I'm in another world, and I start out transformed into Lancelot.

"...Your apology," the hovering fingertips seemed to gather the chill of the room, "...is unpleasant."

CC lay on the cold rush mat.

Feeling the binding force on his wrist, as cold as deep water jade, and the invisible pressure that loomed beside him.

After the initial surprise subsided, instead of fear, a fierce fire of curiosity ignited in those molten gold demon eyes.

That is the most primal and fervent exploration of all unknown existence, forged through countless years of life.

She even curled the corners of her lips into a soft, breathy laugh, accompanied by a languid yet undeniably excited pant:

"...Ah...such rhythm..."

"...It's truly refreshing...even in my long wait...I've never seen anything like it..."

Her gaze swept unabashedly over the silhouette of the knight who was suppressing her.

From the seemingly relaxed yet explosively powerful lines of his arms, I glided down to the face half-hidden by his silver hair.

"The fairy of the lake..." she said, lowering her voice even further.

Like a phantom whispering under the moonlight, it contains a deadly allure and an exploration that strips away the disguise.

"What kind of waters... could possibly give birth to such... an existence?"

She pronounced the word "existence" clearly and meaningfully, like savoring a secret vintage wine aged for a thousand years.

Chapter 42 The fairy pinned the witch down; she was definitely going to…! (Thanks for voting!)

"Heterogeneous"—this poisonous term is like a meteorite piercing through a frozen lake, suddenly exposing the bottomless abyss hidden beneath.

Melusin's golden vertical pupils instantly shattered! The liquid gold flowing deep within her irises was crushed and reforged by an invisible force—its luster vanished, solidifying into cold, hard metal. Stretched and forged, it shaped into two vertical fissures piercing her eyeballs, burning with a ghostly, icy blue flame.

A visionary eye that surpasses human intelligence suddenly locks onto the target.

A whoosh! The air emitted a sound like a string on the verge of snapping.

The pale moonlight was repelled by an invisible force field, shrinking away from the terrifying aura emanating from her. A scorching, violent, and terrifying pressure, carrying a pure destructive possessiveness, erupted like a furnace awakening in the deep sea!

The air was as thick as mercury, and the entire Japanese-style room transformed into an absolute divine realm constructed from primordial dragon essence.

"—?" A very short, sharp sound, like the cracking of an icy continent, rang out. "...Seeking your own death." Her voice was no longer the cold chill of ice and snow, but the deep, resonant lava flowing from the earth's core, each word carrying immense weight.

The trial has begun.

The hand that was restraining CC's wrist underwent a silent transformation.

Its form remains that of an arm, but the core of its power has transformed into a bone-eroded rock reef standing in the deep sea for millennia—hard, heavy, and bearing an unyielding weight since ancient times.

This "hand" that controls destiny elegantly and cruelly raises and twists CC's arm, which is pinned to her head.

The agonizing scream of her shoulder ligaments pierced the silence. Her posture was forcibly sculpted into that of a sacrifice on an altar. Her dark blue silk dress was taut like a bowstring under a blood-stained setting sun, outlining a breathtaking, eerie, and fragilely beautiful curve.

A fatal change was brewing in the splitting pupils.

A vertical fissure, burning with eerie blue-gold flames, locked CC's forced, raised face. Deep within her pupils, there was no longer scrutiny, but a dark matter vortex capable of annihilating everything.

The gaze, like tangible star shackles, nailed her from blood and bones to her very being to the cold rush altar!

The hand that had been hovering above the throat suddenly pressed down.

His five fingers closed, transforming into a pair of pincers of truth that tore through space—unequivocally locking her delicate jawbone. The force was so great that it forced her head back to its limit, like a jade artifact on the verge of breaking.

The cold fingertips, imbued with superhuman power, seemed to break the final seal—the tightly closed lips, under the intense pressure of superhuman will, revealed a barely perceptible crack, leading to the deepest abyss.

“…Since you are so thirsty for the essence…” Melos leaned down and pressed down, her long silver hair almost brushing against CC’s taut cheeks.

Those eyes, forged from savage, dark fire, were inches away, their burning gaze like a branding iron that seared the soul.

A deep voice escaped from between his parted lips, barely a breath: "...then I will personally...with this immortal body...taste it..."

The words, imbued with an icy aura and a pure, inhuman will, poured back into the slightly ajar, deep entrance.

