Yun Shi felt a smoldering heat coil in her chest, a storm-cloud sliding over her face as if it might twist monstrous any second.

Rumor with Sham again, fine; Sham’s friend landing in the infirmary, fine; the Student Council’s vice president apologizing, fine; Sham hauling Yun Shi home to restore her “girl” identity, fine—like pebbles dropped into an already rippling pond.

But can someone explain why you’re stripping my clothes, ahhh!

“Baka, Sham—let go! Heaven will smite you, ahhh!” Her shout cracked like thunder over a summer lake.

Once things had “calmed down” (you know), Sham smiled like moonlight on a fox’s face and asked Yun Shi to take off her inner chest binder, claiming a girl should care for her chest, or it would deform—words coated like honey over a thorn.

So came the scene of Sham forcing Yun Shi’s clothes, hands like bold thieves reaching toward a forbidden abyss.

“Let go, damn you!” Yun Shi’s voice snapped like a taut bowstring.

“Nope, little Yun~ I want a good look at your development~” Sham purred, a cat pawing at a fishbowl.

“Dead black-bellied witch—don’t tear it! You’ll ruin it! I’ll take it off myself!” Her glare burned like a blade held to a guilty throat.

It was a sight to make jaws drop: Sham with a sultry smile and wicked hands, pressing Yun Shi onto the sofa and peeling at her clothes—yes, you read right, peeling—like vines wrestling a tree in the wind.

Yun Shi struggled hard and got nowhere, paying with the jacket that Sham yanked off; she raised her hands and surrendered, like a soldier waving a white flag—any more and this turns into an R-18 plot.

She had only a white shirt left on her skin—breath ragged like waves on a stormy shore. Strangest of all, her face showed no blush, only a murder-stare at the instigator, a glare like frost on steel that somehow carried zero threat.

Are you even the protagonist? Aren’t protagonists supposed to blush easy? (Yun Shi: Do I look like a moe mascot to you?!)

“I’ll kill you...” Her voice was a knife scraped across stone.

“Okay, okay~ then hurry and strip~” Sham’s grin was a crescent moon that begged for a slap.

Something in Yun Shi’s head snapped like a string, the thread named reason cut clean.

“Heh-heh~” Her smile rose, cute like a doll yet terrifying like a paper talisman soaked in ink—dark miasma visibly pooling like smoke.

Thud!

“Uuu~” Sham rubbed the lump on her head, eyes watery, touching it hurt and not touching it hurt—like choosing between a cactus and nettles.

“Out.” Yun Shi’s face was a night sky with no stars; her voice allowed no refusal and dropped heavy as a command seal.

“Right!” Sham whooshed away, a blur shooting up the stairs like a startled sparrow.

“So troublesome.” Yun Shi muttered, disgust curling like a wrinkle in silk.

She wore men’s clothes, so undressing was simple—buttons unfastened one by one like dew beads slipping off a leaf.

With each button gone, baby-soft skin appeared in slices of moonlight—slender clavicles leading down to the chest, wrapped tight with banding. When those pale hands tugged the shirt off and tossed it onto the sofa, feminine lines bloomed in full—waist smooth and fine, skin like a newborn pear, a nosebleed tableau painted in peach and milk.

Her hands stopped mid-air, then pressed over her own chest—palms landing like birds on fresh snow.

It felt good, yes; a tingling sweetness like tiny bells ringing under water. But it was her own body.

Yun Shi wanted to laugh and cry; having such a body yet unable to enjoy it was torture—her own body wouldn’t play for herself; she wasn’t a pervert, just a lone leaf in a cold stream.

Still, thought or no thought, she unwrapped the bandage, round by round, like peeling a ribbon from a sealed gift—unaware of a certain someone in the corner geysering nosebleed like a ruptured spring.

When the binder hit the sofa, that pair of small white rabbits—development... not great—were freed and silently cried into their sleeves (only A cup), like timid snow hares under a thin branch.

