Antina covered her asleep mistress with a warm blanket before she looked at Gantil, who fiercely resisted the urge to ask what had happened. Iris and Antina disappeared, and Iris returned while sleeping with an expression indicative of a comforting dream.

“Is there anything I could do?” Gantil said. “We can arrange a suite for her right this instant.”

“Is its quality up to par?”

“We’ll try to meet her standard.”

Antina shook her head. “She will be leaving soon.”

Gantil lowered her head. “Please give us a chance to redeem ourselves.”

“Even if I were to be generous, Mistress didn’t want to impose on you. You will only hinder her design.”

No words could refute Antina’s statement. The mist-filling magic array could not hinder the cultists or prevent the great evil from discovering Iris. The pirate crew and mercenaries amounted to mere sparkles before a roaring storm. A gentle flick of a sleeve would extinguish their fleeting glows.

“Lady Antina, what compensation should we prepare?” Gantil said.

Antina slid her fingers across the sofa’s support, feeling her mistress’s warmth radiating to her fingertips. “The Court does not lack worldly materials, and Mistress cares little about their monetary worth. Sincerity pleases her, hearty emotions even more.”

Would Iris accept her if Gantil wrapped herself in thin layers of fabric and heart-shaped bows? Would Iris carefully unclothe her, string by string, bow by bow, until her rawness bore untainted?

The strange thoughts simmered in her heart, lingering despite her effort to dispel them. She looked at Iris’s blissful smile. It directed its tenderness at her; its soundless whispers tickled her. She didn’t know what she was feeling, nor did she know how to react to it.

“Will she . . . be pleased with a piece of me?” Gantil said.

“She treasures all love.” Antina smiled. “Are you prepared to keep a piece of her?”

Gantil glanced at the door into the study, where Mantil was reading her books and daydreaming about her adventurous future. Nothing would be more precious than her daughter’s future.

“Unfortunately, my means cannot keep such a precious jewel.”

“Your daughter is blessed. Her future . . . will be bright.”

“Lady Iris’s divination will come to pass.”

“Mistress’s gift is more than a mere divination.”

Faint blackness descended onto the living room. Invisible shadows sealed the gaps between doors and windows. The room stayed unchanged, but nothing could leak in or out without Antina’s permission.

Once Gantil readied herself, Antina produced a delicate bracelet embedded with multiple gemstones. They inconspicuously flickered under the lantern light. Gantil received the bracelet and, examining its brightest jewel, saw a trace of an expectant smile within its fluid surface.

While Gantil was observing the bracelet, Antina knocked playfully at the study room’s door. The shadow clinging to the wooden frame loosened. Mantil opened the door and entered upon receiving Antina’s inviting chuckle.

Gantil turned to Antina, who gave her a nod. She presented the bracelet to her daughter. Mantil excitedly received the bracelet but ceased focusing on it when she gazed at Iris.

Her serene state resembled a sleeping princess whose beauty transcended nature, whose figure inspired scholars. She was resting harmoniously. Her grace permeated the room and all who chanced upon her. To attend to her needs was a blessing.

The bracelet in Mantil’s hand shone. The largest gemstone revealed a hazy vision. A young maid followed her mistress to a luxurious banquet, where her mistress showered her with praises and affection. The maid kissed her mistress’s palm, anticipating greater rewards afterwards.

Mantil couldn’t see the maid’s face, but she could feel the maid’s thrill mixed with passion. That maid was a Monster Girl. That maid was her. She faithfully served her mistress, carefully attended to her needs, and lovingly pleased her heart.

Her adventurous dream gave way to a humble yet ambitious goal. She was determined to stay beside Iris.

The vision dimmed. Mantil lost her hold on the bracelet. It slipped out of her grasp, but she swiftly caught it. Her trembling hands clenched to the bracelet, which radiated ticklish warmth reminiscent of a wavy tease.

“That . . . was me?” Mantil looked at her mother.

Gantil failed to find an explanation. She looked at Antina.

“Mistress’s power peeks at the River of Time. Your potential and desires give rise to possible futures,” Antina said. “It is a blessing and a reward to serve Mistress.”

Gantil took a deep breath. “What about her future in the deep sea?”

“Destiny is fickle; she may become a pirate, or become a part of The Court, or both. Only she can decide her path.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Mantil almost blunted out her first thought but kept to herself. Antina’s words evoked her prior visions. In a stormy world, she rode the tides with a solemn gaze respected by her crew. On a tranquil night, she carried her mistress’s hat and received her mistress’s hands. Both were exciting, fulfilling.

Her heart itched. She touched her chest and found herself yearning for the unknown. “I . . . don’t know what I want.”

“Then you should slowly try them,” Gantil said. “There’s no need to decide now. Finding yourself is important.”

Antina chuckled. “Or you can be greedy and take everything.”

Gantil held her breath despite knowing that Antina wouldn’t do anything strange. Those words, spoken by a Monster Girl, seductively persisted in the room.

“We’ll send you a letter once Mantil’s mentor is ready,” Antina said. “The bracelet contains Mistress’s power. In front of her power, even a Grandmaster must reconsider their intention.”

“Allow me to escort you,” Gantil said. “We currently lack a suitable gift for Lady Iris. Please give us a second chance in our next meeting.”

“She’ll be looking forward to your choice.” Antina delicately carried her mistress. “I advise you to disable the concealment formation.”

The shadow sealing the room receded. Environmental noises returned to the living room. Gantil rang her handbell and ordered her Mages to shut down the formation. They doubtfully followed her command.

“Our earlier clash has alerted The Grand Formation, the Orthodoxy will send people to inspect the region. Your overt anxiety will be noticeable,” Antina said.

