“This summons is a storm breaking over the horizon; when it hits, I’m in it. We can’t lose—if we slip, the Magic Institution’s pillar cracks. Our enemy is the Divine Ling Family, a blade drawn against us in the dark. To be blunt, this won’t be easy; we’ll be walking a cliff edge, and a misstep could mean death.”

Sham let out a sigh, guilt pooling in her eyes like rain in a gutter. She looked at Mizuki and couldn’t meet her gaze.

“I’m sorry, Mizuki. I meant to let you ease into this world. I didn’t expect you’d be thrust into the Underworld’s baptism so soon. I’m truly sorry.”

She bowed, head sinking low like a willow under wind.

“Sham...” Mizuki looked at her, emotions tangled like drifting threads, at a loss for words.

“This war is dangerous. I might not get a chance to live, either. But I want you to live, Mizuki, because you don’t belong to the Underworld.”

“...Then, when do we leave?”

She bit her lower lip, swallowed the tide in her chest, and went straight to the point.

“By tomorrow night at the latest.”

Silence spread like frost on still water.

The evening breeze lifted their hair like black silk, baring bright foreheads, lighting Sham’s shame and Mizuki’s shock like twin moons.

Tomorrow night was too abrupt, a drumbeat with no time to breathe. She had too much to do, no time to say goodbye. She wanted a few more days with friends, to leave something behind, to not leave at all.

She suddenly thought of Mizuki from before. Back then, that Mizuki carried the same weight—forced down a road she didn’t choose. The difference was harsh: that Mizuki faced marriage; this Mizuki faced life and death. Speak up, and friends would rally for that Mizuki. Speak up now, and no one could help this Mizuki—not because they wouldn’t, but because she wouldn’t drag them into it, and even if she did, no one could change it. That’s the ache of a heart that wants but hands that can’t. Words can’t fix a ledge where one slip means the end.

The first time she was dragged into the Underworld, Mizuki tasted how cold the dark runs. Every step felt like balancing over a ravine. A normal person would break; she adapted somehow, like waking to a new dream, and even gained a power that wasn’t supposed to be hers.

But that alone wasn’t enough; the dark still shadowed her bones. Being tossed straight into a war felt like winter without a coat.

She had no right to refuse.

If she wanted to live, she had to grip her fate with her own hands.

Her heartbeat leveled, a lake smoothing after wind. She thought and thought, and all the paths curved back to the same stone—power. Without power, you’re a lamb on the butcher’s table; with power, you can ride the gale and live. Her unease was the chill of being weak, afraid of death without a blade to hold. Hiding wouldn’t help. To live, a weakling must harden into a strong one; only strength can hold what’s precious. In the Underworld, the law of the jungle isn’t a proverb; it’s the weather. She had no room to veer away.

“Sham, do you think we’ll live?”

The question slipped out like a whisper into dusk.

“I can’t promise,” Sham said, and her guilt set like steel, “but I’ll do everything to keep you alive.”

Again, she wanted to shield me. Last time and this time—the same warmth held up as a roof.

Mizuki’s mood stilled, a pond under moonlight, empty of ripples. Her thought was simple: she had to try to grow. She couldn’t keep living under someone else’s umbrella. One day, she had to step out of what felt safe.

But she swore, even if she gambled her life, she would come back alive.

“I don’t really know what war means,” she said, smiling like the first light after rain, “but I’ve decided. I’ll come back alive. I’ve walked the line of death before.”

“That was just luck...”

“No need to say it. I knew this day would come. I can’t run.”

She closed her eyes, as if sighing at fate, as if savoring the night breeze. In that moment Sham had no answer, the knot of guilt still tied in her chest.

“Sham, I want to ask you something.”

Mizuki opened her eyes and turned, a small hope glowing like a lantern. Sham blinked, puzzled and gentle.

“Miss Night Phantom... will she go too?”

Mizuki drew a deep breath; color rose on her cheeks like dawn, and the question came out a little uneven.

The girl in the black cloak who had saved her and never crossed paths again, the one etched in her heart like an ink stroke—the only one, beyond her friends, she kept close in her mind.

“Oh, Mizuki, so you haven’t forgotten your Night Phantom~”

Elana, the Artifact Spirit, chimed in with a lilt like silver bells.

“You’re talking nonsense, Elana!” Mizuki snapped, face blazing, like a maple in autumn.

“Sure, sure, I said nothing, hehe~” Elana chuckled and let it drift, which surprised Mizuki more than the tease.

“She’ll go,” Sham said with a soft smile that felt like warm tea. “If you mean my contractor, yes, she’ll be there.”

