“Three, two, one—yeah!”

With Yan Er flashing one last victory sign, Mai and Mizuki hooked shoulders, laughter bubbling like spring water. A white flare kissed their faces—click—the moment caged in light.

In the little photo booth sticker, the three girls leaned close like petals after rain. Mai, one of them, felt her smile linger warm as dusk. She regretted Mizuki and Sham weren’t here, but the quiet in her chest wasn’t unhappy.

Maybe next time, drag that tsundere in too.

Thinking of a certain prickly girl, Mai’s smile deepened like ink in water, a new plan unfurling.

“Let’s hit the next spot,” Mizuki said with a sunlit grin. Mai and Yan Er nodded, the rhythm easy.

It was Mizuki’s fourth day on leave. After class, the girls still wove their feelings like threads after school. Nothing had changed—except the missing faces. Normal felt thinner, but it held.

...

Divine Ling Family’s intel station. The boy sat still, calm like a lake under moon, with a small ripple of anxiety. His gaze drifted, unfocused, then a young man approached, bowed to Shen Ling Zou.

“The order I gave?” Shen’s voice was mild, but urgency pulsed under it like a fast vein.

“Master, same as before. After the elite unit was wiped, we found no trace of the Witch you mentioned.”

“I see.”

The familiar answer pressed Shen back into silence, his mood sinking like a stone. Useless operators—couldn’t even find one person.

“However, Master, there’s intel she might still be alive. She cut down many elites. Even injured, she wouldn’t die that easily. So—”

“Enough. Go. Bring me anything new.”

“Yes.”

When the man slipped out, Shen Ling Zou exhaled, leaning into the chair, thoughts circling like ravens.

He needed proof. Was Night Phantom truly alive? He bled intel and coin to know. He knew her strength, yet the unease gnawed. For days, one question furrowed his brow: did the Witch Night Specter survive that elite encirclement?

That raid was a slaughter. Not just the unit—several powerhouse Witches of the Magic Institution fell. Shen feared one name on the dead list: Night Phantom.

If she was confirmed dead, he swore a red tide over the Magic Institution and the Single Leaf Clan. But with no certainty, he wouldn’t move yet. She was, after all, one of theirs.

“I’ve got plans stacked, but I need to see Night Phantom in the next few days. If not, even I won’t keep her safe.”

He stood, kneading his temple. Fatigue spread like chill fog.

“I have to accelerate. Wait for me, Night Phantom.”

Urgency cut sharp across his face. For his next moves to flow, he had to remove Night Phantom as a wild card. Not by killing, but by capture—keep her alive, bind her to his side. Two birds, one net.

It would be hard. Night Phantom was strong, on par with him, heir to the Clan Head’s bloodline.

No retreat left. Even if his father roared, he would steal Night Phantom and make her his.

...

On the front, the shelling hammered like iron rain. Night fell, and the fire grew hotter. Gunfire crossed like weaving lightning—blood rose in a bitter spray. Witches plunged in, clashing, roaring, a storm of steel and screams.

Divine Ling forces pressed hard—and the Flamebu Family stood with them. Days ago, Flamebu declared in; the war sharpened to a blade. The Magic Institution and the Single Leaf Clan now faced Divine Ling and Flamebu.

People wondered why Flamebu joined. It wasn’t complicated—they smelled advantage and came for a cut of the feast, pushing the fight to white heat. If the Four Pupils Clan had stepped in, the Institution would face the Underworld’s three-headed lions.

Watching the spiral grow savage, the female commander’s brows drew tight as bowstrings. She longed to raze the enemy nest, but that dream burned out. Their strength was known; otherwise the Institution wouldn’t be bleeding.

To turn the tide, she had to rethink the trump cards.

Officially, those cards were confined. Everyone saw the screen for what it was—a shield to stop losing precious aces. After recent losses, the brass clutched those rare cards closer, keeping them as the last reveal.

Now felt like the reveal.

“Notify the Special Task Force. Beginning tonight, they join the operation.”

