My Taboo Harem!

Chapter 962: Monster and The Fairy

Lucienne hung in the moonlit air with effortless grace, her hair stirring faintly in winds that did not dare disturb her properly. She did not flap wings. She did not rely on visible power. She simply existed in the sky, serene and impossible, a bewitching absence given form, her presence so quiet it felt more dangerous than any thunderous display could have managed.

The moonlight touched her and seemed unsure whether to illuminate her or apologize. Typical moon. Useless rock with performance anxiety.

Eira stared at her.

"You—" Her voice came out smaller than she wanted, which was deeply offensive. "How did you—"

Lucienne did not look at her.

Her eyes remained fixed on the distant figure of Anahita flying farther and farther away, the Fallen Angel’s white-gold and dark afterimages were fading into the night like a sorrowful comet abandoning heaven.

"How lonely," Lucienne said softly, almost tenderly. "To fly so beautifully toward a cage."

Eira swallowed very very hard: Fear gripped her she wanted to run away right now from the terrifying thing: but what did turning her bare small back on the Monster mean?

Eira recoiled as the thought, her very soul felt like it was being gripped by The Monster’s presence and she hated how gentle Lucienne’s voice sounded.

Monsters should not be allowed to sound gentle. It confused the instincts, and instincts had enough work already without being emotionally gaslit by homicidal elegance.

"You can see me," Eira said, her wings beating slowly as she forced herself to stay calm.

Lucienne’s lips curved faintly. "Of course."

Eira’s fingers tightened around the lollipop stick. "I was hidden."

"Yes."

"And moving between layered currents."

"Yes."

"And suppressing my essence."

"Yes."

Eira stared at her. "You are very annoying."

That finally made Lucienne glance at her.

Only for a second:

A tiny, almost amused look passed through the Monster’s eyes, soft enough to be beautiful and sharp enough to remind Eira that beauty was often just danger with better lighting.

"You’re so very very small," Lucienne replied with a smile like she found Eira experimental.

Eira’s expression tightened. "That is unrelated."

"Is it?"

"It should be."

Lucienne looked back toward Anahita. "Small things often believe hiding is the same as being unseen."

Eira’s wings stilled for the briefest moment before resuming. The insult was delicate. Horrible.

’Professionally crafted, really.’

She would have admired it if it had not been aimed at her dignity, which was already under constant attack from the fact that she still had a lollipop in her mouth during a high-level supernatural surveillance incident.

"What do you want?" Eira asked.

Lucienne watched the distant Fallen Angel with an unreadable expression. "Her."

Eira’s gaze sharpened. "Anahita?"

"Mm."

"Why?"

"Because fate placed her near the Heavenchilds, bound her with chains, filled her with fear, let her witness the Young Dragon, and then sent her flying through the moonlight while thinking herself already condemned." Lucienne’s smile deepened very slightly. "A useful piece rarely announces itself so beautifully."

Eira felt cold creep beneath her skin despite the altitude meaning nothing to her body. Who was this honest and open about their monstrous plan?

"She is not a piece."

"Everyone is a piece until someone loves them enough to call them otherwise."

Eira went quiet.

’Annoying.’

That was annoying because it sounded poetic and cruel and maybe even true; the worst possible combination. A lie could be mocked but truth delivered by a monster simply sat there looking expensive.

"She is going to Marcus," Eira said after a moment.

"I know."

"He will punish her."

"I know."

"And then the Heavenchild leaders."

"I know."

Eira looked at Lucienne’s profile, at the calm line of her face, the faint moonlit curve of her mouth, the fathomless stillness in her eyes. "You’re going to let that happen?"

Lucienne smiled.

Not wide or warm.

Just enough for the night to feel as though it had developed teeth.

"I am going to let her understand the full shape of her cage," she said. "A prisoner rescued too early may still believe the lock is negotiable."

Eira hated that she understood.

She hated it very much.

"So, you’ll use her pain," Eira said.

Lucienne finally turned her eyes fully toward the fairy, and for one terrible instant Eira felt the weight of that attention settle over her like velvet soaked in poison.

"I will use what already exists," Lucienne said. "There is a difference."

"That sounds like something villains say before improving branding."

Lucienne’s smile became almost fond. "And yet you follow My Little Prodigy."

Eira bristled. "Master is different."

Eira did not dare tell Lucienne to not call him her’s.

"Yes," Lucienne said, looking back toward the fading Fallen Angel. "He is."

The simplicity of the answer unsettled Eira more than disagreement would have. Lucienne’s voice carried no mockery there, no teasing edge, no cruel little needle. Only certainty. That was dangerous too. Devotion in a monster’s mouth did not become softer. It became sacramental.

Far ahead, Anahita rose one last time through the night, her wings opening wide beneath the moon, white-gold and black brilliance spreading over the sky like the final prayer of a ruined angel. She looked free from this distance, and that was perhaps the most merciless part of it all.

The sky could make even the condemned look untouchable for a while. The sky was a liar with excellent scenery.

Eira sighed softly.

"She reminds me of myself," she admitted before she could stop it.

Lucienne’s gaze did not move. "Before the Eternal Prisons?"

Eira’s eyes snapped toward her. "Stop reading my thoughts and memories you were not invited to touch."

"I did not need to read that deeply. Your sadness is loud."

Eira frowned. "My sadness is not loud."

"It is wearing bells."

"That is incredibly rude."

"It is accurate."

"I hate accurate monsters."

Lucienne’s faint smile returned. "Most people do."

For a few breaths, they hovered there together in the cold height of Hell’s Paradise, one tiny fairy with sugar on her tongue and worry in her chest, one infamous Monster hidden from the world while staring after a fallen angel flying toward punishment.

`Beneath them, the island glittered with the false innocence of cities at night. Above them, the moon watched with its pale, useless face. Ahead, Anahita’s afterimages faded one by one, like pieces of a lonesome star being swallowed by distance.

Eira clicked the lollipop softly against her teeth and forced herself to breathe.

"What are you going to do with her?" she asked.

Lucienne’s eyes followed the last gleam of Anahita’s wings.

"What she allows me to do," Lucienne said.

Eira stared. "That sounds almost respectful."

"It is."

"Coming from you, that is terrifying."

Lucienne’s smile deepened, velvet and merciless. "Good."

The fairy looked away, back toward the distant figure. "Master won’t like unnecessary cruelty."

"Then I will make it necessary."

Eira slowly turned her head toward her.

Lucienne still did not look at her.

"What?" the Monster asked softly. "I can be considerate."

Eira stared at her for a long, silent second before muttering, "That sentence should be studied by priests."

Lucienne laughed.

A soft sound...

...Beautiful...

...Unkind.

And far ahead, unaware of the two creatures watching her from the hidden roads of moonlight, Anahita flew on, carrying her sorrowful elegance through the merciless sky, a fallen star taking one last taste of freedom before the cage remembered her name.