“This really is a warm, harmonious home...” Yun Shi murmured, voice soft as drifting mist.

Her gaze swept the modest living room. Furniture stood neat as garden stones, people’s silhouettes blended like lantern-light on rice paper. A quiet, unspoken beauty breathed there.

It smelled like home.

The home fading in memory rose like a moon over water. Back when she was a shut-in, she still had that kind of harmony—never rich, yet full. No lonely backs in doorways, no licking wounds in the dark. That was a true home—forever forgiving, forever a harbor that opens its door.

She felt a pinch of envy toward Miyuki Kiseki. Mizuki had what she once had.

Yun Shi let out a thin sigh, shook off the driftwood of thought, and fixed on the bustle in the hall.

“Hey, everyone—want to see Mizuki’s memory album?”

Mizuki’s sister brought it up like tossing a pebble into a pond, and the ripples caught every eye.

“Yes, yes! I wanna see Mizuki’s childhood photos~”

Yan Er leaned in, eyes sparkling like fireflies. Mizuki chuckled and raised no objection; the others nodded eagerly. In any house, friends’ old photos were honey for curiosity.

“Mizuki, huh... she’s really adorable.”

Mai tapped her chin, thought a beat, then bloomed a smile. She had clearly seen Mizuki’s photos before.

“Eh, Mai, you’ve seen Mizuki’s pictures already?”

“Of course. I visited a lot in middle school. I flipped through everything back then~” Mai said, casual as wind through chimes.

“Yep. Back when Mizuki was in middle school, Mai-chan came over often. We all got close~” her sister said, passing the album with a sunlit grin.

Yun Shi felt her interest tug like a kite string. She told herself it was only the cute-girl factor, not any particular person.

“Oh, is this Mizuki? So cute~”

Mizuki—another friend—opened the album and her eyes softened like dew. One photo caught Mizuki in a school uniform, book in hand, a small smile turning back toward the camera—a breeze of literary grace.

After Mizuki’s matchmaking fiasco resolved, her ties with everyone warmed like spring soil. She spoke more, even tossed small jokes to lift the air. Yun Shi had heard her father canceled the engagement, so Mizuki no longer feared marrying someone she didn’t love. Grateful for everyone’s help, she often invited them over like opening a garden gate—intensely warm, though Yun Shi herself remained the one guest she wouldn’t visit.

And through that same affair, Matsumi Yan Er’s bond with the group deepened like tea steeping. She’d joined their circle now. Adding a friend was always good, but Yun Shi kept her refrain—she didn’t see her as a friend. Still, the others had already folded Yun Shi in like another stitch; only Yun Shi refused to admit she’d been accepted.

“Oh, too cute~”

They turned another page—Mizuki in many seasons: middle school Mizuki, grade school Mizuki, kindergarten Mizuki-chan, loli-faced Mizuki, toddler-soft Mizuki, travel snapshots of tiny Mizuki. All of them were eye-candy. This girl was weaponized adorableness.

Mizuki, the subject herself, gave a sheepish laugh and let the praise wash like warm rain. Everyone loves good words; hearing them gush about how cute she’d been, she was happy—her face said it all.

“Everyone, cake time~”

Ayako Kiseki called in a voice gentle as silk. The album shut with a soft thud; feet flowed toward the table like a small stream turning.

“Aw, what a pity. I wanted to keep looking~”

“Mizuki’s so cute~”

“Thanks.”

Mizuki smiled, and accepted the compliments like blossoms dropped into a bowl.

They gathered at the table, found seats, and waited for slices like children at a festival. Seeing them, Ayako’s smile deepened; her knife hovered to cut.

“Make a wish.”

Yun Shi spoke up, low and steady, and every gaze flicked her way. Ayako froze, cake unsliced.

“A birthday’s the day that matters, right? Then make a wish, Miyuki Kiseki. You should know that.”

She hated eyes on her; she angled her gaze away and let the words fall slow.

Mizuki blinked, then smiled—a quiet warmth blooming. Maybe this person cared more than she let on.

“Oops, I forgot. I nearly left a bad mark on Yuki-chan’s birthday.”

“It’s okay, Mom. I don’t mind.”

“Sorry, Mizuki. I forgot too.”

“Even Sis...”

Mizuki could only laugh helplessly, and waved them down before the apologies grew wild. She closed her eyes, hands steepled like prayer.

Her wish was simple. No grand demands. She just wanted to protect the things she cherished.

May this life keep flowing, unbroken.

That was her wish—simple, real.

“Happy birthday!”

Slices went out. Smiles rose like lanterns. The air turned harmonious; no one looked out of place. Each of them sat quietly in it, soaking, drifting in a small world of their own.

