Beautiful Misunderstandings

Part 1

A gaping silence filled the steamy bathroom, punctuated only by the drip of water sloshing from the opulent granite tub onto the polished floor. Philip knelt in the water, hands on Natalia's bare shoulders, his face an alarming mix of shock and bewilderment. A swirl of flower-scented steam rose around them, giving the scene a hazy, surreal glow.

At the threshold stood Lydia, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. It was painfully clear she'd read the situation in the most salacious way possible.

"Master Philip!" Lydia hissed, fighting to keep her voice low while panic wrestled with embarrassment. "I—I understand you haven't been getting ... any action lately, but with your current fitness level—" She waved frantically at his dripping form. "—you can't possibly handle powering two bodies at once at that degree of exertion! The mana drain plus the physical drain could kill you!"

Philip's mouth opened and closed, words failing him. Two bodies at once? She thinks I'm in here to… oh, dear heavens. He wanted to shout that he'd leaped into the tub only to check whether Natalia was alive, but the entire scene was too incriminating: his hands on the bare shoulders of the fully nude Natalia, water lapping against his waist, and Lydia gaping from the doorway.

In that frozen second, Natalia's eyes fluttered open. Blue irises locked onto Philip's, blinking with drowsy confusion—then sharpened with recognition.

"Master?" she said softly, her voice echoing in the humid air. She glanced at his soaked clothes, at his hands on her bare shoulders, then flicked a puzzled look at Philip's face. Then, slowly, Natalia offered a small, serene smile.

"If you insist," she whispered, cheeks coloring sweetly. "Then… I'll be gentle. I promise to minimize my mana drain on you in the process."

Philip's eyes bulged. "N-no, wait, what do you mean?" He tried yanking his hands away, but Natalia was faster.

She leaned up and forward, arms slipping around his waist. In a single, fluid move, she pulled him closer until his chest pressed against her generous bosom, now rising from the dissipating foam and bubbles. Her lips captured his in a soft, unexpected kiss. Warmth flooded Philip's senses—part shock, part the dizzying perfume of rose-scented soap. Heated water soaked his trousers, adding to the surreal intimacy.

His mind screamed: I'm only in here to help—honest!

Meanwhile, Lydia, standing at the door, stifled a loud gasp. "Master Philip… oh dear heavens…" One hand flew to her mouth, eyes darting between them like a scandalized chaperone. "This is… oh! I must prepare to summon the physician. But… how can I explain without giving too much information? Oh, sweet ancestors, this is insane!"

Shaking uncontrollably with shock, Philip tried to pull back from Natalia, but her arms—soft yet deceptively strong—held him in place. He was pinned in a tight embrace, like a statue, by her unwavering hold.

Finally, Natalia pulled back, her blue eyes wide with a mix of innocence and mild apology. "I'm sorry. I cannot proceed. I sensed your mana level is dangerously low." She paused, her tone contrite. "All signs show that if we keep going… you might end up being… killed in action."

Philip's breath came in ragged spurts, his face burning with embarrassment at that insinuation. "N-n-no, that's not—I was only—" He glanced desperately at Lydia. "I swear, I jumped in because I thought she was unconscious—maybe needed cardiopulmonary resuscitation!"

Lydia pressed her palms to her temples. "I fully understand you were… concerned for Natalia's well-being." Yet her tone fairly dripped with disbelief, as if forcing herself to sputter that excuse to save her young master's dignity.

That only made Philip more flustered. "If I wanted sexual intimacy with Natalia, I wouldn't be wearing all my clothes!" he shouted, flapping the sodden cloth of his vest to emphasize the point.

But Lydia unintentionally blurted, "Or maybe your urges overcame you on seeing… you know…" She gestured vaguely at Natalia's exposed shoulders and upper body.

Natalia blinked, as though only now picking up on the conversation's meaning. Her hands let go of Philip's waist. "Did I misunderstand?" she asked, genuine confusion shading her voice. "You were touching me so intently. I thought you wanted physical bonding. So, I made the first move…"

Philip coughed violently, dragging himself free from Natalia's grasp. "Please stop explaining," he muttered, water dripping off his ruined vest, his face a furious red. "Truly! I saw you lying there, motionless, and panicked—I thought you fainted or drowned."

Natalia tilted her head, guilt flickering in her eyes. "I didn't mean to worry you. I was just bathing and, well, I suppose my mana reserves hit zero just as I relaxed myself. Next thing I know, I woke up to your exchange with Lydia and thought you wanted… physical bonding. I am sorry for the misunderstanding."

For several seconds, the three of them simply stared at one another: Philip's wet vest clinging to his torso, Lydia hovering between scandal and relief, and Natalia blinking innocently as though awaiting further instructions.

At last, Lydia cleared her throat. "R-right. Crisis averted." She inched into the bathroom, boots squeaking on the soaked tile. "I'll fetch towels—and maybe a fresh vest, Master. If any staff see you like this, they'll assume exactly what I did."

