A warm feeling came from behind.
The sweet scent of roses tickled the tip of her nose.
A woman slowly opened her closed eyes on a bed decorated in black.
Her name was Cecil Lionelta.
Unbeknownst to her, she had been thinking of the memories of the man who was no longer around.
Foolishly, she had chosen eternal sleep.
The woman slowly raised her drowsy body and turned her head, trying to see where she had woken up.
She began to look around.
The sight that caught her eye was their precious home in Darkana.
However, looking at the bizarre appearance painted entirely in black, it seemed like this place was just a dream.
Tak—
She got her tiny feet off the bed and stood up vigorously.
After twisting her languid body here and there and yawning slightly, it seemed the water magic that had enveloped her body had faded a little.
“…Is this Julius?”
Cecil got up from her seat and began exploring the bedroom in earnest.
A small doll placed in the corner caught her eye.
He was dressed like a prince from a fairy tale and boasted long blond hair, but unlike Julius, his plump and round appearance was extremely cute.
“Hmph—my husband is much more dependable and cool. Who made this strange doll?”
Muttering in dissatisfaction, her pure white hand slowly moved toward the doll and snatched it away at once.
Cecil, holding the doll in her arms like a mother holding a baby, began to hum her favorite song as if satisfied.
“Lala—Lala—”
Well, it was not like she could see Julius right away, so she guessed she would have to be satisfied with this for now.
She looked around the bedroom, which was painted entirely in black, but surprisingly, she couldn’t see anything else except for [Julius II] in her arms.
Having lost interest in her treasure hunt, she pouted in dissatisfaction. Her head, which had been swaying back and forth, eventually came to a complete stop when she discovered ‘something.’
[Tea Party]
An old-fashioned door with the words “Tea Party” engraved on it had suddenly appeared on the wall that had been blank until a while ago.
‘A tea party?’
She didn’t feel like chatting with other women.
Anything that requited wearing a skirt was her enemy.
How could she be friendly with a pack of wildcats that could change at any moment and try to seduce her husband?
However, other than the door that had suddenly appeared, there was no other way out of here.
“Hmm… Can’t be helped.”
First, she would open that door.
And if there were things out there wearing skirts—
“Well, I guess I can just kill them. Nothing you can do about it, right?”
Finch—
The body of [Julius II] in her arms trembled.
Was he afraid of the woman who casually spoke about killing?
Cecil, who looked at the doll shaking its head desperately, stroked her mouth thoughtfully for a moment. Then, she gently grabbed the handle of the old-fashioned door with the sign [Tea Party] and vigorously opened it.
And the sight that caught her eyes—
“…Oh, I haven’t changed all of my clothes yet!”
A woman with brown hair hurriedly took off her skirt and changed into pants.
The Emperor’s Nightmare, the heretic inquisitor’s wife, and Cecil’s other half—with jet-black eyes.
Cecil, who was staring at Nirhil frozen in her strange posture, shook her head and slowly walked backward.
Squeak──Bang!
The black door closed again.
Left alone, Nirhil muttered excuses as she desperately tried to cool her burning face.
“…No, my other half. I just wanted to try it on because Thalia’s outfit looked pretty good.”
No answer came back.
The devil’s white cheeks turned even redder, and standing in a disgraceful outfit with her skirt thrown off, she violently threw down the pants in her hand.
“In the first place! What does it matter whether you wear a skirt or pants?”
Finally, a half-answer was heard from beyond the black door to the devil’s cry of injustice.
“All the women wearing a skirt should die!”
Really, it was a scene of chaos itself—absurd and incomprehensible.
***
“Come on in. Welcome.”
Nirhil, seated at the head of an extravagant banquet hall, rested languidly on an ornate chair fit for nobility.
Her lips curled into a seductive smile as she watched Cecil—a woman in a brown skirt, approach…her steps measured, her expression unreadable.
The hall itself was magnificent.
Gorgeous.
Extravagant.
A space so vast it could steal one’s breath away.
Yet Cecil’s cherry-red lips pursed as she regarded the eldest of all voids. “If possible, I’d prefer never to see you again. Understand?”
Her words were blunt, her tone icy.
Without another glance, she turned away from the devil and settled at the table, her back to her. Her fingers idly poked the chubby cheek of the doll cradled in her arms.
Nirhil sighed, her voice dripping with mock exasperation. “Must you be so uncooperative? What is it you dislike so much?”
“I told you,” Cecil replied flatly, still refusing to face him. “I despise everything in this world that wears a skirt.”
A triumphant smirk played on the devil’s lips as she stretched out her long legs beneath the table. “Then you’ll be relieved to know I anticipated this—I came wearing pants.”
Cecil shot up from her seat, her brow furrowed in disbelief. “…What kind of nonsense is that? Are you stupid?”
Nirhil merely chuckled, unfazed by her irritation. Her gaze flickered over Cecil with amusement as she gestured lazily to the chair beside her. “What choice do I have? If I want to speak face-to-face with someone who’s jealous of even herself, I must resort to such antics.”
“It’s not funny, and I’m not interested.” Cecil slumped back down, her voice sharp. “And where did you dig up that outdated joke? If Julius hears it and blames me, we’re both dead.”
Her attitude was insufferably dismissive, but then again, she had no desire to humor her other-half.
‘Perfect.’
The devil’s seductive smile vanished, replaced by a grave expression.
With a flick of her fingers, she summoned steaming black tea before them both.
She took a slow sip before speaking again, her tone now serious.
“Because of your reckless choice, we’re now cursed with eternal sleep.”
Cecil exhaled, her fingers tightening around her teacup. “…It couldn’t be helped. There was no trace of me left in Kente Village. To rekindle things with Julius, Darkana was the only option.”
“Even at the cost of a curse?” Nirhil set her cup down with deliberate grace, her voice laced with reproach.
For once, the devil seemed genuinely troubled—as if there were no easy solution.
Cecil inhaled the sweet aroma of the tea, her lips twitching in approval.
‘Hmm. For something conjured by magic, it’s surprisingly fragrant.’
Without sparing the devil a glance, she snapped her fingers.
Snap!
A surge of dark energy coiled in the air before spitting out a flat, circular object.
Clatter.
A plate landed neatly in front of her, bearing a freshly baked cookie.
She took a bite, the crisp sound echoing in the hall.
Crisp!