the length of her leg with every step, adding a sensual elegance to her movement.

“Here,” he says, offering the dress to her with a satisfied smile. “A piece I crafted myself, using the same material as Krauvi. I paid attention to the details you like, but I wanted to create something that truly complements your form.”

She takes the dress in her hands, the fabric soft and flowing, and steps behind a screen to change. She slips into it, feeling the cool material slide over her skin, fitting perfectly to her body as if it were made from her own dreams. As she emerges, she turns to the mirror, her breath catching at the sight before her. "Thank you, sir, this is beautiful. I do wonder, where did you learn to craft clothes as well?" She turns, looking over her shoulder, her expression playful. "I feel and look like a queen!" she laughs softly, a genuine, lighthearted sound that fills the room, allowing herself her own freedom.

The General watches her, his usually stern face softening, his eyes gleaming with an uncharacteristic warmth. For the first time, he looks at her not just as his subordinate but as someone precious, someone who deserves to be adorned. "You are stunning, my dear," he says with a calm sincerity that catches her off guard, his tone devoid of the usual commanding edge.

Her cheeks flush pink at his words, a smile spreading across her face. "Thank you, sir... I am glad to hear I am to your liking," she replies, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. She turns back to the mirror, adjusting the dress and admiring its flow and fit. "I think I will keep this dress instead of the trousers and blouse. But I’d like to keep the coat, too. It has those beautiful purple marbles that... represents the planet.... you... us," she adds with a playful yet sincere tone, gauging his reaction.

The General raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips as he chuckles softly, genuinely surprised by her candor. "Indeed," he murmurs, his voice carrying a hint of amusement, but also approval.

Dressed in the exquisite gown that hugs her curves perfectly, her skin glowing and her hair, a radiant pink cascade of soft waves, shining like polished silk, she looks every bit the image of elegance and grace. Her fragrance, a blend of exotic herbs and godly oils, lingers in the air around her, an intoxicating scent that speaks of royalty. She can't help but smile at the transformation. For a moment, it almost feels like she’s preparing for her own coronation, not a burial.

The General gestures with a flick of his hand for her to exit the bedroom, a silent command to follow him toward the ceremony. The atmosphere is thick with unspoken words, her mind swirling with thoughts as they make their way down the corridor. She finally breaks the silence, her voice soft but determined. "Sir... I... just don't feel right about this burial... I know it's supposed to be a hard time, but I feel so shaken and moved, and I don’t know why."

He stops for a moment, turning to look at her with a gaze that seems to pierce right through her. His brow furrows slightly, a glimmer of curiosity and concern flashing in his eyes. "I’ll be there," he says firmly, his voice gentle yet steady. "If you need anything, come straight to me. As for your feelings… and this turmoil you’re feeling… I’m not sure what to say." His voice softens, revealing a hint of empathy she’s never heard from him before. "But know that I am here."

They continue walking, the weight of her emotions balanced by his unexpected reassurance. She takes a deep breath, feeling a bit more at ease, knowing that, for whatever reason, he would be there by her side, even in this moment of uncertainty.