Philip, too stunned to argue, nodded, cheeks aflame. "Yes… thanks, Lydia." Then he glanced at Natalia, trying to gentle his tone. "I'm sorry. I—I didn't mean to barge in or… kiss you. Honestly, I thought you needed resuscitation."

Natalia gave a small, sheepish smile. "I guess I jumped to the wrong conclusion." She tucked a strand of damp gold hair behind her ear. "But at least… you are still alive."

Philip let out a weak laugh. "Yeah… small mercies."

A corner of Natalia's mouth twitched in mild amusement. "Next time you want to see if I am alive, you can, um, just stand nearby me and call out my name a few times."

Lydia coughed, rummaging through a cabinet for towels. "Here, Master," she said, passing him a thick one with a near-maternal sigh. "I locked the door so no one else would barge in."

He took it gratefully. "You're a lifesaver," he mumbled. "And sorry for all this trouble."

Her expression perched between scolding and sympathy. "Master Philip, you realize you invite chaos like honey draws bees? Some might suspect you crave it."

He managed a shaky grin. "It's definitely not on purpose."

Behind them, Natalia drifted lower into the water, the line of bubbles rising just below her collarbones. She offered Philip an affectionate, half-shy glance.

Lydia rolled her eyes, though with a hint of rueful amusement. "Well, Natalia isn't complaining, obviously. But maybe stifle your heroic impulses next time?"

He sighed wearily. "I will try."

Still, beneath the mortification, a treacherous flicker of excitement churned in Philip's chest. She actually kissed me. The memory replayed behind his eyelids—Natalia's earnest lips pressed to his own, her bare arms sliding across his soaked shirt.

Part 2

Sunrise found Kendrick, Elora, and Empress Celestica gathered around a massive oak table in the Nernwick mansion's breakfast salon—still somewhat stunned by how the previous night's chaos had culminated in hosting the Empire's Realm Guardian for a sleepover. Outside, droplets from the fountain glistened like crystals, the result of Celestica's crash-landing the evening before. Inside, servants bustled about discreetly, laying out a spread that rivaled a small banquet: fresh-baked scones, fluffy scrambled eggs, golden-brown pastries stuffed with fruit, and pitchers of mana-infused juice to complement the customary tea.

Celestica, in her gleaming battle attire—a breastplate that showcased her generous curves and wings folded neatly behind her—looked decidedly out of place in the cozy atmosphere. Yet she wore a relaxed smile, green eyes bright with curiosity. Having slept in one of the best guest chambers, she appeared more rested and alive than the formal, hesitant monarch from the previous night. Her pace of speech had gotten much better as well. Apparently, she was out of practice with unscripted conversations for too long. As Celestica accepted a teacup from a blushing maid, she marveled at the delicate porcelain.

"Lovely," she murmured slowly, turning the cup gently between her slender fingers. "I rarely get to touch such fragile … things. They fear I will break them." Her armor's metallic plates shifted whenever she moved, a constant reminder that she was as much a walking weapon of mass destruction as she was a regal beauty.

Elora, seated across the table, replied with a polite laugh. "Our father was a collector of fine porcelain. We were gifted quite a few sets." She studied Celestica's face, noting how the Empress's thick lashes framed those vivid eyes. There was an undertone of childlike wonder in Celestica's every reaction, which is in great contrast to her status as a septuagenarian. Perhaps living reclusively for two decades really had stifled her experiences.

Kendrick lounged in the seat nearest Celestica, quietly sipping a cup of tea and wrestling with a swirl of feelings he never expected to have while eating breakfast. The Empress—someone who could, theoretically, blow the entire mansion sky-high if displeased—was not only devouring buttery croissants but occasionally stealing glances at him, evidently taking a liking to his looks. Every time her gaze lingered on him, Elora kicked him under the table to stop him from flushing.

And yet, flush he did.

At one point, Elora took the opportunity to tease Celestica. "Your Majesty," she said lightly, "I can't help noticing you keep sneaking peeks at my brother."

Celestica blinked, cheeks pinking ever so slightly. But, in typical Celestica fashion, she faced the question head-on. "He is … beautiful. It is a great pleasure to behold." Her gaze, frank and assessing, slid from Kendrick's golden hair to his broad shoulders. "Winston used to say I have an artist's soul: I enjoy looking at beautiful people and things. And your brother is… quite exquisite."

Kendrick nearly choked on his juice. "E-exquisite?"

Elora masked a laugh behind her napkin. "That's what they all say."

Celestica just shrugged, her armor's gilded plates clinking softly. "I don't see why anyone would say something to the contrary. You are a set of true beauties. Living statues." Then she added wistfully, "I haven't had the chance to admire many people or things up close since Winston's passing."

A pang of sympathy flashed through Elora. She reached for Celestica's free hand. "I'm glad you found a moment of peace here, even if it involved flying across half the world."

