Chapter 271: Chapter 270: Mission Failure

“How long has it been?” Iris said.

“Too long, Mistress. I cannot bear it anymore,” Secain said. “It’s as if you’d abandoned me.”

“You’ve always been fine alone.”

“My heart was complete. Not anymore.”

Chuckling, Iris stroked her maid’s hair. Secain sat on the carpeted floor, leaning on her mistress’s legs, resting her head on her mistress’s thighs. Eyes closed, she took a deep breath, exhaled, and immersed herself in the comfort she failed to find elsewhere. This warmth, this fragrance, this softness, they gave her strength beyond her limit.

The thought of disappointing her mistress twisted the silly smile on her face. She suppressed her shivering.

“My Dear, who dares to trouble your heart?” Iris drew her hand to her maid’s lips, gliding her fingertips across them. “Your mistress will be sad too.”

Secain hid her frown. “No one but myself, Mistress.”

“Have I once again troubled you?”

“My ineptitude troubles you; I’ve failed your task.”

“Is your heart not with me?”

“No one can steal it from you!”

“Then you haven’t failed me.” Iris slid her index finger inside her maid’s mouth. The sticky saliva tickled her fingertip. She pulled back her hand. “You would never disappoint me, never return empty-handed.”

Secain blushed. She turned to stare at her mistress, who maintained an anticipative smile. That pair of cherry-like lips allured her, waiting patiently for her advance. Would she dare to take them?

“I . . . found no trace of any other girls named Iris. No matter how many networks I’ve commanded, we fail to find your doppelgangers.”

“They aren’t mine; they live their lives unaware of me, unaware of our similarity.”

“Please forgive me.”

“Either the task is mundane, and you’ll naturally complete it, or the task is doomed to fail, and you never stand a chance.”

“My incompetence cannot be used as an excuse.”

“I don’t need any reason to punish you; I don’t need any reason to reward you.” Iris held her maid’s chin and pulled her up close. “You only need to beg.”

Secain couldn’t control her quivering excitement. Her eyes were fixated on her mistress’s flawless pupils, and then on her curved-up lips. If she leaned a little closer, her mistress’s warmth would’ve permeated her face.

Her body dissipated as a shadow and slipped out of that temptation. She manifested before her mistress with her hands resting on her stomach, the posture of a strict maid, though the redness in her cheeks lingered.

“Please let me redeem myself with this piece of information.” She lowered her head. “While I was working on your task, I managed to find information about the detective investigating you.”

“How would you deal with my Xiaotan?”

“She’s yours, Mistress.”

“Her bright potential is worthy of a little investment. But she’s still a girl from a world different from ours.”

“What about . . . when she joins our side?”

Iris looked at Antina, who turned around as if she would no longer pay any attention to this conversation. Iris shook her head, though she still drew hand right hand forward, holding it up for her maid, who accepted it and kissed its tender back.

“I only need one maid, a capable maid who understands me. One who loves me as much as I love her, even if she sometimes doubts herself.”

“Your maid imitates you.” Secain clasped her hands around her mistress’s. She stepped closer. Her chest pressed up against her mistress’s palm. “Please let me serve you more.”

“A little longer, my Dear. I require a pure, lovely human by my side. There is only one such human whom I trust.”

The door creaked as a few knocks interrupted the conversation. A waitress entered the room with refreshments to refill. She gasped upon seeing Secain, who was dressed in fine clothes weaved for a lady-in-waiting of a princess. She appeared in the room like a wish-granting fairy.

The waitress held her breath when Secain turned to face her. That boiling, darkened air warped the evening sunlight showering her back. Her pitch-black shadow reached the waitress, like an abyss waiting beyond the edge.

Secain walked to the stunned intruder and accepted the tray of cookies and tea. She whispered words in her formal tone as all her brewing emotions receded within her professional attire.

The waitress must stay silent. She weakly nodded while avoiding Secain’s piercing eyes. She said nothing, heard nothing, and saw nothing.

Once the quiet waitress left, Secain gave everything to her mistress and returned to her pitiful position, where she bent down her neck and looked at her mistress’s feet.

“I may have underestimated you,” Iris said. “You rarely reveal such intense emotions.”

Secain blushed. “It won’t happen again.”

“Will a kiss of mine relieve your repressed feelings?”

Secain bounced back up. Her widened eyes glittered like stars dancing around their admired moon. The corner of her eyes caught Antina unsuccessfully suppressing her chuckle. Did it show on her face?

“So eager, so adorable,” Iris said. “I want to spoil you until you melt.”

“That . . . would be too much. I must work for my reward.”

Secain cleared her throat. She explained what she'd discovered about Centurion and Xiaotan, including their network and recent investigation into The Court. Though Iris had already known much of them, she remained attentive, enjoying the summary delivered in the springy voice she could never have enough.

“What The Court knows, I know,” Antina said. “Will there be a reward for me, too?”

Secain pressed her hands on her chest. “What I offer isn’t this, Mistress. What I offer, is the hidden story behind this façade of mediocrity.”

 “Family secrets?” Iris straightened herself, her hands pressing hard on the armrests. “You’ve given me a welcoming gift.”

“I’m merely fulfilling my duty.”

“You wouldn’t have told me anything unworthy of my attention, and anything worthy of my attention is a matter of significance.”

Antina pouted. She went to sit opposite Iris and thoughtfully savoured the cookies and cakes, whatever to keep her mind occupied.

