Iris wrapped her arms around her panicking knight, who, upon freezing up, let out a gasp. How adorable.

“Mistress?” Lorient blinked before an embarrassing thought hit her. She drew back her embrace and kept her arms to herself, her eyes unable to look at her mistress. “I . . . I’m sorry. I was trying to wake you up. It’s not what you’re thinking!”

“Have I reproved you?” Iris tightened her hug, squeezing ever so gently. She could feel her knight shivering. “Is my body so sacred, my love so treasured, that not even my dears could have?”

Iris leaned close to her Lorient and licked her earlobe.

“Please forgive me!” Lorient’s voice peaked and faltered. Her body pinkened as if she were boiling. “I . . . my mind is impure. I let my bias colour my perception of you.”

“The more you panic, Lorient, the lovelier you become.” Iris grabbed Lorient’s hands. “Your eyes reveal your sincerity, and it delights me. Even if you wish to touch me, I would not object.”

Lorient wanted to flee, but she wouldn’t resist her mistress. Whatever Mistress did, she must comply, must follow through, must love.

“Please take better care of yourself, Mistress.” Lorient focused her eyes on her mistress’s exhausted countenance. “Your health is of utmost importance.”

“Then I shall have your answer by the time I recover.”

Lorient nodded. She carefully slipped her hands out of Iris’s grasp and pressed them on her chest. She breathed in and out, in and out, as her heart rate returned to normalcy. Once the flushes on her body vanished, and the heat in her chest dissipated, she resumed her task.

Iris allowed her maid to rinse cold water on her as she sank into the bathtub. Her eyes stayed on her maid. That worried gaze amused her.

“You mustn’t vex yourself, Lorient. My prior sleep is voluntary.”

Lorient rubbed soap on Iris’s skin, playing with its bounciness. “You worried me. Don’t do it again, please.”

“My recklessness must’ve hurt you.”

“Please promise me, Mistress.”

Iris smiled. “You won’t have to experience it again.”

Lorient shook her head. “Promise me, or . . . or I’ll be sad.”

“You’re too clever for your own good, Lorient.” Iris blew a soap bubble, which floated to Lorient before exploding in front of her face. “I cannot guarantee it; I may lapse into the dreamland, even if I force myself awake.”

“What must your maid do?”

“Hugging me again, although cute, won’t help me. Be ruthless when the time comes. Strike me, strike my core with all your might. The agony will drag me back.”

“How could I—”

“Better to hurt me than to never see me again.”

Lorient couldn’t refuse such a cold yet rational statement. She hmphed. She must find a way to help her mistress, even if it were just a treatment to alleviate her fatigue.

The bath peacefully went. Lorient wrapped her mistress in a fluffy towel and led her to the dressing room, where she, as if handing the most delicate flower, cleaned her mistress of all the humid discomfort. With sprinkles of perfumes and herbal creams, she brightened her mistress’s complexion.

“Lorient, have you ever considered working as a cosmetologist?” Iris said. “Your expertise will guarantee your fame, even among the nobles.”

Lorient beamed. Her heart fluttered, though she suppressed her urge to squeak. “This skill is too risky, Mistress. I am but a mere florist, whose expertise lays in the domain of flowers and plants.”

“The Court can easily provide you with a suitable background.” Iris tilted up her head and looked into Lorient’s shy eyes. “You only have to ask, and I’ll reward you gorgeously.”

Lorient averted her gaze. “There’s no need to exert yourself, Mistress. The flower shop is more than enough for me and my sister; drawing more attention would only endanger The Court and you.”

“The famous you’d be surrounded by love and admiration. It would take little effort to bring those you bond with to our side.”

“I . . . I practice this skill for you, Mistress. You and you alone.”

“Oh my. You’ve finally decided to be honest.” Iris touched Lorient’s hand and pressed it on her cheek. “How should I reward you this time?”

“Please allow me to help you like this again.”

“If Secain heard of this, she would be terribly upset. Her jealousy would overflow out of her eyes.”

“Then she must try harder, for herself, for you.” Lorient giggled. “Everything for you, Mistress.”

“Not everything, my dear. I won’t permit such abandonment. Your presence’s worth more than its absence, regardless of any outcomes.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Like her mistress, Lorient smiled. She let her silence speak for her.

If Mistress wouldn’t promise, she wouldn’t either. It was only fair.

Lorient clothed Iris in a thin, airy type of dress, which exposed little of her skin yet still allowed for breezes to course through and heat to disperse. Perfect for her sickly mistress.

Iris stood in front of the mirror and lightly spun. The tail of her dress swirled with her, waving its patterns like a butterfly flapping its wings. Morning light passing through the open windows sparkled against her translucent dress, flashing with glee as if proclaiming her beauty.

Only Lorient could enjoy such a sight, and she alone imprinted it to her heart. This . . . was her reward, wasn’t it?

“You’re spacing out, my Dear.”

Lorient blinked. Her mistress was standing so close to her that their noses almost touched. Their eyes met. That pair of bright golden eyes magnified themselves in her vision, encompassing all, seeing through all. They stripped her body naked, her heart bare.

She drew herself away, her face burning. If she dared to linger her gaze for just a moment longer, she might have lost herself.

“You’re too close, Mistress. Too close.” She turned around and fled the room. “Please rest while I dress up. It won’t be long.”

“Should I help you, like how you helped me?”

“No need!” Lorient swiftly closed the door and headed to another dressing room. Her footstep gradually faded into the distance, though its shaky, embarrassed tone rang clear.

