Chapter 186: +18 wakeup calls Lisara, Neia. Villetta, Lacus. Today’s outfits.

"Return to them," Albedo murmurs. "Wake them gently. We will be here when you need us."

You clean both of them, kiss each forehead, and step through the Passageway back to Carne Manor. The first light of morning approaches the windows. Time to wake the household.

The morning light filters pale through the corridor windows as you make your way to Lisara's room. The manor is beginning to stir, distant sounds of Unseen Servants preparing breakfast drifting up from below. You push open Lisara's door without knocking.

She lies on her stomach, auburn hair fanned across the pillow, one arm tucked beneath her. Her charcoal nightwear rides up her thighs in sleep. You sit on the edge of the bed and brush her hair from her face.

"Mm," she murmurs, turning her head. Her eyes flutter open. "You are back."

"Good morning."

You lean down and kiss her. She responds immediately, her lips parting, her hand finding your jaw. The kiss deepens, warm and unhurried, her tongue sliding against yours. When you pull back, her auburn eyes are bright with wakefulness.

"Where are we going?" she asks as you gather her into your arms.

"Neia's room."

You carry her through the corridor in a princess carry, her arms looped around your neck, her nightwear bunching as she settles against your chest. She does not protest. Lisara has long since stopped questioning you.

Neia's door opens silently. The squire lies on her side, blue shirt rumpled, red skirt twisted around her legs from restless sleep. Her dark circles are less pronounced than they used to be. You lay Lisara beside her on the bed.

Lisara's hands find the hem of her nightwear top. You stop her. "Let me."

You strip her slowly. Peeling the fabric up over her stomach, your lips following the exposed skin. She shivers as you pull it over her breasts, her nipples hardening. You take your time with her shorts, sliding them down her thighs while kissing the curve of her hip. Lisara lies bare beside the sleeping squire, her auburn hair spread across the pillow, her breathing already quickened.

You position yourself between her legs and enter her in one smooth thrust. Lisara gasps, her back arching, her hands gripping the sheets. You begin a slow, deep rhythm that makes her moan with each stroke.

Neia stirs. Her sharp eyes open, blinking against the morning light, and she sees you above Lisara, your hips rolling in steady motion. Lisara's moans fill the small room. Neia's cheeks flush crimson but she does not look away.

"Good morning," you say without stopping.

You reach for Neia while continuing to fuck Lisara. Your fingers find the buttons of her blue shirt, undoing them one by one as Lisara writhes beneath you. Neia lies still, her breath coming faster, as you peel the fabric from her shoulders. Her breasts are small and firm, her skin pale where armor usually covers. You kiss her collarbone, her neck, the swell of her chest, while your hips never cease their rhythm.

Lisara's moans grow louder. "Please," she gasps, her legs wrapping around your waist.

You guide Neia into position above Lisara's face, her thighs parting as you lower your mouth between them. Neia cries out, her fingers tangling in your hair, while Lisara bucks beneath you, her voice rising.

You edge them both. Bringing each to the precipice and holding them there, your cock buried deep in Lisara while your tongue works Neia's sensitive flesh. Lisara's nails rake your back. Neia's thighs tremble around your ears.

When they finally break, it happens simultaneously. Lisara screams, her body clenching around you, and Neia shudders above her, a strangled cry escaping her lips. You extend their pleasure, drawing out every wave, every aftershock, until both women lie gasping and boneless.

You slow their return gradually, your movements gentling, your mouth softening. When you finally pull back, both lie tangled together, breathing hard.

"Good morning," you say again, kissing each forehead.

Lisara laughs breathlessly. "That is one way to wake up."

Neia's sharp eyes find yours, still glazed but already sharpening. "I could get used to this."

You lean down and kiss Lisara first, your lips finding hers with lingering warmth. She sighs into it, her auburn hair tangled across the pillow, her body still trembling from the aftershocks. Your hand finds her breast, cupping the soft weight, your fingers circling her nipple. She arches into your palm with a quiet moan.

Then Neia. Her kiss is more tentative, her sharp eyes still glazed with residual pleasure. You roll her nipple between your fingers and she gasps against your mouth, her pale skin flushing pink from collarbone to cheek.

"Good morning to both of you, I should leave you both to get ready." you say, standing.

Lisara stretches like a cat, her auburn hair spilling across Neia's shoulder. "You could stay longer."

"There are several others who will want a similar 'Good morning.'"

Neia props herself on one elbow, watching you dress. "Lisara, you can borrow something from my closet if you do not want to walk back to your room."

Lisara considers this. "Sounds good. Less distance."

You leave them to sort themselves out and make your way down the corridor. The morning light strengthens through the windows, painting the stone in pale gold. You reach Villetta's door and push it open without knocking.

She stands before her mirror, half-cup maid outfit already fastened around her torso, her dark skin gleaming in the dawn light. Her fingers hold a strapless bra, ready to clip it into place. She turns when she hears you, her expression shifting from routine to anticipation.

