Iohta stood up from her seat and approached Amira, who was still kneeling.

Iohta wore a black veil made of finely embroidered black velvet adorned with white opal pieces in the shape of shells, along with deep purple harem pants. With each step she took, the veil, touching the carpet, made a subtle rustling sound.

Walking barefoot, she approached Amira, lifting her chin with long and beautiful fingers.

“Oh, how swollen your eyes are from crying, and your cheeks are stained. Your skin and hair are rough.”

“I have some business…”

“Dear, as a concubine, I understand everything. There might be no one in this Grand Bazaar who understands the feeling of quarreling with other women over a man as well as I do. To a delicate young lady who has just experienced puberty, those emotions must be so harsh.”

Iohta lifted Amira’s face and, while sweeping her gaze over her clothes, shoulders, and back, circled around her.

“How difficult it must have been. I understand. Just thinking about the day Prince Tarek was injured because of that woman still gives me chills. But today is not the day to talk about such things. We are not close enough for that.”

Although her voice sounded disgusting, Iohta’s words were what Amira desperately wanted to hear.

Amira thought that everyone, due to her excessive sorrow, had been gossiping about her, especially about Latifa, whom she usually hated.

“I knew you were aware of the wickedness of that woman!”

At Amira’s joyous exclamation, Iohta’s subtly arched eyebrows were as lively as a fox’s.

“Oh, I know very well. Just thinking about the day the prince was hurt because of that woman still gives me chills. But today is not the day to talk about such things, as we are not close enough.”

Flattering Amira to the fullest and then pushing her away, Iohta’s rejection made Amira’s face begin to look sad again.

With a charming laughter, Iohta slowly removed the pin made of jade from Amira’s hair.

“Oh…”
“Hey, with this burning red hair, the jade stone doesn’t suit you. Do you know what color suits that reddish-brown?”

Iohta removed the black rose pin that had been holding up her own black hair and personally styled Amira’s hair beautifully. It was a splendid creation with layers of very dark obsidian carved into petal shapes, so intricate that the inside was not visible.

“Yes, black suits much better.”

“Hades’ hair is also this black!”

“I like beautiful things. People too. I hope you come to my palace often, transformed into a lively and beautiful woman, to tell me interesting stories.”

“I- Iohta…! It seems I have misunderstood you until now!”

Amira’s face now showed nothing but reverence, losing the caution she had maintained so far, resembling a mouth hitting Iohta’s instep.

Iohta earned the nickname of the Mistress of the Harem for a reason. She had exceptional abilities to delve into people’s hearts and manipulate them as she pleased.

‘Now let’s see if this child can become a useful chess piece.’

What color would suit reddish-brown? Iohta knew that too.

If Iohta had to describe the type of person she disliked the most in this world, it would be women whose heads were filled with honey, believing that everything could be solved as long as there was a man, without a backbone.

Even though she was glaring at her with cold eyes right in front of her, Amira Shadi, who could not notice, was such a woman.

Iohta had lived her life, and men were not important to women.

‘I don’t know what kind of tricks were used, but Fraulein, that woman is not ordinary.’

Iohta could sense it instinctively.

The ominous signs that appeared during puberty and the Mercatus play announced by Lughan. Everything was related to that silver-haired Fraulein, and the premonition could not be erased.

‘It’s delightful, enjoyable.’

Wouldn’t it be more fun to defeat a novice in chess than to win against an experienced player? Although the plan for the desert expedition seemed a bit off, maybe a slight suspicion arose between Lughan and Hades?

Moreover, rather than dealing with foolish men, fighting with wise women was more interesting for her.

⭐️⭐️

“Latifa?”

Latifa was lying on the carpet in the large living room of the main building of Caleb Estate, a little distance away from the bedroom. She was diligently doing something.

Next to Latifa, Caesar was nodding off with narrow eyes, and in the distance, a desert fox was playing with a small ball, laughing.

Hearing Hades’ voice suddenly, Latifa raised her head, smiling broadly at him.

“Oh, Hades! I didn’t know you were here.”

Latifa wriggled her body, turning over and sitting directly on the carpet.

Her eyes, not tired, were wearing a short lavender-colored indoor dress with short sleeves. A cream-colored silk belt, with a simple yet elegant pattern embroidered, hung loosely around her waist.

For outings, she would secure it with a lovely jewel pin, so the belt wouldn’t loosen like this.

“…If the goddess of Caleb wrapped herself in jewels, it would not be enough. When pearls come in, I’ll have to buy more.”

“Do you dislike the attire?”

“No. I don’t dislike the attire.”

Although the rough clothes, tied with a simple knot without any accessories, pleased him, Hades’ expression seemed to say that he did not like it at the same time.
Pulling the black jacquard cushion placed next to Latifa, Hades sat down and asked the attendant who followed to bring some light refreshments.

“What were you so busy doing?”

“I was practicing writing while reading a book. I haven’t practiced writing in Desertic. There was never a need for it.”

“Pff!”

Hades, who burst into laughter without resistance at Latifa’s playful writing, frowned a bit, as if his pride was hurt, and then composed himself.

On the paper, the writing was done in a crooked manner.

Nyanya is lazy. Ratae. Ratifa. I am Latifa.