Seated in a comfortable chair near the second-floor window, Iris raised her cup of milky tea and sipped it. While savouring the sugary taste, she watched a group of hooded figures moving through the street. Though they dressed plainly, their manners revealed their subtle tension, anxiety, and paranoia.

As a Monster Girl, Iris was most susceptible to these unstable emotions. She had, and had been, manipulated, eased, heightened, and morphed them; now, they were to her a whiff of rich perfume, an unforgettable, exhilarating sensory.

Unfortunately, mixed with these stimulating fragrances was a foul odour, an evil presence. Unlike the untainted Pure Races, whose scents thrilled Iris, the cultists gave off a different kind of smell, the piecing, revolting type. She wanted to make them fall, not because of their alluring purity but because of their dirty stains.

She wanted to wash their soul with her blackness, not the disgusting darkness of the devil, but the elegant blackness of the Monster Girls.

Iris sighed. I won’t make the same mistake. No touching the tainted, for their nasty scents will infect you. Only when I become strong enough can I taste the forbidden fruits.

The euphoria of stealing from the devil, I can’t wait to taste it!

As Iris daydreamed, her attention never lapsed. The undercover cultists slowly entered a small, filthy valley whose appearance repelled decent people. Their figures gradually shrank as they walked into the shades of the buildings.

Iris could no longer spy on her targets with her eyes. She finished her tea, called for a waitress, and ordered another cup as well as a set of cookies and a piece of blueberry cheesecake. Why would she leave when the service was good, the desserts delicious?

While waiting, she leaned on the window. Her right ear touched the cold, smooth glass surface. She closed her eyes and tapped the table, lightly knocking against the hardwood. Strands of azure light emerged from her fingertips and morphed into an intricate spell formation.

A screen manifested, yet no strangers noticed its existence. They casually glanced at Iris, admiring her esoteric beauty, before retracting their gazes. The invisible mirror never appeared in their sight.

“Customer, please accept your order.” The waitress handed Iris a cup of milky tea, a plate of cookies and blueberry cheesecake. “Forgive my presumption, but I’ve requested your cookies to be further sweetened. Your lovely expression told me you like the sugary flavour. If I’ve done something wrong, please correct me.”

Iris lifted her gaze. She gestured for the waitress to get closer. Her left hand picked a piece of chocolate cookie and pushed it gently to the waitress’s lips.

“Tell me if I have to correct you,” Iris said. “If you like it, then I, too, will like it.”

The waitress blinked. She wanted to step back, but something about Iris seized forbad her retreat. Holding her breath and closing her eyes, she nibbled on the cookie. It melted on her lips. Amazing.

Iris took back the remaining half of the cookie and ate it, savouring the sugary as well as the other delightful taste. “Your lovely expression told me you like the sugary taste.”

The waitress weakly nodded, her cheeks slightly red. “Thank you for your kindness.”

“If you sit with me, I can give you more.” Iris grinned. “Unfortunately, I can’t hoard you for myself. I’ll allow you to return to your work. Have an unforgettable evening.”

As the waitress left, Iris eyed the invisible floating mirror. Throughout her little conversation, she had not neglected her objective. She merely interacted with the waitress to disguise her action.

More importantly, she wanted to tease her.

I’ve become such a despicable person. Please forgive me, everyone, but it’s your fault; you assimilated these values into me!

The cultists went through a few stores. After they slipped through a creek in an unremarkable wall, they arrived at their destination, a worn-down pub with two strong bodyguards in front. Once they confirmed that no one was tailing them, they took off their hoods, revealing their pale features.

As the Pure Races, they lacked the hypnotising charm of the Monster Girls. Though their appearances failed to arouse Iris’s interest, the thorned crowns on their forehead did.

Despite bleeding, the cultists revealed no anguish; their blood dribbled from their open wounds and tainted the brown crowns, whose colour gradually shifted to crimson. Their rings faintly pulsated, gaining a hint of vitality.

The group leader, a lady whose sewn lips always grinned, revealed a scroll in her right hand. On it was the symbol of the Evil Cult Gentle Crown, a majestic crown surrounded by roses and thorns.

The moment the leader opened the scroll, Iris’s nose twitched.

An evil stench submerged the valley with distilled despair. It created pain and suffering before presenting a flickering, delusional hope of salvation. It was the power of an Evil Deity, the Seraph of Salvation.

The bodyguards nodded at the group leader and opened the gate. Throughout the process, none dared raise their heads. They would never disrespect the power of the Deities, no matter how unknown they were.