“Huang Lianyi, Xiaotan’s mother, Centurion’s wife,” Secain said. “She hails from the Huang Clan . . . whose ghostly trace flickers in and out of existence. Except for her appearance and personality, our intelligence network has no information on her.”

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“Is she not a native of this continent?” Iris touched the corner of her lips. “My Xiaotan must’ve inherited a profound secret.”

“The Huang Clan didn’t have their root in the mainland. They came to the Eastern Continent . . . from beyond the Pale Tempest Ocean. Their ship was tattered, and they lost the maps to their homeland. It was a miracle that they survived the Devil-Eye Zone.”

“Where are they now?”

Secain shook her head. “The Huang Clan has fallen. No public record of their surviving descendants exists. Your pupil might be the last inheritor of its bloodline.”

Iris narrowed her eyes. She uttered no praise nor complaint, giving the void a chance to set the mood, giving Secain a chance to recollect her thought.

“Under my supervision, we found . . . nothing but a series of rumours. The destruction of the Huang Clan happens too swiftly, too neatly. We fail to catch any glimpse of their surviving members, but we manage to trace what’s left of them to a Secret Organisation named Sakura of the Horizon.

“This Secret Organisation excels in information warfare and political manipulation, although they may also hide their other capability. If not for your attention on Xiaotan and her secret, we wouldn’t have noticed them.”

“Shall we go see the Cherry Blossoms?”

“If the chance arises.”

“You’ll diligently work to create it.”

Iris delicately pushed her fingertips through her chest. Her hand entered her heart and drew out a diamond-shaped crystal. Sticky slime webbed around the crystal as if incubating it. They stretched and stretched until their strings snapped, bursting into a mist obfuscating Iris’s expression.

She pinched the glimmering crystal. Invisible threads connecting everything danced around her, but she could only glimpse their shadow. They reached for elsewhere, and she followed.

Her spirit traversed the line until she came in front of a golden border, a towering hill where countless runes flowed on its impregnable surface.

After a moment of light contemplation, she reached forward. Her spiritual palm melted as it approached the scorching hill, dripping greyish slime whose dullness devoured all colours.

Her fingertip tainted the hill and imploded. The crystal held by her physical body blazed into a green flame. She crushed it before it could spread, extinguishing it with her palm.

Secain rushed in to examine her hand. The burned mark on her charred clothes and melted flesh dissolved into her slime, her spotless grace restored.

“Don’t touch Sakura of the Horizon just yet,” Iris said. “They have at least three Grandmaster-Tier Diviners concealing their tracks. Their objective may be deeper than anticipated.”

“But they hurt you.”

“They ruin my sleeve; I ruin their anti-scrying array. They won’t bother us for a while.”

“Worry not, Secain,” Antina said. “Mother’s Domain ensures that no one can find Mistress.”

“Please don’t be so reckless.”

“Don’t you believe your mistress?” Iris playfully averted her eyes and covered her face with her hand as if shedding tears. “Have I lost your confidence?”

Despite knowing it was fake, Secain stepped forth with the haste unbefitting an elegant and mysterious maid. The thought of playing with her mistress’s feelings endlessly pained her.

“That wasn’t my intention. Mistress, you’re too mean.”

Iris stopped covering her face. Her conspicuous smile brightened the atmosphere. “I must punish my disobedient maid.”

“Your maid will gladly accept it.”

“Continue the investigation on all Irises. This time, use only the mundane means.” Iris pointed at Secain’s heart. “Your punishment . . . is to ascertain the safety of my official pupil.”

“Who would harm your Tundra?”

“My intuition suggests that her new friends will bring something interesting.”

Secain wished to speak, yet there was nothing to speak about. “As you command.”

This too would be a chance for her to learn about her mistress’s disciple, whom she only directly met once during the academy raid. Tundra came from an ordinary background, yet her mistress took a special interest in her.

“What are you expecting?” Iris said. “You always swiftly leave to carry out your task.”

“I’m . . . expecting your grace, Mistress.”

“Seize it. Demand your reward; take what belongs to you.”

Secain glanced at Antina, who leaned on the chair and closed her eyes. Under her mistress’s watchful eyes, she touched her mistress’s cheeks, drew herself into the affectionate embrace, and stole a kiss most sweet and gentle.

Submerged in the current of pleasure, she shivered whenever her mistress’s fingers traced her flesh. The delicate touches along her laced undergarments tickled her until she lost her footing, unable to keep her wild heart in her chest.

Her lips unsealed to breathe, to slip out a faint cry bottled in her soul. Her melty eyes met the lady whom she served; after an intense stare, she shifted away, fire ravaging her pupils.

Iris let go of her flustered maid and licked her lips. Her misty breaths burned the atmosphere, perfuming a hint of raunchiness into the air. Not even the dusk winds could lower this spiritual heat.

“You stopped halfway through,” Iris said.

“Such is the extent of my rewards.”

“I won’t blame you if passion takes over.”

“But I will blame myself.” Secain gave a big smile. “Mistress, although I’m inferior to you, I’m still your maid. She knows when her mistress is tired.”

Iris ceased smiling. “It’s not your fault.”

“I’m your maid, Mistress.”

No matter what Iris said, she would never change her maid’s mind. She only sighed and took a bite of the sweet and crunchy cookies. They tasted like her maid, whose flavour still permeated her mind.

When Iris turned to look, her maid was no longer there. No trace of her shadow persisted. Only that troubled voice lingered.

What a terrible mistress she was.

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