Yun Shi didn’t care—really. She really didn’t care. It mattered, so she locked the thought twice like a box within a box.

She scooped the shirt from the sofa and slipped it back on, fabric floating down like a calm wave. Now two small buns rose at her chest—humble hills under cotton. (Flat is a rare resource!)

She stepped out and caught sight of Sham, tissues stuffed in both nostrils like corks, a face reading “my life is complete” painted in neon.

“Sham, what happened?” Yun Shi asked, eyes cool like evening rain.

“N-nothing, got a bit overheated, heh-heh...” Sham’s laugh was a shaky kite in gusty wind.

Was she spying? Her eyes skittered like minnows; her mouth stayed sealed like a jar.

“Yeah?” Yun Shi’s tone was a breeze that refused to stir.

Strange girl.

She didn’t know someone had just groped her in spirit; weirded out by Sham, Yun Shi still remembered her mission—dinner.

In the kitchen, she moved without hurry—apron tied like a sash, calm eyes on the pot where aroma curled like incense smoke. Danger lay in the slope of her chest, now a gentle swell; if classmates saw, they’d lose composure—such a wifey-type girl couldn’t be that scumbag crossdresser. (Yun Shi, furious!)

“Smells so good~” Sham drifted in, drool suspicious as rain on a clear day, face sunk in bliss like a cat at a sunbeam.

“Hey, Yun, I’m starving!” Her voice pawed at the air like impatient fingers drumming a table.

“Don’t rush. Go wait.” Yun Shi’s words were stones dropped into a pond.

“C’mon, Yun, let me taste—just one bite~” Sham deployed a weapon she never used: pure moe, a sparkly beam like cherry petals in spring.

Yun Shi got hit—HP down thirty percent, bar flickering like a lantern in wind.

This girl can’t be that cute!

She stayed outwardly unmoved, stubborn will like a mountain holding against Sham-the-Demon-King’s cuteness ray.

“No. Keep fussing and I won’t come over for days.” Her threat was a blade sheathed in silk.

“Nooo, that’s torture! Not eating Yun’s cooking is a desert without water!” Sham wilted like a dandelion pressed in a book.

Yun Shi used a skill: Food Blackmail. Sham got one-shotted, HP to zero—KO, little stars circling her head.

“By the way, don’t you have a new meal ticket now? That Mizuki girl.” Yun Shi’s words fell like steady rain.

“Should I take that as jealousy?” Sham’s grin flickered like foxfire.

“Jealous my foot.” Yun Shi denied coldly, no tsundere, just frost on glass.

“Tch, failed...” Sham sighed, hopes collapsing like sandcastles—Yun Shi’s capture rate sat near zero.

“What are you muttering?” Yun Shi’s eyebrow rose, a raven feather against snow.

“Nothing. I’m just saying, Mizuki’s cooking is great, but yours can’t be abandoned. That wouldn’t be fair.” Her hands lifted, palms open like a peace offering.

“In short, you want both.” Yun Shi’s voice clipped clean as a paper seal.

“Correct!” Sham saluted, eyes shining like coins.

The world of foodies—Yun Shi didn’t understand; it was a river she wouldn’t cross.

“Sham, I’m thinking about today.” Yun Shi spoke lightly, tone cooling like dusk; Sham’s playfulness faded like a lantern snuffed.

“You suspect the Underworld?” Sham’s gaze sharpened, a blade catching moonlight.

“Yeah.” Yun Shi’s answer sat like a stone.

“Maybe it really was them.” Sham’s breath came slow, a sigh drifting like mist.

The air turned heavy; both knew the likely culprit. Only the Underworld would target normal students brazenly and remain untouched—wolves moving openly through wheat.

“But what’s their goal? Doesn’t it feel off?” Yun Shi’s eyes narrowed, a shadow sliding across a pond.

“Right. If it’s just small trouble, this went too far. I want the reason they lit the whole forest.” Sham’s fingers pinched her brow, pain a thorn under skin.

