"...Even her clothes too?"

A cool female voice merged with the silvery moonlight, carrying a hint of bitterness and complexity.

Facing Amalia’s inquiry, Lyra paused for a few seconds, her tone softening slightly.

"Yes, Astrid left a few sets of clothing with me, as backups for later."

Just in case something happened and Elise couldn’t bring them, retrieving from her would best preserve the elegant royal image that the silver-haired regent always presented to the outside world.

Upon hearing this, Amalia’s gaze deepened further, her hand at her waist gently toying with strands of golden hair beside her skirt.

"In that case, Lyra, please hand over the book and a complete set of fresh clothes after bathing as well."

"That way, when sister finishes her bath, she can change immediately."

Although, compared to other things, Amalia much preferred holding Astrid as she snuggled into bed wearing just a nightgown.

Hearing Amalia’s words, Lyra nodded slightly, retrieving from the holy sword the book and a set of spare clothes Astrid had left with her during the day, placing them silently into her palm.

Watching the thick book and the thin fabric that made one’s heart race just by looking at it, Amalia reached out, instantly transforming them into points of light that merged into the imperial scepter within the room.

"Astrid... is only bathing now?"

After finishing the exchange, Lyra looked at Amalia before her. She recalled tossing and turning on her bed, lost in thought until her head felt hot and dizzy, which urged her to come out for some fresh air. Astrid should have bathed and changed earlier, spending time with Amalia, sharing sisterly whispers.

So what had they been doing before?

Her gaze settled on the Empress’s slightly flushed cheeks, the pale skin on either side still carrying traces of lingering warmth, several strands of golden hair clinging to her delicate shoulders, seemingly restrained by a thin layer of perspiration from being tousled by the wind like the rest.

Further down, apart from the silk white nightgown, Amalia also wore a thin layer of hosiery, creamy white thigh-high stockings covering her slender, smooth legs. A faint mist lingered around her, making the already delicate stockings appear pink-tinged, like a fresh strawberry cake.

"Mm, she bathed once earlier, but after some vigorous activity, she sweated, so she needed another wash."

Vigorous... activity?

Noticing Lyra’s gaze, Amalia’s lips curled into a slight smile, her blue eyes lifting with deliberate implication.

"After sister finishes her bath, I’ll need to wash again too."

"Just in time to change the soaked bed sheets."

"..."

Wait, something feels off here?!

Two people sharing a bed washing twice in one night...

And changing soaked bed sheets?

Linking these two deeply suggestive acts inevitably brought to Lyra’s mind some hard-to-mention images.

That night, wasn’t she and Astrid in her maid form exactly like this, drenched in sweat, retreating to the bathroom to bathe again, then changing into clean, fresh sheets and blankets before embracing each other to sleep?

But... Astrid and Amalia aren’t in that kind of relationship...

Or are they? The Empress and the Imperial Regent, the third and fourth princesses, actually...

Her sky-blue pupils contract slightly. Amalia before her, stripped of her usual sharpness, displaying a post-coital softness, only deepened Lyra’s suspicions and made her heart sink.

"Need to wash again... so Amalia, you’ve already bathed once?" Lyra asked cautiously.

Amalia didn’t deny it, softly uttering, "Mm."

As the words fell, a cool evening breeze fluttered the white-stockinged loli’s skirt, revealing half of her pale thigh and the silvery garter ring hugging her smooth leg.

One stocking longer, one shorter, the slightly shorter one wrinkled at the ankle, seeming to hint at something.

A few seconds passed. Lyra bit her lip, her heartbeat increased quietly.

"Amalia... after bathing... you still sleep with stockings on...?"

Having served as the personal maid for both sisters, Lyra naturally knew that Amalia usually didn’t wear stockings to bed. Every morning when she poured tea for Astrid, a certain golden-haired loli always stepped into her barefoot slippers before changing into her dress and stockings, dressing herself like a completely harmless cream cake.

Hearing Lyra’s question, Amalia fluttered her lashes, her hand at her waist lifting to gently stroke her ear.

"Of course not for sleeping... But before sleeping, my sister and I have other things to do..."

"Like expresses our longing and affection for each other in ways beyond words."

"Lyra... surely you know something about this?"

Other things... expresses longing and affection...

As she finished speaking, the girl’s slender, fair index finger parted her hair, then slightly traced her shoulder. Beneath the delicate strap, a red mark hung on her slender collarbone, clearly visible against the pure white skin, like a freshly peeled egg.

Even if she were emotionally clumsy, at this moment, Lyra clearly understood Amalia’s implication. Combined with such an obvious physical hint, a truth she had briefly suspected but never dared to deeply consider now occupies her mind.

Astrid and Amalia were more than just ordinary sisters.

They shared no blood relation, yet considered each other as someone extremely important. Under this premise, their emotional bond had grown wildly.

If that were the case, everything made sense, the flush on Amalia’s cheeks, the thigh-highs still on her legs, Astrid needing to bathe twice.

Her heart clenched tightly, as if gripped by an invisible, powerful hand, making each beat abnormally difficult. Lyra momentarily stopped breathing, standing silently in the hallway, her fist clenched against her chiffon dress.

Is... what Amalia says true...

Have they already reached that stage?

Everything she’d just heard about them was merely Amalia’s one-sided account. If the other party had the intention of monopolizing "sister" all to herself, wouldn’t a small lie be entirely possible?

Perhaps they hadn’t gone that far, maybe it was just a lie spun by Amalia.

Lyra had never overheard the sisters’ private talks in the castle. Based on her understanding of Amalia, the latter was certainly capable of such a thing. Quite the contrary, anything was possible for Amalia when it came to Astrid.

