Lorient poured a glass of tea for Utasia, a lady in a light blue sweater, whose sparkling azure eyes and flowing blue hair radiated soft lightness. Utasia politely thanked Lorient before she carefully lowered her head, her gaze peeking at the youngest senior member of The Court. No matter how often they met, Iris seemed always so aloof and majestic, worthy of all praises.

“You’re early,” Iris said.

“Forgive me for my early intrusion.” Utasia eyed Lorient’s neck, which, though obscured by her collar, revealed marks of passion. No wonder Lorient was frustrated. “I . . . could go out and return when appropriated.”

“Or you could stay.” Iris tapped her glass and traced her fingertips on its rim. “What should we do, Lorient?”

“Your wish supersedes mine, Mistress.” Lorient’s voice remained firm, but her heartbeat grew erratic. Her mistress must’ve sensed her nervousness, but she couldn’t calm herself.

“If you don’t hold onto them, your wishes will slip away.” Iris gestured at her body double, who raised her head and smiled bashfully. “What does The Court require from me, my Dear?”

“Nothing, Madam Iris,” Utasia said. “Madam Ludmint had informed us of your condition; Madam Parmin and Morbi have already approved your leave. Please focus on your recovery.”

“Then, what is the request Ludmint told you in case I still wish to work?”

Utasia averted her eyes. “She . . . she gave me none. Please rest well!”

Iris popped her arm on the table and rested her head on her palm. Her piercing eyes landed on Utasia. “Lying to your superior will taint your record, but because of your reason, I won’t fault you.”

Lorient hmphed. “Mistress has forgiven you. Don’t disappoint her.”

“It . . . won’t happen again. I simply want you to rest.” Utasia held her breath. “Madam Ludmint wanted you to look through these documents. They’re about the preparation for the annual ball at Shivering Heart Salon.”

“Nothing else?”

“She also tasked me to give you these.”

Utasia tapped her sapphire necklace, which glowed and emitted a ring of radiance. It imploded and revealed a translucent chest storing cookies and candies.

Lorient swiftly arranged the plates and decorated them with Ludmint’s gifts. While working, her eyes attended her mistress who silently blessed her with a tender look.

“Did you forget the documents?” Iris said.

“I was going to, after you finish your desserts.” The lady couldn’t hide her flush. She forgot, but it was because Madam Iris was too charming, too enchanting.

“Regrettably, I cannot finish all these by myself.” Iris reached for Lorient, who lovingly extended her hand for her mistress. “Lorient, sit by my side and help me. You too, my Dear.”

While Utasia rigidly ate her share, Lorient selectively picked out small, light-coloured cookies and fed her mistress, who nibbled at them leisurely. The mild flavour, tickling Iris’s tongue, eased her discomfort. She gave her maid an unexpected reward by licking her fingers, to which Lorient could only shiver, enduring the urge to let out an embarrassing gasp.

“You won’t get to taste Ludmint’s bakery if you only feed me,” Iris said. “Or is her dessert not to your liking?”

“I wouldn’t dare take what’s yours.”

“Either I don’t own her, or I own you.” Iris took a large piece of cookie and pushed it against Lorient’s lips. “There exists no reason not to accept this.”

Lorient obediently ate the cookie. Its coarse yet soft texture melted in her mouth and coated her tongue; she quickly swallowed it, but the sugary aftertaste lingered even after she rinsed her throat with a cup of freshly brewed herbal tea.

Mistress should’ve fed her more. She wanted more.

With her eyes closed, she leaned toward her mistress and opened her mouth. The crumbs on her lips darkened her countenance, though no one regarded them. All focus remained on that expression, that expectant smile which awaited the reward.

Iris wouldn’t shatter that lovely hope. While glancing at the nervous Utasia, Iris placed another cookie on Lorient’s tongue. It rapidly melted, releasing a flowery aroma that perfumed the room.

This little play went on until the cookies ran out, to which Utasia heaved a sigh. She didn’t dare make any sound when those two immersed themselves in their courtship, fearing that she might disturb something precious, that she might . . . get punished.

It would be heaven; it would be hell. Whatever it was, she wasn’t ready.

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“We must’ve bored you, my Dear.” Iris cleaned her lips with a handkerchief. “Did the cookies sufficiently compensate you?”

“More than enough.” Utasia placed a file containing relevant documents. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mistress. I’ll head for The Salon and relay your words to the board as soon as possible.”

“Who ordered you to leave? Whom do you fear so much, that you wish to escape?”

Utasia blinked. “I just want to give you two some privacy.”

“We’re already in a private suite; no one but us can know, see, hear, or touch anything that will happen.”

Lorient clenched her hands and stared at Iris’s body double. Though their silhouette and appearance vaguely resembled one another, their overall disposition differed drastically. Utasia, despite her brightly innocent eyes, failed to project the grandiosity of her mistress, whose aura subjected all under the illusion of sanctity.

This girl, if she were to join in, would she . . . resemble Mistress enough to . . . allow Lorient to channel her fantasy?

“Mistress, do you . . . intent on keeping her?” Lorient said.

“Are you upset that her early arrival cut short our time together?” Iris placed her hand on the documents and glided her fingers on their papery surface. “Are you not satisfied with our love? She won’t steal me from you, my Dear.”

“Never thought such; what you’ve given me is heavenly. I cannot shamelessly ask for more.”

“I would’ve given you more if you did.”

