The moon was the first thing Iris saw when she opened her eyes. Its twinkling radiance showered her fatigued body, guiding cold winds into her bedroom. They coursed around her restless heart. She carefully sat up on her bed while collecting her thoughts. Antina was sleeping by her side, snuggling as if stopping her from slipping away.

She slowly untangled herself from her maid, whose blissful expression drifted as her wondrous dream rolled on. Although Iris could not know its content, she could sense that she was a significant part of it. She stroked her maid’s cheek, smiled at her, and leaned in to kiss her.

The corner of her eyes caught her Ludmint, who did not stay in the bed but stood at the balcony, partially obscured by waving curtains and misty air. Ludmint stared off into the distance, her hair swaying as if comforting her. Her silhouette, highlighted by the nightly glow, resembled that of a ghost despite her human appearance.

She paused when Iris’s gaze landed on her, though she did not turn around to face her fiancée.

“Why are you still up?” Iris ambled to her fiancée. The curtains separated them, hiding their thoughts. “I . . . may have been too reckless.”

Ludmint lowered her head. The desolate streets stretched beyond her field of view, beyond the twisting branches of each road. “Iris, you can only endure so much. And so am I.”

Iris couldn’t bring herself to reach out to her fiancée. She wouldn’t know what to do if Ludmint turned to face her. “I wouldn’t have done it if there were other choices.”

“There are always other choices.”

Iris had no right to refuse. “This time is different. I . . . must strike at the most opportune time.”

“Every time,” Ludmint said, “every time you sink into the farther dreams, I have to watch over you. Your calm, unfazed expression only hides your struggle. You keep still and silent as if the nightmares never bother you.”

“I can only remain so assured because of you, Dear.”

“I cannot, because of you, Iris.”

“Would you believe me if I told you there was no danger?”

“If not your fiancée, who would trust you?”

Those words rang hoarsely like a naïve vow. It didn’t imply Ludmint’s sincerity but a sense of duty, a sense of responsibility forced onto a faithful fiancée. They sounded painful and unauthentic, even though they were undoubtedly real.

“Would you still say the same if I were to break up with you?” Iris whispered. Her words cut through her throat. Her slimy self gargled within her chest. “Would you still trust me if I were just a stranger from a faraway land?”

Ludmint sharply turned around, unable to hide the anxiety in her eyes. With the curtains dividing her from her fiancée, she could only stare through the translucent veils at the face lowered and concealed, the expression murky and uncertain.

“What are you saying?” Ludmint’s voice did not fluctuate. “Iris, Dear, I did not appreciate your drowsy sense of humour.”

“It is with a clear mind that I asked the question; it is with a clearer mind that I realised my worth.”

“According to whom?”

A stronger gale rustled the curtains. Pinkish mists spread from Iris permeated the bedroom. She coughed lightly, her human disguise flashing between her slime and human appearance.

“Who else but me? I’ve always caused you trouble, too much trouble. I don’t want to hurt you, Ludmint.”

“You’re going to keep me safe by running away?”

Iris swiped her right hand groundward. A downpour of pink petals descended in front of her, forming a line dividing the bedroom from the balcony, separating the two dreamy lovers. A strong fragrance blanketed the mood yet still failed to cover the palpable heaviness.

“I always say that staying by my side is the safest place in the world. It remains truth only because I make the world itself perilous, and only because . . . I chose you, and you chose me.”

“Is that . . . really how you feel?”

“I’m not arrogant enough to think myself the world’s saviour. I am but an unstable crown vied by the monarchs of this world.”

“One cannot control their feelings, Iris. Even if you push us away, we will stay connected, the world will regard us as connected. Are we not in danger then?”

Iris grasped at the air. A blood-red string materialised in her reach. One of its ends buried inside her heart while the other reached for the sky, tying her with all she held dear.

Ludmint resisted rushing in. Although the curtains blocked her view and the petals blocked her part, she could still sense her fiancée’s hesitation, a torrent of thoughts gushing out of that flail body.

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“She shouldn’t have shown you such a deadly power,” Ludmint said. “The Threads of Love are among the hardest to sever; the backlash will harm your soul. And she won’t forgive herself.”

“Would I have cared if she were no longer someone I held dear?”

“That version of you has yet to exist—she will never exist.”

“You know me best.” Iris chuckled, defeated. “Even if I rid myself of those feelings, I’m certain they will emerge, and I’ll hurt her again.”

The Thread of Love slipped out of Iris’s hand. She seized the curtains and pushed them to the side. The only thing in her eyes was her fiancée, whose moonlit silhouette gleamed like pearls, like prized gems yearning for their rightful owner.

“I won’t ask for forgiveness. What I did, I did it knowing I’d worry you. This time is no different.”

“But every time, you’d comfort me with your rewards, with your perspective.”

“Are you . . . still waiting?”

“Since the moment you return, Dear.”

Iris took a step forward, scatting the line of petals. She embraced her fiancée, who carefully returned the gesture. The nightly desolation receded from the room. The swirling pink mist blocked the outer world from peering at this intimate moment.

It was an insignificant warmth that failed to influence Iris, but it still reached her heart, permeated her mind, and etched onto her soul. She wanted time to wait for her, to capture this act and store it in their wedding hall, where these memories filled the white marble walls.

