Iris alighted the carriage and paid her driver silver coins and a smile. She held a letter of recommendation in her right hand and a banquet of flowers in her left. Despite being in the morning, Shivering Heart Salon remained dim and cool, its atmosphere permeated with bright, entertaining colours.
At the glass doors were a pair of ladies tasked with receiving the guests. They spotted Iris, who ambled toward the establishment while surveying the nearby stores and parks. She carried a professional yet casual air that seized their focus.
“Would you not inspect my invitation?” Iris said.
The stunned ladies recollected themselves. Iris’s voice blinked in their ears. This thoughtful, charming tone was unmistakable. They hesitantly saluted, but she raised her right hand, stopping them from exposing her disguise.
“I’m here not as a senior member of The Court but as a potential client. You two wouldn’t flirt with new customers, would you?”
“Only if they were as pretty as you.”
“I’ve remembered your scents.”
The ladies hastily inspected the letter as they suppressed the expectation in their eyes. They returned the letter to Iris, staring at her face, shifting away, shifting close, keeping words hidden behind their pursed lips.
“Unspoken desires cannot be fulfilled. You must reach out to grab what you want.” Iris crumpled the letter and opened her palm. A pair of bright roses rested in her hand. “Have my encouragement, Ladies.”
“I . . . we will tell you when it’s appropriate.”
“Securing a chance to meet me?”
The ladies didn’t refuse. Iris giggled. She slipped the roses into the ladies’ pocket and, once she got an entrance bracelet, entered the salon.
Cold winds flowed through her, candlelight illuminated the tranquil hall, and music sprinkled the mood. Solemn whispers and seductive murmurs permeated each room, where groups of ladies from various parts of the town gathered, served by cute bartenders, attended by wonderful waitresses.
A lady approached her, flashing a bashful smile while keeping her head slightly lowered, her eyes at Iris’s feet. Her nametag glimmered under the waning light, although it remained visually distinct from her neat uniform.
“Guide me around the first floor,” Iris said. “Remember, I am but a new, inexperienced client.”
“Please follow me, Lady Iris.”
The lady led Iris past the main bar, through a series of private lounges, and across an open salon. Curtains swayed to conceal and reveal passionate, serious silhouettes while the soft melodies muffled the unsightly noises.
Despite the lively atmosphere, the salon maintained its quietude, blanketed by magical shades.
Iris kept a bright smile on her face. Her manner exuded a forbidden air; a few bewitched ladies approached her, but her guide politely diverted their attention. They too couldn’t bring themselves to offer their hands for Iris, whom they could only admire from a distance.
Near the stairway to the second floor, Iris glimpsed a familiar face. At a smaller, more secluded counter, Melan in a slim black dress sat on her lonesome. She held a glass of martini in her right hand and tapped the counter with her left.
Her unfocused eyes shifted from the marble counter to the fountain of glasses, the waterfall of colourful liquids, and the blazing fireplaces. A skilful bartender poured her another glass before sliding her a plate of herbal cookies, telling her they were for calming her mind.
“There’s no need to hide your feelings,” the bartender said. “In this place, who has no regret?”
“Is it that obvious?” Melan said.
“Your dreary eyes are exceptionally noticeable.”
Melan swallowed her martini and winced. The burning in her throat passed to her chest and persisted as her mind blurred. She looked around for a mirror but found none close enough. The bartender held her hand and placed a pocket mirror in it.
Those slender fingers stroked her palm. Melan instinctively tensed. A bubble of memory arose in her heart. A group of her students, tainted by the curse of lust, changed into creatures of darkness, hurdled in a cold prison where no light nor sympathy could reach. They looked up at her, their eyes swelling with confusion and fear—with humanity those monstrous eyes shouldn’t have.
Her closest student, Trissie, leaned on the coarse concrete wall. Her faint breathing reminded Melan of sewn wounds on her arms and legs, her malnourished body the despair in her hazy eyes.
Her other students tended to the injured while glaring at her. She was supposed to protect them, yet she didn’t dare to stop everyone else.
An accomplice like her could only kill her pupil to get her out of her misery.
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She refused to imagine the fates of her fallen students if the Court of Indulgence didn’t free them. If Madam Black Rose didn’t save them, if The Court didn’t take them in, she wouldn’t know what she must do.
“You did nothing wrong.” An angelic voice pulled Melan out of her daze.
Melan turned to the familiar stranger. Her flowing blue hair highlighted her starry eyes. Her sweet smile melted the arousing guilt as if she were the witness, the authority, the saviour.
There was a dark fragrance covering that lady, yet Melan couldn’t feel any wickedness.
“What do you mean?” Melan said. “Have we . . . met before?”
Iris seated herself beside her victim. She waved at the bartender and ordered a strong liquor. The bartender lost her playful air, holding in her modesty while preparing the best drink of her life.
“There’s no use in pondering what could’ve been. You did what you could; your students would never fault you.” Iris pushed the glass she ordered toward Melan. “Let this drink help ease your heart, if only for a moment.”
“Who are you? How did you know about me?” Melan resisted the urge to stand up and interrogated this stranger. Her unfamiliar appearance unnerved her. “Are you . . . one of them?”
Iris chuckled. “The emblem of Royal Magic Academy exposes your disguise. A distinguished professor, sitting by herself at a lonely bar, how unexpected.”
