The most painful words were those spoken by one's family. The most hurtful emotions were those expressed by one's family. It was searing, numbing, and all-consuming. As one of the eldest and the smartest of all descendants, Elizabeth was once loved by her family. Her parents poured their hope into her, wishing to the Lord to see her success, to see her an Archbishop, serving the Will of the Lord brilliantly.

Elizabeth, however, couldn't bring herself to accept her fate. She could not submit to the Lord. When she tried to pray, her heart could never fully fall before the Lord. She felt constrained, forced, and unnatural. Her nature rebelled at such a thought, which disconnected her from the Lord.

Because she yearned for freedom, she failed to accept the Lord, and thus she could not use or be granted any blessings. For the Goodwills Family, she was a disgrace, a black spot in their ancient tradition. Gradually, they turned their disappointment into resentment and hatred, seeing her as an embarrassment of their bloodline.

Coming back, Elizabeth slowly rose out of bed and walked to the window. Beyond the wooden frame, a vividly lit cityscape illuminated the dark sky, shining in colourful neon light, contesting against the three pale moons in the sky.

The great skyscrapers and the floating hexagon buildings towered over the clouds, creating complex traffic, which extended from the ground to the sky. Along the transparent tracks, countless flying vehicles and drones efficiently moved from one destination to another, leaving behind them a trail of fleeting light.

Seeing the familiar scenery, Elizabeth frowned then turned away, closing the curtain. Her heart was still in chaos, throbbing rapidly. She struggled to make sense of the situation. Confused and desperate, she stumbled to her desk, turned on the lantern, and took her journal from the drawer.

Picking up the pencil, she rapidly scribbled her experience, detailing the most sensational recollection in her heart, afraid that she would forget them sooner or later. It was too surreal, an antithesis to her world. It must be the escapism she created for herself.

"Is this just a dream?" she whispered then shook her head. The lingering sober felt too real, too painful, too visceral to be just a mere dream created by her repressed feeling. She didn’t want to wake up. It was slipping away.

"Lenmia, Vilia, Dulcie, Tardi, Reta, Varda," she mumbled, reciting the names again and again until their figures manifested in her mind and came to life. "Why are you all so real?"

Restless, she stood up, closed the journal, and walked around the room, circling her bed, glancing everywhere, breathing in, breathing out. Sweating, she sat on the bed, looking at the muddled light that came through the curtained window, counting the stars, counting the time. No matter what she did, the profound feeling never left and only intensified. She had lost something important to her, but she didn't know what to do.

In the end, she laid in bed, trying her hardest to fall asleep, praying, hoping that the dream would continue, on and on until she could no longer wake up. Maybe this life was a dream, a long, tedious nightmare. She wasn't so sure which world she belonged to, but if the past was to dictate her, she would soon accept the reality, putting the fond experience in her heart.

The night crawled by, pushing the moon through the peak of the sky to the horizon. It submerged under the earth as the sun woke up from its slumber and blazed its glorious light across the sky, brightening the atmosphere.

Seeing the sunlight piercing through the curtains, Elizabeth lifelessly got out of the bed. She couldn't fall back to sleep, no matter how hard she tried. Terrible anxiety filled her body as she shifted her posture, sweating until her pyjamas became soaked. Despite the powerful air-conditioner, she felt like her body was burning, threatening to burst into a puddle of boiling liquid.

The sensation of human skin left her disoriented. Her human anatomy, her dull eyesight, her inflexible muscles, all screamed at her that she was in the wrong body, wrong place, wrong world. The Slime Girl her was the true her, not this puppet of flesh and blood.

"Am I finally going insane?" she murmured as she opened the closet and wiped her sweats with her towel. "It's so hot. I might be sick. What day is today, again?"

Her chest felt stuffy. Her head was spinning, but she endured the pain, knowing that it would pass. To distract herself, she unbuttoned her pyjamas and wore only thin lingerie, standing in front of the air conditioner, letting its freezing gales graze her body. The sweats chilled her flesh, reminding her of the cool water in the pool she entered with Dulcie.

Instinctively, she tried to extend her consciousness, but the stuffiness cramped her mind inside her body, trapping her from doing what she could easily do in her slime body. Suddenly her heart cracked as an electrocuting pain shocked her, pulling her down.

She imagined a series of slime tendrils pushing her up, but there was no slime. She collapsed on the ground, feeling the impact as her elbows hit the edge of the bed. It paralysed her for a few moments, letting her agonise in silence and in contemplation.

Unable to get up, she turned to the underside of the bed. Inside the darkness, a soft purple crystal glowed, inviting her touch. Captivated, Elizabeth reached out and grabbed it. In that instant, a spark flashed, sending a wave of tingling warmth throughout her body. For a moment, she became hypersensitive that the cold winds which caressed her skin made her shiver, turning her face pink and bashful.

