Antina could feel nothing but the stuffiness of the cushions into which she sank. Her mistress pressed on her shoulders while hovering her face so close she could bite those lips at any moment. The heat from the sofa, herself, and her mistress baked her sweaty, sticky half-undressed clothes.

Her teary eyes swiftly blinked. Every breath slipping out of her salivating mouth condensed a haze between her and her mistress. She could barely see the excited smile on her mistress’s face, yet its intense emotion easily reached her.

She gave up moving and concentrated on feeling the pair of adventurous hands playing with her electrocuting body. Her hips perked up when grazed by fingernails. She clenched her thighs and covered her mouth, but she could not stop herself.

It was impossible to distinguish between the rocking of the carriage, or the trembling of her body, or the whisper of her mistress, or the moans of her own.

Even outside noises faded away from this moment that stretched on and on and on, ridding all interest in all things outside this confinement.

The numbness spread throughout her limbs. She soundlessly lay while watching her mistress separate their entangled bodies. That messy yet flowing hair dangled around her face and, in a moment when the breathing mist parted, created a small world for the two of them.

Iris exhaled. She sat on her legs while stretching her arms. Her slender form glimmered under the light seeping through gaps between the thick curtains. The rays adorned on her grew like a pair of gold-feathered wings, flickering in and out, hinting at her otherworldly nature.

Antina admired her mistress’s beauty. She too rose from her puddle of warm desires and redecorated herself with her wrinkled, soaked maid uniform. Their dangling buttons and ribbons fastened around her flesh; she let bits of her skin exposed.

Iris reached for her maid and adjusted the hastily worn attires. She covered the indecent parts and fixed the untidy knots. Her maid mustn’t let her charm go to waste.

“Only I get to see your messy part,” she said. “Only I get to see your naked heart.”

“Only you, Mistress.”

“You should’ve denied. My possessiveness can’t restrict you.”

“You shouldn’t have misspoke; now I belong to you, irreversibly.”

“Your mother would disagree. I would. Ludmint and the other as well.”

Antina held her mistress’s hands. “You’ll have to force me.”

Iris widened her smile. “In my sleep . . . I dreamed . . . of a vast landscape enveloped in a sea of crimson mist.”

Antina let go of her mistress’s hands. The tiredness and airiness cultivated from all the playful touches sank beneath her heart. Her solemn focus was now the only thing on her countenance.

“That ring is an invitation I cannot refuse, a gift made for me.”

Antina wanted to get on her knees, but her mistress’s smile stopped her foolishly emotional response. “Please let me punish myself.”

“Are you to interrupt your lady?”

Antina meekly shook her head.

“Do you know about the Five Catastrophes?” Iris lifted her head and gazed, through the carriage roof, upon the firmament where stars hid above layers of solar radiance.

“The Supreme Ones whose influences were only suppressed by the combined might of the world.”

“And our current forms are the product of their curse.”

“Lady Lilith has given us a blessing of freedom.” Antina touched her chest, her heart joyfully pulsating. “May her eternal presence guide us to our Dark Paradise.”

“Do you know the other four?”

Antina shook her head. “Not even Mother dares utter so lightly their names.”

“A mere thought of their names will attract their attention.” Iris chuckled. “Their powers transcend even the Divine Pantheon. Not even the world itself could eradicate their trace.”

“Yet they now lay imprisoned, banished from all existence.” Antina delicately lowered her head, getting emotional. “Even our Great Lady fell, giving birth to us Corrupted Ones.”

Iris had her speculations, but she kept her blasphemous thoughts to herself. Only the most ancient and the most powerful could peer through the veil of history.

A feeble Slime Girl like her had no such privilege.

“The crimson ring brought me into a vivid dream . . . a dreamland influenced by the remnant of the Supreme Ones.”

Despite her preparation, Antina remained stunned. Words lost their meaning the moment she tried to speak. Her gaping mouth exhaled only sharp breaths. Her mistress’s eyes, posture, and solemnly unsmiling face revealed no jest.

