Does she still dream?
Iserin occasionally asked herself this question.
She hadn’t dreamed for over twenty years; sleep was nothing more than pure rest.
Perhaps it was a side effect of the physical evolution that came with becoming the Saintess, or perhaps Iserin’s spiritual realm had reached a brand-new height.
She no longer needed the ethereal nature of dreams to satisfy daily fantasies.
But whenever Iserin became aware of this question, she felt that the last trace of mortal emotion had not yet faded from her consciousness.
She probably still dreamed.
It was just that ten years of rigid self-discipline had suppressed her dreams into the deepest recesses of her memory.
When she opened her eyes.
Mowan’s cute face was right before her.
After nearly two months of recovery, Mowan’s cheeks had rounded out a bit, and her chin was no longer as sharp as before.
Mowan’s large, round eyes were wide open, as if she wanted to freeze this moment forever, capturing every detail of Iserin’s face in her mind.
Iserin felt the brightness of the light coming through the window.
It was already late; if she hadn’t guessed wrong, it was likely around seven in the morning.
She had actually slept for a full eight hours in Mowan’s house.
Iserin usually woke up after only three hours of sleep.
If she had nothing to do, she would only then continue to catch up on rest.
However, by Mowan’s side, enveloped in Mowan’s scent, a single blink had brought her to the next morning.
But she still hadn’t dreamed.
Or rather, she couldn’t remember whether she had dreamed last night at all.
“Good morning, Sister Selin.”
“Morning.”
Iserin reached out from under the covers, touching Mowan’s pointed ears, her warm face, and the horns on her forehead that only members of the Demon Race grew.
They weren’t very hard, and because they curved upward, they didn’t feel prickly even when held in an embrace.
Iserin tried kissing Mowan’s horn.
She could feel Mowan’s body temperature rise slightly.
In other words, Mowan’s horns also had a sense of touch.
Moving to the corners of her eyes, her cheeks, and then down to Mowan’s mouth, Iserin pecked at the space between Mowan’s lips like a dragonfly skimming the water.
Finally, she flicked her tongue out; with only a momentary touch, she pulled away.
She lifted the quilt.
“The Church still has work. I must return early.”
Mowan sat halfway up, looking up at Iserin.
Although her eyes held a bit of reluctance, there was more understanding and a hint of self-reproach.
Iserin changed back into the dress she had worn when she arrived.
She turned to give Mowan a smile, her complexion looking much better than yesterday.
“By the way, recently, I told the Princess the truth about the Monsters. She might come looking for you, though not here. I will notify you when the time comes; the timing is uncertain.”
“Okay.”
“I’m going out.”
“Mhm. See you tonight, Sister Selin.”
Iserin left Mowan’s room.
She walked outside and pushed open the front door.
The cold autumn air rushed against her neck, and she paused.
A moment later, she shook her head, dispersing the warmth she had taken from Mowan’s body.
Iserin didn’t dislike spending time with Mowan.
On the contrary, she felt a rare sense of pleasure when she was with Mowan.
If being intimate with Mowan could both captivate her and make herself feel happy, she was naturally happy to carry out this win-win task.
She just didn’t want to receive a so-called sense of redemption from Mowan.
As the Saintess, she didn’t need redemption.
As the Saintess, it was always she who redeemed others; there was never any talk of others redeeming her.
So, Iserin easily cut away those little weeds growing in her heart.
***
Mowan paced around the room alone.
She was weighing the scales in her heart.
If she let Iserin sleep with her, it would affect Iserin’s rest time.
To prevent the people of The Church from discovering the Saintess was out for an affair, Iserin definitely had to return early to prepare.
But Mowan really liked sleeping with Iserin.
Iserin said she would come again tonight, and Mowan didn’t know if she should ask Iserin to stay again.
Mowan felt her pockets.
She still didn’t have a single cent.
Looking at the food sent by the delivery person, Mowan sighed.
How could she let the dignified Saintess gnaw on bread with her for dinner?
Mowan went outside.
She looked around until she finally found a shop that specialized in baking bread.
“Miss, excuse me, are you here to buy food?”
“No, I… I’m a new resident here. I just wanted to say hello.”
Mowan spent most of her time holed up at home, and food was delivered by a dedicated person every morning.
She had no chance to interact with her neighbors at all.
The owner of that bakery smiled and praised Mowan’s friendliness.
Mowan chatted while asking the owner if there were any ways to make bread taste better—specifically, bread that had already been baked.
As expected of a professional old master, he shared all sorts of ways to eat bread with Mowan.
Mowan was very grateful after listening and thanked the old master.
She immediately went home to experiment with the bread meant for breakfast and lunch.
Having lived a life of travel for three years and being the Priest of the party, Mowan naturally knew how to cook.
Therefore, just by listening to the old baker’s verbal instructions, Mowan grasped the general idea.
She estimated the time Iserin was supposed to arrive and prepared dinner at home in advance.
As twilight fell.
Mowan had nothing to do at home.
She went to the front door again, looking at the sinking sunset, anticipating Iserin’s arrival.
Lowering her eyes.
She saw the eight pots of Lilies at the door.
After thinking for a moment, she had a sudden inspiration.
She swapped two of the four pots of purple Lilies on the left with two pots from the white Lilies on the right. In this way, the eight pots of Lilies were arranged in a purple-white-purple-white sequence.
Mowan didn’t consider herself to have OCD, but seeing this symmetrical arrangement of flower pots made her feel much more comfortable.
Moreover, this also symbolized that her relationship with Iserin had undergone a transformation.
Originally, they were just two parallel lines meeting by chance, but now their fates were inextricably intertwined.
Mowan watered the flowers with satisfaction.
Iserin appeared at the door at that moment.
“Sister Selin.”
Iserin glanced at the newly arranged flower pots and curled her lips into a smile.
“I’m back.”
“Welcome home~”
Sister Selin said “I’m back.”
Does that mean she also acknowledges that wherever I am is home?
Mowan couldn’t help but think narcissistic thoughts in her heart.
No, it’s not narcissism, it must be the truth!
Mowan put down the watering can.
She stepped forward and took Iserin’s hand, leading her into the house, and then closed the door.
She raised her head and boldly leaned toward Iserin’s lips.
Iserin wrapped her arms around Mowan’s waist, letting Mowan take what she wanted.
Finally, when Mowan let go of Iserin, she seemed to feel shy about her behavior.
She looked toward the kitchen and changed the subject.
“Um… I made dinner! You… haven’t eaten yet, right?”
“I’ve eaten.”
“Eh?”
Iserin reached out and tapped Mowan’s lips.
Mowan’s face instantly flushed.
She pulled Iserin’s hand, moved behind her, and pushed Iserin toward the dining table.
“Sit down quickly. I prepared dinner in advance. I’ll bring it out now.”
In the kitchen.
Mowan opened the pot lid, her heart thumping loudly.
Iserin’s little actions just now… really did count as liking her, right?
It was just that Iserin hadn’t realized it yet.
But Mowan was still a bit confused and somewhat afraid.
Because of Iserin’s status as the Saintess, the gap between their positions, and the fact that they were originally enemies—all of these were hidden unstable factors.
Nevertheless, she still wanted to move forward bravely.
She didn’t know what awaited her ahead, but she knew that if she retreated, she would definitely have nothing.
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