Rita lay on the soft, large bed, reflecting on everything that had happened tonight.
Afterwards, Cecilia only hugged Rita briefly before pulling away and saying, “I’ll wash myself,” then began to absentmindedly apply lotion to her skin.
Although something had happened earlier, it hadn’t caused any bigger uproar.
It seemed the events in the bathhouse were known only to herself and Cecilia.
Yet, a rift had formed between them—a rift whose cause Rita only understood half-heartedly.
But it surely had something to do with that Curse Mark.
The mark visible only to herself, Cecilia’s unusual behavior… Rita knew the reasons behind it wouldn’t be simple.
Her own situation probably wasn’t looking any better either.
But she couldn’t sort out so many troublesome thoughts all at once.
Cecilia curled up in her arms, the sensation of the Miniature Treasure Chest pressed and deformed against her chest occupying even more of Rita’s thoughts.
Whenever she closed her eyes, that lingering feeling resurfaced again.
She had to admit, the strong yet soft Cecilia was as adorable as the keyboardist from the neighboring band who had just become a god.
Though Rita was used to her own body, it was still the first time she had bathed with someone else, wiped their body, or held each other close while both were wet.
Her mind felt like it was about to fry.
No, now it should be considered the same sex.
It seemed that after becoming a little succubus, her gender perception wasn’t so easy to adjust.
Rita turned over, wiggling her fingers as she recalled the feeling of massaging Cecilia’s body.
No, no, she told herself.
She was a beautiful girl now; she couldn’t be doing such things.
Forget it.
Don’t think about anything.
Take it one step at a time.
Rita quickly fell asleep, but Cecilia tossed and turned.
Once again, she began questioning herself the same question she had asked countless times before, but this time the weight behind that question felt even heavier.
Was what she had done truly the right choice?
Although she had temporarily stabilized Rita, Cecilia still knew nothing about this mysterious girl.
At least, the girl had shown no hostility toward her.
On the contrary, she genuinely cared for her, even if that care was based on money.
That embrace was a simple test—to see if after what happened, Rita was still willing to obey her.
And it seemed she was somewhat wary of her.
Cecilia didn’t believe her status or influence were enough to intimidate Rita.
The only possibility was the mysterious curse she carried.
Even if Rita was unaware of the Curse Mark on her, Cecilia’s intuition told her this wasn’t mere pretension—but she couldn’t think of any other reason.
After all, Rita was the only one Cecilia had ever met who could fully see the curse.
Years ago, the royal city.
The bearded King frowned deeply, a profound gloom buried in his heroic eyes.
“Master Medivh, are you saying even you are powerless against this curse?”
The elderly mage called Medivh showed no less fatigue or gloom between his wrinkles than the King.
He examined the still young Cecilia with eyes clear beyond his years, then shook his head.
The King exhaled slowly, a guttural sound like a beast’s low growl escaping his throat: “But you are one of the Kingdom’s most insightful Grand Magi. To speak plainly, if I’ve summoned you, it means I’m prepared to offer payment befitting your status.”
“Your Majesty,” Medivh sighed, “as you said, since I’ve come all this way, I won’t haggle over payment. But…”
“Speak,” the King’s furrow deepened.
“With my experience, I should easily identify the nature of this curse, but all I can see are faint traces. Forget lifting the curse, I can’t even clearly determine its form or function.”
Medivh bowed his head in shame—not because he felt guilty for failing to lift the curse, but because his once formidable knowledge had been so thoroughly shaken.
“I wish to know when, where, and how the Princess received this curse.”
The resolute King was silent for a moment. “If you knew these things, could you lift the curse?”
“It would certainly help, but I can’t guarantee how much, nor that it could be undone,” Medivh replied.
“Then forget it.” The King shook his head.
“Your Majesty, you must understand that tracing the source, even if it can’t lift the curse, would help me better understand its structure. Given time, perhaps a way will be found.”
Medivh wanted to say more, but seeing the King’s expression of resolve, he knew his advice was understood but would not change the King’s mind.
Protecting the secret on the Fourth Princess was perhaps more important than chasing the chance to break the curse.
“I understand.” Medivh sighed deeply, clasping his hands respectfully. “Your Majesty, one last piece of advice: this curse is not something for humans to tamper with.”
The King asked, “Do you mean this is a curse from the Gods?”
“Ha ha ha,” Medivh chuckled dryly. “If such supreme Gods truly exist, Your Majesty may be right. But that’s not what I mean.”
“The further something is from humanity, the clearer the truth of the curse becomes. If anything or anyone could see its whole form, it would be utterly non-human.”
Later, the King and Cecilia invited countless others to try deciphering the curse.
But most could only see vague mists; some high-ranking Grand Magi couldn’t see anything at all.
Those like Medivh, who saw it as a series of markings, were exceedingly rare.
Interestingly, some mentally unbalanced, frenzied mages saw it more clearly, confirming Medivh’s words—the further from humanity, the clearer the understanding.
Yet, oddly, Rita—a seemingly unrelated person—could see the full curse at a glance, yet professed ignorance.
Rather than chalking it up to a wonderful coincidence, Cecilia preferred to believe Rita was some kind of non-human being wearing a human guise.
Sane, logical, indistinguishable from humans.
But not very smart.
Perhaps, just perhaps, Rita truly was Cecilia’s chance.
Even if Rita was truly non-human, even if she was bargaining with danger, Cecilia believed it was worth the risk.
From now on, Cecilia knew she could never let Rita leave her side.