Dekalorin set down her teacup, leaning forward with an oppressive gaze fixed tightly on Movira.
“If we compare a person’s heart to a house, sisterly affection might let you stay in a nice guest room. You can be together day and night, intimate without barriers, but the ‘lover’s’ master bedroom—you’ll always be shut out. You can’t get in!”
“Even more terrifying,” Dekalorin raised her tone a few notches, signaling the importance of what followed, “you can’t completely stop others… from walking into that master bedroom.”
“Lover… master bedroom?” Movira repeated softly. The image of the man who invited Seraphina to dance that afternoon flashed in her mind, and an instinctive killing intent revealed itself without doubt.
“Then drive away anyone who approaches that door!”
“Enough!” Dekalorin scolded sharply. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough to suppress Movira’s emotions.
“Using violence to eliminate potential rivals? How is this any different from the old you?! The results will be the same as before!!”
“You’ll only get an empty shell imprisoned by fear, not a heart that opens willingly to you!”
Seeing the fleeting confusion on Movira’s face, Dekalorin ultimately didn’t expect the other to figure it out.
So, Dekalorin stopped beating around the bush and gave direct guidance. “Your top priority now is to think of every way possible—how to transform this sisterly affection into what you truly want!”
In the corridor, the night wind was cool.
Movira mulled over Dekalorin’s words, a vague plan forming in her heart.
When she pushed open the door, the room’s light fell on her. To her surprise, she found Seraphina hadn’t gone to sleep but was gazing blankly at the deep night outside the window.
“Not asleep yet?” Movira lightened her steps as she approached. “Did you have a nightmare? Or are you not feeling well?”
Seraphina turned her head, her eyes a bit vacant, and shook her head lightly. “Neither. Just… can’t sleep.”
Her voice was soft, unwilling to say more. She simply turned to her side, leaving Movira with a slender back.
Movira stood by the bed, a bit at a loss.
Recalling the strategies Dekalorin had taught her, in the face of Seraphina’s obvious resistance, they all seemed useless.
It was as if any sound would disturb Seraphina or seem out of place.
After a long while, Seraphina’s voice broke the silence, changing the topic.
“Did Dekalorin give you a hard time?” She didn’t turn back, her voice a bit muffled. “When she left this morning, she looked…”
“No…” Movira hadn’t expected Seraphina to ask about this. After a slight hesitation, she chose a downplayed explanation. “Just… chatted about some academy matters.”
“… like she was a bit angry.”
She hoped to brush it off vaguely.
Seraphina keenly sensed this perfunctory evasion. She quietly turned around, looking at Movira. “Can’t you tell me?”
Movira guiltily avoided her gaze, quickly weighing the pros and cons in her mind. Telling the truth directly was definitely not an option.
It would expose too much and might put immense pressure on Seraphina.
“…Actually.” Movira carefully chose her words, ultimately opting to downplay the key parts. “It was because of that guy in the central square this morning.”
She paused, secretly observing Seraphina’s reaction. Seeing no particular emotional fluctuation, she continued.
“I wanted to get you out of there quickly. In the heat of the moment, I subconsciously used Demon Realm magic power. It was very faint, but Dekalorin noticed. She called me over this time to remind me not to let it happen again.”
This explanation was half-true, half-false, shifting the focus of the entire incident from emotional issues to safety concerns.
Seraphina listened quietly, as if judging the authenticity of these words.
After a moment, she hummed in acknowledgment, accepting the explanation, though still harboring doubts.
Then, silence fell again, her gaze turning once more to the window.
“Then what… were you thinking about just now?” Movira looked at the melancholy between her brows, unable to resist probing deeper.
Seraphina looked up, countering with a slightly petulant tone. “You won’t tell me what really happened—so why… should I tell you what I’m thinking?”
Movira was momentarily choked by these words, speechless. Seeing Seraphina’s rare display of a little temper, her heart felt helpless yet touched.
Emotionally obtuse as she was, she simply interpreted it as…
Silence descended once more.
But this time, it didn’t last long. Movira took the initiative to compromise, sitting on the edge of the bed, closer to Seraphina.
In a calm tone, she recounted the morning’s events, using her revised version—more detailed and “realistic.”
But she once again skipped the discussion about emotions.
Seraphina listened, nodding this time. The dissatisfaction on her face from Movira’s lack of honesty dissipated.
She needed this “exchange” to earn her own openness.
“…Actually.” Seraphina finally spoke up. Movira perked up.
Her words carried confusion. “I’ve been thinking about what happened this morning too.”
Then her words trailed off for a long while, her fingers twisting the soft bedding.
“I don’t understand… that person, the one who invited me to dance—why would he… invite me?”
Seraphina’s brows furrowed, her face showing genuine confusion, almost painful bewilderment.
“I clearly…”
She wanted to say, “I clearly… am still a man…”
But the words wouldn’t come out, stuck in her throat.
Because her current body was indeed, without a doubt, female. This realization clashed violently with the deep-rooted self-identity in her soul.
Acting spoiled.
“…Clearly am…”
Movira understood what Seraphina was truly struggling with, but her heart felt gripped by something, a mix of pain and bitterness.
She stood up, walked to the dressing table in the room, picked up an exquisite hand mirror, and returned to the bedside.
She didn’t hand the mirror to Seraphina but sat beside her first. “Seraphina, look at this.”
Seraphina followed her guidance, lifting her eyes to gaze at the mirror’s surface.
The mirror reflected an extremely delicate face: long lashes like dancing butterfly wings, violet eyes misty from deep confusion, scattered light apricot hair adding a fragile beauty.
It was a face that anyone would pity upon seeing, completely captivating.
“He invited you because he saw the beautiful you.” Movira’s voice was close. “What he saw is the current you, the you in the mirror. Seraphina, you are a very beautiful… woman.”