Extra 1

Segalot led Cyrus into the bedroom.

He took the completed dress from the wardrobe, spread it on the bed, and said, "Darling, if you don't know how to wear it, I can help you."

He embraced Cyrus from behind, gently kissing his earlobe, a low chuckle escaping his throat.

Cyrus's eyes widened in disbelief. He had no idea that the Pope would simply pull a suit of clothing out of the wardrobe—when was this made?!

Why didn't he know?

It was clearly premeditated!

This outfit is not just a dress; it also includes matching stockings, headdresses, hats, shoes, and more.

It has a complete range of products, from top to bottom.

Cyrus stepped forward and rummaged through it, discovering that the chest area of this outfit was still stuffed with Cotton by the tailor... making it bulge.

--To be this meticulous, I don't know what Cyrus should say.

His temples twitched, and finally he couldn't help but turn around and rest his chin on Segalot's chest, tilting his head back and pouting pitifully, "A-Sai, can't you just not wear it?"

"If I wore it, I would lose all face as a lord."

Segalot smiled and kissed his pouting lips, her expression tender yet firm in her refusal. "No."

"I'll have the servants leave beforehand. Without orders, no one is allowed to enter the vicinity. No one will see you, don't worry."

Left with no other choice, Cyrus reluctantly picked up the clothes spread on the bed.

He initially thought he could simply put the suit on, but it turned out that the process was quite complicated and required the Pope's help.

First, put on the stockings, securing the tops with a black ribbon.

Cyrus's legs were very white, probably naturally so, without a single hair. When aroused, they would turn a pinkish hue, which Segalot found irresistible during their intimate moments.

At this moment, a black ribbon was tied around her incredibly fair thighs—the contrast between black and white created a strangely erotic effect.

Cyrus, barefoot in flesh-colored stockings, stood on the soft carpet, her face flushed with shyness as Segalot watched her intently and passionately.

He pushed the Pope away, saying, "Get out. I know how to dress. I'll do it myself..."

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Segalot followed his momentum and walked out.

If they don't leave soon, his precious child will probably get angry and embarrassed.

Segalot waited outside the bedroom for a while, then heard the sound of the doorknob turning. He looked over—

Cyrus slowly emerged from behind the door, wearing white shoes inlaid with red gemstones.

He wore a long, fluffy white dress covered with a white veil that trailed on the ground. The dress was also white, but it was embroidered with large, blooming red roses, one after another, surrounded by green leaves and thorns.

Clusters of roses stretched from her chest and waist to the hem of her skirt, with thorns spreading wildly on the last part of the skirt. Thin black lines disappeared into the rose bushes at the end, alluring yet harboring a hint of danger.

This is a boldly designed long dress.

--Purity and beauty, danger and safety intertwined... the contradictions are enough to attract everyone's admiring gaze.

Segalot was no exception.

Moreover, the person wearing this outfit was Cyrus, whose golden eyes blazed with undisguised fervor.

Cyrus walked unsteadily, supporting herself against the wall.

He raised his hand to touch the same style of hat on his head, with a red veil hanging down his forehead, and he also wore ornaments on his neck, chest, and hands.

It's a bit heavy; my neck is tired.

Cyrus twisted her head from side to side and said, "I'm all dressed, can I go change now?"

Segalot stepped forward and hugged him. "No rush, if you can't stand steadily, just lean on me."

He couldn't bear to look away.

Segalot's eyes made Cyrus's cheeks burn. He leaned against the Pope's chest, resting his slightly heavy head on the other's shoulder, and looked up, asking, "Is it beautiful?"

Now that you've already changed into your new outfit, there's no need to be too shy or bashful.

Cyrus asked the question frankly, awaiting Segalot's reply.

He wore no makeup, revealing his completely natural face. One side of his hair was tucked behind his ear with a matching rose hair clip. His caramel-colored eyes sparkled. He was already beautiful and delicate, but because of the makeup, he now appeared somewhat androgynous, like an elf born from among the flowers.

Segalot answered him with a gesture, whether it looked good or not.

Cyrus was almost breathless from the kiss. When he came back, he had already picked up Segalot and carried him back into the bedroom.

Seeing that she was ultimately heading towards the large bed, Cyrus couldn't help but struggle.

"A-Sai, let me go! It's still daytime..."

"We can talk all night, sweetie, you'll get a good night's sleep tonight."

"..."

As Cyrus struggled and was thrown onto the bed, she thought—perhaps she shouldn't have made such a punishment rule for the fluffy creatures.

In the end, it backfired and hurt him...

The room quickly filled with an atmosphere that made people blush and their hearts race.

A long white dress adorned with blooming roses lay spread across the dark-colored bed... Long legs tied with black ribbons quickly slipped from the Pope's waist, unable to support his weight, only to be immediately scooped up...

The bed was swaying slightly, and the pale red gauze curtains were gently fluttering...

The next day, Cyrus got up with a sore back.

The bedroom had already been tidied up, and it was unclear who had taken the long dress or where it had gone. Segalot was going to the Saint Church today to continue handling business.

After lazily lounging in bed for a while, Cyrus got up, dressed, washed up, and then went to find the tailor.

"Make me several suits according to the Pope's measurements."

"..."

