On Yellow Dandelion Orphanage’s balcony, Iris leaned on her black cane. Her black-white suit and scarf and hat fluttered with the morning winds, which gently blew against the rising sun. Heat and chill mixed into a warm atmosphere that livened the early earth and cleared up the hazy street. Her head raised, she observed the clouds, which resembled long streaks of feathery brushes as if someone painted the sky, morphing it from dull to pleasing.

Parmin, standing beside Iris, leaned on the balcony railing. She tapped the back of Iris’s hand. Iris felt the tickle and glanced at Parmin, who beamed a guilt-ridden smile.

“Still fighting?” Parmin said.

Iris turned her head back to the clouds. “We aren’t fighting. We just . . . I’m just being unreasonable.”

“She’s also unreasonable. I’ll talk to her.”

“You aren’t the cause. We argue about something else. I just don’t want her to hurt herself.”

“And you’ll hurt yourself protecting her.”

Iris hmphed. “She’s turning into me.”

“Then turn into her.”

“I can’t.” Iris lowered her head. “I don’t want to. She’s . . . too much. Her lips, her eyes, her fingers . . . I can’t replicate her touch.”

“From my experience, yours is much more delicate.”

Iris glared at Parmin. Her intensely shameful gaze peered into Parmin’s loose crimson dress, pinching the soft, pale, and sensitive skin. This charm, Iris tasted it before; the afterglow still lingered in her mind, dormant, waiting to emerge at the right moment.

Iris’s face pinkened. She covered her eyes and cheeks, but Parmin caught her hands, pulled her in, and pushed herself against Iris. The two breathed into each other, their minds quivering as their bodies burned up. It was like that night, but without interruption.

Her heart tightening, Iris struggled out of the restraint. She looked at Parmin, wished to speak, but failed to excuse herself. Ludmint’s silhouette flashed past her. She wouldn’t hurt Ludmint again. Not now.

“You’re despicable.” Iris’s eyes moistened.

“Why did you back away?” Parmin pointed at her amble bosom. “I’m also your partner. You also want me. You should let me console you.”

“I’m her fiancée!”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to hurt her again.”

“The longer this goes on, the more painful it’ll be.”

“You’re taking advantage of me.”

Parmin trod to Iris, reaching her hands for Iris’s. “I’m giving you a reason to make her jealous. Show her that she needs you, like how you need her. And give us pleasure amidst the sadness.”

“You just want to continue where we left off.” Iris looked at her wrinkled suit before receiving Parmin’s hands. Her trembling fingers pinched Parmin. “Morbi will kill you.”

“I’ll die later then.”

Parmin leaned onward and licked Iris. Her tongue tickled the pinkish lips and poked at the tiny gap between them but never entered. She kept her big bright eyes staring at Iris’s pupils. As Iris trembled and was about to close her eyes, Parmin playfully retreated.

Iris grabbed Parmin’s shoulders, her face flushed. “I despise you.”

“I love you too.” Parmin slid her hands around Iris’s arms and pulled Iris’s collar, pushing herself onto Iris, whose body pressed against the balcony railing.

Soft moans of varying pitches blended into one continuous tune. The black and white and the crimson mixed as the clothes got messed up and tangled and stuck to one another.

Her arms wrapping around Parmin’s neck, Iris spun around and pushed Parmin onto the railing. Their tongues met and entangled with each other. Their hands entered one another’s clothes and body, teasing, exploring, and playing as if they were moulding their favourite sculpture.

Cold winds blew against their dampened bodies. The clouds above congregated, turning from thin streaks to mountainous structures whose shades painted the sky overcast blue.

While grinding her body against Parmin’s, Iris lifted her head skywards, tensing up. As she gazed at the shifting clouds, her eyes contracted. The clouds rapidly approached her, their shape morphing into a dreamy silhouette, whose blank eyes fixated on her.

Iris wanted to speak, but Parmin’s fingers electrocuted her. Only pleasing cries leaked out of her mouth, zapping her concentration, weakening her legs. She collapsed on Parmin’s chest, though she didn’t have time to enjoy it.