“...Really?”

“Of course. The summons calls every Witch and agent in Japan. She has to join. And since she, like you, is an Artifact Spirit’s master, you’ll likely land in the same squad. You might fight shoulder to shoulder~”

“...Fight side by side.”

Mizuki whispered it, as if tasting a sweet on her tongue. She had never dreamed the black-cloaked girl—strong enough to need no one—would stand with her as a comrade someday. She didn’t dislike it; joy rose like a warm tide.

“I see...”

Mizuki smiled, serene as a courtyard in spring. It felt like she was going to a festival, not a front line. Fear loosened its grip. She set her faith like a stone.

She would come back.

She believed it.

When she returned to the hall, everyone had been waiting, patience stretched like lantern light. Some faces looked curious about why she’d been gone so long. Mizuki gave an awkward smile, and before she could speak, Mai stepped forward.

“Mizuki, come on over. Everyone’s waiting.”

“Mm? Oh—okay.”

She answered, a little dazed, like waking mid-dream.

“Mizuki-chan, look, this one’s super cute~”

“Mizuki, I prepared this doll just for you. Take it~”

Gifts bloomed like flowers in friendly hands, and warmth soaked her chest like sunlight. Yes, she had friends. She had a place to return to. Even if she walked into hell, she’d carry reasons to come back. That tether, that longing, was her engine to live.

“Hey, where’s Yun?”

She noticed someone missing. Her gaze roamed like a bird.

“Oh, Yun Shi already left,” Mai said.

“Left?...”

“Yeah, who knows what he’s thinking. He just up and went, said nothing. Sigh, such a tsundere.”

A small hollow opened in her chest, like a candle snuffed. Her good mood dimmed, and the shadow in her eyes showed little flecks of hurt.

It was her birthday, and he’d slipped away without a word.

Even Mizuki would feel that sting; she cared about Yunshi Bianqi more than she admitted. She had decided to learn who he really was, to try to step into his other side, to help. In the end, he dodged her. He ran. He didn’t want her help.

Maybe it was just her, reaching alone.

Her gaze grew darker, like a sky before rain. She said nothing, turned, and walked slowly.

War was close; don’t waste time, she told herself, like a drum keeping pace.

Suddenly, she stopped. Her eyes fell on the stack of gift boxes, a small hill of paper and ribbon. Most had been opened under everyone’s indulgent smiles. A teddy bear from Mai. A plush from Mizuki. A doll from Yan Er. Gloves from Sham. But among those opened boxes, one gift hadn’t shown up before. It was still sealed, solitary as a white stone among torn wrappers.

The light returned to her eyes like a lantern relit.

“What’s this...?”

She didn’t remember seeing this gift. Who had left it?

Her older sister watched with a teasing smile, scratched her head, and paced like talking to herself.

“Hmm, just now some guy who looked like a girl sneaked this in and bailed. Who was he again? Ugh, I can’t remember...”

Whether by accident or design, Mizuki heard every word, and each one landed like a pebble in water.

Yun-kun...

He said he hadn’t prepared a gift...

Then why...

“Yun-kun...”

Why...

Her eyes wavered with doubt and surprise, like clouds thinning over a moon. She didn’t know how to feel.

Sham, already back in the hall, walked over. She caught the eyes of each girl, smiles passing like fireflies, then smiled at Mizuki.

“Open it.”

The words tugged at Mizuki’s curiosity like a thread.

She looked at all the smiling faces—Sham, Mizuki, Yan Er, Mai, her sister and mother—and nodded. She eased the ribbon loose like untying a breeze.

Inside lay nothing rare. Just a plain wind chime.

White as quiet snow, simple yet solid. As a gift, if a friend gives it, its clear notes in the wind are greetings sent across distance. If lovers give it, it means romance and longing. Some say it can also whisper of partings. Truth is, whoever gives it, when the wind passes, the chime will call their name in your mind. Give it, and you may live forever in someone’s summer.

She didn’t know what Yun Shi meant by it. One thing was clear: he cared about Miyuki Kiseki, about her as a person.

Her eyes misted for a heartbeat, then cleared like glass.

Mizuki smiled and tucked it away. She turned, and saw everyone watching with warm faces. She smiled back, small and sure.

She cradled the wind chime like a treasure. Her palm pressed to her new gift, and her mood rose higher than before, her smile deepening like dusk colors.

Only one person filled her thoughts—the one who left the gift and slipped away.

If he prepared it, he could have handed it over himself. Why all the mystery?

So not straightforward, that guy.