Page | 12 Would it be permissible for me to touch her? Surely I had the heavens’ implicit blessing. The goddess had come to me, after all. I was the chosen one. The messiah. And surely a messiah is allowed to touch his god. But was it permissible for me to do so while her spirit was roving elsewhere? There was a risk that I would burden my soul with sin, and bar myself from the gates of Nirvana. The moment I reached out my hand, she might flood the room with brilliant light, shout “Begone, foul Mara!”, and purify me into nothingness. What a cruel dilemma. I couldn’t help it if my little apostle was feeling particularly fervent this morning! “Mm… ’S cold…” The goddess grabbed blindly for the blanket, pulled it back over her, and then turned on her other side. “Oooh…” How truly wondrous! I could see the white nape of her neck peeking from beneath her blue hair! I could see the hickeys I’d left there yesterday! Truly splendid. Surely I was the luckiest man in the world, to be offered such spectacular sights the very moment I awakened. …Oh, right. We don’t have that much time in the morning, do we? Better get her up… “Roxy, wake up. It’s morning.” “Hm…?” My goddess opened her eyes and slowly sat up. The blanket slipped away as she did so, revealing her lovely, naked back. This was the dawn of a new age. “…Good morning.” Sluggishly, she turned around to face me, eyes fogged with sleep. She had two auspicious marks on her chest, and a cute little