Politics, history, and geography were intertwined. When Mushiyu thought, she unconsciously drifted from one topic to another. This stemmed from her strong liberal arts mindset, honed by excellent high school grades. Yet she overlooked a fundamental truth: Earth had no magic. Marx’s materialist theory didn’t apply here. All scientific theories might just be a joke in this world.
Here, magic could create life, control celestial movements, even rewrite history. Every reasonable or unreasonable thing could be explained by magic. So from the start, Mushiyu’s thinking was flawed.
But none of this truly mattered. Mushiyu wasn’t seeking this world’s essence. She was merely bored, killing time.
Just as Mushiyu drifted in thought, the carriage door swung open abruptly. Her mind froze for a split second. She halted, staring blankly at the door, utterly confused.
Melissara opened the door to find the girl barefoot on the plush carpet. Naked, she gazed at Melissara with rabbit-like bewilderment. A flicker of unusual light crossed Melissara’s eyes. She gently closed the door behind her.
They stared blankly at each other. Mushiyu’s brain rebooted. Following Melissara’s gaze, she looked down at herself… The next second, the naked “rabbit” panicked, leaping onto the bed. She yanked the blanket over her head, curling into a tiny ball. An angry, flustered voice muffled through the fabric: “Why didn’t you knock?!”
After Loran left, Mushiyu had tried the door. It was locked. That’s why she’d dared to walk naked inside. Who knew Melissara would slip in silently?
“What does it matter?” Melissara retorted.
“Of course it matters!” Mushiyu snapped.
“What does it matter?” Melissara slowly approached the bed. No sound—thanks to the plush carpet.
Mushiyu snorted, silent. She’d had enough of Melissara’s twisted humor. She couldn’t stand seeing her for another minute.
As she thought this, a hand landed on her waist through the blanket.
Mushiyu shuddered as if bitten by a venomous snake. She brushed the hand away through the fabric.
“Don’t touch me!” she cried.
Silence. Mushiyu wondered when Melissara had grown so obedient. Then a voice, thick as dripping water, whispered by her ear:
“So that human could touch you?”
“What… human?” Mushiyu’s heart raced. She feigned ignorance, mind spinning.
What did she mean? Did she know about Grace? No… impossible. She hadn’t been here. Loran, who visited, showed no signs. It couldn’t be Grace.
Probably…
“Grace…” Melissara murmured. “That woman.”
Mushiyu suddenly couldn’t breathe. She wanted to throw off the blanket but her limbs were frozen.
“Her embrace felt nice, didn’t it? You seemed reluctant to leave…” Melissara’s voice drew closer, brushing her ear.
Despair gripped Mushiyu. How much did she know?
“Your expression looked so pleased back then?” It was rhetorical.
Melissara’s hand stroked Mushiyu’s stiff body through the blanket. Starting at her head, like petting a kitten, she caressed the neck, traced the spine, paused on the small buttocks, slid down the thigh, and grasped a tiny foot. Through the fabric, she kneaded the soft foot with varying pressure.
Mushiyu shifted the foot uncomfortably. Melissara withdrew her hand. A cool draft hit Mushiyu’s back—the blanket’s corner lifted. She almost grabbed it but forced herself still.
Melissara’s slender fingers peeled the blanket back slowly, revealing the pale body beneath. No resistance. Melissara’s gloomy expression faded, replaced by a satisfied smile.
Finally, the blanket fell away. Mushiyu kept her eyes shut tight, curled into a ball under the oil lamp’s dim glow.
Warmth enveloped her. Hot breath tickled her ear. Then her earlobe was drawn into a moist, warm place.
“Mmm…” A faint sound escaped Mushiyu’s nose. Her body stiffened. Heart pounding. Breath ragged. Eyelashes trembling. Her face flushed crimson.
“You’re obedient this time,” Melissara whispered, gently biting the earlobe.
Warm air puffed into her ear, tickling. Mushiyu felt her mind invaded. Fighting the urge to shove away the Elvenkind behind her, she stammered: “Don’t… don’t hurt Grace…”
“Why?” Melissara’s lips slid down, sucking and rubbing Mushiyu’s swan-like neck. The milk-white skin drew her in.
“I have nothing to do with her…” Mushiyu forced down nausea from the touch.
“Then what counts as a relationship?” Melissara recalled Mushiyu’s joyful face in Grace’s arms. Her suction intensified, as if sucking the girl’s soul into herself.
“Mmm…” Mushiyu felt tingling numbness on her neck—like electric currents darting. She wanted to clamp it shut but couldn’t.
“Just don’t touch her… and I’ll… I’ll…”
“You’ll obediently listen to me,” Melissara finished.
“Mmm… mmm.” Mushiyu couldn’t speak.
Faint red marks bloomed where Melissara had sucked. Like a child with a new toy, Melissara planted hickeys across the sensitive skin.
Absorbed, she didn’t see the tear tracks sliding down Mushiyu’s cheeks…
In a deserted alley behind the bar, Grace pushed herself up with her sword. She wiped blood from her lips and staggered toward the inn.
“Huh? Isn’t this Miss Grace?” A familiar voice sounded beside her. “Half an hour apart, and you’re in this state?”
Grace turned. A blond young man stood nearby, a mocking smile on his lips. He swirled a wine glass, its liquid gleaming bloody crimson.
“Cough!” Grace rasped. “Mr. Herman… cough… seems we can talk now.”
Herman placed his empty hand on his chest, bowing politely.
“An honor. I believe this will be pleasant. But first, your injuries need tending.”
Grace shook her head. “Unnecessary. Speak. Your plan.”
Herman opened his mouth to insist—then froze. His gaze sharpened at her wounds. Shock flashed, quickly masked. His smile remained. “Very well. I’ll be blunt.”
As Herman spoke, Grace straightened. Color returned to her face. Her sword, no longer a crutch, slid into its sheath. Herman noted this silently.
“That’s the gist. Your thoughts, Miss Grace?”
Grace nodded slightly. “Understood. I’ll cooperate when the time comes. It’s late. Excuse me.”
Watching her walk away, Herman’s smile vanished. A flash of viciousness crossed his eyes.
