Anya stepped out of the bathroom, and after having dinner with Yisha, she returned to her room.
The usual chirping that had filled the whole day suddenly vanished, leaving only the occasional soft crackle of the fireplace logs in the room.
The quiet made Anya feel strangely out of sorts.
Images of that fluffy white ball bouncing around kept flickering through Anya’s mind.
For some reason, the silence that she was used to every day now left her feeling a bit empty.
“Stop thinking about it. There’s swordsmanship practice tomorrow.”
She patted her slightly cool cheeks, trying to dispel that inexplicable sense of longing, and slowly drifted into sleep in the quiet.
Within the System Space, starlike specks of light floated in the void.
Iris lay sprawled on a little bed with a cushion as soft as clouds, hugging a Comics with a faintly glowing cover tightly in her arms.
Her snow-white little feet dangled in the air, swaying gently as she flipped the pages.
Her rosy cheeks were bright with a silly, infatuated grin.
“Geez, this hero is way too useless! He actually triggered the defeat CG and got turned into a soft, sweet girl by the Demon King. But this kind of cuddly scene is really eye candy∽” she dragged out her words in a soft, sticky tone, her tiny finger tracing the page lightly, eyes shining with delight.
Only when she reached the last page did Iris reluctantly close the book.
It wasn’t that she’d had enough—there were only ten Comics left in her stash, and every finished one meant one less to enjoy.
Suppressing her excitement at reaching the climax, she carefully put the Comics back onto the Floating Bookshelf, still reluctant to part with it.
“Ha∽”
Iris let out a long yawn. Smacking her lips, she flopped onto the bed with all four limbs in the air, rubbing her head against the cushion.
“Not having to run around with little Anya all the time is just too comfy. I just want to slack off and be a salted fish forever!”
But at the thought of Anya’s personality, Iris couldn’t help but puff out her cheeks and grumble, “She’s such a blockhead! If things keep going like this, when will I ever earn enough points to exchange for the treasures in the Mall?”
Complaints aside, sleepiness soon swept over her.
The white fluffball mumbled, “Above and below, sleep is best. Tomorrow’s problems are for tomorrow,” and dove headfirst into the soft bedding, curling herself up into a ball.
As her eyelids grew heavier, the starlight within the System Space also softened, and Iris finally drifted off into a deep sleep.
The night passed without incident.
Anya was startled awake by the rapid pounding of her own heart.
She shot upright in bed, both hands instinctively pressing to her flushed, burning cheeks. The heat beneath her fingertips made her heart skip a beat.
She rubbed her muddled head vigorously, muttering, “What on earth kind of weird dream did I have…”
Fragments of the dream flashed through her mind.
It was still that white-haired fluffball, but more clingy than usual—soft little hands tugging at her sleeve, insisting on doing things that made her face burn.
The more Anya remembered, the more embarrassed she felt, her breathing growing uneven.
Just then, a familiar soft voice sounded by her ear, snapping her thoughts back at once: “Little Anya, you’re up so early?”
Iris was perched at her bedside, her shoulder-length snowy hair draping softly over her shoulders, the fringe on her forehead swaying lightly with her breath, her sea-blue eyes full of curiosity.
“Why’s your face red like a ripe Red Berry? Did you have a nightmare last night?”
Meeting those clear eyes, the ambiguous fragments from her dream resurfaced uncontrollably.
She quickly looked away, forcing down the panic in her heart, threw off the covers and got up. “N-no.”
Saying that, she hurried into the bathroom to change, wanting only to escape the awkward atmosphere.
“Hey! You’re ignoring me again!” Iris pouted in dissatisfaction, the cowlick atop her head sticking up straight like a little steel needle.
“I am your Exclusive Assistant, you know! Keep treating me coldly like this, and I’ll start hissing at you!”
“Hissing?” Anya’s voice floated out from behind the bathroom door.
A moment later, she emerged in a set of silvery-gray combat gear, the snug fabric outlining her crisp, agile silhouette.
As she coiled up her hair, she asked, “What’s that?”
“Like this.”
Iris’ eyes sparkled, and she instinctively mimicked a cat—her chubby cheeks puffed out as she opened her mouth and gave Anya a little “hiss.”
She even scrunched her brows, trying to look fierce.
But her appearance was so cute and soft to begin with, that her attempt at ferocity only looked adorably fierce in Anya’s eyes, making her burst out laughing.
“Eh? How can you still laugh!” Iris huffed, planting her hands on her little waist. “I’m angry right now! Very, very angry, okay!”
She tiptoed, trying to look more imposing.
“If I really got mad, I could summon wind and rain, bring thunder from the sky! There’s nothing I can’t do!”
Anya, amused by her contradictory words and actions, smiled even more, and conveniently changed the subject: “Iris, where did you go last night?”
At that, Iris immediately turned her head away, her little nose pointing high, and snorted, “Someone was busy with her own stuff all night, didn’t bother with me at all, so I had to go do my own thing. Or do you want me to shamelessly stick around and annoy you?”
Hearing this, Anya’s gaze dropped, a tinge of guilt flashing through her heart. Not knowing how to reply, she could only remain silent.
Just then, Yisha’s gentle voice sounded outside the door: “Miss Anya, good morning. Your Swordsmanship Teacher has arrived. Are you awake?”
“I’m up, I’ll be right there.” Anya responded at once, turned and picked up the Heavy Wooden Practice Sword from the weapon rack, and pushed open the door to leave.
Seeing her come out, Yisha hurriedly bowed in greeting. “Miss Anya, Lady Kashan is waiting in the backyard. I’ll go prepare your breakfast now. You can eat after swordsmanship practice.”
Anya nodded slightly, gripped the heavy sword in her hand, and walked toward the backyard.
Seeing Anya avoid answering after all, Iris could only shrug helplessly and hurried after her with her little legs pattering.
The fierce Storm that raged yesterday had already subsided.
The morning sun pierced through the clouds, sprinkling the remaining ice crystals in the courtyard with tiny, rainbow-hued specks, and the air was still tinged with the crisp freshness that follows snow.
The human and the system reached the Training Yard in the backyard, and from afar spotted a tall, upright figure standing with hands behind her back.
It was a young woman dressed in black combat attire, a narrow-bladed longsword at her waist.
Her long red hair was tied high in a ponytail, exposing a smooth forehead, her posture as straight as a solitary pine.
With eyes closed in repose, an unapproachable, sharp aura surrounded her.
This could be none other than Anya’s Swordsmanship Teacher, Lady Kashan.
“Anya, you’re here.”
As if sensing footsteps, Kashan slowly opened her eyes—those deep brown irises sharp as a hawk, exuding severity.
“You’re exactly two minutes, thirty seconds, and nine milliseconds late.”
Her tone was calm, but each word carried weight.
“According to the rules, run twenty laps around the Training Yard. Start now.”
Iris’ eyes went round, her little mouth hanging open, stunned on the spot.
Milliseconds?! This teacher must have a clock engraved in her bones!
She stuck out her tongue in secret, silently mourning three seconds for her host.
But she dared not say more, so she just folded her arms and stood quietly to watch the drama unfold.
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