Iris terminated her magic mirror spell. The stench seeped into her body, bloating her veins. Her smooth skin shrivelled, and thorns pierced out of her flesh. Her Corruption Power clashed with the Evil Power and subdued them, returning her body to normalcy.

Though she was far from the valley and only spied through the mirror, the scent still reached her. If not for her quick reflex, she might implicate the innocent bystanders inside the café.

Thankfully, Lady Aspera had given me her Mark of Concealment. Without it, I wouldn’t have spied on these cultists.

Iris munched on a few cookies while regulating her breaths. She contemplated her experience with the evil stench.

The suppression of the transcendent is having less effect on me. Am I getting used to the power of the transcendent? How is this possible? Is it because of Speculative Divinity, or is it because of the Lord?

I can get stronger by comprehending the power of the Deities . . . . No. Don’t be greedy. I will die if I make a wrong move. My luck and wit have limits. Just experiencing the Bewitching Mark and the Curse of the Eye are already so taxing.

Iris drank the last drop of her milk tea and then got up. She glanced in the direction of the Evil Cult hideout. She had gained enough, and heading forward would be foolish. She might be able to spy on them from the outside, but she would be in real danger if she persisted.

“Customer, are you leaving already?” The waitress whom Iris teased came to the table. “Please allow me to help you.”

“Your impeccable service pleases me.” Iris snapped her fingers. A gold coin flicked out of her grasp. “Consider it my compensation.”

The waitress hastily caught the coin. Her eyes contracted. She didn’t expect her mischievous customer to gift her such a large sum, enough for her to live for a week. “Madam, how could I accept such a valuable coin?”

“Call me Iris, and the coin will be yours.”

“Madam Iris—I mean—”

“Not enough?” Iris grinned. “If you want more, sell more of your service.”

The waitress opened her mouth and closed it, repeating her actions a few times. Her eyes reddened. Her emotions seeped out of her irises. Joy and confusion mixed inside her tears, enveloping her with an air of delicacy.

Holding her breath, Iris walked away. If she stayed too long, her heart might skip a beat, and she might do something mindless. She quickly paid for her dessert and escaped from the grateful waitress, disappearing into the crowd.

...

Iris didn’t head back to Yellow Dandelion Orphanage. Though no one was monitoring her movement, any questionable action could become a clue to her identity, especially after she had just faked a crime scene.

This time, she safely arrived at her home, but she found not Ludmint, not even a hint of her ethereal scent. The three-story house was dark, illuminated only by the red dusk light. Though the place still looked cosy, without Ludmint, it’d lost its charm. A house without love was not a home.

Did she go out to have fun? Iris sighed. Wait. Why do I care so much? She isn’t mine and can go anywhere she wishes. No. She is mine; we are a couple . . . a fake one.

I just need to change it—No. I’m not ready . . . yet.

Iris slapped herself, yet her flushes prevailed. She hated to admit that she wanted to hug Ludmint tonight, to sleep with Ludmint again. There was a sense of security in the embrace of another Monster Girl, who had been to her so affectionate, so handsome, so devilish.

It reminded her of how it felt like to be protected, how wonderful it could be, and how it wasn’t for her.

“Ludmint, I’ll deal with you when you come back.” Iris walked up the stair and pushed over the door.

A wisp of cool air greeted her face and caressed her exhausted body. The crimson light behind her flooded the guest room, painting the darkness cherry-red.

She casually stretched, hung her bags, and took off her outer coats. Her hands gently closed the door before locking it. With the outside world sealed away, her formal air disappeared.

She had returned.

“It’s been a long day,” she said. “I’ve accomplished a lot, but there aren’t many interesting matters today. Compared to yesterday, I’m still energetic.”

Closing her eyes, Iris raised her face and sniffed softly. A hint of flowery fragrance entered her lungs. It wasn’t the perfume she used, nor was it Ludmint’s perfume. It was a strange yet familiar scent, one which she had experienced before.

“Your concealment skill is getting better,” Iris said. “Come out, for the owner of the house is already here.”

A figure gradually stepped out of the shadow. Dressed in green clothes covered in leaves and pink flowers, Lorient lowered her head, her ears pink. She had been hiding inside the house for a while, waiting for Iris to return.

It was a sensible choice. If she remained outside, she might invite suspicion. No one should know that she had a connection with Ludmint and Iris. Any clue could be the lead to the secret of The Court.

When she came before Iris, Lorient knelt on the floor. Her forehead almost touched Iris’s feet. “Lady Iris, please grant me your favour.”