Student Council studio. President Asagi Renka stood by the window, one hand holding a sheet, the other folded behind her back; sunlight stitched gold along her silhouette, a quiet bloom that only sharpened her beauty. Her flawless features, however, were shadowed like a lake under storm clouds, and the tight knot of her brows gave her a different, austere grace.

She wasn’t one to admire herself; she had no time for that. Worries rose in her like winter tide, ten times heavier than any thought of looks.

“Milady.”

A respectful girl’s voice cut through Renka’s thoughts like a fine chime in cold air. She turned slightly and caught a glimpse of a cute face—cool-edged yet crisp and capable.

The girl was a few centimeters shorter than Renka, features fresh and pretty, a beauty still in early bloom. Seriousness and competence lent her a handsome note, like clean steel. Her school uniform traced her figure just right. Her name was Shizuru Yuna—first-year top student, accountant of the Student Council.

“Mhm. I know.” Renka’s voice shed its usual teasing velvet and settled into something steadier, a blade wrapped in silk. If Mizuki saw her like this, she’d probably be surprised.

“Yuna, how’s the thing I asked you to do?”

“Reporting, milady: I’ve gathered all the intel.” She dipped in a neat butler’s bow, movements smooth as flowing water, nothing forced.

“So the Divine Ling Family really plans to move like this…” Renka’s brows tightened further, a cord pulled taut with no slack.

“The Divine Ling Family has already begun attacking the Magic Institution,” Yuna said, voice respectful but troubled shadows pooling behind her eyes. “They’re playing for keeps. A few days ago, the Single Leaf Clan was forced into a clash with them. And the Flamebu Family has formally joined the fight. It’s not looking good.”

“I heard Yanbu Junichi, the head’s son of the Flamebu Family, won’t take the field?”

“Yes. He caused a stir in the Outer World, and his reputation tanked. He doesn’t want to meet the Divine Ling Family head’s son, so he chose to ‘recover from injuries.’ But Shen Ling Zou will definitely enter the war.”

“What about the Four Pupils Clan?”

“Still no stance. Unknown. But Single Leaf has already taken an unprecedented hit. If Single Leaf gets destroyed, the Magic Institution will suffer a heavy loss. They stepped in days ago, and it landed right on the mark—the Divine Ling Family now has an excuse to fight the Magic Institution openly.”

With each piece of intel, Renka’s frown deepened, thoughts sinking like an anchor into dark water.

“What should we do, milady?” Yuna asked after a pause, the air tight like a drawn bowstring.

“No. The Asakura Family is neutral. If we rush into this, we’ll lose far more than we gain.” Renka set the sheet down, a soft sigh escaping like steam into winter air. “We wait for other Clan Heads to declare their stance. I expect it won’t be long before the witches get summoned for family war.”

“You mean Yunshi Bianqi and Miyuki Kiseki?”

“More or less. If two Artifact Spirits enter the fray, it’ll be fierce as thunder under a summer storm. Remember last month? I was prepared to mobilize the family to forcibly disperse Yanbu Junichi’s rampage, but Mizuki resolved it instead. Looks like Mizuki needs growth. Without it, she won’t find footing in the Underworld.”

“But, milady… not to speak of Mizuki, that Yun Shi…”

“I know she’s of a Clan Head. And I know she comes from one of the three Clan Heads opposed to the Magic Institution. I know all of that.”

“If you know, it makes even less sense to trust…”

“I believe she won’t defect. Simple. Outside the Magic Institution, she has no second harbor. She already betrayed her Clan Head; no original family will take her back. Even if her blood carries that Clan Head’s line, it’s the same.”

Renka shifted toward her desk, a fleeting flicker of frustration in her eyes, like rain pricking a paper lantern.

Yuna exhaled, a small breeze stirring, and fell back to wait. She knew her lady’s temperament well; persuasion broke like foam against rock.

“What about the Church?”

In the Underworld, there were three great powers: the Magic Institution, the seven Clan Heads, and the Church—three peaks under a cold sun, each with weight like mountains. Unlike the Magic Institution’s selective meddling or the motley tides of the seven Clan Heads, the Church had ambition from the start. They sought to rule the Underworld entire, so when war brewed, they were the first flames. They could enter family wars and dim the Magic Institution’s star. They produced Magical Stones—without the Church, witches wouldn’t be born—and their ties to the Institution were tangled like roots under old stone.

So with the Institution stepping into this fight, the Church’s stance was a question hanging in the air like thunder not yet broken.

“Reporting, milady: the Church seems set on seeing witches who hold Artifact Spirits join the battle.”

“I knew it.”

Of course. That was the Church’s way, a smile with daggers behind it. Renka’s resolve to oppose them hardened, ice forming along iron.

—

Weekend. Mizuki’s matchmaking finally began—but the wind blew sideways.

The very people who meant to help Mizuki kept tossing pebbles into the pond, ripple by ripple, wrecking the whole thing.

