Rarisa peeked around the corner. Iris was sitting at the reception table, holding a colourful fashion magazine while giving her thoughts to the attentive receptionist. Their hushed conversation gave way to the musical ringing of the wind chime.

  Although focused, Rarisa couldn’t hear their topic. She snuck up to the receptionist, who had abandoned her sweeping duty, and playfully held her upper arms to arrest her.

  “Why are you taking my patient’s time?” Rarisa said. “You still haven’t finished cleaning.”

  “I’m just entertaining Lady Iris.” The receptionist pried away Rarisa’s fingers. “I told you to meet her half an hour ago. I can’t just leave her waiting in silence.”

  “You should’ve told me it was her.”

  “You didn’t listen!” The receptionist turned to Iris. “And Lady Iris is so unlike you. She’s thoughtful and caring. How can someone like her be your friend?”

  “Rarisa also has the potential to be beautiful. You need to work harder to get her to try them.” Iris smiled. “Would you be willing to listen to my suggestions?”

  “Fashion is not my—”

  “I’ll gladly follow your suggestion. Will I be as pretty as you?” The receptionist’s voice drowned out Rarisa’s.

  “You’re exaggerating, Dear. A little touch of care, and you’ll be radiant.”

  Iris placed the magazine, pointed at a few sketches and ornates, and stood up. She promised the receptionist to continue their conversation before she went to the private room with Rarisa, whose cute frown persisted throughout.

  Rarisa couldn’t understand what was so interesting about expensive clothes, but she disliked how Iris placed so much attention on the receptionist and vice versa.

  “With a few minor spells, you could’ve elevated your appearance to mystique,” Rarisa said. “Why are you spending so much time with artificial powder and attires?”

  “Same reason you experiment with potions instead of pure magic.”

  Iris walked to the wall of research notes. They had become more organised, with ideas scribbled in concentrated groups. New notes overwhelmed the old, dusty ones as if pushing away the unworthy and taking the central stage for themselves.

  “Soul Soothers exist; so do Curse Imprinters and Holy Blessers,” Iris said. “Yet you didn’t give up on your pursuit.”

  “My research will revolutionise the world. These potions require no magic nor talents.”

  “Is that truly your goal, or is it just an excuse?”

  “It’s one of my goals.”

  “I enjoy fashion for own sake. Wouldn’t you say the same?”

  Rarisa reluctantly nodded. She waited quietly for Iris to skim over her research note but requested no advice nor compliments. The occasional nods and glimmer in Iris’s eyes were enough.

  She went to an air-sealed shelf and took out a small vial of glowing golden liquid. The bubbles within dispersed when exposed to light, giving shimmering glares which flared up and died down when presented to Iris.

  Iris accepted the vial and, feeling its cold exterior, playfully shook it. The liquid sloshed with the motion, glittering, gleaming, crawling up the vial but failing to escape through the glass cap. Its viscous flow left behind taints that took their time to return to unity.

  Rarisa held her chest high, her eyes wide. “They should taste like blueberry. The effect is immediate as well.”

  “Did you experiment on yourself?”

  “The ingredients are too precious, the effect too strong.”

  “You’ll have the finest material and equipment. The Court will fairly reward its partners.”

  “Only someone as elegant as you would be a higher-up of the Court of Indulgence.”

  “I’ve never hid my background.” Iris smiled.

  “Even then, our information network failed.”

  “My people have always been meticulous. But considering my personality, can you blame them for it?”

  Rarisa gave no comment. She stared at Iris, hoping, anticipating. Despite her confidence her eyes restlessly shifted and wandered for anything to latch onto.

  Beaming, Iris opened the vial and waved her hand. A whiff of intense medicinal smell perfumed her nose. The strong forest-like scent overtook her before getting suppressed by a sweetness of nectar. The air grew dim like the midnight sky, illuminated by the liquid like the pale full moon.

  Iris resealed the vial and, after the scent dissipated, relaxed herself on the patient chair. She maintained a formal smile while watching Rarisa’s alternating expressions.

  “Did I fail?” Rarisa asked, her tone exceedingly soft.

  “Did I imply that?”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “You didn’t even take it; does the smell bother you that much?”

  “Am I that fussy?”

  The cold winds rustled the research papers stapled to the wall. There was a moment of silence for contemplation. Rarisa cycled through her breathing before she shook her head and recollected herself. She turned away from Iris to hide her dimmed eyes.

  “I have faith in you, Rarisa,” Iris said. “Would I doubt myself?”

  Iris placed a scroll on the desk and tapped at the table. Rarisa dashed to unfurl the contract. It detailed a series of agreements and benefits, not for working with the Court of Indulgence, but for working with Iris.

  “You should take your time reading through the causes.”

  Rarisa struggled to sign her name with her trembling hand. “I would never doubt you as well, Lady Iris.”

  “Flirting with me already?” Iris chuckled. “Your partner wouldn’t like that.”

  “Persil’s always been fussy. He meant well, but I can take care of myself!”

  Once Rarisa finished signing the contract, Iris opened the vial, toasted it, and drank it. The blueberry aftertaste stayed on her tongue. She licked her lips carefully, savouringly. A small trail of bluish liquid dripped to her chin; she wiped it and leaned forward to the frozen Rarisa.

  Before Rarisa could speak, Iris held her chin and, with her tainted finger, swiped a drop of the potion onto Rarisa’s lips. Rarisa instinctively licked the finger, her eyes staring into Iris’s. That pair of alluring sapphires consumed her, turning her chest upside down.

  “How’s the taste?” Iris said.

  “Like strawberry…” Rarisa blushed. She cleaned the saliva dripping from her lips, resisting the urge to lick herself again. “As predicted, the potion tastes like blueberry.”