Her tone was cool, like glass under snow.

“But, Commander—”

“No buts. Move.”

“...Yes.”

No resistance. The order fell where she expected.

“Is this wise? The public will boil,” a woman said, voice flat, but her knotted brow spoke worry.

“Especially Night Phantom. She attracts needless storms, Bena,” the woman added.

“Use what can be used. Why not?” the commander replied, light as a blade. The other fell quiet.

The field kept flaying truth. Many fought not for victory, but for a chance to breathe tomorrow’s air.

Orders hit. After days confined, Yun Shi and her squad finally slipped the leash. To be honest, the lock-up was suffocating, like a sealed jar.

“Alright, let’s roll!”

After rest, her energy surged back like spring sap. She pumped small fists, eager to lead the charge.

“Mm.” Yun Shi glanced back. Sham held steady—no worries. Mizuki looked drained, twilight in her eyes. She hadn’t slept right these days.

As for Aya, Yun Shi pushed the thought aside. Aya hadn’t appeared; she wouldn’t be coming.

It made sense. Yie Caiyin now hated her, and bridges burned don’t rebuild themselves. Yun Shi had liked Aya, a little—once. After that fight, they walked different roads.

“Thunder Lady, go.”

Yun Shi heard her own voice rasp, dry as wind over stone. Too much fatigue, she thought.

Thunder Lady took the cue and held her tongue. She knew Yun Shi was low and didn’t want chatter with the familiar. The closer the person, the more Yun Shi recoiled. Thunder Lady wasn’t that close, but she was a comrade—good enough to lean on.

Sham’s mouth opened, then shut. Soft hurt settled in her gaze. Mizuki drifted in haze, future gnawing at her.

“Let’s go.” Thunder Lady’s voice smoothed to velvet. Her hand came forward, natural as a tide, and wrapped Yun Shi’s small fingers.

At the touch, shock flicked through her chest. That hand was winter—every nerve shivered. It was like gripping ice, cold slicing to bone.

Yun Shi jolted at the contact. A blush brushed her cheeks; the Goggles hid it like clouds hiding dawn. Without them, she’d die of embarrassment. Once a guy, now a girl holding her hand—saying she disliked it would be a lie.

She felt secretly smug, thinking she’d gained the upper hand, not knowing she was the one being claimed. Yun Shi and Thunder Lady blinked out, gone like sparks in wind.

“Let’s go, Mizuki.”

“Mm.” Mizuki’s voice matched Yun Shi’s—hoarse, emptied, like she’d aged years in days.

They were about to move when a shadow came from behind. Mizuki looked over; her eyes tangled like wind in reeds.

“...” Her lips parted, then stilled. Complexity, even guilt, brushed her face.

“Sorry...” The word finally fell, soft as ash. She lowered her head, braced for rebuke.

“...How’s Miss Lixiang?” She pressed the ember in her chest flat, forced calm. Her palms clenched tight, bones creaking.

“Xiang—she’s past the danger. She might be left with a disability. I don’t know more.”

“I see. That’s... good.”

“Mizuki, I—”

“You shouldn’t apologize to me. I’m not her.”

The distance in Mizuki’s tone hung like frost. Aya bowed her head; her tangled heart knotted tighter.

“Aya,” Mizuki said.

“I know it wasn’t your fault. I know people go mad and do things. But... I still can’t let it go. You went too far.”

She understood because her own grip on herself held. She hadn’t lost reason then, so certain mistakes never bloomed. Even so, she wouldn’t simply forgive and forget.

Miyuki Kiseki knew that person always put her first. Even days ago, when she slipped into that state, that person stayed by her side. For her, there was only one reason.

They couldn’t stomach it.

“I trust you’ll find your way. Goodbye.”

She left the words behind and turned, weary as rain. She felt herself changing, quietly, like a tide in the night. She didn’t know if it was good or bad.

Only Yie Caiyin remained under the dim light, her tired face shining with complicated shadows.