“It’s time for us to part,” Iris said.

“Please dream about me, Lady Iris,” Secain said.

Iris nodded, smiling. Her clothes fluttered with the evening breezes, which blew away the lingering heat, replacing the liveliness of the afternoon with the calmness of the evening. It dispelled the last of her sorrow. She gazed at Secain, who gently curtseyed.

Beside Secain, Lorient stood upright, her right hand on her chest, her left hand on her back. With her head tilted, she closed her eyes, though the pinkness on her cheeks betrayed her hidden thoughts

“I consider you two my intimate friends.” Iris looked skyward. The grazing clouds resembled the silhouettes of her faraway family. “If we cannot relax when we’re together, how can we relax when we part way?”

Secain rose back up, and Lorient raised her head. The two smiled, the former playfully, the latter respectfully. Their stiff postures relaxed.

“I shall leave now. Please take good care of yourself, Lady Iris,” Secain said.

Lorient grasped Iris’s hands, holding them near her chest. “Lady Iris, I’ll put all my heart into collecting the information within Yilon Archipelago. Please be careful.”

“Do you think of me as a frivolous girl that can’t do anything by herself?”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Return and rest well. I’ll punish you later.”

Lorient retreated into the Yellow Dandelion Orphanage. Her confident smile attracted the orphans, who quickly came to her, asking her to play with them and tell them stories.

Listening to the children’s laughter, Iris silently strolled away. Her muffled footsteps seeped beneath the bricked road, transmitting her indescribable feeling through her rhythm of life. It resembled her still heart.

Her fine hair danced with the invisible winds, accompanying her invisible sigh. The sky marched forward, and the clouds moved with it. Iris lifted her head and stared at the group of clouds resembling Lenmia, Reta, Tardi, Vilia, and Dulcie. They seemed to tumble onto each other, intermingling.

Against her wish, they slowly escaped her view.

She pointed at the clouds and swiped at the air. The shifting clouds surged, slowed, and mixed for a little more.

The Grand Formation beneath Iris faintly trembled, though the transient foreign power failed to incite its wrath.

With fatigue in her dimmer eyes, Iris coughed. Despite overexerting herself, her interference could only allow the clouds to join as one for a few minutes. She was too weak to shield them from all changes.

“When I return, I’ll protect you all.” Iris inhaled. The cold air numbed her chest.

Those expressive, feathery clouds reminded her of her family. No matter what she did, their illusory silhouettes never left her mind. Entangled in her imagination, she ended up on a different street. The flower shop’s simple sign hung above her head, its decorative flowers showering her with pacifying scents.

If she couldn’t suppress her longing, she’d channel it into a memorial. Each of her family would be a flower handpicked by her, appreciated by her, and nurtured by her.

Iris pushed the door, ringing the bell hung on its frame. The florist raised her head and smiled. She placed down the watering pot in her right hand, walked to Iris, and bowed gracefully. Her long, black hair flowed, glittering under the vapours.

“Esteemed Lady, how may I serve you?” Her respectful tone livened the atmosphere. Her eyes studied Iris’s attire.

“No need to keep me company. I’ll call for you when something catches my fancy.” Iris beamed.

The florist thanked Iris and went to help other customers. Her stiff footsteps gradually relaxed, but Iris still caught it.

Because of her interaction with the high society and scholars, Iris regained the graceful air of her noble birth. It usually hid under her innocent, bashful heart, but it was always there. Even the obscene acts of her second life couldn’t erase it.

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

She caressed a yellow calla lily, whose meaning was happiness and growth. Lenmia would laugh at her choice, but her voice would still fill Iris with joy. No matter what, she was the first to give Iris happiness, the first to change her, and the first to enter her heart.

She was the first Iris thought of and the last Iris would forget.

Iris called for the florist. While the two discussed the flowers and how to take good care of them, another figure, a young lady in a plain, leathery uniform, glanced at Iris. Her blue eyes contrasted with her ordinary black hair, giving her a foreign air.

Xiaotan narrowed her eyes and alternated her gaze between a blue bellflower and Iris. Her curiosity won her heart, and she gently placed down the bellflower. The garden of flowers surrounding her paled when compared to Iris, the dignified and mysterious Iris, one of the suspects who might be related to the Secret Organisations.

Since Xiaotan’s father took over the case, though he allowed her to observe the process, he disallowed her from participating. It was her case, her chance to prove her skills, and her first step into the world of mysticism.

No matter. If he wouldn’t let her solve the case with the official, she would solve it by herself.

