Despite the downpour of emotions, life marched indifferently, tirelessly. Iris arrived at the bimonthly banquet. She stood on her lonesome, her modest attire separating her from the rest of the lively world. Her brilliance, once charming to all whom she graced, vanished from her gaze.

While she absentmindedly scanned the lush garden and delightful fountain, a gaze locked onto her. A receptionist walked to her. Adorned in the neat black uniform, he carried with him the air of professionalism.

“Esteemed Lady, may I see your invitation card?” He bowed.

Iris turned to the receptionist and raised her right hand. A silver card, whose golden border glittered under the sunlight, slid out of her sleeve. She handed it to the receptionist. Not waiting for the guide, she entered the banquet, merging with the crowd.

Soft breezes greeted her silky hair, which drifted according to the soothing music. Her moody aura did nought but sprinkled her countenance a hint, a vague suggestion, of her untold stories. For a moment, she seemed the centre of all attention, the lead of the invisible stage. Yet, she moved merely a few eyes, and they too retracted themselves quick.

Like a delicate flower resting below the shade of a great tree, Iris enjoyed her solitary. She beamed and greeted others who came to her, but she struck few customary conversations before retreating to a champagne tower.

Stacks of brittle yet beautiful glasses came together, united in spirit, and formed a mountainous accomplishment that none could achieve unaided. The guests of this banquet, the champagne glasses, they joined hands to create something that surpassed their limit.

Nevertheless, they were weak, deceptively fragile. Iris could tap her delicate fingers and brought down the illusion of order. The glasses would tumble to the earth, where they would yield to the emptiness of despair.

What she could do unto the champagne tower, the transcendent could do unto her. To resist the tides of the ocean, she must build herself a steady boat, but to overcome the ocean itself, she must become an island.

Only then could she shield her family from the unceasing waves.

Iris tightened her grip on her champagne glass, which trembled under her strength. She blinked and looked at her hand, frowning. Her emotions agitated her; she wasn’t in control of herself. She had to be calm.

If she couldn’t control her emotions, how could she control her Destiny?

“Apology for the interruption, ladies and gentlemen,” a voice resounded throughout the banquet room. The background music faded. A nobleman stood on the stage with a pocket watch in his right hand. “My gratitude to you who accept the invitation, as well as the unfortunate few who could not attend this banquet.”

The man stared at his pocket watch. When all eyes were on him, he proudly lifted his head. “The appropriate time is now. The honoured guest will ascend the stage and give the opening speech.”

As the audience lowered their voices, a senior man ascended the stage. His short, grey hair revealed his age; his aloof expression complimented his look. He held his head high and swept his gaze across the room, judging the expressions of those before him.

As Iris observed him, her eyes glistened. Ludmint had forced her to remember the prominent contemporary scholars. He was Zantio, a Master-Tier Mage, a retired imperial scholar. His works, including research papers on magic as well as formations, provided a new perspective on the matter of magic.

Even Ludmint praised his insight, though she lamented at his poor aptitude. He was a perfectionist. His flaws prevented him from reaching the Grandmaster Tier. In the end, he retired and became an advisor for the Elemental Council.

“We have gathered today to converse, not in the mundane matter, but in the matter of knowledge,” he said, his tone dull. “I hope there is much for everyone to gain from this banquet. To that end, I plan to meet with the new and old. With my humble experience, I wish to learn fresh outlooks on the old subjects.”

Zantio tilted his head and smiled. After he left the main stage, the orator returned to commence the occasion. The scholars clapped and praised the process, filling the room with a pleasant ambience.

Sipping the champagne, Iris exchanged a few pleasantries with other scholars, whom she knew from other smaller gatherings. After her academic debut, she’d been expanding her influence and connections. Though she had an impeccable relationship with Ludmint, her reservation prevented her from using it.

She didn’t need Ludmint to help her gain a footing in the academic world.

“Iris?” A voice interrupted Iris.

Stolen novel; please report.

Pulling back her thoughts, Iris donned a calm, graceful smile as she turned to her fellow scholar. Short green hair came into her view, then a pair of majestic blue eyes. Iris had forgotten not this dazzling appearance, one which touched her heart in the day loneliness plagued her.

“Jania?” Iris tilted her head. “Your appearance and disappearance seem to me a rainbow in the sky.”

“Your compliment is excessive, Iris.” Jania skipped to Iris. “I was busy with my work, but I dared not disappoint you.”

Iris nodded. “Congratulations on attaining the Master Tier. Your enviable talent is a source of admiration.”

“I’ve exhausted much resource and effort. Without this wealth, my shortcoming is apparent.”

“Wealth, too, is a part of one’s ability. It must have given you significant trouble, both external and internal. After all, nothing in this world is truly free.”

“Of which meaning are you implying?”

“Guess?” Iris grasped Jania’s hands and squeezed gently. This time, she would not allow her to disappear again. “I’ve got you now. Please stay with me for a while.”

“Do you not like this banquet?” Jania closed in on Iris and rubbed their shoulders. “You should tell me what you dislike. There is no secret between us.”

