“Um… it’s time to get up. You’ve got class this afternoon, remember?”
“What time is it now?”
Aurora, pinned beneath Beatrice, couldn’t sit up. She reached out to pull back the curtain on one side, but just as her hand was about to touch it, a smooth, cold palm suddenly caught hers, fingers interlacing.
Beatrice clung to her like a limpet, as if she couldn’t bear even a sliver of space between their bodies. Aurora couldn’t help but wonder—was this the time of day Beatrice became the most clingy?
Warm breath brushed against her neck, followed by a soft, wet sensation pressing onto a patch of skin there.
Then came a slippery, teasing feeling, as if a moist snake tail were gliding over her skin—tickling her in an almost unbearable way.
Her arms were pinned to the sides, and Beatrice’s inky, feather-soft hair brushed tantalizingly against her cheeks, bringing with it a pleasant, intoxicating scent.
“That tickles, Master…”
Aurora finally couldn’t take it anymore. She had no idea how long this teasing would go on. Maybe it would stop in a moment, or maybe it would continue all day.
She squirmed slightly under Beatrice, signaling her desire to get up.
The hands holding hers suddenly let go, and just when she thought it was finally over, they slid down to wrap around her waist instead.
This kind of foreplay had gone on long enough—Beatrice had completely given in to her desire.
A moment later, their lips met. Her urgent movements stole control of Aurora’s tongue, and even the air in her lungs seemed to be taken away bit by bit.
In the dim, quiet room, their ragged breaths echoed, like ripples disturbing the surface of a still lake—wave after wave, unceasing.
The tingling sensation took over Aurora’s mind, and her body lost all autonomy, left only to passively endure everything.
Suddenly, one hand slipped away from her waist and trailed along the soft, fair skin of her thigh.
The sudden shift made Aurora tremble, and a sense of fear began to take hold of her.
Fingertips glided slowly upward. By the time Aurora realized what she intended to do, a strong sense of alarm had already gripped her mind.
“No… no, you can’t!”
With all the strength her weak body could muster, she pushed against Beatrice. The two of them separated slightly.
“That… that’s not okay…”
Beatrice looked at her bashful expression and thought—if her face weren’t so pale from blood loss right now, it would probably be flushed red enough to drip blood.
“Heh.”
Beatrice lightly brushed her finger across Aurora’s lips. “I’ll let you off for today.”
Aurora immediately got out of bed. Wearing only her underwear, she walked awkwardly over to the window and pulled the curtains open.
The sun had already risen overhead—it was likely noon by now.
“Um… I-I’m going to tend the garden.”
As she spoke, Aurora hastily put on her clothes and quickly left Beatrice’s bedroom.
Watching her retreat, Beatrice chuckled softly. Aurora looked so delicious in that moment. She licked her lips, already imagining the day she would finally devour her completely. That day would surely be wonderful.
*****
In the garden.
Aurora crouched beside the silver hyacinths. Her cheeks were flushed, though still pale from blood loss.
Her silver hair, just like the blossoms, gleamed under the sunlight, faintly glowing gold. If someone else had seen her then, they would’ve thought she was a spirit born from the flowers themselves.
Her heart was in turmoil. Her slender fingers gently stroked the petals, as if the flower were herself—as if soothing it could calm her own heart.
When the breeze blew, countless silver hyacinths swayed like ocean waves. It was as though they were the true reflection of her heart: fluttering, trembling, blooming.
She covered her cheeks, hiding whatever expression she wore.
The wind carried a faint fragrance. Young leaves danced in the air.
Aurora looked up at the sky, spotting what looked like a particularly turbulent leaf spinning erratically in the wind—until she heard it scream for help.
“Help meeeee!!”
Squinting, she realized that was no leaf—it was Avila, flying erratically on a broom?!
“Miss Avila?!”
She didn’t look good at all, swaying uncontrollably as if she could fall at any moment.
The next instant, as if confirming Aurora’s worry, the broom hurtled straight toward the ground.
“Ahhh mamaaa I’m gonna die!”
Just before impact, a flexible vine suddenly wrapped around Avila, yanking her upward just in time.
Thud!
The broom hit the ground with a clatter, while Avila ended up tangled in a tree, unable to get down.
“S-Saved…”
“Miss Avila…”
Just as Aurora breathed a sigh of relief, a familiar voice came from below.
Hanging upside down, Avila looked down to see Aurora—with her eyes glowing faintly gold and a golden clock in her pupils, just as the third quarter had passed.
“Miss Aurora? Waaaah!”
The vine suddenly snapped, and Avila fell from the tree—only to be caught in Aurora’s arms just before hitting the ground.
A soft sensation enveloped her, followed by a pleasant fragrance that wafted into her nose.
“You’re safe now, Miss Avila.”
A gentle voice reached her ears, making her feel a bit tingly and uneasy all over.
Her tightly shut eyes slowly opened, only to be met with a large, soft mound.
“I-I’m so sorry!”
She hurriedly pulled away from Aurora’s embrace and began bowing repeatedly in apology.
“I’m so sorry for making you save me again, Miss Aurora. I already caused you trouble just yesterday!”
“It’s fine, I don’t mind.”
Aurora smiled gently.
Hearing that she was forgiven, Avila finally dared to look up into Aurora’s eyes.
“Miss Aurora, you’re truly an angel!”
“Am I? Hehe.”
Avila suddenly noticed Aurora’s pale complexion. Though Aurora’s skin had always been fair, this paleness had an unhealthy hue—like it was caused by blood loss.
“Miss Aurora, your face looks a bit pale…”
She suddenly remembered the blood she saw yesterday, blooming across the floor like a flower—that had come from Aurora’s body.
A deep wave of guilt surged in her chest.
“This is all my fault…”
“Er… not completely…”
After all, if Beatrice hadn’t acted so recklessly, Aurora wouldn’t have lost that much blood.
“Miss Aurora… I’ve caused you so much trouble. Do you hate me?”
Avila recalled everything they had been through—like when she singled Aurora out as a suspect for the Holy Knights, or when she brought Eisenburg Beatrice to capture her.
And just yesterday, her clumsiness had caused Aurora to be injured. Every time she remembered how such a kind fairy had been hurt because of her, her heart twisted with pain.
She was already prepared to hear words like “I hate you.” After all, even she couldn’t forgive herself—so how could anyone else?
“Why would I hate someone as kind and hardworking as Miss Avila?”
“Huh?”