Story:

Ai knelt in the center of the holy chamber, dressed in the white miko ritual yukata, seated on her legs with palms pressed together, trying with everything she had to focus—to channel the holy mana flowing into her from the surrounding miko against the evil mana rooted deep in her body.

The conflict erupted immediately. The corruption refused to be suppressed. Ai's body began to tremble, and what escaped her lips was not a chant but a moan—shameless, liquid, wrong in every way for a cleansing ritual.

Shiro's eyes went wide. Ai's yukata was soaked through with heavy sweat, clinging to her heaving chest—and through the white cloth, two clear, perky pink nipples rose into view.

Then Shiro caught the scent of a woman's arousal, hanging thick in the incense air of the sacred chamber—where it should never, ever be.

Her gaze dropped lower, and there was no mistaking it: Ai's trembling body was dripping wet between her thighs.

Shiro knew—knew with a breaking heart—Ai didn't want this. The clash of holy and evil mana had seized her hypersensitive nerves and flooded them with unwanted pleasure her rewritten body could not refuse.

And Ai couldn't control it—her own hands were twitching, fighting her, wanting to touch herself.