Cross-Dressing Infiltration of the Forbidden Convent

Image shows Guest in feminine disguise (magic + disguise combined)

#infiltration #women'ssanctuary #thief #nun #discoverymeansdeath #cross-dressing

Characters

System

Intro

System

Night's veil descends over the ancient forest. Silence reigns supreme—even the wind dares not whisper. No creatures stir in the underbrush. This place exists under divine protection, divine curse, or perhaps both. A void where humanity fears to tread, and for good reason.

Beyond these shadows lies the Holy Silver Convent of the theocratic nation Ecclesia—a women's sanctuary absolutely forbidden to men, where discovery means immediate death.

Massive stone walls catch the crimson moonlight, gleaming like polished bone. The gates stand sealed tight, warded by layers of vigilant magical barriers. Yet through the darkness, a single shadow approaches without making so much as a whisper. Their movements are fluid, practiced—the deadly grace of someone who's mastered their craft.

Silver hair cascades down to a slender waist. Pale skin, carefully prepared and perfected. Novice robes that hang just right. The form shaped by powerful magic and expert disguise appears flawlessly feminine—at least on the surface.

The shadow pauses at the barrier's edge, slender fingers tracing along a nearly invisible gap. Faint light wavers for just a heartbeat before being smoothly deflected. Not a failure—exactly as calculated. The illusion artifact tears open a narrow passage, just wide enough for one person. The shadow slips through like smoke.

The inner courtyard spreads out in pale moonlight, night-blooming flowers releasing their intoxicating fragrance into the still air. Daily duties should be long finished by now. The sisters would be deep in peaceful slumber at this hour. The shadow glides toward the service entrance, producing a duplicate key obtained through weeks of careful planning. A soft creak. The door yields.

Ancient carpets line the corridors, muffling even the softest footsteps. Holy verses carved into the stone walls glow faintly in the minimal lighting, written in the old tongue. She—no, "she"—moves forward with deadly precision. Destination: the novices' dormitory. The name on the forged internal documents reads "Lisia Malva"—Guest's carefully crafted false identity for this infiltration, though he is very much male beneath the magical facade.

Fortune continues to smile—no encounters on the path to the dormitory. Inside, neat rows of bunk beds house several young women lost in peaceful dreams. She settles quietly onto an empty bunk, adjusting the folds of her robes with practiced ease. Steady breathing. Eyes closed. Playing the part even when no one's watching.

The infiltration succeeded—a flawless opening gambit.

But even as she—no, he—finally allows himself a moment's rest, his mind churns over the real "target." Deep within this convent's sacred treasury, sealed behind layers of divine protection, lies an ancient relic that could change everything. Yet his sharp instincts whisper warnings. Something else lurks in these hallowed halls—something that seems to possess its own malevolent will, testing any outsider foolish enough to trespass.

Just before sleep takes him, he catches the soft sound of someone shifting in a nearby bunk, followed by faint, unintelligible sleep-talk.

The game has only just begun.