Her fiancée gladly fulfilled her wish. She never let go nor spoke. Her feelings, communicated through her unsteady breaths, seeped in and out of her. Nothing but Iris could move her, nothing but Iris could sway her so strongly that she, too, felt like she no longer had any choice.

“I . . . shouldn’t have said something so thoughtless,” Iris mumbled. “You’ve always been correct. I tried to run away. I feared losing what I had so much that I thought it’d be better to never have them in the first place.”

“It wouldn’t be better.”

Iris nodded. “It tired me out.”

“I’ll always be here. All of us will always be here.”

Whenever she found herself sinking, drowning in the dark ocean, she could turn around and reach out. The friends she made, the family she found, the lovers she promised, they were there, always.

In her chest were suffocating secrets, secrets she refused to share, secrets hidden within layers of feints and illusions. Her family had unravelled a few, but the depth eluded them.

Sometimes she wondered if she could see it.

Iris slipped out of Ludmint’s embrace. She looked at that pair of sweet, reassuring eyes and that considerate smile. They would never ask any question. They would only listen until she got everything out.

“It feels comforting, knowing that I always have a choice.” Iris glanced behind her. Her maid still slept soundly, too soundly. “The night has gone for long, yet she is still asleep.”

“What you went through, she went through it too.”

Iris focused on her fiancée. The moon above her had yet to move. The distant light and the rolling clouds reinforced the quietude prepared for the two.

A series of coughs interrupted her thoughts. The pain radiated from her chest before it vanished like a flicker of light.

“This atmosphere is too perfect, too picturesque. I . . . would never feel so free in the real world, not when I’ve just escaped perils.”

Ludmint looked away. “The stresses are hurting you.”

“The trials have dulled my senses, but I am still me.”

Iris clapped her hands. Her human disguise burst apart, revealing her translucent membrane. Her body contained milky blue slime, which leaked through her and evaporated as thin fogs. Rainbow-tinted flowers grew around her, and countless candy-like vines invaded the bedroom. Colour-shifting gemstones manifested around her.

Before her fiancée could explain anything, Iris clapped her hands. The gemstones shattered; the flowers bloomed. An invisible shockwave swept across the illusion.

Reality fragmented. The moon cracked; the night fractured. Weak sunlight peered through the gaps, bringing with it the sounds of chirping birds and the murmurs of morning pedestrians.

Iris opened her eyes. She was resting in the middle of her bed, blanketed and lulled by her two partners. Ludmint couldn’t meet her gaze while Antina playfully snickered.

“Since when did you notice?” Antina said. “We’d like you to sleep more, Mistress.”

“I’ve slept enough, even if you think otherwise.” Iris smiled. “I . . . did not expect to be fooled by you two.”

Ludmint stayed silent. Although Iris couldn’t see her face, she could feel the guilt radiating from her uneasy fiancée. Those words had shocked her greatly, and she couldn’t ascertain whether they were transient or enduring.

“You agreed to it yourself, Ludmint,” Antina said. “We’ve received her promise of honesty and delicacy. You wished to hear her thoughts, yet you couldn’t accept such an impulse?”

Ludmint glanced at Antina before she focused on her fiancée. There was nothing she could say.

“If I keep hurting you like this,” Iris said, “maybe I don’t deserve you after all.”

“You’re wrong!” Ludmint’s voice was crisp, almost desperate.

“Are you confident?”

“I was just taken aback. I only need to comfort you until you no longer feel that way. The thought of leaving me will become an impossibility.”

“Don’t forget me, Mistress,” Antina said. “Even if you leave me, I’d still support you. Even if you no longer love me, I’d still try for your heart.”

Ludmint glared at Antina, who winked at her. The two restrained themselves from bickering as Iris got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. She got washed up by her two partners, who contested for her heart. Their laughter and flirtation brightened her mood.

“For the moment, Nupian won’t be able to reach me,” Iris said. “There is much to be accomplished in this precious break. Will you help me?”

Ludmint and Antina prepared plates and bowls of food for their patient, demanding her to taste and rank their culinary skills. She couldn’t rank them.

“Wherever you go, Mistress, I shall follow. Even if your maid and knight return, I’d still stay, if such is your wish.”

“You’ll have to persuade your mother when she returns.”

Ludmint faked coughing. “I’d like you to stay out of the investigation, but the Orthodoxy would not budge. They require the presence of all current and retired staff to undergo the audit process.”

“Now would be the most opportune of time.”

“Unfortunately, I couldn’t meddle with the selection process without drawing attention to you. However, I could notify you early. The Court will prepare all the evidence of your innocence.”

“Nothing but an inconvenience, then.”

Iris kissed her Ludmint farewell before she called for a carriage. Antina opened the door and guided her in, but her mistress did not let her enter. She pursed her lips, making a pitiful face.

“The maid is as busy as her mistress. Did you forget your duty?” Iris said.

Antina lowered her head. “I am to meet Kasbin of the Suppression Sect as The Court’s representative. I . . . thought she could wait a little, just until I could guide you.”

“The faster you complete the task, the quicker you may return to my side.”

“Where may I find you, Mistress?”

Iris chuckled. “I’ll be waiting at the salon, not as Iris the Slime Girl, but as Iris the Scholar.”

With a letter in her hand, Iris commanded the carriage to set off.