“Then, may I—”

Utasia feinted coughing. “What should I do, Mistress Iris?”

Iris reached for Utasia’s hand and tapped its back, tickling her. The girl shivered, red flushes manifesting on her face. Her heart was about to burst, her soul unravel, her mind shatter.

“Nothing. You cannot yet receive my grace.” Iris shook her head. “You’re too fragile, too soft. You’ll lose yourself; I cannot have you broken.”

“But . . . I’m also in the Transformation Phase. Even Lorient could—”

“I’ll reward you soon. Do not fret; you’re worthy of my touch, if not for my current condition.” Iris looked at Lorient, who avoided her eyes. “Lorient is a special case. She’s been with me for long enough to gain some resistance.”

Utasia deeply inhaled. “Then I shall stay with you a lot.”

“Let’s start with helping me, then.”

Holding the documents, Iris got from her seat and changed to the writing desk neatly arranged in her style, with small flowers and colourful cabinets surrounding her. She gestured for Lorient to sit beside her, Utasia opposite her.

They quietly wrote, crossed out, highlighted, coloured, commented, edited, and stamped their papers until the size of the pile shrank to a few thin pieces.

Lorient, lacking in this type of administrative skills, timidly requested Iris’s help. After teasing her, Iris helped her until she noticeably improved her speed and efficiency. Utasia could work on her own. Iris praised her, causing her heart to skip a beat and her face to balloon into a pink flower.

“Is there . . . anything I could do for you?” she said.

“Is this work too little?”

“There must be a reason for my presence.” Utasia looked at the desk, whose glistening surface reflected Iris’s eyes. “Mistress, you’re thoughtful and mysterious. You’ve never done anything meaningless.”

“I’m also an emotive Monster Girl, guided by lust and love.”

“Then, please take me!” Utasia coyly tilted her head.

“Has your shyness evaporated, or has my charm taken hold?” Iris sighed. “What I wanted is your presence. I shall visit The Salon myself, but I cannot leave here without you staying, can I?”

“But you must rest.”

“Checking documents is quite relaxing.”

“No can do, Mistress.” Utasia looked at Lorient. “Say something, Lorient. Your mistress is still sick!”

Lorient pursed her lips. “I would’ve already tried if it had any effect.”

“Then . . . why did you stay to work with me?”

Iris smiled. “Because I need to work. If I relax, I might fall asleep. I cannot do that.”

Utasia wanted to ask for detail, but Lorient’s sharp gaze stopped her. She shouldn’t pry into Mistress’s matter, not when she didn’t need to know. If her mistress wished, she would naturally tell her. She only needed to wait.

“Please take better care of yourself.” Utasia sighed. “I . . . what if I refuse to stay here? I’m willing to receive your punishment.”

“That is quite a hurdle indeed.” Iris tapped a corner of her lips. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to request someone else. Our time together has been enjoyable, my Dear.”

Utasia’s heart ached. Her face whitened, her eyes trembling. “I . . . please give me a second chance. I won’t ever disobey you again!”

Smirking, Iris pulled her in and kissed her left cheek. The mark of her lips softly imprinted on her face, visible but also natural, as if it should’ve been there all along. Its warmth pervaded her face, her neck, her chest, fussing her inside, which sang praises for herself and her mistress.

Hopeless her heart was.

After instructing Utasia, Iris turned to Lorient, who anxiously lifted her head. Despite having been with Iris far longer, she still felt jealous. She hated that she felt this way, yet she couldn’t stop feeling this way.

“Anything for you, Mistress.”

“Escort me and look over a matter for me.”

“Must I do it? Who would look after you, then?”

“The Court has more than enough people to take care of me. What I request, only you can do. Is that reason not enough?”

“Please reward me amply.”

Iris, escorted by her Lorient, left White Rabbit Café and headed for Shivering Heart Salon. She disguised herself in her signature black-and-white suit as the mysterious noble lady of foreign origin. Her Lorient, in her cross-patterned dress, acted as Iris’s strict maid.

Except for Iris’s alluring impression, their demeanours separated them from their identities.

On the salon’s second floor, where curated wealthy ladies gathered, Iris entered the innermost private suite, where two Transformation Phase Monster Girls guarded the door in their Monster Girl form. They greeted Lorient, praised Iris, and opened the door.

“You’re late,” Parmin said while holding up her rainbow cocktail. “I’ve finished a few too many glasses. Forgive me if I end up unladylike.”

Morbi, who was sewing a woollen doll’s mouth shut, paused her hands and turned to Parmin. Her lips quavered; no sound came out, but Parmin easily deciphered its invisible threat.

“I was joking, Dear.” Parmin turned to Iris. “Anyway, why did you come here? Ludmint will torture me to death if I couldn’t give her a satisfactory answer.”

“Tell her to torture me. Only Morbi could torture you, Lady Parmin.”

Morbi giggled. “Dear Parmin, do you have any objection?”

“Of course not, Love!” Parmin sweated. She drank her cocktail and, blushing, gestured for the guards to close the door. “Give us some privacy, Sisters. I and Iris and Darling have to discuss.”

As the guards closed the door, Lorient turned around and walked out. Before she could leave, Iris caught her arm and whispered into her ear. Inaudible words, heard only by her, lingered in her head, accompanied by soft moans that caressed every part of her naked mind.

Lorient left the room absentminded, her eyes misty.