While walking around the shop and admiring the flowers, Xiaotan peeked at Iris, who carefully selected flowers of various types. Iris’s admirable effort intrigued Xiaotan, but she knew better not to stare too hard, or she might get found out.

A mental image of Iris gradually manifested in her mind, mixing with the observed mannerism and habits, creating a profile of an elegant noble lady, a keen observer, and a knowledgable scholar.

Iris was mysterious; beneath her charm was darkness, the darkness into which Xiaotan couldn’t see. It was as if Iris was a still ocean, vast yet impregnable. Everything besides the surface was unknowable.

When Iris got all the flowers she fancied, Xiaotan also bought a few and left the flower shop. The crowded street covered her tracking. She slipped between people, pretending to look around the stores, while half of her attention lingered around her target.

Her father once told her not to approach any suspect, or she might form a subconscious bias, ruining her objectivity. Nevertheless, she held a different view. If she could guard her heart while getting to know the target, she could gain better information than any written reports could provide.

Iris turned left around a corner. Xiaotan slowed her pace, holding her breath. She walked closer to the edge of the walkway, her left shoulder almost touching the wall. As she approached the corner, her eyes darted around. The pedestrians walked past her, and the patrolling officers occasionally swept their gazes over the crowd.

Fearing that she might lose track of her target, she quickened her pace. She turned left like Iris and bumped into another person. Though they softly touched, Xiaotan staggered backwards. Iris grasped Xiaotan’s hand and pulled her close to her bosom.

“Are you hurt?” Iris said.

Xiaotan shivered. “I’m fine. Thanks for your concern.”

“I was too curious about who was following me.”

Xiaotan drew back her hand and stepped back. “You . . . knew?”

“You were staring too hard, Dear.” Iris giggled. “Now that I caught you, you must tell me your name.”

“I’m Xiaotan. And you?”

“Shouldn’t you already know? Shall we continue our conversation in that coffeehouse? It looks cosy.”

Xiaotan slowly nodded. Her mind weaved out new plans, yet she couldn’t use them. While walking to the coffeehouse, she watched Iris’s graceful smile. A peculiar fragrance, one whose origin was unknown, drifted to Xiaotan. It enveloped her heart, soothing her panicking mind.

Her magical intuition flared up, but it didn’t provoke her sense of crisis. This fragrance wasn’t a perfume, but a mystical scent, a spell, a supernatural constitution.

“Nervous?” Iris said. “Is this . . . your first time?”

Xiaotan looked into Iris’s eyes. They sucked her into a whirlpool of alluring mysteries. This pair of azure eyes had seen what lay beyond the ordinary. Their implication entranced her, but they also terrified her.

Though she stood in the middle of the street, she felt isolated. Only she stood before Iris, before the door she’d been chasing. She had to choose, and she had to choose without her father’s guidance.

“I’ve . . . never made any friend before. My father, he forbade me.”

“Do you want to?”

“But Father will . . .”

“Do you live for your father or yourself?” Iris tapped Xiaotan’s forehead. “You have a precious gift, but unless you nurture it, it’ll wither away.”

“I . . .”

“If you live under your father’s expectation, how will you exceed it?”

Iris walked away from Xiaotan and into the coffeehouse.

As her figure gradually blended in with the customers inside, Xiaotan gritted her teeth and ran forward. The door before her was closing, and she had no idea when she would find another one.

If she rejected the first one, could she still change her mind?

“Dear Customer, please take a breather,” the receptionist said as she looked inside the coffeehouse. “Unfortunately, the indoor tables are full. Please write down your name on the waiting list. We’ll notify you when there’s an empty seat.”

Xiaotan shook her head. “My friend has just entered. Do you know where her seat is?”

“The blue-haired lady? She went to the leftmost table around the corner.” The receptionist gave Xiaotan a handkerchief and smiled. “Miss, you can do it.”

The receptionist misunderstood her, but Xiaotan didn’t have the time to correct her. She thanked the receptionist before heading to Iris’s table. The wooden interior and nature-oriented decoration brightened the atmosphere, even though the shop was packed.

Iris leaned onto the backrest of the polished chair. Her cultivated air extracted her from the sea of people as if her location were the centre of the stage. Her eyes, staring at the street outside, shimmered like candlelight, glowing, dimming.

As Xiaotan closed in, she tensed up, slowing her pace. She was about to cross the boundary, the dividing line between the ordinary and the mystic.

Taking a deep breath, she passed through the invisible curtain. The only path she could tread was forward, and the only hand she could grasp was Iris’s.