A Slightly Different Standard
A Slightly Different Standard
Canaria slept like the dead for the first time in a long while. Even if it was forced sleep brought on by a bad state, feeling refreshed was still feeling refreshed.
Waking up in the morning with a light body felt unfamiliar. Canaria sorted through her hazy consciousness as best she could, peering out at the world through blurred eyes to pull herself from the sleep-haze.
At the same time, her vision filled with the sight of Rosaria. She must have fallen asleep while gazing at her sleeping face, because she was still facing directly toward her.
Embarrassment and desire bloomed within Canaria.
She was embarrassed, wondering if she had made any strange faces in her sleep, and at the same time she felt desire for Rosaria, who was as beautiful and lovely as ever even in slumber.
Her hazy mind made the whole situation feel dreamlike. The bed seemed like a cloud, and Rosaria upon it looked like an angel. She almost hallucinated flowers blooming around them.
That was surely because she hadn't fully woken up yet.
And so Canaria immediately deployed her new routine for waking herself up. It was a routine she had only recently created, but it was quite effective.
She stole a kiss from the sleeping Rosaria's lips.
She kissed her gently and tenderly, full of love, as a morning greeting. The happiness she felt from that first thing in the morning cleared the haze from her mind. And then, wanting to experience it again in that state of clarity, Canaria did it again.
It was the morning routine she had longed for, for so very long.
Hadn't they promised? That when she opened her eyes, hers would be the first face she saw.
The moment their lips touched, she was enraptured. She wanted that softness to be hers alone for a lifetime. Because she was the one she had loved, loved now, and would always love.
"Mmm..."
Rosaria reacted to the stimulation. In the same way, a strange, rapturous sensation drew her mind from dreams to reality. And for her, too, that sensation was deeply familiar.
Because ever since they had set out on their journey and started sharing a room and a bed, it had been a daily ritual.
"...Are you awake, Rosaria?"
Canaria looked at Rosaria with a bright smile.
"...What time is it now?"
Rosaria asked for the time. After all, today was a day with an event.
"...We woke up a little early. It's just before seven o'clock."
"...Then I think I can sleep a bit more."
Canaria was a morning person who lived the Saintess's regimented life, while Rosaria was a quantum-mechanical person living the irregular life of a sickly noble young lady.
Hence, Rosaria wanted to sleep a little more.
But Canaria didn't want that.
So she used her secret weapon to wake her up immediately.
Of course, this was also a method she used every day.
"...Hnngh!"
Canaria woke her up with a French kiss.
Startled by that attack, which was familiar yet impossible to get used to, Rosaria was forcibly roused for the sake of a regimented life.
"...Canaria, you could just use your words."
Rosaria asked, her face flushed.
"...But you liked it, didn't you?"
Canaria answered, her face equally flushed, with a slightly lewd smile as a bonus.
"...There's still so much time left."
Then, as if it were the most familiar thing in the world, Canaria wrapped her arms around Rosaria's neck and kissed her collarbone and neck.
"...Then shall we play a little, Rosaria?"
They both knew what she meant by 'play' without her having to say it.
Her face deeply flushed, Rosaria answered with silence and began to gently push aside the collar of her straightened clothes.
It was a morning routine that definitely chased sleep away.
*
Rosaria and Canaria sat in front of the mirror after finishing their shower, fixing their hair. Several red love marks remained on both of their alabaster-white skin.
"...You have to make sure to erase the marks, Canaria."
After all, it was a day when she would be in front of many people, and what was more, Isabella would be right beside her. Rosaria enjoyed the foreplay, gently touching them.
"...Since I'm going to erase them anyway, I'll leave just one more."
As she said this, Canaria showed Rosaria, who was looking in the mirror, the process of making that mark.
Because it was the first time Rosaria had watched in a mirror as Canaria bit down with her teeth, covered the spot with her lips, and greedily stimulated her skin. Seeing the love marks being carved into her own reflection was a little embarrassing.
"...On that note, Rosaria. Do you know something?"
Having left her mark, Canaria combed Rosaria's hair and asked her something.
"By Fran's standards, we'll be adults next year."
The Holy Kingdom was actually the slow one.
Other nations typically defined adulthood as 16 to 18 years old, but the Holy Kingdom, which followed the laws of the Sacred Scripture, defined it as 20.
"If it weren't for the Holy Kingdom, we'd be proper adults."
Canaria said this and kissed her cheek.
"...What exactly are you trying to say."
Of course, she wasn't unaware.
But just in case, she wanted to hear her say it with her own mouth.
"...And you're asking me even though you know."
Canaria answered, nipping her earlobe.
As she did so, she simultaneously slipped her hand inside Rosaria's clothes and began to caress her chest.
At the sudden sexual stimulation, Rosaria let out a light sigh and began to moan softly.
At the same time, Canaria spoke with a lewd smile.
"...Once we're adults, we can do everything we couldn't do back then."
The foreplay from that day came flooding back to Rosaria.
The moment she remembered it, her face turned intensely red.
"...When I said 'no' to Rosaria's pleas, as I was trying to touch you there."