She sighed, troubled; her friend had been dragged in, a deer caught in hunters’ snares. Guilt pricked; Underworld matters rarely touched people of the light. This time, her friend got pulled into the churn, even if she wouldn’t remember—shame hung like a wet cloak.

“In the Underworld, was it the Magic Institution?” Yun Shi asked, voice even as a taut string.

“Not likely. The Magic Institution has silent grudges, sure, but they live by ‘less trouble is better.’ They don’t meddle with ordinary lives.” Sham frowned, answer steady as a judge’s gavel.

“Then, the Clan Head’s people?” It was a question spoken like a verdict; Yun Shi had already traced the lines like ink on rice paper.

“The seven Clan Heads have different factions—some friendly with the Magic Institution, some hostile, some neutral. In that mixed river, it’s easy to imagine they’re involved.” Sham’s tone went firm, like a pillar set into stone.

Yun Shi fell silent; she didn’t know what face to wear, or what right she had to judge—her eyes were a night road with no lamps.

“Relax. It’s not your fault. You cut ties with the Clan Head long ago.” Sham’s comfort was a hand over a winter sleeve.

“I know. But... I don’t know how others will see me.” Yun Shi’s words floated, thin as a thread.

“I don’t mind your origin. I’ll—” Sham’s promise rose like a kite.

“Enough, Sham. Don’t.” Yun Shi cut her off, turning away like a door closing.

Sham paused; seconds stretched long, like a bridge over fog.

“Yun, you hate people worrying. But I have to say it—you’re just running.” Her voice was gentle, a leaf landing on water.

“...” Silence coiled, a snake asleep beneath a rock.

“I don’t know the pain of being abandoned, and I can’t fix it. But... I at least don’t want you alone.” Sham’s words glowed like a lantern set at a threshold.

“Baka.” Yun Shi tapped her head lightly, helpless, a smile like a brief sunrise.

“Thanks, Sham. I won’t fret. It’s already past, isn’t it?” Her voice softened, a breeze across reed tips.

She still couldn’t find salvation; but at least... she wouldn’t be alone. That was enough—a cup of tea in a cold room.

In her past life, Yun Shi was ordinary. Now she still longed for friends—just a wish written in faint ink. She had only Sham; others weren’t in her circle. Lonely, she wanted to whisper—

Who will save me—words like a feather dropped into a well.

Yes, she craved redemption—only a wish. In this dark world, no one would save her. She only fantasized; she held no hope—like watching stars behind a closed window.

If she could just survive, how could she dare ask for more?

“Okay, enough of that. Sham, dinner’s your beloved pork cutlet bowl.” Yun Shi lifted the lid; steam blossomed like clouds.

“Waa, smells amazing! I won’t be polite!” Sham lunged, a wolf at the table.

Girl, are you starving?

“No one’s stealing from you.” Yun Shi watched with amusement, the food vanishing at eye-speed like sand through a glass.

“Mm—so—goo—” Sham tried to speak around mouthfuls, words tumbling like pebbles.

“Swallow, then talk.” Yun Shi’s tone was cool rain.

Yes, Sham could eat. Who knew where it all went? But the title was stamped on her forehead—foodie, as obvious as a drumbeat.

Raising a girl like this felt like hauling a mountain on a reed-thin back.

Yun Shi wasn’t rich; her wallet was a paper lantern in rain.

She couldn’t fill a foodie’s belly every meal; at best she could toss a mouthful like a koi nibble.

So Yun Shi didn’t want to raise this little glutton, like refusing to keep a tiger cub that eats like fire.

Yet seeing Sham like this felt like catching sunlight in a bamboo sieve—fleeting, warm, maybe happiness.

For a shut-in in her past life, nothing beat something cute; the heart bloomed like plum in frost before the lips even moved.

Unaware, her mouth curled up, a thin new moon at the corner.

“Xiao Yun, I want more!”

