Dim pink glows blanketed the cushion-filled room with a sense of ease, a sense of drowsiness instilled from a quiet lullaby. Faint hazes from pastille burners cooled the air and relaxed the mind. Iris rested in her fluffy chair, whose soft silky surface moulded its silhouette according to her figure. Only Antina was beside her. She checked the documents while meditating on topics unbeknownst to all.

“They decorated well,” Antina said. “They pour their hearts and souls on every inch of this room.”

“Too well.” Iris placed down her document. “The mood doesn’t lend itself to a productive affair.”

“That is the least of your concerns, Mistress.”

“Working is how I heal my heart.”

“Are you healing it, or casting a thin veil over it?”

Iris glared at her maid. “Has The Founder’s daughter always been this free?”

“Serving you is the priority. Your needs supersede the pesky paperwork.”

“I suddenly crave black tea.”

Though pouting, Antina retreated out of the room. Her mistress gave no specification for the type of black tea; she must decide for herself the most suitable variation.

As the tranquillity settled, Iris snapped her fingers. The pink glow of the scented candles fizzled away, replaced by the energetic yellow glow from the metallic sconces. The half-closed curtains parted for morning sunlight to greet the misty room, dispersing the permeative fragrance.

Iris ambled around the room admiring the portraits of various Monster Girls. They stood in notable landscapes of the Garcient Kingdom. She recognized a few places. Still many eluded her knowledge.

Her eyes moved from the extravagant ornaments to her working desk, crafted from the most exquisite mahogany. Several checked documents lay neat on one side while the unchecked stacked carefreely on the other.

She came to the table and picked a page that caught her eye. She examined this newly recruited Monster Girl.

Nilta was a Butterfly Girl whose translucent wings perfumed intoxicating scents whenever they moved. Her still purple eyes and short magenta hair gave her an air of lethargy, of a life submerged in molasses of monotony.

Aside from the subtle coarseness of her features, she mirrored Iris’s human appearance. She carried the same determination, the same stubbornness, and the same loneliness.

Iris circled Nilta’s name and pressed her fingers against the realistic portrait. In between her fingertips and the paper, rotating concentric hexagons materialised and locked on Nilta’s heart. With each revolution they drew out immaterial particles, whose aggregation formed an incorporeal card.

The card flashed upon shifting into reality and fell up into Iris’s open palm. She retracted her hand and flipped the card to look at its face.

The painterly style obscured minute detail but amplified the focal points.

A tatter-winged angel, whose stained halo dripped tears onto her messy hair, reached out for a thorny flower shrub. Blood from her pricked fingers traced branching paths to the ground.

Iris snapped the card in half. It dissolved into dim glows that left behind no trace.

After separating Nilta’s document from the rest, Iris continued her work. The unchecked pile gradually lessened; her eyes glazed over every detail, yet she no longer found any anomaly.

When Antina returned with a table cart full of dessert and a tea set, Iris was leaning on her chair, eyes closed, mind wandering. Antina silently parked the cart beside the tea table and came to her mistress’s side. That unblemished expression occupied her heart, commanding it to beat in an uncomfortable rhythm.

Antina drew her hand close to her mistress’s ear. Iris slowly opened her eyes. Her gaze met her maid, who bashfully distanced herself.

“Please punish me for disturbing your rest,” Antina said.

“Your scent woke me up.” Iris touched her nose. “I do not dislike it.”

“This perfume will become my main from now on.”

With Antina’s help, Iris went to the tea table and watched her maid’s wavey performance. Antina poured strawberry sauce on a piece of vanilla cake, drawing a heart encircling her mistress’s name.

She then rinsed a cup of mixed-herb black tea, whose earthy aroma refreshed the atmosphere.

Iris received the warm cup and tasted the floral note. Her smile blossomed. She placed down the cup and, while waiting for the refill, sliced a piece of cake.

That piece was for her maid. Although initially refused, Antina succumbed to her mistress’s bright eyes and leaned close to nibble on the slice. Its taste melted on her tongue like how her mistress’s flavour melted on her lips.

Her breaths tickled her mistress. Their distance permitted only the slightest movement before they must embrace each other.

Despite the temptation, Antina backed away.

“That was your best chance.” Iris licked her lips. “I wouldn’t have resisted.”

“I can’t interrupt your teatime.”

“You would become my tea, your lips the sweet.”

“The taste would be inferior to what I’ve prepared.”

“The aftertaste will be heavenly.” Iris chuckled. “You’re too observant, too sensitive.”

“Please confide your thoughts. Everything will be as you wish.”

“Out of those we welcomed to the Court of Indulgence, one stood out.”

Antina bowed and went to look for that mystical Monster Girl who obtained her mistress’s recognition. It didn’t take long before she spotted that Monster Girl.

She looked at her mistress with disbelieved eyes. “How could this be?”

“Is her appearance too bewitching?”

“Allow me to reprimand those who failed your order.”

Iris shook her head. “They’d never intentionally hide her existence. An external influence blinded them, concealed this girl from their detection.”

Frowning, Antina checked once more the details on Nilta’s report. No ordinary power could stand against the Court Founder’s blessing on all the Court Members.

“To think that our security may have been compromised . . .”

“My divination suggests otherwise. The interference wasn’t aiming at us. It was to conceal her.”

“From whom?”

