“Let’s go, Sawagawa Moa.”

“Eh? We’re heading back already? The fun’s flame just flickered.”

“No need to linger. Let’s return. I never planned to come—this was a passing breeze.”

“You’re impossible, you know~”

Moa splayed her hands, like a gull letting the wind slide past, unable to budge Yun Shi’s stone-still nature.

That was just her—Yun Shi hated hassles. The Magic Institution’s storms didn’t stir her; striking the Church felt like walking into thorns.

Days ahead looked rough, like weather turning; the next squall was the Church.

The Clan Head’s battle had just ebbed, and now another tide rolled in.

Yun Shi could refuse, sure… but.

Too much she couldn’t lay down, like knots caught in the heart’s net.

It wasn’t the Underworld’s chessboard that tugged her; it was people, faces under moonlight.

Beyond her worry for Miyuki Kiseki, one more shadow… persisted.

She kept feeling her clan, the Four Pupils Clan, would wade in like boots in river silt.

Especially him…

She hoped it was just the mind’s mist.

Thinking so, Yun Shi and Moa slipped onto the return craft; a black silhouette skated over the sea like a blade, then vanished into blue.

After Yun Shi and Moa left, Mizuki and Sham stayed put, loitering in Britain like swallows near eaves; Mizuki wanted to play, and Sham offered to guide.

“If we’re in London, let’s play it right, Mizuki. Don’t worry about lodging; we’ll stay at my mum’s place~”

“Okay. Thank you, Sham.”

“It’s fine, we’re friends~ Next time, bring everyone along~”

“Sure, everyone will be thrilled—this is London~”

“Heh, alright—don’t get too giddy.”

The two girls moved down the corridor, laughter like tinkling bells; no schedule shackled them, so they lingered in the Magic Institution, aiming for the door.

“I was thinking…”

Mizuki spoke, then went silent—the mind drifted like a leaf in a pool, no special reason.

A woman stepped in and barred the path, right in the center, like a pillar planted in sunlight. The two girls stared, uncomprehending.

Long golden hair fell smooth as silk; blue eyes held a deep pull, like star-lit water; her face was a cold mask, fixed on the girls.

Her figure was all carved lines and gentle arcs, a sculptor’s grace; no expression, yet undeniably beautiful. Against teenage Mizuki and Sham, she had a clear, towering edge.

She stood around five-seven, looming like an ice ridge; a cool-queen vibe, maybe twenty at most.

“Um… do you need something?”

Mizuki smelled trouble like rain in the wind; she straightened, careful as a cat on a ledge.

The blonde walked up calm as winter light and looked down at her from a height.

“Demon Sovereign.”

She spoke like a drop falling into still water.

Mizuki’s nerves tightened, a bowstring; Sham’s eyes sharpened, ready for a snap-change.

“You should stay away from Night Phantom. Otherwise, she’ll get you killed.”

The words struck sideways, like a pebble skipping to hit true; Mizuki staggered on the inside.

“What do you mean?”

Whatever the motive, Mizuki had to ask; Night Phantom mattered to her like a lantern in fog—she couldn’t look away.

“Literal meaning. Night Phantom holds too many unknowns, like currents under black water. Stay close, and you’ll be dragged into needless trouble. Keep sleeping, and you’ll die.”

She spoke without heat, as if discussing the weather’s chill.

“Sorry, I refuse. I won’t abandon Night Phantom, not under any sky. I swore it.”

“Even if it breaks you to pieces?”

“Mm.”

Mizuki answered steady, like a candle that refused the wind; she barely hesitated.

The blonde didn’t show surprise. She gave Mizuki a light sweep of the eyes, then stepped back, like frost receding.

“I see. I hope you don’t regret it.”

Still that blank face, words falling like snow that didn’t melt.

Mizuki drew breath to ask who she was—then a crisp, girlish voice chimed, bright as a bell:

“Witch of the Magic Institution—‘Swordmaster,’ do you have urgent business?”