Melan clutched her jacket. She had hidden the emblem, but its edges poked out from beneath. A pocket watch tumbled from her inner pocket. As it landed, its lid flipped open, scattering pictures of her pupils and her.
She instinctively covered everything, her eyes darting around. But it didn’t matter anymore. She uncovered the photos and collected them, placing them beside her rough pocket watch.
“My condolences,” Iris said. “The tragedy at Royal Magic Academy must’ve affected you greatly.”
“That wasn’t it. I . . . didn’t resent them.”
Iris blinked, her elusive smile lingering. “Who were they?”
Melan scanned Iris’s features. An invisible ripple surrounded Iris, fluttering like fragile butterfly wings.
“The Court of Indulgence.” Melan ignored the pain in her chest and downed the gifted drink. Her body lost its balance. She leaned on the counter. “They seized control over the academy ground and broke into the Mystic Tower.”
“Yet you didn’t resent them.”
“I’d be a hypocrite if I were to blame them. They . . . did what they must.”
Melan coughed, exhaling thin clouds of vapours that darkened her vision. Her eyes couldn’t focus on anything. Her body lunged forward, but Iris caught her, allowing her to lean to the side.
An intense fragrance returned Melan to herself. This terrific familiarity chilled her heart. The truth eluded her despite her efforts.
“If not for them, my students would still . . .”
“Would you try to change anything, if given a chance?”
Melan lifted her head. The angelic face that stared down at her gave her a calming smile. The faint shadow muddled Iris’s expression, yet Melan easily understood it. This air reminded her of an unforgettable mystique. Had they met before?
“I should’ve been more careful. They . . . didn’t deserve their fates.” Melan’s voice faltered. “Their futures were no more, and their places in our world vanished.”
“Do you think they regretted it?”
Those teary eyes, filled with terror, pleaded with their teacher for relief. They, too, had humanity, even if they were no longer human.
“It was an accident, but I don’t think they regretted it. Their eyes, when she saved them, were bright, brighter than everything I’ve ever seen. It’s like . . . they were free, truly free.”
She couldn’t understand herself—her contempt toward the Corrupted Ones dissolved by the tears of her Corrupted students. She should’ve helped them, freed them from prison, and let them leave for a world that accepted their new selves.
Did she really believe that they were still themselves?
“Sorry, Miss, I must’ve drunk too much.” Melan carefully separated herself from Iris. “What I’ve said is outrageous; please don’t mind my foolish rambling.”
“There’s nothing foolish about searching for your own truth.” Iris placed her business card on the counter. “The opinions of the majority mean nothing to us. What we view as freedom, others may view them as sins. In the end, we lead with our choices. The consequences, ours.”
Melan blinked. She examined the card and learned the name of this mysterious lady. “Lady Iris, I hope we’ll meet again.”
“There’s no need to repay me. I merely helped you because of a request.”
“Have we met before?”
“We’ll see each other soon.” Iris called for the bartender and gave her a rose-shaped pin before she returned to Melan. “Your students have never blamed you, Dear.”
Iris pressed her index finger on Melan’s lips before she ascended to the second floor, guided by her faithful attendant. Her departure returned the quiet bar to its original state, crowded by lingering music and lovely vocals.
Melan finally remembered where she felt that intimidating yet hypnotic air. Her prior conversation, led by Iris, unfolded as disconnected parts joined into an undeniable whole.
There was no conclusive evidence, yet she was certain. She stood up from her seat and gazed at the second floor’s entrance. Even if she barged in, even if the bar granted her entry, she wouldn’t have anything to say.
Now was not the time.
…
“Should we keep an eye on her?” Iris’s attendant whispered.
“She’ll find us sooner or later.”
“Your safety is at risk, Mistress.”
Iris stopped in front of her office and turned to her attendant. “There’s already a seed of doubt in her heart; a Seed of Corruption will only interfere with its growth.”
The attendant lowered her head, trembling. “Please punish me for overstepping my duty.”
“How cunning. Are you expecting a reward after tricking me?”
Iris touched her attendant’s cheek and pressed her fingers on her pursed lips. Her nail slipped inside, feeling the slippery tongue and warm saliva. Her attendant shivered, her legs losing strength. Before she could moan, Iris withdrew her hand and licked it sweetly.
“Is that enough?”
The attendant weakly nodded. She opened the door for her mistress. A thin pile of papers and boxes lay on the office desk. Iris sat on her most comfortable chair and gestured for the attendant to move closer.
“I’m starting to miss my maid and knight,” Iris said. “Have they finally grown tired of me?”
“If you wish, Mistress, we’ll recall them back to your side.”
“Never mind, they wouldn’t want to return without a gift.”
“But if you’re lonely . . .”
Iris rhythmically tapped the table. The noises echoed in the soundproof room, wavering the curtains and the attendant’s heart. Despite the magical crystal emitting cold winds, her body heated under her uniform.
She shifted her posture, feeling itchy. Her eyes peeped at her mistress, who leisurely read documents. It was torture, but it was also pleasurable.
“There are a few who received my gifts. Bring them here.”
“Does that include . . . me?”
“How do I taste?”
Blushing, the attendant left the room to get the expectant Monster Girls. Iris placed down the documents and leaned on her chair. The cold air relaxed her body.
She closed her eyes and let her soul drift inward, falling and sinking until she found herself in a world of haze.
“Duality,” she whispered, “how have you been?”