She rummaged angrily through that inconspicuous Space Bag, pulling out a set of “Combat Suit” she’d been keeping at the very bottom of her chest—an outfit she’d specifically prepared for a quick getaway back then.
In just a few swift moves, she shed her gentle blue-and-white long dress and slipped into a set of tight black leather jacket and pants, her shapely figure shown off to the fullest.
Over that, she put on a long coat of the same color, and on her feet she wore a pair of Boots with iron plates embedded in the soles.
She casually tied her silver hair into a high ponytail, fished out a decorative Longsword from the Space Bag to hang at her waist, and finally, calmly donned a wide-brimmed Cowboy Hat, pressing the brim down low to cover most of her face, leaving only a beautifully contoured chin exposed.
When she walked out from the alley again, that gentle, virtuous, demure widow in need of “protection” had vanished.
In her place was a tall, coldly elegant wanderer-adventurer exuding a clear “keep away from me” aura.
With steady steps, she strode once again to the entrance of the Fairy’s Boudoir.
This time, the burly man at the door—who looked like a bear—merely glanced at her before ignoring her completely, even stepping aside to clear her path.
Tulia sneered inwardly, pushing open the door with composure.
—This is critical fieldwork. I’m here to deeply study the underbelly of imperial culture, absolutely not here for pleasure. Right, that’s it.
As soon as she entered, a thick, ambiguous scent of cosmetics, incense, and alcohol swept over her.
A mature yet charmingly dressed Madam immediately swayed over with a seductive walk.
“Oh my, this guest looks unfamiliar.” Her eyes—experienced from a lifetime of reading people—quickly swept over Tulia and bloomed into the warmest of smiles. “Just look at that figure, that air about you—what a fine beauty you are.”
Tulia pressed the brim of her hat down, staying silent. With her change of clothes, her entire aura had transformed. That aloof, icy detachment from her very bones only added an extra layer of mysterious allure.
“I wonder, dear guest, do you want a gentle and sweet little sister today, or perhaps a strong, manly little brother to serve you?” The Madam grinned with a coquettish flourish.
Tulia raised an eyebrow beneath her hat brim.
—Wow, they even have male companions? Quite the wide range of services!
“Sir, you must be joking.”
The Madam seemed to see through her surprise, laughing behind her hand. “Our Fairy’s Boudoir is the top-notch, famous den of pleasure in the Empire Capital. Of course we cater to all kinds of needs. Besides, the quirks of those great noble lords are endless. We do business—who’d ever turn down money?”
She paused, then leaned in a bit closer, lowering her voice as she gave Tulia a knowing look, her gaze dropping meaningfully to Tulia’s curvaceous chest beneath the fitted gear.
“Still, I need to confirm…” The Madam’s tone was thoroughly professional. “You’re a… lady, yes? You’d like the company of a sister?”
A noncommittal “Mm” came from beneath Tulia’s hat brim.
“Very good!” The Madam instantly got the message, her smile growing even brighter. With a flourish of her Sash, she led the way ahead.
“Then you’ve come to the right place! Please, follow me—our girls at the Orange Blossom Platform are all first-class beauties!”
Inside the Orange Blossom Platform, the lighting was sultry, melting over everything like honey.
The air was thick with a dizzying blend of fine wine, incense, and the scent of women’s skin.
Tulia’s reason had already been soaked soft by the alcohol.
She half-reclined on a soft couch, her Cowboy Hat tossed aside, silver hair spilling like moonlight.
She desperately needed something stronger—something truly her own—to overwrite the morning’s humiliating memory of Sophia.
In the center of the room, a childish yet risqué game was underway.
Tulia, blindfolded with a sash, was reaching out, groping awkwardly at the giggling, dodging girls.
“Oh, miss, you can’t catch me!” a playful voice rang by her ear, flitting away like a butterfly.
“Over here! Over here!” Another voice, full of teasing mirth, gave her a gentle push.