“Okay, okay~”

With a helpless look like a cat rained on, Yun Shi reached out, chopsticks glinting like little oars, ready to add rice.

Maybe I should whip up a few more side dishes, like setting out small boats on a still pond.

Thinking of this glutton’s appetite, she glanced toward the kitchen, thoughts bubbling like a simmering pot.

“Xiao Yun, I love you the most!”

Sham blurted it out like a firecracker under the eaves; the room froze like a pond in wind.

“Baka—what nonsense are you spouting!”

Yun Shi almost stumbled, a leaf in a sudden gust, then snapped back and scolded the spark’s source.

If she hadn’t said that, none of this would’ve rippled like this!

Tch—she almost thought it was… thunder rolling toward spring.

A faint disappointment drifted in, like mist after a fireworks fizzles.

Girl, what are you even expecting, like staring at a sealed letter and guessing storms?

“Xiao Yun, more rice, more rice~”

“I got it, stop yelling already. Seriously, this feels like raising a daughter…”

Yun Shi-kun, you slipped into the mom role as easily as a fish into water.

Nonsense! I’m the dad!

Oh please, you fit right in like ink on rice paper; you can’t deny it.

Shut it! I said I’m the dad!

Yun Shi could only give Sham more food, hands moving like a steady river.

Raising a cute creature isn’t easy; it eats joy like firewood.

Still, Sham was her only friend; let her be willful a little, like letting a kite run higher on its string.

It’s okay… right? The question hung like a lone star.

Her circle was small as a tea cup; with too few friends, feelings pile like snow on a single branch.

So, Yun Shi tangled herself into knots like ivy on a wall.

If she let Sham be too willful, she’d spoil her, like feeding sugar to a stray. She must stop it.

But Sham was her only friend; letting a friend be willful felt right, like saving the best plum for them.

Ignore Sham and let her do as she pleases, like a boat cut loose.

Fulfill a friend’s duty and lecture her, like striking a bell for dawn.

Argue with her, sparks like flint.

If Sham made a mess, then she’d go all in, like overturning the table in one breath.

“Sham, you source of all evil!”

Yun Shi’s snarl slammed out like thunder in a narrow valley.

“Eh? I didn’t even do anything—why’re you mad, Xiao Yun?!”

“Shut up, shut up! It’s all your fault anyway!”

She couldn’t say the real reason, so she dumped the blame like tossing hot coals.

Yun Shi-kun, you’re totally tsundere, right… like a hedgehog hugging roses.

“Xiao Yun, another bowl~”

Sham didn’t mind; eyes smiling like crescents, she held out the empty bowl.

A rice grain clung to her lip like a white star.

“Hey! Don’t eat so fast!”

Yun Shi huffed, breath like steam from a teapot; the pace of refills was lightning-fast.

“If you care this much, your chest won’t grow,” Sham chirped, careless as a sparrow on a fence.

Then, with her free hand, she actually grabbed the chest of the girl in boy’s clothes.

A pat—soft as tofu. For a fourteen-year-old, just barely passing, like a bud still closed.

A squeeze—springy as fresh mochi.

A knead—oh, this soft holy thing was wasted on mortals; heaven’s joke, like pearls in mud.

Yet the girl before her didn’t blush; instead, her body trembled, a plucked string humming.

From her lips came a puzzled breath, like wind through reeds.

…

Uh-oh—awkward air pooled like stale smoke.

…

“Um, Xiao Yun…”

…

Yun Shi lowered her head, face shadowed like a storm bank, silent as stone.

…

“Uh, Xiao Yun?”

Why won’t she speak, like a closed door in winter?

…

“Sham, let go—go die ten thousand times—may heaven smite you!”

“Ahh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—ow, don’t karate-chop me! It hurts! It was just a chest grab! We’re both girls—ow, ow!”

“You bastard—try letting me touch you and see!”

Yun Shi’s furious roar echoed through the dining room like a gong.

She would never admit that the jolt, like electric rain, ran through her body so sweetly she almost lost control and got wet.