And Canaria whispered the scene she had tried so hard to forget, the words spoken back then, into her ear, making her remember.
"...You said, 'Not there,' didn't you?"
Just like that time, Canaria gently lowered her hand to the vicinity of her abdomen. At the tender caress, Rosaria's knees trembled and she let out a spilling moan.
"...You grabbed my wrist, your face deeply flushed, and stopped me even while you were feeling it so much that tears were streaming down your face, didn't you, Rosaria."
It was the same this time too.
The moment her hand tried to go just a little lower.
Just the same, Rosaria, her face flushed, grabbed her wrist.
"...You actually wanted to do it back then, didn't you?"
The devil's whisper brushed past her ear.
"...But still, you felt like if you did it then, you could never go back, and that scared you, so you refused, right?"
Rosaria's shoulders twitched slightly, as if struck exactly where it hurt the most. And Canaria was not the type to miss that. Seeing that waver, she intended to drive the wedge in deeper.
"...It's hard for you to hold back, isn't it?"
Canaria said this and touched her lightly. A sweet voice and a gentle touch. More than anything, the sight reflected in the mirror was even more stimulating.
Rosaria's expression began to melt.
But Rosaria pulled herself together again.
"...Even so, a promise is a promise."
Saying this, she refused to yield in her stubbornness.
"...We just have to become adults, right?"
But Canaria was not one to back down.
She tried to turn Rosaria's rationality to mush by increasing the intensity of her teasing.
"Ah... anyway, no means no!"
Rosaria raised her voice in denial. Since it was a denial born of embarrassment rather than dislike, Canaria thought to herself, 'I'll try seducing her again later.'
"...Alright. Then let's finish getting ready quickly and go find a dress for you to wear later."
After all, if she pushed any further, Rosaria might end up hating her.
Having thoroughly enjoyed herself, Canaria simply continued helping a slightly heated Rosaria with her grooming and went on with preparations to head to the shop that would lend them a dress for the upcoming event.
Rosaria closed her eyes, refusing to even look at the mirror.
Even that sight was lovely to Canaria. And then she deliberately ignored the feeling of something slightly dampened on herself.
Thinking to herself that she would do more later when they had time.
*
Canaria and Rosaria arrived at the rental shop to borrow a dress. Isabella and Zeke had said they would go ahead and attend the event, heading toward the venue, so the two of them had come alone to rent the dress.
As expected of the City of Arts, the shop was filled with top-grade dresses that would put a noble family's wardrobe to shame. They were even sorted by theme—for balls, betrothals, dates, and various other occasions—so one could dress for any situation.
"Welcome!"
The shop owner, Angela, gave a booming greeting.
She was a middle-aged woman whose very countenance suggested she would be exceedingly strict.
And indeed, she was infamous in Fran. 'Angela the Stubborn,' they called her. People said her eye was too discerning, that even if the customer was satisfied, she herself would never be, and so she would insist on her own artistic vision, making them try on hundreds of outfits.
And just as her stubbornness was about to kick in again today—
As soon as the door opened, time seemed to stop for a moment. The instant the golden-haired girl and the black-haired girl walked in, Angela forgot to breathe.
'...I have witnessed it.'
The beauty she had pursued. She had just seen, at once, two statues carved by god, which might lie even beyond that ideal. Was this the feeling of a believer who had witnessed a god before their very eyes?
Angela felt pathetic toward her own brain, which could think of no word other than 'transcendent.'
And at the same time, in that time which seemed to flow slowly, she exerted a superhuman degree of concentration to capture the sight of these two masterpieces in her eyes.
From their gently swaying hair, which was as fine as silk thread, onward. Their long-grown eyelashes and eyes that seemed to hold stars, their faces where sharpness and softness coexisted artistically, their lips tinted as if with flower petals, the line of their necks and their collarbones glimpsed in passing.
It was as if the very word 'beauty' had been given form.
What's more, the two girls possessed contrasting charms.
Warmth and coolness, softness and sharpness, the sun and the moon, water and fire, light and darkness—contrasting yet beautiful, their individual atmospheres harmonizing together.
For the first time, Angela felt a stir of nervous tension.
Her dream was realized the moment she laid eyes on them.
And now, she was reaching beyond that.
The fact that she was taking that step toward the unknown, that today she would finally surpass the limits of her artistic philosophy, and that such beauty was about to unfold before her very eyes—it all seized her at once.
Angela clenched her fist under the counter.
"...Do you have a specific dress in mind?"
And so, for the first time, she asked a customer while trembling.
And, for the first time in a long while, she even began to worry, wondering if her own skills might be insufficient.
Could she possibly emphasize such beauty?
She had been making dresses for thirty years, and every day she had lived thinking hers were the best.
But now, she hesitated, just for a moment.
She felt so enraptured by the beauty the two girls before her exuded that she even began to feel admiration for it.
And the moment she saw Angela's expression, Canaria thought to herself.
Artists really are all strange.
It was another moment where the average standard of Fran was dropping.
But regardless of that, she had something she wanted to say.
"...A wedding dress."
Canaria was about to unleash a personal desire here, one she hadn't discussed with Rosaria.