“Parmin—”

“Am I late?” a fleeting voice echoed. “Or am I too early?”

Parmin froze. She swiftly spun around and searched the sky. The silhouette made of clouds walked down the airy staircase and stopped before Iris and Parmin. She lightly blew at them. The clouds concealing her dispersed, revealing her fragile appearance.

Vindette, donned in a silky white dress, with her face covered by a light blue veil, drew her hands forward and caressed Iris’s and Parmin’s faces. Her smooth touch calmed their racing hearts and burning lust. The steamy air vanished, replaced by a sense of fleeting serenity.

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“We finally met, Iris,” Vindette said. “You’ve become cuter than before. Did you fight with your fiancée?”

Iris bent down her head, blushing. “Lady Vindette, you aren’t late. We were just . . . we lost control of our emotions.”

“We Monster Girls need to let loose occasionally. Better now than during the operation.”

Quivering, Parmin took a step back. “Miss Vindette, I can explain. You can join us if you wish.”

Vindette looked at Parmin, who shut her mouth and forced her head groundwards. “Parmin, you shouldn’t take advantage of her.”

“I was just trying to help. The mood bent me.” Parmin gulped. Her eyes pleaded with Iris, who didn’t know what to say or how to help.

“Red Thread Weaver, you excel at manipulating emotions and vulnerability. I wouldn’t mind if you did it during the peaceful time, but now is unacceptable.”

The air surrounding Parmin froze, and the milky mist manifested. It soaked inside her crimson dress, rubbing her skin, submerging her under a constricting yet pleasuring film. She opened her mouth, though her moans echoed only within her mind. Her body collapsed, but Iris caught her before she fell.

Like her dress, her flesh turned sensitively pink, her eyes blurry, and her lips pale.

Vindette lifted her gaze away from Parmin. The mist evaporated, and the air resumed its flow. Parmin exhaled, her voice sharp and alluring. As she pulled herself up by the railing, Vindette turned to Iris.

Iris held her breath. Her figure shrank, shaking, anticipating.

“I promised you a welcoming gift.” Vindette held out her right hand.

Iris carefully placed her right hand on Vindette’s. “Please watch over me.”

“So long as I’m in Donhalgen, my focus will be on you.”

“Always?”

“Should I observe you and Ludmint’s bonding?”

Iris rigidly shook her head, though a part of her urged her to embrace Vindette too. She hated that her heart was fickle, but everyone who surrounded her seemed so beautiful, so loveable, that it would be a waste not to grab their hands.

What had she become? Had her mind been corrupted by lust?

While Iris contemplated her life choice, Vindette pulled Iris’s hand to her chest. Iris’s fingers pierced the silky dress and touched Vindette’s breasts. Iris didn’t dare move, her fingers jolting.

“Iris, you must reach out and grab the opportunity yourself.” Vindette beamed.

Iris closed her eyes and plunged her right hand inside Vindette. Her fingertips easily cut through Vindette’s fluffy flesh. As she reached farther, she could feel the soft flesh squeezing her. Warmth invaded her body, raised her body temperature, and ignited a spark in her heart. When she grabbed the gift inside Vindette’s heart and pulled her hand out, her face was glowing.

Her legs giving out, Iris lost her balance. Vindette embraced her, pressing her forehead against Iris’s.

“Its name is Overcast Bracelet. If injected with your Corruption Power, it’ll turn the battlefield into a misty maze. Under its protection, no one below True Master Tier can kill you.”

Iris observed the bracelet made of fluffy clouds, frowning. She looked up at Vindette. “This Legendary Artefact, my body’s not worth this much.”

“You have more than just a body, Iris. Your memory, your heart, your soul, the sum of your existence exceeds your expectation.”

Vindette’s snow-white eyes blinked. Her steady tone, though comforting, carried a solemn air which Iris couldn’t disobey as if she were a student in front of a caring yet strict professor.

“Could I compensate you with a date?” Iris said.

“You’ve already compensated me.”

Before Iris could ask, Parmin noisily coughed. She pulled Iris out of Vindette’s embrace, hugged her anxiously, and eyed Vindette. Despite her twitching legs and her tensing arms, she met Vindette’s gaze.