"Good morning," she says.

You cross the room and take the bra from her hands, picking it up with her undershorts. "It's about to be. You can put that on later. Come with me."

She follows without question, her bare breasts swaying beneath the open cups of her maid outfit as you guide her down the corridor. The hallway is empty, morning quiet settling over the manor. You reach Lacus's door and slip inside.

Lacus sleeps on her side, pink hair loose and flowing across the pillow, her nightgown twisted around her slender frame. Her breathing is deep and even. You position Villetta over her, bending the dark-skinned woman forward across the bed, her hands braced on either side of the sleeping songstress.

You lift Villetta's skirt and enter her from behind. She gasps, her back arching, her breasts hanging free above Lacus's sleeping form. You begin a slow, deep pace that makes her bite her lip to stay quiet.

Lacus stirs. Pink eyes flutter open, blinking against the morning light, and she finds Villetta's face inches from hers, the maid's expression twisted with pleasure. Lacus's cheeks flush.

"Kiss her," you say.

Villetta leans down and presses her lips to Lacus's. The singer freezes for a heartbeat, then responds, her mouth opening beneath Villetta's. You reach forward and pull Lacus's nightgown down from her shoulders past her thighs, while Villetta continues kissing her, the fabric discarded on the floor.

Lacus lies bare beneath Villetta, her slender body pale and perfect, her small breasts rising with quickened breath. You pull out of Villetta and lower your mouth between Lacus's thighs. She cries out into Villetta's kiss, her hips jerking, her fingers finding Villetta's shoulders.

You deliberately work her patiently while Villetta holds her, stroking her hair, whispering soft encouragements. Lacus's climax builds steadily, her voice rising in pitch, her thighs trembling around your ears. When she breaks, it is with a musical cry that fills the small room, her whole body shuddering.

You trail kisses up her stomach, her chest, taking each breast in turn while you re-enter Villetta. The maid moans against Lacus's neck, her pace matching yours, her fingers tangled in pink hair. You fuck Villetta through her own climax while your mouth works Lacus's sensitive nipples, the singer whimpering with each flick of your tongue.

When both have settled, you pull back and play with their breasts in turn. Villetta's full and dark, Lacus's small and pale. They lie tangled together, breathing hard.

"Good morning," you say to both of them.

Lacus laughs breathlessly, her pink hair a mess. "That is one way to wake someone up. That I might be getting addicted to."

Villetta simply smiles, her amber eyes warm with contentment.

You lean down and press your lips to Villetta's first, a soft lingering kiss that she returns with quiet warmth, her dark fingers finding your jaw. Then Lacus, whose pink hair is a disaster across the pillow, her pale cheeks still flushed. She sighs into the kiss, her small hand resting on your chest.

"Breakfast has likely started," you say. "I'll step out first."

Villetta nods, already reaching for her discarded undergarments. Lacus stretches beneath the sheets, her slender body arching. "Give us a moment."

You redress instantly through your Inventory, clean clothes materializing over your frame, and step into the corridor. The morning light has strengthened considerably, golden beams cutting through the tall windows. The smell of the Heroes Feast drifts up from below, warm bread and roasted meats and something sweet.

You descend the main staircase and enter the great hall.

The scene that greets you is a tableau of morning chaos and fashion experimentation. The long table is laden with food, but most of the women are standing rather than sitting, gathered in small clusters examining each other's choices.

Orihime catches your eye first. She stands near the fireplace, wearing a deep crimson corset-dress from Charlotte's wardrobe that laces up the front, leaving generous cleavage exposed, with a short pleated skirt that barely reaches mid-thigh. Black thigh-high stockings complete the ensemble. Her auburn hair is loose and flowing, and she is spinning slowly for Charlotte's inspection, her expression caught between embarrassment and delight.

"What do you think?" Orihime asks Charlotte, who stands beside her in a similar outfit of midnight blue, though Charlotte's version features sheer panels along the sides and a collar that sits high on her throat. The French pilot's blue eyes are clinical as she assesses both outfits, but there is a faint pink across her cheekbones.

"The color suits you," Charlotte says, her voice measured. "Though I question whether you can fight while your arms are restricted like that."

Orihime laughs. "I will manage."

Across the hall, Olivia is tugging at the hem of a white nurse outfit that is clearly one size too small. The fabric strains across her soft curves, the buttons down the front gaping slightly, and the skirt rides up to reveal the edge of white stockings. Laura stands beside her in matching attire, though Laura's fits more precisely, her petite frame accentuated rather than overwhelmed.

"This was your idea," Olivia says to Laura, her cheeks red.

Laura's heterochromatic eyes gleam with quiet satisfaction. "You wanted something from my wardrobe. I chose something practical."

"Practical," Olivia repeats flatly, gesturing at the outfit that leaves very little to imagination.

