Priestess, Theresa. An unexpected friendship between a crazy security nerd and an angelic history teacher.

Friends.

That's what their colleagues believed.

Or rather, the two's consistent behaviors made the public conceive them as such.

No one needed to know about their vows.

The two walked side by side through the bustling night street.

A space between them.

Behaving just like friends would.

“I'd rather stay at home.” The tone was light, spoken as Priestess tucked a strand of her own dark hair. Eyes forward, as if she already knew what expression another would bear.

Theresa’s lips curved faintly, her handbag held before her waist, demure like her rose-tinted hair. “Why didn’t you, Priestess?”

Priestess humbled her tone, strolling with equal grace. “We met under the stars. Sagittarius took your arrow and shot it through my chest. But its nock was already bound to a thread, one that cocooned your heart.”

She continued without glancing at the serene figure by her side. Only a faint smile played on both lips. “If I yanked the arrow off myself, I’d bleed to death. And the thread would surely rip you apart.”

A chuckle escaped Theresa. “Is that something you should say to me, your ‘close friend’?”

“It’s just a cheeky line I picked up somewhere,” said Priestess with unshaken confidence.

“That time when you drew Originium towards me, I thought ‘this madwoman will surely kill me’.” Theresa light-heartedly corrected her.

“Hm? I'm a madwoman now?” Priestess flicked her fingers as she glanced at Theresa. Originium instantly grew then dispersed before anyone could catch a glimpse.

But more than enough to disrupt one’s footing, pushing her towards an alleyway.

“Wait... Ahh!” Dark and devoid of prying eyes, Theresa found herself pinned against the wall by Priestess.

“You've got a new shampoo, Theresa—Hnng!” Before long, Theresa shirked the arrogant linguist into the ground with ease.

The King of Sarkaz was mildly amused. Her orbs zoned Priestess from the hem of her dress. “You ought to remember you are physically weaker than Terrans like me, Miss Originium.”

Yet, a calculating look played on Priestess's face.

Her nebulous pupils shifted into rhombus shapes.

Originium heeded Priestess’s call, doming the two in an instant. The space between the two buildings was completely sealed by Originium. Almost like this alleyway never existed. “Predecessor, baby.”

“Oh, Lord…” At that moment, Theresa realized she couldn’t escape.

Originium dashed forth like vines, chaining The King of Sarkaz’s hands above her head.

And of course, curving up her limbs.

Priestess loomed close, gently raising the chin to her victorious gaze. “A fine dress you weaved here, dear tailor.”

Theresa’s rose-tinted gaze was lost in those nebulous eyes.

She found no words.

Only the sound of her heartbeat.

Answering the wicked linguist’s pulse with equal Hertz.

As if lyrics were being composed under the starlit dome.

“You tease!” Theresa cried out. Her flying orbs broke the chain and shoved Priestess away.

But the deed resulted in bad streaks. The orbs accidentally tore away some fabrics of Priestess’s skirt.

The linguist gave out a sly smug. She licked her fingers in a patient manner, ones that just held Theresa’s chin. “It seemed my King is eager for a fight. Then, we'll be as loud as we'd like. No sound will escape anyway.”