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“I want to show you something," Shiori says, as she takes Juri's hand. "Come with me."
In Juri's room, everything is cool and white. The curtains billow slightly, and the only light is a single, milky lamp. Shiori lets go of her hand and stands in the center of the room. She hooks her thumbs under the hem of her shirt.
"You don't mind, do you, Juri?" she asks, her voice a silken whisper.
Juri doesn't answer. She watches as Shiori undresses, each piece of clothing dropping to the floor in a soft whisper. The light catches the pale expanse of her skin, the curve of her spine. She stands naked, a fragile form against the shadows.
Shiori closes her eyes. A tremor starts in her shoulders, a subtle ripple at first, then a deep, insistent pulse. The muscles beneath her skin bulge and shift, her shoulder blades seeming to spread wide, the bone structure audibly cracking, reshaping itself with a series of wet, soft pops. Juri flinches, a gasp caught in her throat.
Then, it begins.
From Shiori's back, something erupts. Not flesh, not blood, but something soft and white, like billowing sheets unspooling from within her. They pour out from her shoulder blades, two cascading waves of downy fabric. The sound is a soft rustle, like silk on silk, and beneath it, the faint, sickening crunch of cartilage and bone completing their terrible work.
The white material thins, stretches. It becomes delicate, almost translucent, veined with a faint, dusty green. The shapes resolve themselves into two vast, intricate wings, impossibly large for Shiori's slender frame. They unfurl, shedding a fine, iridescent powder that catches in the lamplight, glittering like ground gems. What looked like linen reveals itself as the scaled, furrowed wings of a cabbage moth.
The shredded remains of Shiori's identity- her clothes- lie scattered around her feet, forgotten. She moves, testing the new appendages, a slow, graceful stretch. The wings beat the air once, a soft whoosh that sends her hair flying back from her face. She turns, posing like a specimen pinned to velvet, and looks at Juri. Her eyes are bright, knowing, a smirk playing on her lips.
Heat floods Juri's face, a mix of revulsion and a sudden, sharp fascination that coils deep in her belly. From the way Shiori looks lat her, it feels like she sees right into the depths of Juri’s twisted heart. She feels exposed, as if Shiori has unveiled something raw and essential about them both.
"Why...why did you want to show me this?" Juri manages, her voice tight with a guilt she can't name.
Shiori's smirk deepens, a predator's curve. "Now that you've seen this," she says, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush, "you'll be my prince forever. Won't you, Juri?"