"...Pardon? Canaria, what do you mean...?"
Rosaria was flustered for a moment.
Startled, she tried to say no, it wasn't like that.
But Angela had already vanished.
At the same time, Angela rushed off in a runaway frenzy.
Her heart began to pound for the first time in a long while.
A hanger worthy of her creations had appeared.
And what's more, they were looking for wedding dresses, which were part of her series of masterpieces.
'God, thank you. And I am sorry.'
She gave thanks for the fate that had allowed her to meet such beings,
and begged forgiveness, recalling her past self who, not knowing this would happen, had found making wedding dresses a bother.
Sadly, she was an atheist.
But still, thinking that her feelings might reach someone, she surrendered her body to the pounding of her heart.
"Canaria, what on earth have you done?"
Rosaria waved her hands in embarrassment, so much so that even that wasn't enough, and she even stamped her feet to express her feelings.
"...I'm sorry, I wanted to see it in advance."
That was why they had come out early, after all. Canaria was so happy right now, about to see the scene that had made her feel joyful even just imagining it.
She was so happy that she was pressing her hands together as if in prayer, her face steeped in bliss.
"...I'm not a mannequin, Canaria."
Rosaria sighed at that sight. It reminded her of their first date. She remembered how she had been surrounded by four maids for her makeup, and they had fought tooth and nail over their respective artistic ideals.
"It's alright. You'll definitely be able to pull it off beautifully."
Canaria gave an answer that didn't quite fit the situation.
For some reason, her eyes looked half-unfocused.
She was just so overjoyed by the current situation, where her fantasy was about to become reality, that she had finally lost her mind.
"Actually, once this year ends and we become adults, shall we hold a wedding ceremony here in Fran, Rosaria? I don't mean we'll live here since the people are strange, but we could at least hold the wedding here, couldn't we? The world's greatest artist who could capture our most beautiful selves could be found in no time here."
For the first time in a while, the unfocused-eyed Canaria rambled on, pouring out her desires to Rosaria.
"And then we'd spend the sweet first night of our honeymoon. In the most beautiful hotel, both of us still in our wedding dresses, defiling each other's purity together. Making love very risqué and sticky, more intensely than ever before. Doesn't the mere thought of it make you feel heated, Rosaria?"
Sadly, Rosaria had quite a good imagination, so she ended up ruminating on what Canaria had said.
Because she kept imagining the sight of herself with Canaria, who would have the same black hair and golden eyes as the day they first met, both wearing wedding dresses, in a single bed on the day their wedding ceremony ended, greedily seeking each other's innocence.
"...Please stop testing me constantly."
That was all she could manage to say.
Because she had briefly imagined that Canaria in her mind. Sadly, she was so embarrassed that even looking at the real Canaria right now was difficult.
For the first time, Rosaria hated her own imagination.
"...How many children would be good, Rosaria?"
But Canaria did not stop.
Because she was running wild for the first time in a while.
"...Do as you please, Canaria."
Even answering was embarrassing.
Because ever since a moment ago, that pink-tinted fantasy born of her imagination had been replaying in her head. She truly couldn't think of anything else, so there was no way she could give a proper answer.
*
...In the end, Rosaria had to try on twenty wedding dresses that day before she was finally allowed to try on a dress for the event.
It was a delightful moment solely for Angela and Canaria.
"Would you like to try this one on too, Rosaria?"
"Oh my, you truly have a discerning eye! It will suit you wonderfully, milady!"
Like how they drummed and chimed in perfect harmony.
"Ahh... You are truly lovely in anything you wear, Rosaria."
"Truly... it is simply woeful that I cannot capture this in a painting!"
Or how they gazed at her with enraptured eyes.
"...I think I could die tomorrow with no regrets, wouldn't you say?"
"...I concur, milady. Truly, I cannot stop thinking that I am so glad I kept living and kept making dresses."
Or how they clutched their chests in mutual admiration.
"Hgh... I'm so happy it's agonizing. Yet I can't take my eyes off you, Rosaria, I feel like I'm truly going insane! What am I supposed to do at times like this...?"
"I'm so glad I never gave up... Whatever anyone else said, I lived my life for this day...!"
Even the sight of them being swallowed up by their own emotions.
Angela and Canaria were acting like childhood best friends.
Laughing together, they amicably poured out their desires and ideals onto Rosaria, having her try on this and that. And at the same time, it was a moment where her evaluation of Fran rose just a little.
"...If it is you, milady, I can give you this masterpiece. Please, I beg of you, let the world know of this child's beauty..."
"...Yes, I will certainly make it happen. I promise."
Because Angela, saying she had found the person in the world who suited this dress best, was giving away her masterpiece of a wedding dress for free.
It was the unique romanticism of artists.
A bold investment toward their own ideal, something incalculable with money.
They were so perfectly in sync that it almost seemed like Canaria and Angela were exchanging high-fives.
At the same time, Rosaria thought to herself.
'...The event, will we be able to manage it alright?'
She was genuinely starting to feel afraid.
Because she was a Rosaria who had never quite gotten used to madness.