Yanagidō Shoji—Mizuki’s father—had planned to take his daughter to meet a suitor and set an engagement date this week. He didn’t want to give her away, but he couldn’t match the other side’s power; he’d resigned himself like a tree bowing under snow. Then a sudden squall tore that plan to shreds.

Family restaurant. Tables and chairs set just so, clean lines like a neat garden. A steady stream of customers hummed through the room, the place warm and bright.

A fairly handsome boy watched the scene before him, the corner of his eye twitching like a disturbed string.

He’d come for matchmaking, yet for some reason, his ‘match’ had brought along someone who looked like a pretty-faced girl, then deliberately wrapped her arm around his, playing intimacy while tossing him looks full of mischief.

“Here, Yunshi-kun, open up~”

“Mm.”

“Hee-hee, again. Ah~”

“Mm.”

Kaise Yuto stared, face cramping, as Yunshi enjoyed being fed right in front of him. Three fires leapt up his spine. Come on—who brings a boyfriend to a matchmaking?

Not that Kaise had much interest; his father arranged this without asking him, and he wasn’t keen. But this? The ‘boyfriend’ looked way too much like a girl. If not for the boys’ uniform, he’d have thought she was female. And he looked younger, more like a middle-schooler—yet he wore a high school uniform. Also, people usually dress sharp for matchmaking; even Mizuki had put on a pretty long dress. Kaise admitted he lost focus for a heartbeat. But why was that guy still in uniform?

However you cut it, he didn’t look like someone from a solid background—more like a miscast trap.

“Excuse me.”

Kaise finally couldn’t hold it in. Yanagidō Shoji jumped in, smooth as someone trying to patch a cracked vase. “It’s like this. He’s Mizuki’s friend, very loyal. He heard Mizuki was matchmaking and got worried, so he came under a ‘sworn sibling’ excuse to test you, sir.”

Truth be told, Shoji didn’t know Yunshi at all. Mizuki brought her on her own. He was headache incarnate. Was his daughter here to sabotage the whole thing?

“No, sir. He is my boy. friend.” Mizuki sang it out in syllables sweet as syrup.

“Huh?”

“Right, Yunshi-kun~” She hugged Yunshi’s arm, voice sugar-soft. Yunshi’s face twitched a fraction, then she slid another bite into her mouth, keeping cool like a cat in sun.

Shouldn’t have come.

They’d said she was here to help, and suddenly she was playing boyfriend. Yunshi really wanted to cover her face.

They’d insisted only Yunshi was ‘male’ in their circle; she had to take responsibility and play the boyfriend to help Mizuki. Yunshi wanted to cry. She couldn’t exactly say she wasn’t a man…

At the other table, the disguised tailing crew was all there. They sipped their drinks like it was nothing, but their eyes drifted again and again toward Yunshi and Mizuki.

“Hey… you think that guy can pull it off?” Yan Er muttered under her cap brim, voice low like smoke.

“We’ll see.” Mai slurped her drink, boredom swirling like a lazy cloud.

“Go, Yunshi.”

“We’re counting on you, Yun.”

Right on cue, Kaise pressed a hand to his face and sighed, like wind through reed. “Miss, your taste in boyfriends is seriously bad.”

A tic bloomed on Yunshi’s forehead, a sharp hash-mark. “Yet she chose me over you. Says you trust your own taste even less than hers.”

“Heh. Madam Prettyboy, do you take women’s hearts for glass? You might be just play.”

“That’s a shame. Mizuki Yanagidō chose me, not you, Kaise Yuto.”

“You’re getting cocky. This engagement was set by my father.” His voice hit the table like a dropped cup.

“That’s tragic. One sentence to ruin your life. Mizuki Yanagidō doesn’t like you. Why push it? You think a contract is king? What is this, a drama?”

“…Fine. You win. You—your name.”

“I’m Yunshi Bianqi. That’s all.”

“Bianqi Yunshi, if you’re a man, fight me fair and square!”

“Nope. Why should I duel someone stuck in a child’s mindset?”

“What did you say!”

“What—bite me.”

Their bickering rose like clashing birds, impossible to ignore. Soon the whole room’s attention tilted their way.

“Whoa, two guys fighting over a girl.”

“That girl’s gorgeous. No wonder.”

“That one guy’s decent-looking. The other’s way too prettyboy.”

“You know nothing. Maybe she likes the shota type.”

Voices swelled, a tide around them, the restaurant morphing into a stage.

Yanagidō Shoji covered his face. How did a simple matchmaking turn into a circus?

“I’m very sorry, Kaise-san. I already have someone I like. Please don’t disturb me and Yunshi-kun.” Mizuki’s apology was soft rain, and she leaned closer into Yunshi. A girl’s warmth brushed Yunshi’s sleeve, breath like vanilla, nudging her nerves. Heat rose; Yunshi coughed lightly, trying to steady the air in her lungs.

