The Villainess's Reputation [Kingdom Building]

The lights dimmed until only a pale, silken glow remained on stage. The first chords struck: low, sultry notes from lyres, drums that beat like a slow heart, and the soft, teasing breath of flutes.

A single actress emerged, her body draped in gossamer white silks so thin they seemed almost painted on. Every curve of her body could be traced through the fabric. Her veil trailed behind her like mist, her bare feet kissing the polished boards as she stepped forward. Her voice rose with the help of jasmine flower's amplification spell, sweet and solemn, a prayer disguised as lament.

"This is the tale of The Third Saintess Celestia, faithful to Solious, whose love yearned beyond death itself."

The backdrop shifted to a cottage. A husband's figure lay coughing weakly in bed, his body wasting away. The actress portraying Celestia fell beside him, clutching his hand. She wept, her cries raw, melodic, carrying through the hall like the first notes of a hymn. A golden light fell, representing Solious's promise of reincarnation.

But the narrator's voice cut sharp: "Her love defied reason. Celestia would not surrender her husband to the wheel of fate. She built her own path to the heavens to reach Herptian's domain."

The scene changed again. Wooden scaffolding appeared, and bricks were stacked one by one. Celestia began her climb.

At each level, dancers appeared: men and women alike, dressed in silks of scarlet and gold, their flesh bared beneath jeweled straps. They carried goblets of wine, chains of gold, fruits dripping with honey. They pressed close, touching her, whispering, beckoning.

"So Herptian, Goddess of Indulgences and Lust, The ruler of afterlife, tested her," the narrator intoned. "Indulgences sent at every floor. One more tempting than the last."

The music swelled, seductive and heavy. Celestia's actress hesitated, trembling, then accepted a goblet. She drank, wine spilling down her chin. A dancer slid behind her, kissing the hollow of her neck. Another cupped her breast through the thin silk; a third kissed at her thighs. Smiles rose from the hall as Celestia moaned, her body arching under their touch.

Marie's eyes went wide. Her cheeks flushed crimson as she clutched Ravenna's sleeve, scandal and shock plain on her young face. Ravenna, reclining casually, let a faint smirk tug at her lips.

The scene darkened. When the light returned, Celestia was now stripped of her gown, her pale body nearly nude, wrapped only in ribbons of scarlet and gold. She was entwined with men and women alike: kissing, groping, writhing in a storm of passion. Their hands slid across her breasts, down her stomach, between her thighs. She kissed them hungrily in return, moans timed to the music's swelling rhythm.

The narrator's voice cut through the decadence: "She who once renounced indulgence embraced it. She who once clung to restraint gave herself to pleasure… and found her hollow heart filled."

The ribbons were pulled loose one by one, slipping away until the actress was bare, bathed in red light and desire. Then the lights went out and returned.

Finally, the ascent resumed. Celestia climbed, now clad only in a translucent gown so sheer that every curve of her body was revealed beneath. At the summit, the backdrop shifted again: cosmic like light, a divine chamber. Herptian appeared, resplendent in violet and gold, a figure of overwhelming sensuality. She extended a hand, smiling like a predator.

And there, her husband appeared again. Young. Whole. Beautiful.

The stage shifted one last time. A bed was wheeled in, draped in scarlet silk. A veil descended, glowing with golden backlight. Celestia and her husband embraced upon the bed. Their silhouettes moved together in rhythm, unmistakably carnal. The sound of soft moans and gasps carried through the hall. Their shadows revealed their bodies entwining, arching, pressing closer and closer until the suggestion gave way to certainty.

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The music swelled to its peak, then cut away, leaving only the echo of breath and silence.

At last, the narrator's voice rang out, solemn: "Thus Herptian rewarded Celestia, not for restraint, but for surrender. Not for denial, but for indulgence. Faith and flesh, love and lust, united as one. And so their souls ascended to Solious, to be reborn together. And the staircase remained: Herptian's eternal gift, her new residence, The Celestia Castle."