Mizuki felt lucky to know them. Thanks to these people, she wanted to guard this world. Ever since she got dragged into the Underworld, a thin anxiety had shadowed her—her ties to her own world were roots she couldn’t cut. She didn’t want to lose it, and she couldn’t tell anyone. Bearing it alone pressed on her like a night sky.

Luckily, Sham walked beside her. She kept guiding her, kept helping her adapt to the Underworld, and stood in for danger without flinching. And her friends stayed as always, even grew closer. That soothed Mizuki’s heart like balm. She still had a shelter. She still had a place to come back to.

So, she would protect her world.

That was Mizuki’s resolve.

“Ah—mrrr...”

“Sham-chan, slow down. There’s more.” Mizuki laughed as Sham’s glutton mode flipped on, and dabbed crumbs from her lips with a handkerchief, gentle as a breeze.

“Ah, Yan Er-chan~”

“Alright, alright. You’re impossible.” Mai fed Yan Er a bite; Yan Er didn’t resist, she simply opened her mouth, obedient as a kitten.

Mizuki glanced at Yun Shi beside her and smiled, making no move. She wanted to deepen their bond, but for now, they were only friends—not yet that close. Besides, she thought Yunshi Bianqi was a boy, which made the gap wider.

“Oh, right.” Sham wiped her mouth, drew in, and set her eyes on Mizuki.

“Mizuki, I need to discuss something with you.”

Her expression grew still, like a pond when the wind stops. The usual smile had faded; a cool calm took its place. It startled the room.

“What is it?” A prickle of dread slid over Mizuki’s skin. Her gut said something was about to break.

“Could you come with me?”

Sham’s smile returned, thin as paper. No details slipped through. That made Mizuki more uneasy. She could guess why Sham wanted a private talk.

The Underworld.

She roughly grasped it, yet the unease didn’t let go. Outwardly, she only nodded, stood, and followed Sham’s footsteps.

Yun Shi stayed seated, only pinched her brows a shade.

What must come will come.

On the balcony, Sham gripped the railing and looked to the night. Stars scattered like salt across black silk, and their light washed the tiles with pale glow. Mizuki stood behind her, face calm by force; her hands trembled. She drew a deep breath, closed and opened her eyes, and fixed on the girl before her.

A moment later, Sham turned. Her expression was quiet, like snow settling.

“Mizuki, I’m sorry. Saying this on your birthday—really, I’m sorry.”

Guilt lay heavy on her face, a shadow no lamp could hide.

Mizuki’s fingers clenched on reflex. Her breath stuttered.

“What happened?” She pushed herself into calm, word by word.

“Mizuki, you know I meant to let you adapt to the Underworld first. There’s too much complexity for you to touch right away. I wanted you ready, so you could survive in the dark.”

Mizuki understood. Night after night, Sham called her out to train, all of it to adapt. Witch bounties, Mystic Power drills—Sham taught them herself. Mizuki owed her much.

“So, a big one hit, right~”

A wallet zipped out from Mizuki’s side and chirped with a cute loli voice.

“Elana, huh. I figured we couldn’t hide it.” Sham sighed.

“Elana too? Sham, what happened?” Mizuki felt the bottom tilt. Her face tightened.

“Here’s the thing. Witches aren’t under anyone’s thumb. We just complete bounties, no need to care about those above. But exceptions exist; nothing’s absolute. Within the Magic Institution, there’s a way to force a Witch to obey orders.”

“Force? Aren’t Witches free?”

“Usually, yes. But when things go south, the Magic Institution can mobilize Witches. It’s called a Witch Compulsory Summons.”

“A compulsory summons?”

“Right. It’s rarely used. But when it appears, it means no other choice. Any Witch summoned must obey, or be treated as an enemy of the Magic Institution.”

Sham’s tone went hard, like iron under frost. Mizuki felt that same chill from the day Sham rescued her.

“It’s like this—remember the Seven Clan Heads I told you about?”

“I remember. You also said the ones who tried to kill me were from the Flamebu Family.” Mizuki hadn’t forgotten; she answered squarely.

“Ever since you bonded an Artifact Spirit, the Underworld stirred. The Divine Ling Family, one of the Seven Clan Heads, used that as a pretext to declare a clan war on the Single Leaf Clan. The Magic Institution, as Single Leaf’s ally, had to join. Turns out Divine Ling’s people are strong. They’ve been suppressing Single Leaf and pushing the Institution hard. It looks like Flamebu is backing them too. We’ve been eating losses.”

“...”

“So the Magic Institution issued a Compulsory Summons. Every Witch and agent stationed in Japan is called to this clan war. The goal’s obvious—they want to deploy Artifact Spirits to turn the tide. And you, Mizuki, are one of their trump cards. This will be a war you stake your life on.”

Sham’s eyes flashed with cold light—darkness rising from a deep abyss.