“Sigh.” Kaise didn’t blow up. He drained his drink in one go, glass clinking like a bell. He toyed with the cup, eyes on the pair’s sugar-show.

“I get it. You don’t like me. I can see that. This was always my father’s one-sided setup.”

Hearing that, Yunshi felt a flicker of guilt, like a moth at a lamp, but she didn’t dodge his gaze.

“Miss Yanagidō, you don’t need to act in front of me. I saw it from the start. You two aren’t actually a couple, are you?”

“Eh?” Mizuki froze, mind blank like a chalkboard wiped clean. Wait—seriously? He saw it early?

“I won’t force anyone. If you’re unwilling, I won’t push. Bianqi—you’ve got guts, pretending to be a boyfriend for a girl. Honestly, I respect that.”

“I was forced…” Yunshi muttered under her breath, a tiny ripple lost under chatter.

“Hold on! Marriage isn’t something you brush off! Mizuki—what do you mean by this? You don’t want matchmaking this badly? To dodge marriage, you…” Shoji’s temper flared, smoke up a chimney. The moment he heard they were faking, anger tightened like a fist. Since when did his daughter buck him like this? Did she no longer see her father at all?

“I’m sorry…” Mizuki wilted, guilt rolling through her like fog, head down, too scared to speak.

“Do you even know what this means? You think this is yours to mess with? Kick a hornet’s nest, and what will you do?”

“Wait!”

“Wait!”

“Wait!”

“Wait!”

As Liubingtang Shangzhi raged like summer thunder, those hiding in the shadows sprang up, and the other four whipped their eyes over.

“This isn’t Mizuki’s fault. She only wants to stay. Why can’t she? Is an engagement really that sacred?” Miyuki stepped forward like a drawn blade, unafraid of the man looming above.

“You were... following us?” Jielai stared, exasperation inked across his brow like dark brushstrokes, but his voice blew past like wind through reeds.

“Are you Mizuki’s friends?” The father’s question creaked open like a door in the rain.

“Yes, Uncle. I’m sorry we tailed you, but please—don’t make Mizuki leave.” The plea clung like a hand gripping a sleeve under storm clouds.

“What?” The word dropped like a pebble into a still pond.

“I know Mizuki’s about to be engaged, but... none of us wants her to go, because she’s an irreplaceable friend.” Sham’s voice burned like a small lamp in fog.

“Mizuki’s timid, but kind; even at the end, she didn’t want us blind.” Her words flowed like a river spilling secrets. “She told us everything to ask for our help.”

“Uncle, I’m begging you—don’t let Mizuki go.” The last note struck like a bell in the night.

Every line from Sham pricked the father’s heart like fine needles, each syllable settling like ash on warm coals.

He admitted he never wanted the blind date to work, yet he only dreamed and didn’t move, drifting like a boat that chose fog.

Seeing these friends stand for his daughter, guilt rose like a tide; he loved his girl, not some token to trade like cold jade.

So he wavered like a candle in a draft, flame bending toward what he already knew.

“Uncle, please think carefully. This is Mizuki’s life,” Miyuki said, steady as a mountain silhouette at dusk.

“Are you really willing to send her away? Even for the child’s sake, see clearly.” Her words cut like a clean blade. “Won’t you regret it one day? What parent abandons a child?”

At Miyuki’s last line, Yun Shi stilled, her cup halted midair like winter dew caught on a leaf.

After a moment’s struggle, as he drew breath to speak, Yun Shi’s voice skimmed in like a stone skipping water. “Are you an idiot?”

“Hm?”

“What does Mizuki Liubingtang like, and what does she hate? As her father, don’t you know it like your own palm lines?”

“Some parents trade children for gain, tossing blood like chaff in the wind.” Her tone was flat as winter rain. “But you’re not that, right?”

“You love your child. You can’t bear her hurt. Then I don’t need to say more.” The words seeped in like ink through paper.

Yun Shi sat with her head tilted toward the window, gaze drifting like a kite tugged by a far wind into old sky.

Her face was calm; her level voice sank straight into the heart like a needle through silk.

In that moment, Yun Shi imprinted herself on them not as “cool,” but as a beauty stepped out of a painting under plum blossoms.

“Ah, got it. I’ll go tell my old man. This engagement stuff’s pretty dull anyway.” Jielai stood, dusting his sleeves like someone leaving a tea house.

“Alright then. Bianqi, I’ll leave the rest to you. I’m off.” His footsteps tapped like wind over stones as he headed for the counter.

Mizuki looked at her father with hope like a lantern in mist, searching his face for dawn. He sighed, guilt flickering like a wavering flame.

“Since you don’t like it, Mizuki, I’ll do everything in my power to break this engagement,” Liubingtang Shangzhi said, as if drawing a blade to cut a knot.

And so, Mizuki’s matchmaking ended, the storm passing as clouds parted to show a clean moon.