Elana’s tone carried a chill distance, an odd drift from her usual sugary playfulness.

“Elana?”

“Mizuki, don’t talk. She’s strong.”

“!”

It was Mizuki’s first time hearing Elana so serious; the weight in her voice felt true, like a steel line.

“I heard you plan to be enemies of the Church too.”

The blonde spoke as calm as a lake.

“‘Too’? So you also aim to punish the Church?”

Sham caught the thread quick, like a hawk on a breeze.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

The answer sat on the fence, but the wind pushed it one way; her stance showed between lines.

Ally or enemy—the horizon stayed blurred.

We had to walk careful, like crossing ice.

“I came to see what kind of people choose to defy the Church. That’s all. Pardon me.”

No apology colored her face; her words were distant, like moonlight that never warms.

It wasn’t arrogance; ice queens are simply mountains—hard to read, hard to move.

“As for staying away from Night Phantom—it’s because you’re too weak. By her side, you walk into death like dusk.”

She laid it bare, a blade without sheath.

Mizuki’s heart flinched—the most lethal point hit clean, no guard raised.

Weak. That word gnawed at her like a cold worm; it mattered most, hurt deepest.

“I’m just reminding you. She’s far above your reach—like a peak in clouds. Pull back.”

“Why… do this?”

“I can’t stand it.”

“Eh…”

“I don’t want to watch an idiot die without knowing how. That’s all.”

Her last line fell like a cold bell; then she turned and left, a shadow sliding off stone.

To others, her visit might be a ripple, gone quick; to Mizuki, it was a thorn buried in soft flesh.

It wasn’t mockery. It was fact, iron and unbent.

Sometimes fact weighs more than cheap jeers.

You can ignore jeers; the speaker might be a child throwing stones. But fact stands with proof, like a pillar—you can’t knock it down.

That was why Miyuki Kiseki’s heart wavered, like flame under wind.

“Mizuki…”

Sham watched her, worry in her eyes like dusk clouds.

She did understand; she’d once fretted over her own weakness, wanted to walk shoulder to shoulder with someone. In the end, she failed—not for lack of effort, but because the person walked too fast, like a comet streaking; she couldn’t catch up.

Now Mizuki faced the same road. Would she become another her?

That road was hard—stone and thorn.

Mizuki and Sham shared corners of soul, yet parted at forks.

“Mizuki, you’re my master. You won’t fall to a breeze. Stand up.”

“Mm.”

Mizuki lifted her head, eyes on the hall ahead; inside her, a thought rose like dawn.

“Sham… I want to change.”

Fate likes to toy, like a cat with string; it never stops.

Now, she finally chose a step, the first in a chase.

What comes next—she didn’t know. The fog stayed.

…

After hours on the road, Yun Shi and Moa reached Japan. With no schedule binding her, she strolled with Moa, then drifted home.

She wasn’t in a rush; no one waited at any door. She returned when the heart’s tide wanted.

Her mind leaned toward the Underworld’s affairs, like a compass tugged by hidden iron.

She truly suspected her clan would meddle. If that happened…

Very bad—like storm meeting flood.

Simple truth: she didn’t want to meet former family, and least of all… the only family she admitted.

“I wonder how he is…”

Thinking of that one, Yun Shi’s feelings tangled like threads; she stared at the sky, blank as cloud.

In this life, only one person gave her family’s warmth—like a brief sun on snow.

But it was fleeting; Yun Shi knew that as well as frost knows dawn.

Suddenly, a call rang. She dropped the useless drift of thought and picked up.

“Yo, want to hang out this weekend~”

“Hang out?”

“Yeah, let’s go shopping. Don’t worry, I won’t tell the others~”

“…Alright.”

With nothing pressing, Yun Shi agreed, like a leaf choosing an easy current.

Before the Underworld mess clears, she’d loosen the knots a bit.

That’s how she soothed herself, like tea calming a chill.