  “My chest feels warm.” Iris leaned on the chair and closed her eyes. “Are you going to monitor me?”

  “More data is always welcome, but only with your permission.”

  “Be gentle, Dear.”

  Rarisa ignored those words, buried them deep in her heart, and let her mechanical routine take over. She attached Iris’s into a machine and tools. On a pair of magical screens, numbers and graphs manifested; yet Rarisa’s attention wasn’t on them. It was on the sleeping beauty, whose nature transcended physical beauty.

  A Corrupted One, a being of different nature, a being blessed by a Foreign Existence. What is their nature? How does it feel to have your soul corrupted?

  A series of knocks shattered the fantasy. Rarisa quietly hmphed. She unlocked the door for Persil to enter. He looked at the sleeping Iris, then the contract on the desk, and finally at his partner.

  “Have you really thought it through?” Persil said.

  “She’s from the Court of Indulgence.”

  “That’s … great. But be careful, once you get entangled with them—”

  “If you’re jealous, just say so.” Rarisa clicked her tongue. “A Monster Girl would be a great study case for your experiment.”

  “I’m worried for you, Rarisa. You’re too na?ve.”

  “Then maybe I can learn a thing or two from The Court.”

  An exasperated sign escaped Persil. The corner of his eyes stayed on the sleeping beauty, whose fleeting appearance blended with the world. The empty vial on the table flickered. He withdrew his gaze.

  “What are you going to do from now on?”

  “Lady Iris will protect us. We wouldn’t have to change our identity anymore.”

  “You’re taking too much risk.”

  “Nothing comes without a price, Persil. Are you telling me to forsake this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?”

  There was no retort that would stop Rarisa from working with The Court. It was a windfall, too good to pass, even in the face of great risk. He would’ve accepted it too if he were offered such a contract.

  “Do you remember our promise?” he said.

  Frowning, Rarisa paused. She solemnly stared at her partner, then at Iris, then returned to her partner. The research paper and magical equipment surrounded her. They enclosed upon her, walling her in with her last friend.

  “Is that how you think of me? So fickle, so shameless?” Rarisa clenched her fists. “Leave my room, Persil. I’m still in the middle of a medical procedure.”

  “I—sorry…” Persil shut his mouth and left the room, closing the door as quietly as possible, keeping his unsteady footsteps the only sound from outside.

  Rarisa relaxed her fists and, exhaling, regained her smile. She resisted the urge to whistle to her favourite folk song, but her enthusiasm vanished when she turned around.

  Iris had reopened her eyes and was watching the bickering.

  “You were quite devilish,” Iris said. “I do enjoy this kind of charm.”

  “He’ll realise it sooner or later.” Rarisa smiled. “He’s meticulous, but he’s allergic to risks.”

  Iris shook her head. “I look forward to how it’ll unfold.”

  “I doubt our relationship is worthy of your attention.”

  “You sound like you have something else.”

  “You must’ve already known it, but our organisation is hosting soon an auction, a yearly meetup between the members.”

  “Are you going to bring me there?”

  “I could write you a letter of recommendation. Unfortunately my status isn’t enough to bring in freely an outsider.” Rarisa lowered her head. “But I can pull some strings to get you—”

  “Just the letter of recommendation is enough.”

  “I … would like you to contact me when you arrive.” Rarisa handed Iris a small jade bracelet. “Give this to the organiser and I’ll come find you.”

  Iris rejected the bracelet. “Giving away your symbol of membership will only trouble you. I have my way of announcing my arrival.”

  Rarisa persuaded Iris to take the bracelet, but firm rejections made her give up. She reluctantly promised to write a letter of recommendation and send in the full details of the auction as soon as possible. She also confided with Iris a few rumours about the items and surprise events, although she had no concrete proof.

  As Iris’s carriage drove away from the clinic, Rarisa breathed a relieved sigh before she returned inside. The receptionist had finally cleared everything and left after saying farewell. And Persil had returned to his home, leaving only a note of apology on the counter.

  Rarisa was about to finish up her remaining work when she clicked her tongue in exhaustion. She adjusted her white overcoat, kept her emotions in check, and locked her private room, in which Iris’s scent lingered.

  A few men in military uniform entered the clinic and, without greeting the owner, surveyed the reception room for signs of suspicious activities.

  “The Restful Clinics has already closed; please come back tomorrow,” Rarisa said, her tone monotonously cold.

  “We’re the investigative team ordered by the imperial family,” one of the men said. “We’ve received reports of—”

  “No wonder you guys can’t get anything useful. With that tone, even the witness wouldn’t want to cooperate.”

  Centurion walked into the clinics and, dismissing the policemen, walked to Rarisa while donning a keen smile. He tipped his hat and lowered his head slightly, eyeing her as if checking her beauty.

  “My name is Centurion, a detective employed by the Church of Knowledge. Please give me a few moments to interview you.”

  “Your men didn’t give me good impressions. Their presence will impact my business”

  “Our arrival is discreet. We’ll keep this visit quiet.”

  “If you’d like me to help, I should know what you’re trying to do.”

  Centurion maintained his smile, but his eyes barely narrowed. “We’re investigating the trails of dangerous people. Although they aren’t crazy cultists, their operations put ordinary citizens at risk.”

  “Wouldn’t your interview put me at risk, then?”

  “But you aren’t ordinary, are you?”

  Rarisa tilted her head. An amused smile crept onto her face. “Let’s talk here. I don’t want anyone entering my workspace.”

  After chasing out the policemen and guards, Centurion gestured for another person to come in. Xiaotan carefully entered with a notebook in her hand. Her eyes met Rarisa’s.

  Rarisa’s eyes brightened. She turned to the detective and relaxed.

  “So, what do you know about the Court of Indulgence?”

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