Upon hearing this, the six tailors were speechless with surprise. The old tailor stepped forward again and asked, "Lord, how many pieces do you need...? Are there any special requirements, such as style, fabric...?"

Cyrus thought for a moment and said, "How many did the Pope order you to make?"

"Ten, ten items."

"Then I want ten pieces too. Give me the drawings after you finish them."

"Yes, lord."

Ten days later, a booklet depicting ten different long dresses was delivered to Cyrus. After reading it, Cyrus expressed her satisfaction and instructed the six tailors to make them quickly.

Most importantly, this matter must not be known to the Pope; it must be kept secret until the clothes are made.

The six tailors replied: We understand.

Five days later, the first costume made to the Pope's size was completed and carried by Judas herself to the bedroom of Cyrus and the Pope.

At that moment, Cyrus was reading a letter that had been delivered from the post station.

The letter stated that Orville and Archibald would be arriving at Par Mountain soon to discuss the establishment of a hospital.

"My lord..." Judas stood in front of the sofa, holding a box containing a long dress.

Cyrus put down the letter in her hand, looked up and said, "Judas, where do you think we should put this garment?"

If it's not in the closet, it's easily exposed.

Judas: "Why don't we put it in another room first?"

Cyrus stroked her chin, thinking for a moment, "No, let's just put it on the bed for now, Judas. Tell the servants not to come near here today."

Judas bowed respectfully. "Yes, lord."

After putting down the box containing the medicine, he turned and left the room.

In the afternoon, Segalot returned from the Saint Church.

Cyrus sweetly asked, holding his hand, "A-Sai, what mistakes have you made? Please tell me."

He waved his hand, his eyebrows curving into a coquettish smile.

Segalot couldn't help but smile, pinching the tip of his nose and saying, "I didn't do anything wrong."

"How could that be? Everyone makes mistakes."

"Have you ever seen me make a mistake?"

Cyrus shook his head, indicating he hadn't seen him. He felt he couldn't find any clues about the Pope, so he asked directly.

Segalot pinched his soft cheek again and chuckled, "So, your idea will probably never come true."

The words had barely left his lips when he saw the person who had just been shaking his arm with a sweet smile suddenly pout, their face filled with sadness, and then tears welled up in their eyes...

Cyrus started sobbing.

Segalot: "..."

He hurriedly hugged Cyrus, wiping away the tears streaming down his face with his thumb, and coaxed him softly, "Sweetie, sweetie, baby, why are you crying?"

Cyrus sobbed, "It's so unfair that I'm the only one wearing clothes. You're bullying me."

At this moment, Segalot experienced a rare moment of unspeakable helplessness.

He sighed and said, "Baby, I was wrong. I shouldn't have bullied you. Don't cry."

No matter how much she planned, she never expected him to compromise with his lover without any limits.

With teary eyes, Cyrus asked, "You're wrong?"

Segalot: "Yes, I was wrong."

hey-hey.

Cyrus instantly burst into laughter through his tears. He hugged the Pope around the waist and asked again, "Then you have to wear a suit too, right?"

Segalot nodded helplessly, "Yes, yes, as long as you stop crying, or it will break my heart."

Cyrus said she would absolutely not cry.

He pulled the Pope to the bedside and abruptly lifted the quilt that had been laid out—underneath were his long dress, jewelry, and other items.

Segalot raised an eyebrow.

Cyrus hugged Segalot's arm, kissed his cheek, and said softly, "A-Sai, I'll go outside and wait for you."

The door wasn't closed properly, Cyrus waited expectantly outside. After a while, Segalot's voice came from inside.

"Come in, you're all changed."

Cyrus immediately pushed open the door and entered—in the center of the bedroom stood His Holiness the Pope, who had already changed his clothes.

This long dress has a black base with a pattern of the sun and moon reflecting each other, outlined in gold thread. The pattern falls on the upper part of the skirt and extends to the waist. At the waist and chest, a rose blooming on a golden branch is embroidered in red thread.

The long skirt draped down, creating layers of pleats, while the shoulders and arms were adorned with sheer fabric. Long, curly black hair cascaded down her back, giving her a charming and alluring beauty.

Segalot held a fan in one hand, partially obscuring his face, revealing only his golden eyes, and asked the stunned Cyrus, "Are you satisfied?"

Cyrus returned, nodding repeatedly. "Satisfied, satisfied, A-Sai, you're beautiful."

Segalot waved to him.

Cyrus walked over without any sense of crisis. "What...?"

Before he could finish speaking, he swept the pope, who had been slapping the fan aside, up in his arms and carried him to the bedside, a situation that seemed to repeat itself from before.

Cyrus struggled in a panic.

"W-What are you doing...?"

Segalot: "Since we've already seen it, why don't we do something meaningful? We can't just let me wear this outfit for nothing."

"Aren't you right, baby?"

Cyrus: "..."

As he threw the suit onto the bed, he thought—why did he even make His Holiness the Pope wear that suit in the first place? In the end, he's the one who got himself into trouble...

Two days later, Orville and Archibald arrived at the castle.

After all the discussions were finished, before they were about to leave, Cyrus gave each of them a gift—a good ally. He said that as long as they wore it, he would definitely give them the best possible terms in any cooperation.

Orville & Archibald:?