After making sure Lorient had left, Iris ceased smiling. She turned to the mirror and examined her reflection. The faint sparkles surrounding it were not mere illusions, nor were they mere sunlight glows.

This bewitching aura emanated from the depth of her soul.

It wasn’t the result of her Condensation. She couldn’t control it; it was a byproduct of Nupian’s curse.

And it influenced even herself.

“What do you want, Nupian?” she muttered. Her reflection smiled at her; she smiled at herself, at her innocent yet licentious self.

The desire to act upon her impulses had always permeated her essence, but it had never been so strong, so compelling, so inexorable. Modesty, propriety, and morality felt like shackles binding her heart, but she knew better than treading this path.

Whatever Nupian wanted, it mustn’t happen.

She pressed her right hand on the mirror. Its cold surface tickled her as if her reflection was stroking her. This iciness spread from her hand and froze the surface, coating it in a layer of frost.

Her gradually muddling reflection stared at her, as she stared at it. That inverse Iris opened her mouth and blew a puff of air before smirking. Her expression rose out of the realm of illusory and solidified in the original Iris’s mind.

That pair of lips, those bright golden eyes, they captured every heart and moved every soul.

As the illusory Iris vanished, the original Iris closed her eyes. That expression haunted her.

Was that how she looked when viewed from the outside? Did she use those smiles to get her way, to dodge suspicions, to deceive others?

No answer made itself clear. She drew back her hand, and the frost on the mirror evaporated.

A series of knocks resounded. Lorient entered the room with her head lowered, her arms hiding behind her back. Her light dresses overflowed from her figure. Its pastel colour schemes resembled her mistress’s.

“Is this . . . too much?” she said.

“It would be if Ludmint were to see it.” Iris covered her mouth. “You could don a matching outfit with me, and I wouldn’t say anything.”

Lorient’s eyes lit up. “May I . . . may I take a few more moments to redress?”

Iris tapped her lips and tilted her head up, contemplating. Her eyes flashed a regretful gaze at her Lorient, who, noticing it, tensed up as if she had committed a murder.

“A pity. I love your current look,” Iris said. “Your airy, rosy style compliments your charm. It’d be a shame if you changed.”

“Then I won’t!” Lorient clasped her hands. Her eyes sparkled. “If Mistress likes it, I shall dress like this every day.”

“Special dresses are for special occasions. Is today not special, Lorient?”

“Every day with you is special.”

“Then keep the style for the most special of days, the most intense of love.”

“I . . . understand. This time . . . is special. Please forgive me for my future mistakes.”

Lorient led her mistress out of the house and into a carriage she lent. Under the guise of a florist meeting her client, she stuck close to Iris. She’d been waiting for this day for a long time, and today, although under an unfortunate circumstance, she managed to have her mistress for herself.

Together they headed for a quiet street, where Auburn Leaf Library was.

“Are you disappointed?” Iris said. “We have yet to spend our dearest time, and I’m already meeting up with your rival.”

Lorient perked up. “Secain had told me of her. She’s still young and naïve. She cannot compete with us just yet.”

“Should I change that?” Iris chuckled. “Her potential is astonishing. She might not be inferior to you, if she were to Fall.”

“Then I shall treat her with care, as you have treated me.”

The carriage stopped in front of the library. Lorient stepped down and held the door for her mistress, but she couldn’t take her mistress’s hand. Her disguise forbade such interaction; she was a florist, not a maid.

“Should I wait here?” Lorient said. “My appearance might agitate her.”

“There’s a well-known dessert shop ahead of us. I’ve tried their cookies and puddings. Deliciously sweet.”

Lorient touched her purse. “Then I’ll head there first.”

“It won’t be long.” Iris turned to the library and entered it.

She pushed open the door, ringing the bell attached to it. This crisp sound rang inside the quiet library. Only a few readers raised their heads to look at the newcomer before returning to their books.

Iris strolled to the reception counter, where a lovely receptionist greeted her.

“Good morning, Miss. Is there anything I could help?” she said.

Iris slightly furrowed her brows before relaxing them. She leaned on the counter and brushed her gaze on the librarian’s body. The librarian shivered. She turned away her head, but her training forced her to smile and stare at her customer.

“What . . . kind of books are you searching for?” she said. “I, may I recommend you some?”

Iris reached inside her dress, took out a membership card, and handed it to the librarian. “You must be new. I remembered that Tundra used to be on this shift.”

The librarian took the card while being careful not to touch Iris’s fingers. “Tundra, she’s applied for sick leave. I’m her substitute. Please forgive me for not knowing your membership.”

“How could I not forgive you, when you’re this lovely?”

Iris asked for a few books and journals on various topics, most notably the topic of mythical curses. She teased this innocent librarian until her ears turned red, her heart confused. If Iris pushed any further, she might have gotten another follower.

She couldn’t help it. This girl was too cute, too lovable, too corruptible. What form would she take, when she willingly plunged into the abyss?

Oh no. She was enjoying this too much. Too dangerous!

“Unfortunately, my schedule is catching up to me. Please excuse my leave.” Iris took back the member card. Her fingers playfully grazed the librarian’s hand. “Let us hope we meet again soon.”

The librarian nodded. She almost told Iris her address, but she decided against it. She was working, and she had only met this customer for a few minutes. This progression was too fast, too illogical. She didn’t even know she could feel this way!

“Please come again!” she said. Her voice quivered.

Iris glanced at her and gifted her an arresting smile before leaving the library. That smile might be too much, but she couldn’t help it.

Ah, Tundra, if you keep hiding from me, you might find yourself a rival soon.