“Should we hide our people?”

“There’s nothing suspicious about operating warehouses and inspecting fine arts.”

“What about you, Lady Antina? Will they trouble you and Lady Iris?”

Antina giggled. Her voice brightened the atmosphere. Her mistress shifted her posture. Antina suppressed her tone. She gave Gantil a weak smile.

“No one can disturb Mistress’s rest.”

“Please tell her we’re forever grateful.”

“Tell her yourself, Dear.”

Antina boarded the carriage, set her mistress on the opposite sofa, and ordered the driver to send her to the Shivering Heart Salon. The driver was about to leave when a lady appeared in front of the carriage. Her long-sleeved shirt couldn’t cover her bandaged hands, which trembled when an imaginary gaze fell on her.

Laurian averted her gaze from the driver and lowered her head. She nervously persisted in silence, gathering words within her throat.

“I was wrong,” she shouted. “No one told me to intercept your carriage. Please punish only me.”

The driver hmphed and waited for the response from the inside. The magical mists receded into the creeks and alleys between rising townhouses and delipidated warehouses. Vibrant pavement trees and bushes returned colours to the grey environment. Bird chirps permeated the sparse street.

“This place has gotten lively,” Antina said. “Isn’t she adorable, Flavian?”

“What should I do with her, Lady Antina?” Flavian said. “She disrespected Lady Iris and tried to damage her carriage.”

“She tried to frighten you. She deserves your punishment.”

“May I have some suggestions?”

“She tried to play with your feelings. Why not retaliate?”

Antina’s mischievous tone echoed in Flavian’s head. Her chest warmed until her heart thumbed audibly in her ears. A puff of moist breath seeped out of her mouth. She exhaled and inhaled, thoughts forming in her glistening eyes.

She returned to Laurian while taking off the hat concealing her features. Her silver eyes gazed at her opponent and danced around the bandaged silhouette. She teased the exposed flesh with her sight, the exposed heart with her movement, and the exposed emotions with her gleaming expression.

Feeling an unfamiliar yet pleasant look, Laurian lifted her head. The silvery stars struck her and made her its object of desire. The short silver threads of hair behind the driver breathed sparks decorating the face she could never forget.

“Lady Iris doesn’t hold a grudge against you,” Flavian said. “My name is Flavian, one of the lady’s many attendants.”

“I am Laurian, Second Mate of Seafaring Scope. I’ve lived with the ocean my entire life. Please forgive my rudeness.”

“You sound timid despite your intimidating appearance.” Flavian chuckled and flashed a grand smile. “Is this how the Second Mate should act?”

“We may be crude and aggressive, but we have rules and principles.”

“A lady of principle dared to shoot at a noble lady’s carriage?”

“It was a warning shot!”

“Can you pay for the property damage? Will you work under us until you’ve repaid your debt?”

“I . . . if Gantil allows it, I’ll work for your lady until I earn my freedom.”

Flavian opened her mouth and then paused. She turned to look at the slit between her and the interior, swallowing palpable air. Through the urge to profusely thank her lady for giving her an opportunity, she got back to Laurian and flicked a business card at her.

Laurian grabbed the card. The warmth lingering on its surface coated her fingertips. A flowery fragrance hit her nose, but she suppressed her surprise.

“I’ll have to ask for permission first,” Laurian said.

Flavian shook her head. “That’s my business card. Your punishment is to become my correspondence. We will discuss minor issues through letters.”

“But I’m not good at negotiation.”

“Spare some time to come and learn from us.” Flavian winked. “I’ll teach you lots and lots of things.”

Laurian frowned. She couldn’t understand what Flavian meant, yet her heart raced from hearing that shifting tone. “Do I only need to send you a letter every few days?”

“Are we not already friends?”

“Yes . . . Flavian, we’re already friends. I’ll write you about my day, but you must write me about your day too.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Flavian rode the carriage away from the clean street, disappearing into a corner of an intersection. She did not have to look back to know Laurian was staring at her departing presence. Imaging the confusion in Laurian’s eyes was delightful.

She held her head high while indulging in what could have happened within the carriage. Her eyes shifted between the front and the back, although she kept to herself. Lady Antina must have known her wild imagination, but she did not stop her. It must be fine to daydream a little.

Passersby filled the sidewalks and bricked streets outside the isolated region, entering and leaving storefronts of various goods. Clicking sounds of high heels and boots rhymed with the twirling gales that hit the carriage and rustled its roof ornaments.

Among the sea of workers and travellers were a group of priests and knights. They held their heads high, their weapons and staffs by their sides, and marched in the middle of the road. Their leader, a Bishop, held a crystal-clear orb and inspected it whenever he arrived before a large patch of people.

The people opened a path for the envoys of the Church of Knowledge. The Bishop led the way toward the dark clouds, which gathered above the distant street. Thunders hummed their wicked tunes while lightning crackled amidst the clear sky. Faint distorted laughter reached even the farther streets, although heard only by the supernatural few.

As Iris’s carriage passed the patrol, the Bishop’s orb flashed twilight purple. He frowned and ordered his Paladins and Priests to move. They blocked the carriage despite its luxurious ornaments.

Flavian, her eyes under her veil, lifted her head. Her glare pierced through the concealment and landed on the Paladin at the front, who desperately resisted the urge to give way.

She adjusted her hat and turned to the Bishop. Her sight fell on the glowing orb.

The Bishop walked to her. His golden-rimmed white cloak rustled. He took a deep breath, held the orb high, and solemnly smiled.

“Please let us inspect the carriage.”