“The answer to that question will certainly be interesting.”

Iris rang the handbell on her desk. A Monster Girl swiftly answered her call, greeted the senior member, and waited quietly for a chance to gain good grace. Iris ordered her to fetch Olivia, the leader of the Monster Girls rescued from Royal Magic Academy.

Once the Monster Girl brought Olivia to the room, Iris beckoned for her. She bit on a piece of cookie, broke it in half, and gave one to her dazed retainer. The Monster Girl carefully received the piece and hesitantly swallowed it.

Against her effort, her feline ears couldn’t stop flipping, and her slender tail curled around its tip as if trying to squeeze onto itself. She bashfully dashed out of the room, though the corner of her eyes still caught a glimpse of her smiling superior.

The door gently closed. Antina went to the door and pressed her hand on its wooden exterior. Strings of arcane characters manifested on the gate, sealing it with invisible chains.

“Please give me your order, Mistress,” Olivia said.

“Have you been well?”

“Everyone’s been kind to us, too kind.”

“Do you have fun?”

Olivia blushed. “Other sisters . . . have taught me well.”

“The world is a vast place, with a lot to explore. Take your chance, experience our pleasure, and become a pillar for those after you.”

“I won’t disappoint you, Mistress.”

Iris gently tapped the table. Olivia sat opposite her mistress. She lowered her head when Antina stared at her, but she never showed any nervousness. She kept her eyes fixed on the teacup in front of her, where her mistress’s reflection lingered.

“Now is your chance to uphold that promise,” Iris said.

Antina gave Nilta’s document to Olivia, who thoroughly read it. Her eyes couldn’t move away from Nilta’s appearance. Many questions swirled unasked in her mind, but only in her mind.

“Please allow me to take care of her.” Olivia raised her fist. “She shall be my closest sister.”

“She won’t get any privilege but that of a Monster Girl of our Court.” Iris sniggered. “She and I have no relation. Her curious appearance is her natural right, a coincidence played by none.”

Olivia hastily apologised but was stopped by her mistress’s nonchalant smile.

“Look after her for me, but don’t give her any special attention. She’s in my eyes, although only dimly.”

“Such is already a blessing.”

“What about you, Olivia? You’re now at the centre of my attention, the jewel in my eyes.”

“Mistress . . . I can do anything for you.”

“To repay my kindness, or to form a more passionate bond?”

Olivia looked away. Her shyness blatantly displayed itself as if wishing to be noticed by her mistress, who could reciprocate her feelings and nurture them into a long-lasting warmth.

Though smiling, Iris didn’t continue the conversation. She invited Olivia to taste her dessert and relax. The cakes and pies and cookies and candies on the table gradually dwindled until only the last few remained, which was when Olivia reached her limit. She hurriedly excused herself out of the room, her face bright pink like peaches.

“My body too is yours,” Antina said.

“Then allow me to use it.” Iris snapped her fingers. “I’m starting to miss my lovely assassin.”

Antina pouted but still went away. She returned with a tray of fruits and the silent assassin who, despite her preparation, still shivered at the sight of her saviour. Barineer could never look into Iris’s eyes without feeling that persisting itch in her heart.

“I’ve been well, Mistress,” she said. “Please use me as you see fit.”

“There’s no need to unsheathe your blade; what I require is your other expertise.”

“Whose secrets am I to uncover?”

“Zici Monalin, a floor manager at Prime Archive. She has no secret, no enemy, and no background.”

“The truth will reveal itself to you, Mistress.”

“Do not approach her or anyone related to her.”

“Should I also limit my method to the ordinary means?”

“If you decide so.”

“A secret that eludes The Court must be extraordinary. I cannot hope to match its supernatural means.”

“Can you do so with the methods of the mundane?”

“With your blessing, Mistress.”

Iris grabbed Barineer’s hand and pressed it on her chest. Her pulsating heart transmitted meaning that escaped words into her assassin, whose arm tensed up as if meticulously touched by a succubus’s fingers.

Barineer drew back her hand and held it on her chest, feeling that elegant heat suffusing her flesh. Her pale skin beneath her black assassin uniform pinkened, enough to penetrate the black fabric. She struggled to find the reasons she held herself back, even though her dependable saviour gave her an enticing chance.

“Remember that rhythm, Barineer. That is my blessing.” Iris swiped her hand in front of her assassin. A glowing blue thread extended from her chest toward Barineer’s palm. “Kiss my mark, and my power will subsume you.”

The heart-shaped blue mark sank deep inside the back of Barineer’s palm. She touched it but failed to sense anything. Her dazed eyes only returned to clarity when she noticed her mistress’s gaze curiously looming over her.

“Please watch over me, Mistress.”

“Always, my Dear.”

Barineer lingered only a few more moments, tasting a bit of her mistress’s dessert. She determinedly left to fulfil her duty, which had now become her only thought.

Her parting countenance showed that much.

After organising the recruitment documents, Iris and Antina left the office and went down to the first floor, where other ladies guided her to a premium lounge. She knocked a few times and, receiving no response, pushed the curtain-covered door.

Parmin lay on a bar counter with glasses of martini scattered around her, their cocktails wetting her shiny dress. Morbi pushed her wife down while licking the shoulders, her hands reaching for the ears.

The two intoxicatedly looked at Iris.