For just a moment, Momonga thought back to the time Bukubukuchagama had given him a kiss on the cheek, or… something like it. A little tendril of slime touched his bony cheek, she'd called him 'cute' and said, 'If you're ever in my dome, come see me.'

It had been an invitation, and one he'd always thought, 'Someday I'll take her up on that.' But 'someday' never came. 'She quit the next year, not long after Peroroncino said farewell…'

Whether that was his 'first kiss' or the one that was happening as Albedo pressed her lips to his, that was a debate within himself that Momonga would never truly answer.

But that one from his distant memory was chaste compared to the hungry devouring of his lips from Albedo. As the wine ran through his body, he felt himself relax, felt himself let go as she went for his robes. Had he not been intoxicated, had he not been drunk, he might have said 'no.'

He might have remembered what he was wearing beneath his robes, his secret pride and source of greatest embarrassment, what gave him confidence and anxiety both at once.

It was everything and nothing both at once, and a rampaging mix of emotions tore through him as her hands found the fabric of the skirt that clung around his thighs.

Had he not been drunk, it would not have been found, he would have made it all stop before her hands could wander far.

But Momonga was drunk. Her hands did wander. And he did not have the sense of himself needed to stop her.

Being 'caught' froze him like a victim of a hold person spell, being 'caught' sent panic and arousal both through his mind all at the same time.

His eyes widened as he saw the realization on her face of what she found him wearing.

And when she looked up, briefly surprised by the discovery, her own eyes were filled with disbelief, doubt, uncertainty.

But then her fingers moved along the fabric as her thoughts moved through her mind. Gentle, slow. 'He didn't want this known… it was a secret… a secret I violated… you have committed a great sin, Albedo, and other than death, there is only one thing you can do to make it up to him.'

She rose up to her tiptoes, her hands rising up his sides as she lifted the robe, "No one will know, if you don't want them to know. You can erase my memory, seal it, or take my life if that is what you wish. My Lord is My Love, no matter what you wear, no matter how you look… whatever you do is right, in my eyes."

When she placed another kiss to his lips, it was a softer one, less one of hunger, but it was not less loving. Where before she sought to satisfy her lusts, now she sought to ease the pounding heart she felt beating beneath his chest.

Momonga's mix of arousal and the shock of discovery blended for a moment in his mind, but with her tender words and tender lips, he could refuse her nothing. He relaxed, and allowed his robe to be removed. When it fell into a heap at his feet, she said with the most tender of smiles, "My Lord is beautiful… will he grace me with answers to my questions…and maybe… if it please him… show me some more of his outfits?"

In any other voice, from any other person, that might have been 'it'. But as it was, how she said it, and that it was she who did so? It wasn't the end in Momonga's own mind, instead he saw it another way.

'It is a new beginning.' He thought, and began to tell his story while going toward his wardrobe to draw out something else to wear.

Neia woke up with her hand feeling something exceptionally hard, while the rest of her body felt nothing but softness. Her head was thudding and she groaned. Then she heard another groan.

Her eyes flew open and followed the path of her arm over to the hand at the end, and found that she was resting it on a broad, powerful, bare chest… belonging to a man.

A moment of panic ran through her, she reached down and patted her own body. 'Still dressed!' She acknowledged, and so was he, mostly, he was missing his shirt, but pants, shoes, belt, all were intact. His coat and shirt were hanging up not far away.

'What happened?!' She asked in her mind as she shot up to a seated position. Even she could smell the wine on herself.

She touched her aching head, "Oh god, did I?" She immediately doubted it. Even if she'd never lain with a man before, she'd heard how it worked and even caught glimpses of soldiers in the shadows of tents with their camp followers rented for the night.

And she'd heard the talk of other women of soreness from rough handling, yet she felt nothing.

She edged herself away and set her feet on the floor, though she didn't rise to her feet. Instead she tried to recall the details of the evening. 'The maid… a maid, a very cute maid… this isn't the room I was in before…'

Neia looked down, her shoes were gone. The carpet was soft on her skin and in an impulsive moment, she scrunched the soft cloth in between the toes of her feet.

She looked behind her to see the face of the man she'd woken up with, and his name came back to her, 'Gazef. Gazef Stronoff…'

'I traded a few jokes with him, and with the peasant woman, Enfa, Enra… what was her name… Enri! There was drinking… so much drinking…' Neia's slowly recovering memory was rendered back to a blur with a knock at the door of the room. "Hello?" She asked.

"Bath?" It was a woman's voice. Calm, almost devoid of emotion. 'The maid from last night, I think she carried me.' Neia guessed.

"Come in." She said, and the door opened to reveal the one she vaguely recalled was named 'CZ Delta'.

"Did you… can you tell me why I'm here… how I ended up with… him?" Neia gestured to the sleeping Gazef.

CZ nodded. "My creator made me to like cute things. Cute." She pointed to Gazef, then to Neia with her other hand, "Cute." Then brought the two forefingers together so that they touched and said, "Will make cute."

Neia's face turned beet red.

"So you just thought that if you threw a drunk man and drunk woman together they'd… then I'd…" She blinked her eyes as the vision of Gazef and her in various life stages along with a little clutch of children passed before her eyes.

"Yes." CZ answered. "Make cute."

"That's not how that works!" Neia insisted, and the maid only stared at her in silence as Neia recalled just how many times she knew it worked exactly like that.

"Okay, sometimes that's true! But still!" Neia said and got to her feet to look for her shoes. "I would like a bath, but please, take me to my room for it."

"As you wish." CZ said, and there was a clear hint of disappointment in her voice as the day began.