A Most Embarrassing Encounter

The Pope, slain by his own Holy Knights who mistook him for a creature of chaos—this turn of events was simply too absurd.

After a moment of contemplation, Daphne resolved to search for another exit within this place.

However, the corridor stretched wide and long, and walking barefoot on the icy tiled surface was nothing short of torture.

Compounding her misery, the MOD had rendered her feet exceptionally sensitive, making every step feel as though she were…

“I can’t go on…”

Within mere steps, Daphne’s face was already flushed crimson, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

Glistening beads of sweat emerged, dampening a strand of dark red hair on her forehead.

A girl’s body was truly…

Too wretched.

She attempted to lean against the mirrored wall, hoping to support her body, which had grown weak-kneed and unstable from the intense stimulation of her soles.

Yet, she forgot that her exposed, delicate shoulders were also among her most vulnerable and sensitive areas.

The moment they touched the wall, the frigid aura of the sea crystal stone sent shivers through her entire being.

An icy, tingling sensation immediately coursed through every nerve, spreading to every corner of her body.

Daphne let out a mournful cry, then completely lost her strength, sliding down the smooth, frost-covered mirrored surface.

Her fragmented thoughts took a moment to reconnect.

She tried to stand, but failed miserably, her entire body a tingling, numb mess, utterly devoid of strength.

This was dreadful in every conceivable way.

Forget finding another way out of this ruin; this body was so weak that a mere touch made it yield.

Even standing up and taking a few steps proved a challenge, making her perfectly suited to become a “Pillow Princess,” weeping softly every day.

No!

She could not simply accept this fate!

Yet, a restless unease still churned within Daphne.

‘No… if this continued…’

Her mind gradually grew hazy, and a strange impulse began to stir within Daphne.

Once ignited, the thought spread like wildfire across a dry plain, utterly impossible to suppress.

“Just… just once…”

She had heard this was a common occurrence for girls, so there was nothing shameful about it.

Daphne used this thought to comfort herself.

At that moment, the jewel’s radiance had dimmed, revealing an ice-crystal-like transparency.

Silvery, wispy filaments drifted within it, swaying like fish.

It was indeed lavish and magnificent, yet its current location was far from hospitable.

She took a deep breath.

She steeled herself mentally.

But just as she reached the most crucial moment—

“Clack-clack.”

The crisp sound of high heels echoed sharply through the long corridor.

‘—Someone!? Who!?’

Daphne’s heart seized violently, and her hand instinctively trembled.

The maiden’s mournful cry, as melodious as a cuckoo’s song, resonated even more powerfully than the earlier footsteps, echoing through the corridor.

A slender, elegant figure loomed over her.

“Who goes there?” a voice demanded, frigid and austere, yet distinctly feminine.

‘—G-Gwynevere!?’

Simply by the timbre of her voice, Daphne recognized the Holy Maiden she had personally raised since childhood.

To be caught in such a shameful act by her adopted daughter, in all but name, made her heart clench violently once more.

Consequently, her hand trembled again.

Another sorrowful shriek escaped her.

“A… a Vampire?” The voice, usually so sharp and cold, now held a faint tremor of hesitation and disbelief.

“You… you… what are you doing!?”

“Eh!? N-no! I…”

Daphne wanted to deny it, but her mind was utterly blank, unable to form a single coherent thought, let alone articulate a denial.

She even forgot to cease the actions of her hands.

A high-pitched moan caught in her throat; intending to suppress the sound, she could only let out a soft whimper.

Hearing no further words from the tall maiden standing before her, Daphne, still in a daze, barely managed to open her eyes a slit—

First, her gaze landed upon a slender leg, clad in white stockings, peeking from the high slit of a long gown.

The Holy Maiden’s pristine white robes sculpted her graceful figure into an even more enchanting silhouette.

Finally, there was Gwynevere’s face, an expressionless mask seemingly perpetually covered in frost.

This was how it should have been.

Yet, for some inexplicable reason, Gwynevere seemed extraordinarily peculiar today.

Her platinum blonde hair, usually cascading elegantly, was now damp against her shoulders, and glistening droplets adorned her fair complexion.

A sweet, cloying aroma permeated the air.

At this moment, Gwynevere looked as if someone had doused her with water from above.

Her face was flushed scarlet, and her two icy eyes stared down in utter astonishment, a mixture of shock and indignation etched upon her features.

Daphne froze, finally snapping completely awake.

But precisely at this critical juncture, a brilliant, dazzling light burst forth from between her fingers, illuminating Gwynevere’s face.

“Eh!? It’s… glowing again!?”