Stumbling through the darkness, Tulia could smell the array of perfumes swirling around her, feeling soft bodies brushing past her again and again.
The thrill of chasing prey in the unknown brought her pent-up heart an unprecedented release.
Finally, with a stumble, she collapsed onto the couch, her hands just managing to catch a warm, soft body.
“Got you!” she crowed triumphantly, yanking off the blindfold.
Pinned beneath her was the adorable girl with dimples who was now blushing fiercely at her.
The other girls around them burst into friendly laughter.
Yet Tulia felt it still wasn’t enough.
The girls’ enthusiasm and compliance were like sweet pastries—delightful, but unable to fill that deeper, darker longing for conquest within her.
She climbed off the girl, swept her gaze around, then called toward the door, “Bring me your star performer.”
That was when Xinuoweiya entered. Like a wisp of black smoke, she melted silently into the decadent colors of the room.
Unlike the other girls, she did not rush to please. She simply knelt quietly before Tulia, pouring her a cup of Green Wine.
Those calm, unfathomable eyes reminded Tulia of some cold-blooded, beautiful serpent.
She’s the one.
Tulia reached out, her fingertips trembling slightly from the alcohol and an inexplicable tension.
She didn’t take the wine. Instead, she seized Xinuoweiya’s wrist. The wrist was slender, icy-cool, as smooth as fine jade.
“Nice wine,” Tulia said, curving her lips into what she thought was a wicked, borrowed smile.
She was trying on a role she’d never played before.
With a clumsy, probing pressure, her thumb lightly stroked the delicate back of Xinuoweiya’s hand.
She could feel the steady pulse beneath that cool skin, and her wildly beating heart calmed just a little.
This was a clumsy resistance to that dream. She wanted to prove that her body, her desire, were her own to command.
Her hand slid up Xinuoweiya’s smooth arm, like a hesitant snake slowly slithering upward.
When her fingertips finally brushed Xinuoweiya’s exposed, beautifully shaped collarbone, she thought she could hear the rush of her own blood.
“But, I think…” Tulia’s breathing grew heavy, she leaned in, the scent on the other girl’s skin as fresh and cool as grass after rain, “…you’re more intoxicating than the wine.”
As soon as she uttered that line—plucked from a storybook—her own cheeks burned. It felt strange, thrilling, and… empty.
A faint, fleeting smile flickered in Xinuoweiya’s emerald eyes. She saw straight through the “guest’s” pretense—a cub baring its fangs and claws, but still too young to be dangerous.
Seeing no resistance, Tulia grew bolder.
Her unruly hand inched further, slowly sliding toward the neckline of that translucent lace dress.
“Miss,” Xinuoweiya’s voice carried a lazy, teasing tone, her breath warm as it brushed Tulia’s ear, “you can’t taste anything just by touching.”
That line, like a final catalyst, snapped Tulia’s last restraint.
With a low growl, she yanked Xinuoweiya into her arms and bent down for a kiss.
But that kiss never landed on Xinuoweiya’s lips.
At the very last moment, a figure buried deep in her subconscious made her instinctively veer away from that final boundary.
Her lips landed instead on Xinuoweiya’s smooth, slender neck.
It was less a kiss than a frustrated, biting nip—a punishment, a venting of anger.
She left a trail of awkward yet forceful marks across Xinuoweiya’s neck and collarbone.
Xinuoweiya felt the hot, tingling pain at her neck, and even frowned slightly at the intensity. But the smile in her eyes only deepened.
Just as Tulia was about to retreat in shame, Xinuoweiya moved.
She reached out, not to push away, but to gently—yet irresistibly—press Tulia’s head down, nestling her face deeper into her neck.
“It’s all right,” she murmured soothingly into the awkward young beast’s ear, so softly only the two of them could hear, “the first time is always a bit rough.”
With that, she took hold of Tulia’s restless hand.
Xinuoweiya’s hand was warm and dry, wrapping Tulia’s hand within her own.