Celestica smiled, fluttering her wings in a soft rustle. "You and your brother have been wonderful."

"The pleasure is all ours," Kendrick said slowly, "we're just grateful that we had the honour to serve you."

Midway through the meal, Celestica mentioned her sense of feeling "drawn" to Yortinto. She described how a vague pulse or force tugged at her, compelling her flight from the imperial palace. "I'm uncertain what it is," she admitted, swirling the remains of her tea, "but I felt a strong urge to fly here."

Elora's eyes widened with intrigue. "Is it some sort of magical ritual?"

"Possibly," Celestica murmured, unconvinced. "It might be a certain type of summoning." A beat passed before she offered a small laugh. "But also, I am thrilled to get away for a bit. It's not that I resent the palace, but… I needed a moment to breathe. To get out once in a while."

Kendrick nodded sympathetically, though he also worried about the enormous political ramifications of the Empress's unscheduled escapade. Better not to ask too many questions, he told himself. We can claim we had no idea the visit was unsanctioned if the top brass interrogates us later.

As their breakfast concluded, the Empress laid down her fork with a satisfied sigh. "Your hospitality is wonderful," she said, glancing at the siblings. "But I can't simply eat and lodge for free. Winston always insisted that we compensate ordinary folks for their service. We know how hard it is for ordinary folks like you."

Kendrick and Elora hastily waved off her remark. "It's truly nothing, Your Majesty—" Elora began.

Celestica raised a hand, and the light glimmered off her intricately crafted gauntlet. "No, I must. I caused a bit of damage to your fountain, and I consumed quite a bit of your food. I want to compensate... with my personal resource."

Elora blinked. "Personal resource?"

Then, just as Celestica finished her sentence, she began to stand, starting to loosen the straps on her breastplate. "My talents are mostly destructive, but there's one that is constructive and quite … in demand." Her gaze shifted from Elora to Kendrick. "However, the value it generates depends on how big your… thing is."

Kendrick went rigid, "My … my thing?"

Kendrick's heart hammered like a war drum. He swallowed audibly, imagination spiraling with scandalous pictures. Surely, she could not mean what I think she meant… That's insane. Right? But why is she undressing? He nearly knocked over a teacup in panic, face heating.

Elora, equally shocked, managed to stammer, "Er, Y-Your Majesty, I, uh… that's a very… direct approach."

Celestica glanced between them, slightly puzzled. "Well, I find it just as effective as any other elaborated processes. I don't get the need for the unnecessary steps."

As Celestica unstrapped the last part of her breastplate, revealing the swimsuit piece beneath it, which, surprisingly, fully covers her impractically full bosom, it appeared that her public relations team must have taken great precaution for her occasional habit of public bathing.

Kendrick turned beet-red, mind jumping to the worst conclusion. Sweet heavens, is she truly offering her body? This can't be happening—my irresistible beauty will be my undoing! What if she gets too excited and blows up the city in the moment of joy.

"So… could you direct me towards your … your thing for baths," Celestica asked.

Elora had a sudden realization. Her Perspire brand—the Empress's famed mana-laced bathwater. As a perfume enthusiast, she certainly knew the outrageous price Celestica's leftover bathwater sold for on the market. She is trying to produce leftover bathwater!

Clearing her throat, Elora composed herself. "Your Majesty," she ventured carefully, "are you suggesting you'd like… to bathe in a pool of water? To produce your, um, perfume?"

Celestica's eyes lit up. "Pool, right, that's the word." She let out an expression of eureka. "Winston always said my bath residue is worth more than gold. This way, I can repay you for lodging. But … you cannot resell it. That might upset the …. people … the official distributors."

Relief flooded Elora's expression. "O-of course, we'd never dream of selling it. We'll keep it for personal use only." She flicked a quick glance at her brother, whose earlier panic-stricken face slowly transitioned to stunned amusement.

Kendrick coughed to hide his own embarrassment. "That sounds… perfect, Your Majesty. We do have a large indoor pool, though it's not exactly built for… for wings."

Celestica's face brightened, her golden hair shimmering. "A pool is perfect, but please warm it up. I need to be able to sweat in it. Then I can generate a significant supply—enough to cover the fountain damage and everything else." She placed a hand on the top piece of her swimsuit, looking a bit hesitant. "They told me to keep these on at all times whenever out of the palace. So… it might take a bit more time for the water to get saturated."

Elora coughed, cheeks warm. "It's okay, keep that on."

"Right," Kendrick said, clearing his throat. "Let's, uh, get you set up, Your Majesty."

Still fighting lingering embarrassment, Elora gave an encouraging nod. At least she's not trying to jump him for real.

And Celestica? She seemed utterly unbothered, sipping the last of her tea, wearing a two-piece bathing suit with all the grace of a goddess, wings fluttering softly behind her. "Lead… on," she said.