Accompanied with the flash of pleasure, a seductive moan hissed behind her ears, rising the hairs all over her body. The voice was sharp and familiar, reminding her about Vilia. It was a calling that she yearned for, the phantom touches that never left her minds, the ghostly kisses that tainted her lips.

As the cold floor tickled her sweaty, fiery flesh, she slowly reached her hand down her stomach towards her crotch, tensing her arm against her breasts, fighting against the traditional moral. She knew she shouldn't give in, but it felt so right.

So what if her family shunned her? They already hated her; anything more wouldn't matter. She painfully smiled despite the visceral repulsion of her indoctrinated body. Her soft fingers slid into her melting flesh and caressed the innard. A burning passion boiled inside her heart as her other hand groped her own breasts, massaging them and teasing them with her fingers.

As her muscles tensed, she arched forwards, locking her arms between her breasts and her fingers between their peaks. The sweats didn't feel uncomfortable anymore. Instead, they coated her body with streaming sensation, sticking to her shivering thighs. Her mouth opened and closed, breathing a foggy mist that smelt like lavenders, rising the temperature, heating her chest.

In the sensuous moment, her fingerplays gradually accelerated, guided by her animalistic instinct and her twisted desires. Coupled with the knowledge and experience from her dream, she mimicked her sisters' personality and techniques, distilling them into a whirlpool of carnal love, the soul-stirring experience.

Lost in the transient heat, Iris moaned, her voice echoing endlessly inside her soul, arousing her mind to capture the climax, sealing a part of the flame inside her throbbing heart. It diffused into her sweat, her tear, her voice, her touch, her heart, her everything.

Despite doing the forbidden, Iris wasn't satisfied. She had passed the point of no return, but she cared not for the consequence. She pulled out her stuffy hand and felt the lingering warmth of her on it.

"I did it," she mumbled. "Sisters, I think I've fallen."

Now, she was sure it wasn't just a dream. The transcendent sensation resonated with her soul, the soul of the Corrupted One, the soul of the Slime Girl. She licked her fingers and tasted the sweet nectar, her lips curving into a lewd smile, fantasising about her sisters. It hadn't been long since she left them, but she started to miss them already.

Their hugs, their touches, their voices, all left a trace inside her heart, twisting it into something indecent. They had corrupted her, and she willingly indulged in the process.

"Whether this world is real or not," she whispered, "I'll know it soon."

With a fiery passion in her heart, she stood up and surveyed the room. Because of her maniac passion, she rolled on the floor and messed everything up, even wetting the bed legs with her sweats and other fluid. Thankfully, no one was there to see it. Iris blushed and quickly cleaned the room, trying her hardest to restore order to her chaotic life.

Though she had accepted her wicked desire, she had to keep up her image as an upright maiden. This world was her original world or at least a simulation of it, so she had to abide by her family's rules. Her objective was to get back to her sisters, not to play around.

Looking at the purple amulet, Iris smiled. The purple Soul Gem was the confirmation, the pillar of her belief. Her life as a Monster Girl was real, and she chose it instead of life as a human. Sister Vilia was with her, watching from somewhere inside her heart. She clasped the Soul Gem, caressing it tenderly.

"Sis Vilia," she whispered. "We'll be together soon."

They were family, after all. Family stayed together, even in death.

...

"Tulin, I'm sorry," Pallorn said as she reached out, trembling. "I didn't think it through. I didn't want to hurt you. I just want to help. You need to believe me."

Quivering in pain, Tardi averted her gaze from her sister, silent. The anger and hatred which threatened to overflow suddenly dispersed into a wave of cold, piercing disappointment. The pain from the purification paled in front of the pain from her heart shattering into countless pieces, burning into ashes of despair.

"Pallorn, I too have been looking for you," Tardi said. "I know I was greedy and unreasonable. I know I shouldn't feel angry. But I was hopeful that we can be together again."

Her eyes curved into a gentle arch as they stared at Pallorn, scrutinising her silvery armour and her pathetic appearance. The fond gaze gradually shifted into disillusionment that permeated her entire being, bit by bit.

The look on Tardi's face pierced Pallorn's heart, stabbing her chest with a muggy sensation that numbed her arms and legs. She struggled to breathe as if her lungs were slowly rotting, her heart stopping, her chest imploding.

"No, Sis. Don't look at me like that. I beg you. I promise I won't do it again. Please don't hate me."

"Sis, I give you that chance, and you betray it. My hope is fleeting."

"I'm willing to do everything. Just give me one last chance." Desperate, Pallorn started to take off her armoury. "See? I'm getting rid of these things so they won’t hurt you anymore."

"Are you sure you can do anything for me?"

"As long as you promise you won't hate me."

"Then," Tardi said, faintly smiling, amused, "can you fall for me?"

"What?" Pallorn was stunned, unable to process the words. "What do you mean?"

"I mean both, Sis. Fall into the abyss with me and fall for me, your sister. Can you do it?" Tardi glided her hand on her breasts, tickling them playfully. "Come to this side and be free. Only then will I forgive you. Only then will we be together, forever."