CC's body trembled violently under the instinctive pressure and the cold locks. Pulled by the arms hanging high, her silk clothes were wrapped even tighter, and the moonlight reflected on them, making them look like solidified blood-red thorns.

Deep within those demonic eyes, forced to stare directly into the golden crack... under the oppressive pressure of the inhumanly close situation, the eyelashes trembled violently, as if finally unable to withstand the pressure, and a layer of purely physiological, clear, watery mist rose up, like shattered glass.

Melusin's split vertical pupils—like a cosmic-level detector—instantly captured the crystalline ripple in the prey's eyes.

The fingertips clamped on the jawbone, with a cold, scrutinizing air, slowly brushed across the slightly parted lips, which gleamed with a subtle, moist sheen, forced open by the force of the grip.

Her leaning posture deepened, and the shadow, like a curtain, completely swallowed most of CC's face.

Hot breath sprayed onto her vulnerable neck and parted lips, which were forced to be exposed.

His low, deep voice, amplified by the awakening of his draconic instincts, was like a declaration from the abyss itself, brimming with the pleasure of control: "...Heh..."

His gaze, like icy rays, focused on the alluring, moist sheen within her lips: "...above..." His gaze pierced through the sheer, misty blue silk dress, as if peering into the deepest secrets of her soul: "...below..."

The cold conclusion, clearly ground out between the teeth, is the ultimate mockery and amusement at the prey's primal state: "...all are... exactly the same...wet essence."

The dragon fairy's fingertips gently caressed CC's jawbone as if appraising a rare work of art, her vertical pupils locking onto the uncontrollable, desperate tears welling up in CC's eyes: "Putting yourself in such a predicament... and you still manage to show such..."

She paused, each word imbued with toxicity and a strange excitement: "...wet...adorable..." "—Ha." The fairy let out a short, icy laugh.

"...Truly befitting an immortal witch...only she could reveal such an ultimate essence." The cold verdict had already fallen. The "wet" "cuteness" had become a brand-like truth.

The whisper of dragon breath, the overwhelming power, the vulnerability under the gaze amidst the fragrance of rushes, the glistening moisture revealed by slightly parted lips... and that "wet" essence that is pierced by the dragon's eyes and has nowhere to hide.

All elements, within this moonlit cage constructed by dragon instinct, intertwine and freeze like frozen time, eternally. CC's very existence is the purest offering and display of this "wet" essence.

Chapter 43 What's going on? This atmosphere where only I'm failing.

Early morning, the Governor's Palace dining room. Sunlight streams through the stained-glass windows, casting dappled patterns of light on the floor.

The air was filled with the aroma of toasted bread, the fat of fried bacon, and the rising steam of freshly brewed black tea.

Euphemia sat at a long table covered with a linen tablecloth, her long, cherry-pink hair loosely tied up, revealing her smooth neck.

She was intently spreading jam on a crisp slice of toast, her violet eyes reflecting the new greenery of the courtyard outside the window, filled with the tranquil vitality of a new day beginning.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

At that moment, the door was pulled open.

CC strolled in first. She had changed into a Euphemia morning robe that was clearly a size too big, with the belt hastily tied around her waist.

Her green hair was still loose, with a strand clinging to her cheek, still damp with moisture—as if she had just washed up and was still a little lazy.

Her gaze swept across the dining table and went straight to the coffee pot, which had the strongest aroma.

Following closely behind was Meluxin.

She had returned to her usual demeanor, her silver hair meticulously tied up with that antique dark red wooden hairpin, revealing her cold and stern profile.

With steady, silent steps, he walked directly to the position behind Euphemia, fulfilling his duty as a guardian knight.

The vertical pupils, gleaming with molten gold, were calm and still, like a deep pool reflecting the cold moonlight.

—At least on the surface.

Yuffie lifted her spoon, still covered in strawberry jam, and greeted the two with a smile: "Good morning! CC, Melusin. Did you sleep well last night...?"

Her voice was light and cheerful, like birdsong at dawn.

His gaze, however, seemed guided by the most sensitive radar, inadvertently sweeping over the two approaching figures.

That casual glance caused her to pause almost imperceptibly.

The jam on the spoon hovered in the air, a drop of bright red sauce about to fall.

It was an extremely subtle and indescribable feeling.

It was as if the air density had undergone an imperceptible change, or as if two invisible force fields had triggered a resonance of strings that the human ear could not detect at the moment of contact.