Near the staircase, Angelica has emerged wearing something from Alicia's Kuroinu wardrobe. A white and gold battle-corset with armored pauldrons that somehow makes her look both protected and exposed simultaneously. The skirt portion is minimal, barely more than a decorative flap over white stockings. She stands stiffly, her blonde hair braided neatly, her expression one of determined composure despite the revealing cut.

Neia stands beside her, sharp eyes taking in the outfit with open curiosity. "You look like a holy knight," the squire says.

Angelica's composure cracks into a genuine smile. "That was the intention. Alicia said this was her field configuration."

At the far end of the table, Enri sits with Prim beside her, both eating breakfast. Enri has been coaxed into a sheer white priestess robe from Prim's Kuroinu wardrobe, the fabric translucent enough to show the shape of her body beneath, though she has pulled it tight around herself with visible discomfort. Her green eyes find yours across the room and she gives you a look that promises retribution.

Prim, by contrast, wears her usual transparent pink dress with cheerful unconcern, eating a bread roll and chatting animatedly.

And at the center of the table, Arche sits with the twins Kuuderika and Ureirika on either side of her, while Renner occupies the seat across from them. The twins are dressed in matching outfits that Renner clearly selected: simple but elegant dark blue dresses with white lace trim, practical enough for play but pretty enough to make them feel special. White ribbons in their hair match the bows they already favored.

Renner looks up as you enter, her golden hair loose around her shoulders, wearing a simple cream blouse and dark skirt. Her smile when she sees you is small but genuine, the maskless version that has become more frequent.

You cross the hall toward Enri, who sits with her arms crossed over her chest, the sheer white priestess robe doing very little to conceal the shape beneath. Her green eyes track your approach with the wariness of a cornered rabbit.

You lean down and press a soft kiss to her lips. She stiffens for a heartbeat, then melts into it, her fingers finding your sleeve. When you pull back, her cheeks are flushed but her shoulders have dropped an inch.

"You look amazing," you say.

"I look naked," she mutters.

"You need to change your perspective. This is appropriate attire for where we are."

Enri's jaw sets. "It is not appropriate for anywhere I have ever been."

"Then maybe I should have you wear a bikini for a few days. Get you properly acclimated."

Enri blinks. "A what?"

Several voices rise simultaneously. Milly leans forward from her seat, blue eyes bright with amusement. "A bikini is a two-piece swimsuit. Very small. Covers only the essentials."

"Smaller than this?" Enri gestures at her translucent robe with disbelief.

Charlotte speaks from across the table, her measured tone clinical despite the midnight blue dress clinging to her own curves. "Bikinis are standard public attire at swimming areas. Beaches. Hot springs. Desert regions where heat makes layered clothing impractical."

"We are weeks of travel from any lake or ocean," Enri says flatly. "Calling them inappropriate here is normal."

"And yet arguable," Orihime adds cheerfully, tugging at her crimson corset-dress. "I wore far less at the beach festivals back home. Nobody batted an eye."

Lisara, freshly arrived and wearing borrowed clothes from Neia's closet, slides into the conversation. "Enri, think of it this way. You are the village chief now. You need to look the part. Divine authority, Prim said."

"Prim is a menace," Enri replies, but her lips twitch.

Prim beams from beside her, transparent pink dress flowing without a care in the world. "You are welcome."

Breakfast continues around the long table. The Heroes Feast provides its usual abundance, warm bread and roasted meats and fresh fruit. You move along the table, complimenting each woman's choice in turn. Charlotte receives your praise with a slight incline of her head, though pink touches her cheekbones beneath the high collar. Orihime spins again when you tell her the crimson suits her, genuinely delighted. Laura watches Olivia squirm in the too-small nurse outfit with quiet satisfaction, her heterochromatic eyes gleaming.

Angelica stands straighter when you approve her battle-corset choice, and Neia gives her an encouraging nod beside her.

"The white and gold suits your bearing," you tell Angelica.

"Alicia said it was her field configuration," Angelica replies, her composure holding. "I wanted something that felt like armor rather than decoration."

Across the table, the twins chatter excitedly about their matching dark blue dresses, white ribbons bouncing as they turn to show Renner. The golden-haired princess smiles at them with a warmth that reaches her eyes, her maskless expression settling more naturally each day.

"Renner picked them," Kuuderika announces proudly.

"They are very pretty," Ureirika adds.

Renner's smile flickers with something fragile before she steadies it. "They chose the ribbons themselves."

The first group rises to leave. Milly, Shirley, and Mira gather near the door, their outfits drawing a final round of commentary. Leinas waits at the entrance to the corridor, arms crossed, her flawless face impassive as she surveys her first training group.

"Shall we?" Leinas says, her tone brooking no argument.

Mira adjusts her stance nervously. Milly straightens her half-cup maid outfit with analytical precision. Shirley simply follows, amber eyes bright

The three disappear down the corridor toward the training grounds, and the hall settles into the quieter hum of remaining breakfast conversation.