“Mistress?” Antina held her breath. “You . . . met them?”

“A hint of their shadow, a trace of their existence.”

Iris covered her mouth and coughed. Rosy petals infested her lungs, but she resisted the urge to vomit and scare her agitated maid. She tenaciously swallowed back the squirming flowers.

That subtle gesture failed to elude Antina. She leaned forward but couldn’t bring herself to touch her mistress. There was a foreign, chilly air around her mistress, whose disposition sank deeper and deeper into the sea of obscurity as if consumed by an inexorable fate.

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

Did she doubt her mistress?

“Have I become a stranger to you, Antina?” her mistress said. Her tone raised and fell like a tide.

“Such a thing could never happen!” Antina grabbed her mistress’s hands before she realized what she had done. She continued to hold them close. “This uncertain heart may waver, but this faithful soul will persist.”

“I, too, could not know whether I am still myself.”

“Please don’t scare me with those words.”

“I’ve gained much, but I’ve yet to learn how much I’ve lost.” Iris waved her hand in front of her. Mysterious air followed her gesture. An invisible cloak covered her silhouette. “There is no use in worrying; all that matters is that my goal remains unchanged.”

Antina lowered her head. Her mistress’s mind was a monolith, monumental and unchanging. Only the gentle but constant flow of time could slowly change her.

“Is there anything I can help?”

“My heart falters at the thought of worrying you all. Could you ease this needless anxiety?”

Antina pursed her lips. “You always do this, Mistress. These worries hurt you, yet you refuse to let us heal you. Do you know it hurts us more when we find them out ourselves?”

“I will accept all the punishment and comfort when all has passed.” Iris held onto Antina’s hands. She exerted no strength such that her maid could easily slip away if she wished so. “They will suffer for my past but will rejoice for our future.”

Antina frowned; she couldn’t bring herself to refuse that pair of earnest pupils. Her strength diminished to nothing when facing her mistress. She could only agree, even though she would regret it.

Either she hurt herself, or her mistress hurt herself.

“Until it all passes, I will keep your secrets locked in my chest. However, you must agree to my request.”

“Have I not given you enough reward?”

Antina shivered, but she resisted her welling desire. “Let me be your secret, Mistress. Allow me to hold onto your hope and worry. I’ve already taken in your most important secret. Is there any reason to withhold the rest?”

Through the silence that endured against Antina’s unshakable gaze, Iris let go of her maid’s hands, but she couldn’t draw back her hands. Her maid refused to let go. If she so desired, she must be forceful.

“I’m afraid of your crestfallen expression,” Iris said. “It’ll hurt me more if my worry pains you.”

“Is that a promise?”

“That . . . is a promise.”

Antina almost sighed in relief. Once she could get her mistress to promise, she no longer had any doubt. That word carried too much, meant too much.

“Thank you, Mistress.” Antina smiled. “Please use me as much as you need.”

“Then, go on a date with me. To Rising Mirth Park, to where my date with Parmin got interrupted.”

…

Tundra walked through the quiet, reverberant hall with books in her hands. She pressed them on her chest, stuffing the bubbling thoughts within her heart. The solitude of her fast-paced stroll gave her the space to contemplate, but she gave herself no chance to unravel her experience.

Her day-long research, stacking on top of her busy schedule, weighed on her feeble body, yet her energetic mind disallowed serene rest, not until she could come to terms with her conjectures.

She reached her room but waited in front of the door. Cold winds blew from beneath the locked door, carrying with it a faint radiance emanating from lantern light.

She tightened her grip around her books before knocking. She gradually unlocked the seal and entered as naturally as possible. Her sole roommate, Niran, dropped her reading and turned to her.

Their eyes met. Sparks flew in their pupils, which focused on their familiar appearances yet contained now unfamiliar airs they never noticed before.