CC's walk toward the coffee pot still carried his signature languidness, but Yuffie caught a hint of... something off?

For example, her steps on the floor seemed a little smaller than usual, and there was a very faint, almost invisible ring-shaped red mark on her ankle.

As she reached for the mug, her loose, pale yellow sleeve slipped down, revealing a small patch of skin on the inside of her wrist...

There seemed to be an extremely thin, almost fading, strange reflection there?

It doesn't look like skincare product residue, nor is it water droplets; rather, it looks like a very thin, transparent... film of water on the surface of a lake.

Yuffie unconsciously rubbed the spoon handle with her fingertips.

A very subtle sense of confusion crossed her mind. When she took CC to the guest room last night... she didn't seem to see this?

And when Yuffie's gaze unconsciously shifted to Melusin—

The knight stood as always, a step behind Euphemia, his back straight as an ancient pine, his expression cold and detached.

However, when Yuffie's gaze inadvertently swept over her hands hanging at her sides, her heart felt as if it had been gently scratched by a feather.

The knuckles of that hand, covered by a white cloth sleeve, seemed... paler than usual?

The lines on the fingertips also seem... excessively clear?

It's like the skin of your entire hand was covered by something extremely briefly and tightly, leaving a mark after you just broke free.

Especially around the base of her fingers, Yuffie remembered, with some...too clear memory...that the skin there didn't feel like that.

Moreover, on the side of Melusin's index finger, Yuffie's gaze even caught a red mark thinner than a strand of hair.

It felt like being grazed by something extremely sharp and tiny.

This subtle mark, on the knight's otherwise perfect and otherworldly appearance, stood out as abruptly as a snowflake stuck to a marble statue.

What bothered her even more was... when CC turned around with a cup of black coffee that was almost overflowing.

My gaze inadvertently drifted towards Melusin's direction, and a spark of provocation seemed to briefly ignite deep within those bewitching golden eyes.

Like a lit match, it was instantly extinguished in the lazy mist.

And at that very moment, almost simultaneously!

Yuffie suddenly felt Melosin's presence behind her... freeze for a moment! It was as if something was being forcibly suppressed by instinct.

That's not a visual change, but a subtle shift in some kind of energy field, or "temperature field".

The air seemed to sink? To grow cold? In those extremely short fractions of a second?

Yuffie even had the illusion of a slight tingling sensation on her skin, an almost resonant alertness from her body to certain "deep frequencies" after her most intimate contact with the fairy knight!

Yuffie's fingers tightened slightly as she held the spoon.

"...Did you sleep well, Euphemia?" CC's voice was hoarse from just waking up, but it sounded perfectly natural.

She took a sip of strong, bitter coffee and tilted her head to look at Euphemia's frozen expression.

A faint, playful smile, characteristic of the thousand-year-old witch, appeared at the corner of her lips again.

"Oh? Or... were you attracted by the glow on my face?" She deliberately turned her head to the side.

A strand of damp green hair swept across her cheek, concealing the unusual mark on her wrist.

"Huh? N-nothing!" Yuffie snapped back to reality, a thin blush, like early cherry blossoms, rising on her face.

She quickly put the toast covered in jam into her mouth to cover her embarrassment. The sweet and sour jam exploded on her tongue, slightly diluting the strange feeling in her heart.

She glanced quickly at Melousin.

The knight remained standing there calmly, his vertical pupils fixed on a certain point in the void, as if the "sinking sensation" he had felt just moments before was merely Euphemia's illusion.

Her face was expressionless, except for the slightest movement of her fingers hanging at her sides.

It was as if trying to smooth over the almost non-existent red mark, or perhaps to calm some kind of inner turmoil.

And that section of wrist bone exposed outside the sleeve, in the clear morning light, appeared unusually... cold and hard.

“I was just a little curious…” Yuffie swallowed her toast, her voice returning to its calm tone.

But deep within her violet eyes, a ripple of unease still lingered, a lingering resentment she could not completely let go of.

She picked up the teapot beside her and poured herself a cup. "CC, your cuffs... seem to have some water stains?"

"Hmm?" CC looked down at her loose, pale yellow cuffs, where there were indeed some damp, dark stains.

“Oh, this,” she said casually, wiping her coffee-stained fingers. “Last night… um, I tasted something… a little… wet.”