After all, Lucia really had planned to go against Helena today. She couldn’t just let her have everything her way. Though, with Mia’s figure, this sexy style of dress did have a unique charm on her.
‘Hmph… well, I can’t exactly blame Lucia for this, can I? Isn’t it Helena who passed this down to me? Should I be blamed for it? After all, she’s the Pure Saint… If it were too big—like how big Mia is now—where would the purity be?’
Lucia wasn’t completely flat either. She had an average female figure. Enough to show shape, at least enough to prove she was a woman. It wouldn’t cause shoulder pain from being too big, wouldn’t affect her daily life, and wouldn’t disturb the center of gravity in her swordsmanship.
Today, no matter whether Lucia chose a pure-style dress or dressed like Mia to counter Helena’s sexy style, Lucia would inevitably end up matching someone’s style. Those two were clearly on the same side—wouldn’t it be strange if they didn’t wear similar colors?
The more Lucia thought about it, the more she felt those two were targeting her. Whether she matched Helena’s style or Mia’s style, either way it would disgust Lucia.
Then, Lucia heard rhythmic high heels outside the door. She straightened her back, lifted her head, put down her crossed legs, and pressed them tightly together. She clasped her hands in front of her thighs, preparing the etiquette for the Empress that she hadn’t used in over a decade.
The slow, rhythmic sound of high heels gradually stopped. The server opened the door, and walking in was naturally the Empress of the Amber Empire—Helena.
“Good evening, Lucia, Mia.”
A face that was ninety percent similar to Lucia’s. The same silver hair cascading like liquid mercury, the same deep gray eyes. But if Lucia was a green, tart white peach, then Helena was a fully ripe, fragrant honey peach. Time had left no marks on her face—only maturity and beauty.
Helena wore a pure white off-shoulder dress with a strapless neckline, exposing her shoulders, smooth and white as suet jade, and her delicate collarbone to the air. Her skin glowed with a fine pearl luster under the light, almost blending into the pure white fabric. The outer layer of the skirt was covered in tulle, embroidered with intricate silver-thread patterns. At the hem of the skirt, countless small sky-blue crystals dangled like raindrops. With every step she took, these blue crystals collided, swaying gracefully among the tulle.
Helena chose sheer white pantyhose, so thin they seemed like only a faint white mist cast over her legs. These legs were longer and fuller than Lucia’s. The tight stockings perfectly wrapped every inch of Helena’s leg lines, flowing smoothly from the upper thigh to the ankle without any creases, as if, with a gentle pinch, water would squeeze out from that white mist.
A pair of white high heels with gold trim. The vamp was pure white, the edges inlaid with a thin golden border, symbolizing her noble status. When she reached the table and stood still, she shifted her weight slightly, and the slender calf wrapped in white sheer stockings made even Lucia’s gaze linger—even though Lucia was the one showing the least leg here. The arch of Helena’s foot was pushed high under the heels, exuding feminine charm.
Holy, dignified, noble.
Helena did not sit down immediately. She simply stood quietly by the table. Her long legs, encased in those paper-thin white stockings, were pressed perfectly together, the tips of her high heels slightly turned outward, maintaining the perfect stance of an Empress. Her gray eyes calmly gazed at Lucia, as if waiting for something inevitable to happen.
Lucia certainly understood her meaning.
Lucia’s left knee, clad in pure white lace stockings, slowly bent. As her knee folded, the lace band around her thigh tightened a little more, and the soft flesh of her leg slightly bulged under the fabric. She lowered her head, her silver hair falling beside her face, hiding her expression.
Only then did Helena gracefully raise her hand in response. Lucia’s fingertips gently lifted Helena’s palm, which was covered in a white silk glove. Lucia rose, guiding this noble Empress to her seat.
Helena’s plump thighs, wrapped in translucent white stockings, crossed beneath the skirt. As she sat down gracefully, the blue crystals on the hem chimed crisply. Only when Helena was completely seated did Lucia release her hand and take a step back.
At this final step, Mia, who had been watching from the side, also stood up. The two stood side by side. One was a Saintess Candidate in a deep green V-neck dress, overflowing with mature sexiness in black stockings; the other was a Saintess Candidate in a pure white short skirt, exuding innocent purity in white stockings. One black, one white—the two Saintess Candidates simultaneously lifted their skirts in perfect unison.
Lucia watched her own pure white skirt unfold in her hand, then watched Mia’s dark green skirt dance beside it. They had no blood relation—she was merely someone infinitely close to a foster daughter. Even if Mia was as close to Helena as a real daughter, she wasn’t a daughter. No matter what, this procedure had to be handled by Lucia.
“We salute you, Your Highness the Empress.”
Only at the final curtsy did Mia perform it together with Lucia, then they returned to their seats. Only after Helena nodded did the two sit back down.
Lucia felt disgusted. ‘Hmph. Even though this is formal etiquette for official occasions. Just eat a meal—do we really have to be so formal? When I occasionally have dinner with the Emperor, don’t we just sit across from each other and eat directly? Back then, there’s no kneeling, no skirt-lifting—just the sound of knives and forks hitting plates and family small talk. This kind of etiquette is only for when guests join the meal. Why would a normal family dinner require this?’
‘Sure, Mia is technically a guest, but couldn’t she have been invited to the palace to eat? Because the Emperor doesn’t want to know? How could the Emperor not know…’
Lucia raised her eyes to look at the woman sitting in the main seat, who looked ninety percent like her but was more mature and perfect. Helena was slowly removing her gloves, her well-maintained hands glowing white under the light. Mia still wore that ever-smiling expression, maintaining the proper etiquette of an outsider.
‘It feels like Helena still wants to disgust me.’
Lucia asked herself. Over the years, though she had little communication with Helena, she had never done anything to wrong her. On the contrary, Helena had turned a blind eye to Lucia. She had picked up a foster daughter, devoted herself to that foster daughter, and ignored Lucia. And as a result? Helena suddenly came tonight to disgust her.
Lucia sat down in her seat. At that moment, the servers orderly brought out the main course. Dinner had finally officially begun. ‘Just finish eating quickly and go back. I can’t take this anymore.’