The curtains fell. The house lights flared back to life, and the hall erupted in applause, a wave of clapping hands and cheers carrying long after the last note of music had faded. The actors bowed low, flushed and gleaming with sweat, their silks clinging to their bodies like second skins. The performance had left the air heavy, thick with something of raw exhilaration.

In the corner of the hall, Keith Richards, the founder of the restaurant, was already leaning close to the lead actress, whispering in her ear with a grin far too intimate for polite company. Not to be outdone, his wife Lucy sat pressed almost thigh to thigh with the male lead, her hand brushing his arm as the two spoke with conspiratorial laughter. It was no surprise, Herptian indulgence was alive and well even off the stage.

Ravenna set down her fork and spoon with delicate finality, finishing the last bite of her meal as if nothing at all unusual had transpired. Yet her deep dark eyes lingered on the stage, sharp and contemplative. The play's story had perfectly encapsulated the culture of Herptian faith.

Marriage existed: monogamous, yes, but infidelity was defined very differently compared to the strictures of Solious. Intense flirting, lingering touches, even shameless intimacy just beyond simple touch with others were not betrayals of marriage vows. They were indulgences, accepted as natural. This culture had not sprung from nowhere. It was inevitable in a world where women's menstrual cycles were far longer than those on Earth, and where sexually transmitted diseases simply did not exist: eradicated long ago by Herptian's strange blessing upon mankind.

"The play was good, wasn't it?" Ravenna finally asked, her voice carrying the faint, sly curve of a smile.

Marie nearly choked on her drink, her face red as the actress's ribbons. She nodded hurriedly, her embarrassment plain. "I—I knew the story of Celestia… and how Celestia Castle was formed. But I've never… seen it performed like that before."

Ravenna chuckled, a rich, knowing sound. "You ought to be used to it by now. You've been living on this island for months, haven't you? Studying theology from High Priest James himself, no less."

"Yes, Master… but I grew up on the mainland. This is… different. To be expected, I suppose," Marie mumbled, lowering her head, her chestnut hair slipping forward to hide her burning cheeks.

"As if I didn't live most of my life on the mainland as well," Ravenna countered lightly, though the chuckle that followed caught in her throat. For the briefest moment, she hesitated. She realized, with a small pang of unease, how naturally she was accepting this world's "normal." How her soul, little by little, was merging into Ravenna Solarius's rather than Joy Cha Kim's.

"But you lived like that even on the mainland," Marie said softly, almost pouting as she resumed eating, stuffing her mouth to avoid further conversation.

Ravenna smirked at her disciple's attempt to deflect, then leaned back in her chair, her gaze sliding toward the far side of the hall. "It looks like preparations for the festival are coming along well, Your Holiness," she remarked smoothly to High Priest James.

The old priest inclined his head, his smile serene but his eyes glimmering. "What you saw tonight was only the juniors of the theater troupe, Your Highness. The grand cast is preparing even now. On the night of the Festival of Lust, the stage will blaze with a performance worthy of the goddess herself."

"I hope so." Ravenna's tone was cool, almost dismissive, though the faintest edge of a smirk tugged at her lips. Her deep dark eyes flicked to one side, locking briefly on Brandon, the eager reporter seated with pen in hand. "We have an announcement to make that will define this entire era. I expect the performance to match the weight of history."

Brandon's pen scratched furiously against the parchment, his eyes gleaming like a man scenting treasure. Every word, every inflection, he sought to capture.

"That is true indeed…" High Priest James replied, though his tone was different now: thick with excitement, the zeal of faith barely restrained. His gaze wandered, just for a moment, to the young woman seated opposite Ravenna, stuffing her cheeks as though the food would run away if she didn't finish it. His lips pressed into the faintest smile.

Marie, oblivious to his stare, ducked her head deeper, pretending the golden roast on her plate was the most fascinating thing in the world.