“I dislike when someone lies to me.” Iris narrowed her eyes, her lips curving up. “Does omission count as a lie?”

Jania lightly pinched the back of Iris’s hand. Her captivating blue eyes dimmed, then reverted to their glory. With subtle gloom around her, she stepped onward, her hands carefully pulling Iris with her.

“Have I incurred your wrath?” Her voice, although firm, harboured anxiety so faint Iris could barely sense it. “I have misled you, but such is not my intention.”

“By chance we met; by chance we shall learn of each other.” Iris grazed her fingertips across Jania’s hands. Their feathery sensation, their angelic softness, their mysterious appeal, compelled Iris never to let go. “The bewilderment of then had plagued my thoughts. I failed to ask you then; I shall ask you now.”

“Allow me to fix my mistake.” Jania turned around to Iris, and, lowering her head, she raised Iris’s hands and imprinted her lips on their backs. Her grace perfumed the air with sincerity laced in a solemn affair, not of an innocent maiden, but of a noble lady.

At that moment, Iris’s eyes blurred. In Jania, she saw an overlapping image of herself and Jania. They both carried the weight of their noble names. Such was the price of their comfort, of their magnificent background.

Straightening her hands, Iris didn’t pull them back. She moved closer to Jania and leaned forward, her forehead touching Jania’s. Their sensitive skins jolted, but they permitted not their bodies from making an abrupt movement. They would not cause discomfort to their partner.

“My limited knowledge has stumped me.” Jania carefully raised her head, moving away from Iris. Despite the concealment of her bang, her forehead reddened. “Iris, may I know your intention?”

Iris covered her mouth and laughed. Her crystalised voice grabbed Jania’s attention and suspended it on a thin, intertwining thread, which spun around Iris, tracing from her delicate fingernails, to her exposed shoulders, then her joyous face.

Despite its inane march, time halted its progress. Jania held her breath, her heart tensing up. The heat, previously lingering on her forehead, spread throughout her cheeks, running along her ears and neck.

“This custom originates from a faraway land. The lack of information regarding its procedure is not something unusual. Let me confide you about its little secret,” Iris smirked. Her hands mischievously pulled Jania to her chest. “We believe in the spiritual connection of friendship. Our foreheads are the window to our minds. Though not too intimate like our abdomen, the gateway to our soul, it is still a place of great significance.

“When we comfort each other, we embrace our companion. Slowly, we rest our heads on each other. In silence, our thoughts and emotions connect, flowing between us, within us.

“At that moment, we are of one soul.”

Iris released her grip, retreated a few steps, and drew her right hand forward. Her lingering scent coated Jania, who struggled to rein in her emotions. Her heart flared up, and, in one breathless second, something infected her reason.

“You’re full of surprise, Iris.” She grasped Iris’s hands while calming down her sentiments. “Your unique scent tempted me. Even I almost got caught up in your rhythm. Scary.”

“If you knew my intention and my special constitution, you would have been on guard, and I would never succeed.”

Jania grinned. “Because of my line of work, I have learned to always stay alert. It’s more difficult to sway me than other Master-Tier Mages. You, however, did it with such grace and elegance that I found myself unable to get angry.”

Iris raised her eyebrows as she allowed Jania to lead her deeper into the banquet. Their appearances, the composition of two beauties holding each other’s hand, momentarily attracted the gazes of others. Still, they minded not their inconsequential thoughts, moving onward while donning a warm character.

As they reached the deeper part of the banquet, where only a few experienced scholars gathered, Iris slowed her pace until Jania came to a halt. She turned around. Her smile disappeared behind the sober air that enveloped her demeanour.

“Now is the moment where you must decide,” Iris whispered. “Will you let me sulk, or will you shower me with honesty? I shall not blame you for your choice, but I might feel hurt, no matter how my rationale comforts me.”

Jania opened her mouth, then closed it. Her eyes glowed and dimmed, glowed and dimmed, repeating for a few moments. This silence was not of rejection, but contemplation. She thought hard of the consequence, the potential danger, and the arrangement.

A phantom of Iris’s pitiful, disappointed face emerged in her mind. She no longer hesitated. A bright, devilish smile flashed on her face.

“Iris, I cannot tell you right now, but I can’t let you down either.” She took out a jade earring and handed it to Iris. “This thing is a token of my identity, a hint of my livelihood. I am not whom you thought, and even if you thought you found me, you might be surprised.”

Iris’s eyes alternated between Jania’s firm expression and the earring. She did not sulk nor ask further as she retrieved the earring and secured it inside her sleeve. When her cloth obscured her hands, she stored the earring inside her Virtual Space Ring.

“Our time together, although short, is precious,” Jania said. “This opportunity is my last gift for you. Farewell, and see you at the Prime Archive.”

Iris raised her hands. “Wait—”

“Are you Lady Iris?” an aged voice echoed. Zantio came to Iris, beaming. “I’ve heard of you from Lady Jania before. It’s my pleasure to meet you.”