It's night, it's late.
I'm in front of her apartment.
After all that I've done and will do, it's incredible how I can feel this so human and pathetic feeling, having my heart in my throat waiting for someone.
Will I be able to manipulate her? A mature and experienced woman, so dangerous for my plans?
Yet, it's not just that.
Ever since I met her, she has always been one of my main targets.
How much could I gain from her knowledge if she were in my harem?
It's not just about power; a woman like her must be absolutely mine.

Women love gifts.
They love to be courted and desired, at any age.
Gold diggers may seek the economic value in gifts like jewelry and luxury goods, but generally, economic value is just one aspect.
The gift should be thoughtful and chosen with the recipient in mind.
A good method is to give something the woman is passionate about.
Many women, though not all, appreciate flowers.
When giving flowers as a gift, it should not be done lazily or without much thought.
When choosing this type of gift, you need to put in extra effort because flowers hold meaning and can be used to communicate, especially in a world where flowers can be alchemical ingredients with magical properties.

The flower I hold in my hand is the result of all these considerations.
Originally from the dungeons, it has spread to the surface, although it is quite rare.
In fact, it cost me quite a few credits.
The Midnight Lady.

With all these thoughts in my head, I ring the doorbell.
No response.
I know she's inside.
The light filters through the cracks in the door.
She doesn't want to open it.
I have no intention of giving up.
"I just want to talk," I say loudly.
I'd like to avoid too much commotion, but the fear of attracting attention might be what gets her to open the door.

The door opens.
On the threshold stands a beautiful woman with long black hair.
Her eyes are red, moist as if she has been crying.
"Wagner, you shouldn't be here," she tells me with coldness.
The fact that she's addressing me by my last name, I admit, hurts a little.
It's clear she wants to create some distance.
"Professor, I just want to apologize. I'm aware that I've gone too far."
Her stern expression softens slightly.
I offer her the flower I brought as a gift.
"The Midnight Lady, the Selenicereus Orchirosacea!" Kanna Merfal is astonished.
"This flower is for you."
"It's very expensive, I can't accept it!"
With a gentle, resolute, yet non-aggressive motion, I take her hand and open it.

I place the beautiful flower in her hand.
"It represents my feelings for you."

In the symbolism of the Midnight Lady, there are traces of obsessive and unrequited love, representing the suffering caused by the distance from the beloved or unreciprocated passion. However, it is also associated with the beauty and mystery of the night, channeling the power of nocturnal love.
Kanna would like to object but is taken aback.
I don't think she's ever received a gift like this.
Slowly, I enter the room.
The woman doesn't resist.
I close the door.

"In the book you lent me, this flower is accurately depicted. It's used in certain curses," I tell her, one of the reasons I chose it.
"It can also be used to break curses," she comments, looking at the beautiful flower.
"I didn't know that, I always have so much to learn from you, Professor," I smile.
"When I saw the illustration in the book of this black flower with delicate purplish accents, it reminded me of..." I pretend embarrassment. "It reminded me of you," I confess, showing courage.
"W-Wagner... You shouldn't... You shouldn't continue what you're doing," she looks at me with teary eyes.
"Call me by my first name, please. This distance pains me. I miss our tea times together."

The professor turns away, as if struggling to deny her feelings.
"The Midnight Lady only blooms at night in the moonlight. Just like my love for you can only be shown in the darkness," I assert, looking at her with passion.

"Strauss, this is wrong... I'm turning thirty-three this year. You're eighteen. I'm a teacher."
"I'm an adult, we are both adults. I've made my choice," I'm determined.
I approach.
We are very close.
"Tell me you feel nothing for me," I challenge her.
"I-I... I'm so ashamed that I feel something," she tells me.
Her gaze drops, unable to bear the weight of those words.
A tear streaks down her face.
"There's no need to be ashamed. It's complicated. I understand the professional and moral implications, but it's still love. Why deny such a beautiful feeling?" I say, taking her hand.
She doesn't respond.

"I don't want to force you. I came here fully aware of how impossible this love is. The flower represents that. This love can only bloom in darkness."
Kanna's hand trembles in mine, and I feel her hesitation.
She's afraid, unsure of what to do.
Kanna lifts her eyes and looks at me, her eyes filled with emotion. "I don't know if I can do it," she whispers. "I don't want to hurt you."
"I'm willing to take that risk," I reply firmly. "I know what I want, and I want you."
I move closer to her and use my hand to brush her hair away from her face.
She doesn't pull back.

Kanna backs away from me, her eyes wide with shock and fear.
"It's wrong," she says, her voice trembling. "I can't do it. I'm your teacher, and you're a student."

"I know," I say, my voice low and hoarse. "But that doesn't change what I feel for you. I want you, Kanna. I need you."

She shakes her head, tears streaking her face. "I can't," she says. "I can't do it. It's too dangerous."
I take a step back, giving her space.
I can see the internal conflict raging within her, the battle between her heart and her mind.

Silence falls over the room.
And with it embarrassment.
I think the time has come for me to leave.

Professor Kanna Merfal's hesitation is understandable.
She is older, more experienced and has a reputation to uphold.
From her point of view I am young, impulsive and reckless.
Moreover, I am a student while she is a professor.
This would be for all intents and purposes, a forbidden relationship. Scandalous.

I know it will not be easy to cross these barriers.
I would be disappointed otherwise.
There is no pleasure in corrupting something that is already corrupt.
"I miss our talks, Professor," I record with a sigh.

Then I turn to leave.
"Good night." I salute her.

"Wait!"

Kanna's voice stops me.
I turn to look at her, seeing the hesitation and fear still present in her eyes.
But there's something else too: a spark of desire.

"I'm not sure if I can do this," she says again, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I want to try."

My heart races as she approaches me.

"Let's take it slow," she says, reaching out to timidly touch my arm. "I don't want to rush things."
I nod, feeling a smile spread across my face. "I understand. We'll do things at your pace."
We stand there for a moment, just looking at each other.
Then Kanna leans in and brushes a strand of hair from my forehead.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she admits, her voice trembling slightly.

"Neither do I," I reply honestly. "But we'll figure it out together."

Kanna leans in and gives me a gentle kiss on the cheek.
It's an uncertain kiss, tender but full of promises.
She smiles at me.

In this moment, she seems to bloom like the Midnight Lady.
Professor Merfal is beautiful.
I'll savor her slowly.
I smile back at her.

"Thank you for the flower. It's beautiful."
"You're welcome."

"Would you like some tea?" I suggest.
"I'd love to, Strauss."