Her hands covering her head, Iris laughed as she waited for Tundra to cool down. She could have avoided Tundra’s trembling, clumsy fists, but she remained seated, taking the soft hits as if they were her massage. The more frustration and disappointment Tundra expressed, the more Iris felt the urge to tease her more.

“Tundra, you are such a dirty girl.” Iris winked. “I haven’t alluded to anything of such sort, and yet, you imagined everything. You should’ve asked nicely and spoken more clearly. If you dance around me, I might not notice your charm.”

“Liar!” Tundra bit her lips, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. “You manipulated my thoughts. Your words led my mind, messed up my body, and sparked my intention. The worst is that you . . . did not go through with it.”

“You imagined it all again.” Iris parted her hands and closed her eyes. Her open mouth gasped, exhaling playfully.

Blocked by nothing, Tundra’s fists went toward Iris’s delicate, fragile face. Tundra had to force herself back to stop their momentum, afraid of actually hitting her respected mentor, her friend, who, through the strange moments spent together, took on an unfamiliar status in her heart.

“I hate you,” she said, panting. “I hate you who made me like this. I hate myself who allowed you to make me like this. Please stop smirking at me, or I will really, really hit you!”

“As you wish.” Iris swiped her hands across her face, concealing it for a moment, and revealed a calm expression. Her teasing, and with it her seductive gaze, vanished, replaced by a solemn, scholarly demeanour. “Tundra, has the headache subsided?”

“The headache?” Tundra blinked. “I was so angry I forgot about the pain; it has indeed gone away now. Still, what did you do to . . .”

Before she finished her sentence, she frowned. Because of Iris, she hadn’t noticed a multitude of miscellaneous knowledge scattering at every corner of her mind. She finally realised the headache came from her forcefully assimilating the information. Now that her soul had finished digesting, she could recall and muse over them at will, though the sudden fatigue reduced her mental capacity.

She looked at Iris. “You, you gave me the knowledge and messed with me to alleviate my pain?”

“You’re assuming again.” Iris wanted to smile, but she didn’t want to test Tundra’s tolerance. After all, an exhausted lady’s mood could easily change. “That is a part of my intention; the other part is your charm.”

Confused, Tundra inspected herself. Her wrinkled, soaked uniform revealed her inner clothes as well as her figure. Her blushes spread from her cheeks to her ears, then down to her neck. She quickly raised her hands and chanted a spell, cleansing, straightening her uniform.

Once her refined, respectable look returned, she glared at Iris but could not find the motivation to get angry. She wouldn’t fall for the wicked scheme. “I won’t give you the satisfaction anymore.”

Iris pretended to sulk. Her eyes drooped, her disposition shifting to pitiful beauty, whose hope and dream had just shattered into specks of light, fleeting yet illuminating.

“It is indeed my evil intention that made me cast a new spell I’ve been developing, and I apologise for the inconvenience and the discomfort it’s caused.” Iris sank back on her chair and gestured for Tundra to sit as well. “My words still stand. I will compensate you with a quiet, high-grade training facility. You must have already gotten my address from my membership file. So, I won’t give you my card.”

Tundra wished to shake her head, but Iris would see through her cute, readable lies. “But I still want one. You must follow the etiquette. In fact, we have yet to formally introduce ourselves.”

She got up and cleared her throat. For a moment, her brilliance was comparable to the moon amidst the field of stars. Her hands grasped the trim of her skirt and lifted it slightly. She bent forward; her eyes vaguely closed. “Honour be mine. I am Tundra Boline, a librarian of Auburn Leaf Library, a Mage Apprentice of the Royal Magic Academy, and a close friend of Iris.”

While smiling, she arched back up, her chest puffing. She took pride in her title, especially the last one. Iris’s mischief had infected her, though she did not mind it.

Iris curtseyed, too, but she didn’t act excessively; the focus was on Tundra, not her. “Pleasure be ours. I’ve heard of your name and engraved it on my heart. I am Iris Goodwill, a . . . wanderer, a traveller, a foreigner. I have no such esteemed title, so please call me Iris.”

She playfully drew her right hand forward, hovering it in front of Tundra. She maintained her noble character, tilting her head up, glancing down at her close friend.

It took Tundra a few moments before she held Iris’s hand and imprinted her promise on it. Her face reddened the moment she kissed, yet she hesitated not. Her gentle, fleeting warmth infused Iris, becoming an unforgettable moment.

Licking her lips, Iris flipped her hand. She held a sleek blue business card, lined with silver letters and borders.

Tundra blinked, looking at Iris, and reached for the card. Its reflective surface dazzled her vision as if it were a treasure worth gold and gemstones. She reached out, but Iris curled her fingers away, smug.

“Come, take it from me.” She placed the card in her mouth and pursed her lips. She leaned forward, waiting.