Vindette giggled. Her thin veil shook along with the swaying of her head. Her concealed face peeked out, and the world brightened, softened, and quietened. When her veil obscured her feature once more, she raised her head and pointed at the sky. Her motion dictated Iris’s and Parmin’s gazes to follow.

“The sky whispered to me, Parmin. Holy Resurgence Ceremony is starting.” Vindette sauntered past Parmin. “Your Morbi, she’s waiting for you in the underground lounge. Send her my regard.”

“Since . . . when?”

“Since you grasped Iris’s Threads of Emotions and knitted them into a heart.”

Her breathing rapid, Parmin excused herself. She rushed downstairs and disappeared into the orphanage, where she would suffer Morbi’s silent but agonising wrath. She’d get tied to her bed while Morbi expressionlessly tortured her, feeding her strange potions, wrapping her in exotic fabrics. Though she dreaded it, she never resisted it.

Vindette brushed Iris’s hair. “We should assume our position too.”

Iris nodded and followed Vindette, through the secret exit, out of Yellow Dandelion Orphanage. They boarded a train of carriages prepared by The Courts, heading toward Royal Magic Academy.

…

The clouds shielded the massive arena from direct sunlight. The crowd beneath, keeping the sacred peace unbroken, bent down their heads, clasped their hands, and closed their eyes. Their murmurs of prayers and wishes blended with the quiet background and brightened the platform.

Above the arena, Knoffvegent Imperial Family gathered in an open suite, each having attendants serving them. Though the King and the Crown Prince were absent, the other four Princes and Princesses attended the ceremony on their behalf. When they arrived, they greeted each other with a smile, sent their regard to the other influential figures in the ceremony, and settled down, contemplating.

As the Fifth Princess, the youngest, Jania got along with her siblings well. Her brothers and sister sometimes confided with her their worries, and she always rendered them assistance so long as the matter wasn’t of grave consequence.

“Do you need company, my dear Jania?” the Third Princess, Rubanila, said.

“Royal Sister, you should be beside the Pope.”

“I’ll get upset if you don’t call me Rubia.” Rubanila leaned on her seat, resting her hands on the armrest. Her cool black eyes glanced at the crowd before shifting to Jania. “The ceremony is important, but you are, too."

“Please don’t blame me if your faith wavers. I’m a sinful lady; my mischief may sway your heart.”

Smiling, Rubanila patted Jania’s head. “My touch of virtues will cleanse you. I’ll embrace you until an angel is reborn.”

As Jania giggled, she tilted her head toward Rubanila. Her green hair rustled with Rubanila’s patting. Her big sister was too lovely, and she pampered Jania too much. She was someone whom Jania wouldn’t hurt, and she wouldn’t hurt Jania too, even if the battle of succession were to demand such.

While Jania and Rubanila gossiped about the recent news, the ceremonial stage shimmered. The crowds, the believers, and the honoured guests quietened, adjusting their manners to suit the solemn affair. They stared at the divine maiden ascending the stage. Her graceful motion produced a faint tone which resounded throughout the arena, sending away the overcasting clouds and cooling the hot sunlight.

The entire Donhalgen paused. The Garcient Kingdom and the surrounding nations peeked at the stage, where the Pope of Seven Virtues stood before the ethereal statue of the Goddess of Seven Virtues.

She raised her head, her eyes meeting the statue’s, and spread her arms.

“May our lost stars find redemption. May our sinful hearts find peace.” The Pope knelt before the statue. “Those who have fallen, may they find salvation.”

The divine statue trembled. Its smooth marble surface illuminated the arena, filling the world with comforting golden light. As the believers chanted their prayers, and the Pope recited the ceremonial scripture, bloody radiances flashed and dyed Donhalgen in a thick, musky odour.

On multiple streets, corpses shrouded in pale cerements and cultists concealed beneath tattered cloaks manifested from the darkness and shadow and slums. They crackled, looked up to the golden pillar shooting for the sky, and turned to the fleeing passersby.

The Holy Resurgence Ceremony commenced.