Tundra magically sealed the door behind her. She took a deep breath and, after setting down her bag and books and scrolls, went to her desk. The lantern above her remained unlit; she had no desire to light it up.

If she didn’t get these thoughts out of her, she would never get to immerse herself in the literature.

“How was your day?” she said. “Did your research go well?”

“My advisor recommended me to take a break. I don’t want to.”

Neither Tundra nor Niran knew how to approach this conversation; silence then reclaimed the moderately cold atmosphere. They stared at each other, unable to take their eyes off, unable to articulate the questions lurking at the back of their throats.

“Was the interrogation . . . stressful?” Tundra said. “You were . . . with her, with Black Rose. Did she do anything to you?”

Niran’s hands trembled. She averted her eyes from her friend but pulled them back a moment later. A layer of clouds manifested in her pupils, playing a dreamy reconstruction of the past.

Despite their interaction, Madam Black Rose remained vividly alive in Niran’s mind. Her appearance, her manner, her voice, and her scent plagued Niran like whispers of a temptress.

If a simple lesson could widen so much her horizon, what would happen . . . when she accepted the foreign blessing and stepped into the other side of the world?

“You must’ve heard of what I did.” Niran wryly smiled. “She didn’t threaten me. I volunteered to lead her to the warehouse; she promised to teach me.”

“What . . . did she teach you?”

“Aren’t you curious why I believed her?”

“You’ve always been strange, Niran, but your eyes too have always been sharp.”

“Don’t you feel uncomfortable, being around me?” Niran chuckled. “My unorthodox belief unnerves many of your friends, yet you treat me still without prejudice.”

“You’re my friend.” Tundra’s voice faltered. She focused on her friend’s mischievous expression: her pink lips, her curly eyelashes, and her nose. They somehow attracted her. “We’re roommates; you’re a good person.”

“I think you’re . . . beautiful too.” Niran blushed. “Ever since I learned Black Rose’s spell, I’ve been noticing many more delicate details.”

“What detail?”

“That you refer to her with a tone of familiarity, that you . . . redress your hair, change your ribbons, and stare at me for too long, too unfocused.”

Niran’s voice meekly trailed off. Her silhouette shrank as if bracing for a muted, dismissive response. Why did she expose her friend’s inappropriate behaviours? Why did she also act the same way?

“I didn’t even get to speak to her,” Tundra said. “I could only look at her from a distance. Only you get to be so, so close. Only you get to look into her eyes.”

Was that jealousy in her voice? Niran didn’t want to think further. “When we were together, she told me to take good care of you, Tundra. She spoke your name.”

“What was her tone?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about her. I don’t know much about you, either.”

“Would you . . . like to know more?”

The lantern light flickered. The air cooled, overcome by a wisp of fragrance emanating from nowhere. Tundra lowered her head. Her bangs covered her expression, hiding her delicacy from her friend’s unusually perceptive view.

Her mentor’s voice lingered in her ears, but she couldn’t bring herself to listen to those gentle, teasing, and graceful tones, not when she lacked the courage to face the truth, to face her mentor and ask what she locked inside.

She stood up from her chair and, taking a deep and humid breath, walked to her friend, who was absentmindedly mulling over the offer. Her mentor had done something to her friend, as she had done something to her.

How quickly did Niran change. How quickly did she herself change.

She looked at her friend, who snapped out of her trance and lifted her head to look at the flushing yet determined countenance.

“What . . . are you trying to do?” Niran tensed up, but she didn’t shift away. “We . . . are just friends.”

“Do friends look at each other with those eyes? Do they share such intimate secrets?”

Tundra leaned closer to her friend, feeling her erratic breaths hitting her face. They smelt inviting.

The chilly atmosphere snuffed the surrounding warmth. The two friends carefully inched closer, sharing their warmth, their worries, and their secrets. Their emotions mixed until they could no longer distinguish between jealousy and affection, friendship and romance.