By dusk, the setting sun bathed the verdant forest in molten gold.

Beside a babbling brook, emerald-green grass carpeted the ground where over a dozen horses grazed leisurely.

Nearby, seven or eight simple tents stood on open ground. A cleaned wild boar roasted over a crackling fire, its savory aroma slowly drifting through the air.

Verlith followed the mercenary group to their campsite.

The silver-haired maiden who had deliberately guided and supported her along the way now headed toward three carriages parked at the camp.

From a small supply wagon, she retrieved a suitcase, then led Verlith into her own tent.

The tent was cramped—three people would feel crowded. It held a foldable cot, a collapsible clothing rack, and even tables and chairs with folding legs.

Rows of test tubes, crystal vials, ceramic mortars, and tiny tools cluttered the table.

After scanning the space, Verlith seized a quiet moment to chat with the maiden, fishing for useful information.

"Big sister," she called in a sugary-sweet voice.

Her first attempt at a girl’s soft, cute tone came out unnaturally gentle—so glutinous it sent shivers down to her very bones.

When she realized it, she shuddered.

As former commander of the Northern Coalition’s knights, Verlith had overseen intelligence operations. That duty naturally fell to the First Knight of the Northern Alliance.

As head of the Intelligence Bureau, he’d only reported to the General Political Office—never personally undertaking undercover missions or frontline espionage.

Though he avoided direct danger,

he knew every detail of his subordinates’ work to manage effectively.

Including impersonating different personas to approach targets.

If playing a woman were a mission,

Verlith believed he’d execute it flawlessly.

But now, trapped in this role, control slipped away.

His confidence in mastering any character evaporated.

Ordinary women? No problem—regardless of his former appearance or experience.

But this body wasn’t ordinary.

So stunning even women couldn’t envy her. And that voice—merely lowering his pitch slightly turned speech into natural, unforced coquetry.

He could barely stand hearing it himself. How would others react?

The chestnut-haired girl set down the suitcase, blinking as she tilted her head toward Verlith.

"I’m Alyssa. Your voice is sweeter than a songstress’s. If you sang, it’d be heavenly."

"Thank you for the compliment," Verlith replied, shifting back to her normal tone—serious yet unchanged. This new body’s voice was simply too flawless to hide.

Unless she rasped it deliberately, like a strained shout.

But that’d be too obvious.

Shaking her head, Verlith decided to stop resisting.

"Alyssa, where are you all headed?"

"Back to the city?"

"Or seeking thrills in the Tree Spirit Forest? An adventure?"

"Are you part of a mercenary group?"

"Alyssa… sister?"

The silver-haired maiden asked with a playful smile, her soft lips parting like crimson petals.

Two faint dimples appeared on her cheeks—so adorably that Alyssa forgot to answer.

Staring at the girl’s dazed, innocent expression, Alyssa nearly felt the urge to pull her into a hug.

*It must feel so nice…*

Shaking off the stray thought, Alyssa beamed.

"I’m heading back to the city. They’re a small mercenary group—the Eagle Mercenary Group."

She opened the suitcase, sorting toiletries.

"Eagle Mercenary Group?"

Verlith repeated the name slowly, as if memorizing it.

"Yes!"

"You said *they*? Aren’t you with them?"

Verlith was slightly startled, studying Alyssa curiously.

"I’m not a mercenary. I’m an alchemist."

"Oh! What’s your name, little sister?"

Alyssa turned, eyes bright with curiosity.

"Well… I’m Ver—ah, yes. Vier. Call me Vier."

"Vier? Vier…" Alyssa murmured the name happily, ruffling Verlith’s hair. "We’re about the same age. Calling each other ‘sister’ makes me feel like I’m taking advantage. Just use my name."

"Okay… Alyssa!"

*She’s nearly Cleia’s age,* Verlith thought. *Calling her ‘sister’ was awkward anyway.*

After Alyssa finished unpacking, the camp’s brook became their private retreat.

On the shimmering bank,

Alyssa unfastened her chest bindings.

Two full, round breasts sprang free, swaying proudly.

She revealed smooth shoulders and milky arms as her chestnut waterfall of hair tumbled down.

Her perfect waist, curvy silhouette, and long, straight legs were utterly captivating.

Then she half-turned, bending to place her clothes—revealing a provocatively uplifted backside and the shadowed forbidden zone beneath.

*Can’t look anymore.*

Verlith’s nose warmed. Flustered, she turned away, cheeks burning.

"Daydreaming? Let me help you undress."

"Eh? What—"

Alyssa’s bare form circled behind the blushing silver-haired girl.

A chill swept over Verlith as her white dress slipped off. Alyssa deftly unhooked her undergarments and led her toward the stream.

Two exquisite figures waded into the clear water.

Their reflections shimmered on the surface like water sprites.

Alyssa scrubbed Verlith’s smooth back with a towel, frowning.

"Vier, what’s wrong? Why keep your head down?"

*Did I… sleep wrong?*

That excuse wouldn’t fly…

Trapped in awkwardness, Verlith froze—until soft hands landed on her shoulders.

Alyssa’s warm palms made her tremble.

"Your back’s clean. Turn around."

"Huh? Oh! Turn?!"

While Verlith spaced out, Alyssa beamed, spinning her gently to face forward.

*Wait—she’s naked?!*

Verlith snapped her gaze downward.

But the water’s reflection still revealed Alyssa’s flawless curves.

*So beautiful…*

This sight was only possible now. As a man, he’d never gotten this close to a woman’s body—distance always kept him away.

Verlith endured the wash with conflicted emotions.

Suddenly—

Two soft, white mounds filled her vision.

Alyssa hugged her gently, whispering comfort.

"It’s over now. Treat it like a bad dream, okay?"

*Splutter…*

Crimson trails dripped from Verlith’s nose.

*Is this a blessing…*

*Or soap opera hell?*

The mighty First Knight—now a blank page when it came to women.

"Vier! You’re bleeding!" Alyssa gasped.

Mortified, Verlith wiped the blood away.

"Ah—the water’s too hot!" she laughed weakly.

"We’re bathing in cold water."

"…"

Verlith looked up—then froze, eyes wide. Unobstructed view…

*Gulps.*

"Nice… chest…"

"What?"

"N-nothing…"

"I’ve scrubbed you clean. Now wash my back?"

"Gladly…" Verlith stammered, heart pounding.

Since fleeing Voltus’s knights, this was her first truly refreshing—yet mortifying—bath.

Alyssa, believing Vier a tragic heroine recently assaulted by men, had insisted on accompanying her.

She’d even washed every inch of Verlith’s body.

Verlith, honoring the ancient proverb *"to receive but not return is impolite,"*

thoroughly explored Alyssa in return…

Specific details? Divine light obscures them.