The next morning, as the first ray of sunlight from the mountaintop, tinged with the chill of morning dew, passed through the window and fell upon the bed.
Andrea opened her eyes from a beautiful dream.
She rubbed her drowsy eyes and stretched her soft limbs, surprised by how comfortable her body felt—unimaginably so, as if a long slumber had swept away all the exhaustion she’d built up from dwelling in caves for so long.
“This is the first time I’ve slept so well. But I feel like I’ve forgotten something important?”
The drowsy Red Dragon lady propped herself up on her arm, but a soft, springy sensation from her palm made her look down in surprise.
Then she saw Ailaira Green’s peaceful sleeping face beside her. Her silver hair was spread across the pillow, entwined with Andrea’s red hair, blending together like the meeting of dusk and night, painting a breathtaking scene.
But Andrea had no mind to admire the beauty at this moment. She hurriedly withdrew the hand pressing on Ailaira’s chest, stammering, unable to utter a complete sentence:
“She, she, she… I, I… Why am I sleeping in the same bed as Ailaira!?”
Her rapid breathing caused the quilt draped over her shoulders to slip off, revealing her fair, smooth body.
Only then did she notice she wasn’t wearing a single stitch! The steamy scene finally rebooted Andrea’s muddled mind, and she began to recall what happened last night:
“I remember, after hearing Ailaira come back, I poured an entire bottle of perfume on myself, then hid under the covers waiting for her to fall into my trap.”
“And then…” Andrea rubbed her temples with both hands, trying to remember what happened next, but she could only recall a wave of heat surging through her body—then everything went blank. “Could it be that Ailaira got overwhelmed by desire and just forced herself on me!?”
Andrea nodded to herself, convinced that this was the most logical conclusion based on the current situation.
But then she broke down, clutching her head, her slender white legs flailing chaotically under the covers. Her jumbled thoughts made her too afraid to look at Ailaira:
I only wanted to embarrass Ailaira, not get myself into this mess! What do I do now, what do I do!? For a human and a Dragonborn to do that kind of thing… No matter how you look at it, it’s evil, right? Am I going to get caught and dragged away?
And most importantly, I’ve already eaten the meal, but I don’t remember a single bite—doesn’t that make it an even bigger loss!?
Andrea looked up and sighed. “You wicked woman, why couldn’t you resist temptation? My damned charm, honestly.”
“In the early morning, what are you being so narcissistic about?”
A hazy, lazy voice drifted into Andrea’s ears.
She stiffly turned her head and met Ailaira’s calm gaze. Ailaira yawned and slowly propped herself up against the headboard, her clothes completely intact, not even a wrinkle to be seen.
Andrea clearly didn’t notice these details. She was immersed in her own scenario, clutching Ailaira’s arm. “You have to take responsibility for me!”
Ailaira still looked half-asleep, tilting her head in confusion. “Take responsibility? For what?”
“You! You did this to me, so shouldn’t you take responsibility!?”
Ailaira curled her lips, pulled back her sleeve, and displayed some conspicuous marks on her snow-white skin. Judging by the shape, they were likely made by Andrea’s tail.
Only then did Andrea notice her own tail was still wrapped tightly around Ailaira’s waist—and it seemed thicker than before?
“This is evidence that you were the one clinging to me.”
“You’re the one who stole the perfume, and you’re the one who climbed into my bed on your own. Last night, you were also the one who stuck to me. From start to finish, I didn’t make a single move—so what responsibility is there to take?”
Ailaira flexed her slightly swollen wrist, the soreness creasing her brow, but she endured it and casually tossed her damp, knitted gloves to the floor.
Andrea listened to Ailaira’s words, reflected for a moment, and realized she didn’t really have a leg to stand on. But why was she the one being proactive? This wasn’t how she pictured it at all.
“Stop overthinking it. If that perfume is sprayed on anyone else, even other species, it just attracts some attention. But you—when you use it, it stirs up your own… well, lust.”
Ailaira turned sideways and pulled out seven or eight variously sized bottles and jars from under the bed, all filled with clear, transparent liquid. “These are the fruits of my hard work.”
“And since you brought this trouble on yourself, I have to help you solve it. So today’s labor doesn’t count as part of your daily work. Also, you owe me another service fee—my rates are not cheap.”
Andrea’s face turned crimson in an instant, her embarrassment morphing into rage. “Get lost! You won’t even let me off! Have you no conscience?!”
“Let’s forget the previous ones, but this time, no way. These bottles… anyway, I won’t let you use them to make products!”
Andrea reached out to grab the bottles beside Ailaira. Unable to dodge, Ailaira was caught by the wrist. Ailaira’s eyes narrowed as she stood on the bed.
Andrea had no choice but to cling to her, stretching on tiptoe, reaching desperately for those bottles containing her bodily essence.
Ailaira shifted her gaze from the air back to Andrea, pausing briefly before speaking. “Relax, these liquids won’t be sold commercially. I’ll make them into special Alchemy Potions, to be used on myself with utmost caution.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better!? You perverted woman!”
Andrea, seething, threw a punch at Ailaira’s abdomen.
She’d meant it as a normal punch, but it cut through the air with the force of a dragon’s charge, slamming into Ailaira.
Fortunately, Ailaira had anticipated this and opened a magical defense just in time. Still, the powerful punch knocked her body flying backwards.
Ailaira righted herself in midair and landed steadily by the door, then walked out of the room with practiced ease. “You’re coming with me to the Banquet tonight.”
Andrea didn’t respond. She stared blankly at her own fist, wondering why she still had a human body, yet her strength was so great.
Ailaira, however, knew the answer. She looked at the place on her wrist where Andrea had grabbed her, a purplish bruise left behind, and brought up the updated interface reflecting Andrea’s changes since waking:
[Andrea]
[Race: Dragonborn (Bloodline Purification 10%)]
…
[Development Progress: 30%]
[Development Progress has reached the target value. Reward has been deposited in the System Mailbox. Please check it promptly.]
[Next target progress: 60%]
This was the change brought about by Andrea’s Bloodline Purification. But what was the trigger? Ailaira recalled everything she’d done to Andrea last night, and finally, her memory settled on the moment Andrea bit her fingertip and blood flowed into Andrea’s body.
Ailaira’s eyes darkened as she murmured to herself, “So that’s it. The antidote was me all along.”