Morbi rose to sit on the bar counter, her messy clothes sticking to her figure. Her loose hair flowed from her tilted head and partially covered her eyes. Her gaze pierced through those strands and flirted with Iris’s bright, sparkling eyes.

Iris closed her eyes and raised her right hand to block her maid’s eyes. Her chuckling maid gladly accepted that warm palm on her face. She carefully held it while tracing down that slender arm.

“Would you like a drink?” Morbi said. “I did not expect any visitor, much less you, Iris.”

“I’m still sick, Lady Morbi. Alcoholic drink isn’t good.”

“My brewing skill is the speciality of our court.”

“Interrupting Parmin’s bliss would be too shameful of me.” Iris stopped blocking Antina’s eyes and went to a seat near the counter, facing the two half-naked Monster Girls. “Please ignore us. We . . . can wait.”

Morbi coyly bent down. Her hands held Parmin’s waist and slithered upwards under Parmin’s laced dress. She drew her lips close to Parmin but never touched. Her face hovered slightly out of reach, yet Parmin couldn’t do anything except tremble along with the caressing.

Despite the redness on her face and the sweat on her body, Morbi backed away. She clicked her tongue, reached for a wet towel to clean stains on her body, and adjusted her dress. She got up from the disappointed Parmin who too redressed herself.

“You’re different today,” Morbi said. “Where did our easily flustered Iris go?”

“If I show my desire, would you force me until I gave in?”

“With your permission.”

Iris shook her head. “Many things occupy my mind such that passion has no place in it. I’m . . . too tired to feel bashful.”

“Have you finally let go of your mask?”

“Mayhaps?”

Parmin clapped her hands. The fallen chairs and glasses and plates reorganized themselves as new, cleansed and rearranged by magic. She came to Iris and held out the chair for her wife. Morbi took a seat while serving Iris and Antina drinks.

Iris, smelling no alcohol, sipped it. The sour taste tickled her mind.

“What brings you here, Iris?” Morbi said. “The Court has no more work for you.”

“I’m here to . . . ask for your forgiveness.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

“I’d like to postpone our date. Until I’ve fixed this problem, we cannot . . . go too far.”

Parmin’s eyes widened. She peeped at her wife’s amused expression but kept her thoughts to herself. Morbi let silence course through her, permeate her, and submerge her until her aura became unreadable. She reached for her wife’s face and traced her fingernails along that delicate face before reticently pulling back.

“As long as it may take, I can wait.” She chortled. “Then we shall push until we break.”

Holding her breath, Iris nodded. “But that’s not enough.”

“Is my request too little?”

“Your request is already my obligation.”

Parmin pouted. “We didn’t get that far when you were with me.”

Iris pointed at her chest. “I had to halve my heart, one for you, one for Ludmint.”

Parmin slapped herself and refused to speak when her wife glared at her. She shouldn’t have brought up that moment; the punishment that befell her was . . . too nightmarish.

“There is a business trip I must attend,” Morbi said. “You shall come with me, to an underground network owned by Nature Defiler.”

“Can I bring my acquaintances?”

“With their letters of recommendation, no one will object to your admittance.”

“Does your invitation alone not suffice?”

“Would you like to be in the spotlight, Dear?”

Though the temptation beckoned her, Iris snuffed out that thought. Two senior members showing up at the same time would attract too many gazes.

“Am I to become your maid?”

“Even as a disguise, that is unacceptable.” Morbi touched her lips. “You will be my escort, my lovely lady.”

Antina coughed. “Wherever Mistress is, I must be by her side.”

“I wouldn’t dare to meddle with The Founder’s plan.”

“When will we go?”

“The letter of invitation will arrive when the date draws near. I’ll inform you when they set the location.”

“Please take good care of me.”

Morbi wrapped her arm around Parmin, stroking her back. “Worry not, Iris. I’ve already practised a lot.”

“Am I her substitute?” Parmin said. “Dear, your words hurt me.”

“I can hurt you more than that.” Morbi leaned on her wife and licked her face. “You love that kind of pain, though.”

While Morbi and Parmin flirted, Iris rose from her seat after finishing the drink. She took her maid’s hand and left the room. Her quiet farewell trailed after her departure, sealing the room under her persisting scent, a mix of flowery, earthy, candy-like fragrances.

The door locked itself. The curtains covering the entrance obscured the small blinded windows. Morbi seized her wife’s arm and pushed her down. They fell from their seats and onto the cold, hard, prickish floor.

Parmin only moaned. Her hands carefully touched her irresistible partner.

…

“Were you disappointed?” Iris said.

“Your well-being is the priority, Mistress,” Antina said. “There . . . will be more chances in the future.”

“Ludmint would be mad if she heard that.”

“She alone can’t monopolise you, Mistress. You’re too precious, too charming.”

“Do you think you could take me?”

Antina clasped her hands. “Even if I fail, I won’t regret trying.”

Grinning, Iris knocked on the wooden slit above the carriage sofa. The driver opened the slit and leaned her ear closer. Iris whispered her commands before winking at the blushing driver, who quickly closed the slit and accelerated the speed.

Antina frowned. “Must you send me away?”

“I’m giving you a window of opportunity.”

“Your side is where I must be.”

“You cannot always have what you want.” Iris pressed her index finger on her maid’s lips. “I am to meet Ludmint’s colleagues. Your presence will only cast unpleasant rumours. After all, I’m Ludmint’s.”