Staring at Iris’s playful eyes, Tundra’s pupils contracted. The sea of flame in her eyes ignited; she smirked. Her arms pressed on the table as her body sloped on the table, her face moving closer to Iris. She maintained her intense eye contact, while her mouth gradually opened, revealing her saliva-coated tongue.

“It’s mine, and I will get it back.” She gently bit on the card. Her white teeth dented the silvery surface, forming an imprint that would remind her of this event forever.

While pulling away, Iris licked the card, painting it with her sweet, strawberry taste. A sticky thread of saliva extended from her lips to the card, and, as she moved away, it broke off, glittering under the lantern light of the library.

“And I have dirtied this table,” Iris said. “We might have gone overboard today, My Tundra.”

“Who are we?” Tundra pinched the card and took it out of her mouth, but she did not wipe the saliva away. “Lady Iris, it is you who thought of such . . . peculiar method, and it is only you who dirtied this table.”

“Will punishment befall me?”

Tundra straightened her back. “There is a rule against dirtying the library and the books. I will have to fine you.”

“But,” Iris said, “you also dirtied the library. Our sweat and passion have tainted the floor. Some even got on the books. How can you punish me alone?”

“Then . . . we shall be punished together!”

As Tundra’s face blossomed into a bright pink flower, Iris laughed. She raised her right hand and snapped her fingers. A magic circle manifested behind her. Its size expanded until it covered the library before shattering into a torrent of fog, which blanketed everything.

“Lady Iris, what are you doing?” Tundra grew flustered as the fog permeated the books. “The books, Lady Iris, your spell will ruin the book!”

“Your emotions have clouded your mind.” Iris held a book in her hand. The fog dispersed, and the book was in perfect condition, devoid of the sweat and saliva and fluid previously staining it. “I would never harm you, and these books are a part of you.”

“What about the psychological damage? I have suffered much under your ambiguous implications.”

“Will a soul-healing kiss do?”

Tundra perked up but then narrowed her eyes. Her suspicion was not unfound, for Iris remained unreadable. “My heart won’t trust you easily.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Sadly, yes.”

“Then you shall have your reward.” Iris closed the book, stood up, and walked to Tundra. “Are you prepared?”

Closing her eyes, Tundra shyly nodded, her hands gripping her skirt. Her impulse told her to reach for Iris and embrace her, but she dared not. What if she flipped Iris’s switch? Would she survive the night pure and untouched?

Such a thought excited but also troubled her.

“Open your eyes.”

Tundra reluctantly opened her eyes. In front of her, the mellow Iris blew a kiss at her. As the sizzling air moved forward, a pink heart projected itself on Tundra’s lips, pressing softly, tenderly, intensely. Only when she ran out of her breath did the euphoria dissipate, and with it, Iris was no longer there.

Alone, Tundra sat in the middle of the silent library, confused, aroused, scared, not of Iris, but of herself. She had never touched upon this side of herself before. She had not once gotten excited about a kiss, a thought of uniting, in hearts, in flesh, with such a respectable figure, a maiden of knowledge.

“Your ambiguous attitude is the worst.” Tundra touched her lips. A satisfied smile emerged. “You changed me, and you chose not to take responsibility?”

...

It had been an uneventful day. Instead of heading straight home to the comfort of Ludmint, Iris decided to walk the mundane street and admired the monotony of life. Haste was all but what she needed; she needed freedom from distraction and unrest. Her prior meeting, both with Jania and Tundra, had given her something to ponder.

What am I trying to do? I’ve been exerting myself to build more connections and find more friends and . . . dispel my loneliness. I’m doing well, getting friends, getting . . . intimate friends, paving my way to becoming a renowned scholar.

Why am I doing this? Of course, it’s to gain more power and return to my family! What, then, after that? Am I going to leave this place, leave everyone here behind?

Iris slowed. Her softened expression reflected her brief yet vivid memory, where she spent with the few people she valued as her family. She arrived here not too long, yet they had already occupied a part of her heart. How could she bear to leave them?

When I reach the Condensation Phase, I can concentrate on my innate talent and increase the limit of my clones. Even if I can only create one more, it would be enough. She will live here, in my place, and become the me who would stay with them.

No matter what, there will not be a scenario where I am not by their side. It is the best I can do.

Smiling, Iris looked up. The cloudy sky had cleared up just like her doubts. She would treat them well, for they, too, had emotions and hope and dreams, like her, like Lenmia and others. They were not a tool for her goal, but passersby who came and left marks on her life.

While she thought about her friends, her eyes glimpsed at a few inconspicuous people cloaked under thick grey hoods. Occasionally, their gazes would sweep over the street, looking out for anyone tailing them. Though they maintained their pace to appear normal, they could not escape Iris’s perceptions.

Moreover, the Curse of the Eye and the Bewitching Mark inside her faintly quivered. Their origins resonated, coming from the unholiness of the Evil Deities.

Iris changed her direction. Her eyes subtly shone. Today, she decided to visit a newly opened cafe, whose front was opposite a small valley, which the cultists were heading toward.

The day could not end just yet.