She was no longer the neglected fourth princess of the castle, but the Empire’s Empress with exceptional political acumen.

Like desperately surfacing for air before complete suffocation, gasping for oxygen, Lyra forced herself to steady her body and spoke softly.

"Know what..."

Sensing Lyra’s subtle physical reactions, knowing her words had already taken root, Amalia’s fingers slid across her shoulder, making the porcelain skin sink slightly, drawing a tiny heart over the faint red love bite.

"Know how girls and girls can bring each other pleasure."

Her blue eyes sparkled with fragmented starlight. After saying everything in a lazy tone, Amalia curved her lips, her fingers moving downward to pull up the slightly shorter stocking.

The stocking hugs her soft thighs. Although there was no obvious indent from tightness, the faint snapping sound in the quiet autumn night remained exceptionally clear.

"After all, didn’t sister teach Lyra too...?"

Amalia tilted her head, her eyes shimmering with liquid light.

"It’s simply... addictive...."

This was practically a final blow.

Watching Lyra bite her pink lips, unconsciously pressing her legs together, Amalia softened her gaze, her voice gaining a complex tone.

"I’ve always felt... sister really likes Lyra..."

Her shimmering eyes fixed on Lyra, Amalia sighed softly in her heart, her lips parting.

"Sorry, Lyra. Even though perhaps you came first..."

"But this time... I got there ahead of you..."

As the words fell, Amalia, whose mental awareness had been closely monitoring the room, sensed the bathroom door opening, Astrid should have finished her bath. She turned, Lyra a profile view and a few somewhat cryptic words.

"Love has nothing to do with power. Before the one I love, it’s not the Empress but the younger sister who strives, Baroness Lyra."

"I hope my own desires are fulfilled, and at the same time, I want my sister to be happy."

"So... good night, Lyra..."

The gentle voice echoed in the air. Amalia opened the door, gave Lyra one final glance, then stepped into the bedroom with her two white-stockinged legs.

The golden silhouette disappeared down the empty corridor, leaving behind a pink-haired girl who had come out hoping a breeze would ease her loneliness, only to accidentally learn what she never wished to know.

After hearing these words... How could she possibly sleep?

The pounding rhythm in her chest intensified, making her throat dry.

Lyra clenched her fist against her chest, her mood was as deep and silent as the night around her.

Astrid, Amalia, during that period of transition between the old and new ruler.

Exactly... What happened...

Turning around, the door of the nearby room was already closed. Lyra felt an impulse to walk in, yet was held back by reason.

Now more than ever, she couldn’t let emotions fully take control. Perhaps this was one of Amalia’s intentions. She needed to calm down first and consider the truth of what was said.

And also, Amalia’s true purpose in revealing all this at such a moment.

Everything happened too fast, her CPU needed buffering.

................

"Amalia... was Lyra outside just now?"

Lying on the newly changed soft bed, Amalia hugged Astrid, as always resting her head on the silver-haired beauty’s chest, feeling her warmth and softness.

"Mm, she came out for some fresh air, so I chatted with her for a bit."

Hearing Amalia’s words, Astrid’s fingers on the girl’s waist touched the nightgown, transmitting that slight pressure directly onto the other’s skin.

"What did you talk about?"

"Of course, about some things regarding my sister."

Nuzzling slightly, the air filled with rose and milky fragrance, Amalia entwined her legs with Astrid’s, speaking softly.

"Sister..."

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"..."

"Me too."

Receiving Astrid’s reply, Amalia gently nuzzled her, the magnificent form beneath her black nightgown trembling slightly with the movement.

"Then let me handle everything for now, sister."

"Me, Lyra, those hard-to-express emotions, the tangled relationships... everything you hesitate to face."

"Trust me."

Her hand moved quietly toward the hem, taking her sister’s hand and interlacing their fingers. Amalia’s breath brushed Astrid’s collarbone, warm and sweet.

................

The next morning, at the mansion’s dining room, the three, having freshened up and groomed themselves, sat at the table, having breakfast together under the service of the maids.

"Lyra... didn’t sleep well last night?"

Seeing Lyra nearly spreading butter beyond the edge of her bread, Astrid spoke softly, handing her a silk handkerchief to wipe the mess.

Lyra, startled, uttered a dazed "Ah..." and accepted the napkin from Astrid.

"Well... not exactly that I didn’t sleep well."

"Maybe I just didn’t get enough rest."

In truth, she hadn’t slept at all. After returning, Lyra kept replaying Amalia’s words in her mind, along with her thoughts about Astrid and the former, and her own relationship with them.

That time... Astrid had clearly agreed she could initiate kisses, even more intimate acts, yet ultimately refused becoming lovers...

Did Astrid truly like her?

Recalling their intimate moments and the special status Astrid granted her, Lyra didn’t doubt whether the other harbored similar feelings.

If she didn’t like her, if it was merely teasing or indulging a wicked whim, there’d be no need to go that far.

Even without status or power, plenty of nobles will jump at the chance to get close to the imperial princess. Yet Astrid only continuously indulged her, even encouraged such actions, even said she enjoyed kissing her.

Then why... couldn’t they become lovers...

Was it because she’d already... done it with Amalia...

Vaguely grasping the core of the matter, recalling the slightly complicated expression on Astrid’s face when she refused, Lyra bit her lip, her blue eyes softening.

On the other side, Amalia, who was watching Lyra, took a sip of juice, her mind equally tumultuous.

Either explode in silence, or perish in silence.

Which one would Lyra be?