“I’m jealous.” Antina sighed. “Please keep me in your mind while I’m away.”

“My guilt will never let go of your visage.”

“Your guilt is lovely. Let me comfort you with a surprise gift.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Antina melted away. Iris shut her eyes and dozed off to the unsteady tremor of the carriage. Although the sofa absorbed much of the impact, it failed to evade her perception. Even the muffled whispers of the passersby couldn’t escape her. They gave rise to background noises strangely soothing.

Iris arrived at a modest restaurant in a corner of a barren street. A few trams passed by the quiet walkway, on which businessmen and ladies in formal attires frequented. Everyone respectfully kept their distance, their eyes focusing only on their destination.

A waitress came to receive Iris. She delicately curtseyed, her gesture professional and graceful. Iris whispered her appointment, and the waitress guided her to the second floor. There was already a table covered in red tablecloth and prearranged cutlery waiting.

At the table were familiar faces. Cilvia waved at Iris while Lidoac smiled at her. Iris sat opposite Cilvia, giving Lidoac only the corner of her eye.

“Thank you for accepting my request,” she said. “It must’ve been difficult.”

“Indeed it has,” Lidoac said. “Ludmint has always been too keen. She rarely misses any subtle detail.”

Cilvia fiddled with her hair. “Ludmint, she’s been overworking herself lately.”

“I’ve caused her much trouble.” Iris tapped the table.

“It’s natural that she cares deeply for her fiancée.”

“That’s why I mustn’t make her worried.”

The waitress returned to take the order. Iris requested for strong wine, though not one of the strongest. Her friends looked at each other but respected her choice.

“Have you gotten better?” Cilvia said. “Ludmint must’ve taken you to various places, but if you want more options, I can recommend you to a specialist.”

“Even though you know my ailment isn’t a disease but a curse?”

“The specialist is someone who deals with ancient curses.”

Iris chuckled. “Your concern is lovely, Cilvia. I didn’t choose wrongly when I allowed you to take your chance with Ludmint.”

Cilvia flushed. She glared at Lidoac to shut him up. “You’re Ludmint’s fiancée and our friends. We must help each other.”

“What . . . has Ludmint been doing?”

“Did she not tell you?”

“She only told me things that could alleviate my worry. I want to know how she’s been doing.”

The wine arrived. Cilvia got the first taste. She downed her first glass and set it down. Her eyes turned slightly fuzzy, but her voice and manner were still stable.

“Ludmint is the main supervisor of the Grand Formation project. She and her team, and most of the researchers, are under heavy scrutiny for the failure during Holy Resurgence Day.”

“The investigation must’ve impacted you two as well.”

“Our teams are under comparatively lesser pressure.” Cilvia twirled her refilled glass. “But Ludmint, your fiancée, she disobeyed the higher-up’s directive.”

“Is it . . . related to me?”

Cilvia smiled. “She’s always been stubborn. Her refusal to grant members of the Orthodoxy temporary access to Evil Punisher has landed her in some trouble.”

“She’s right, however.” Lidoac snorted. “I’ve never liked those guys. They preach their faith yet still meddle with the worldly affair.”

“I’ve been trying to find a reasonable compromise.” Cilvia sighed. “But she never listened to me. She . . . doesn’t want to give up her work.”

Iris held her glass and drank with Cilvia. The wine burned her throat and left behind an earthy taste. She licked her lips. “Has she been delaying the audit?”

Lidoac and Cilvia looked at each other before they focused on Iris, who gave them an apologetic smile.

“You don’t have to worry,” Cilvia said. “You have yet to participate in any project. The investigative committee has no reason to summon you.”

“Yet Ludmint still did it for me, didn’t she?”

Cilvia wanted to speak, but Lidoac feinted coughing.

“The Orthodoxy is serious this time. They have formed an investigative body that will work closely with the committee created by the imperial family. At least one Archbishop will oversee the interrogation.”

The waitress came to serve the food and refilled the wine. Iris ate only a little before she put down her fork and knife. The delectable steak couldn’t take her mind off the topic.

“What would you do if I were—”

Cilvia raised her hand to stop Iris from speaking. “Your secrets will only stay secret if you never tell anyone.”

“Aren’t you curious?”

“Everyone has secrets, big or small, inconsequential or damning. I’ll only listen to yours when you want to tell me.”

“Can I not tell you now?” Iris snapped her fingers. A translucent barrier covered the group. “I trust my judgement, and I trust my Ludmint.”

“Now is not the time. The more I know, the riskier it will be.”

Lidoac clapped his hands. “I’m willing to bear the responsibility. Your secrets will be safe with me.”

Cilvia pinched Lidoac’s hand and pointed at him. “Secrets spill out of you whenever you get drunk. She’s not telling you anything.”

While Lidoac and Cilvia argued, Iris quietly watched them. Their friendliness and carefreeness infected her, permeating her heavy heart. Ludmint had great friends, one that she must cherish, perhaps more than she currently did.

“Once you get back to Ludmint,” Iris said, “please persuade her to let go of her worry.”

Cilvia stopped fighting. She raised her brows. “How should we do that?”

“Tell her the faster she finishes her work, the more time she will have with me.”

Silence came and stayed for too long. Lidoac wanted to laugh, but Iris’s clear tone stifled his amusement. He peeked at his friend and found her pursing her lips, jealousy written on her big eyes.

“Then she’ll figure out that we met,” Lidoac said.

“Doesn’t matter. She can’t get mad at me.”

Lidoac clicked his tongue.