By dinnertime, the quiet hall warmed into chatter, like a lamp waking in dusk. The sight left Yun Shi a little dazed. She wasn’t looking at the steaming dishes. She watched the people.
People alive at this table, not silhouettes trapped in her memory.
“Dinner’s ready—come sit!”
“Okay!”
“Coming, coming!”
The two daughters took their seats, feet tucked in and eyes bright. As the guest, Yun Shi sat beside Mizuki. Someone had set it up that way.
Their faces were unvarnished, clear as spring water. No polished etiquette of heiresses here, only the simple, steady taste of being content.
So this is what a home feels like.
Yun Shi watched in silence, lips closed. It wasn’t only manners. It was the weight of her own thoughts.
Her features softened into memory. Deep in her eyes, where light rarely reached, sat a loneliness no one could see.
She thought of her previous life, when she had a whole family and a life like everyone else. Each day felt full in a quiet way. Compared to the upper crust’s public feints and private knives, she preferred a simple happiness.
This life had been pain. Until she stepped toward the light, all she had was night. Family? Maybe there were people with that title. She couldn’t call them family. She couldn’t admit that they were hers.
Her childhood memories wore iron shoes. A real family dinner—sit down, eat, talk—existed only in dreams, or in her last life’s afterglow.
Family, to her, meant one person. Only one, recognized by her alone.
Back then, across the table, he sat with her. Only he kept her company in a life that pretended at family. His smile was the one thing Yun Shi couldn’t forget.
The Four Pupils Clan was a stain on her heart, a chain at her ankle, a house soaked in sorrow. There she had a few bright moments, a long ledger of pain, and a sin that would not wash away.
When she walked out of the Four Pupils Clan, she dropped the Four Pupils name. She swore never to be dragged into their business again. She lived on carrying that vow like a stone.
For her, family had become a luxury good.
And yet...
The scene before her unfolded like a scroll of family life. It was a memory she’d almost let fade. Back when she wasn’t yet Yunshi Bianqi, she had known a life like this—only it lived now in a fogged mirror.
Miyuki Kiseki really did have everything. She held what Yun Shi secretly envied. So yes, Yun Shi envied her, and wanted a life like this so badly it hurt.
The Underworld had washed over her. No matter how quickly her heart matured, what she longed for was still what any girl wants—a hand to call her own, a kin-tie that warms like tea.
“What’s wrong, Yun Shi?”
“Hm?”
“Spacing out? Honestly. Focus when you eat.”
As she spoke, Mizuki reached over, chopsticks bridging the space like a small crane, and placed a slice of meat in Yun Shi’s bowl.
Heat rose to Yun Shi’s cheeks. She lowered her head and ate in silence, embarrassed and oddly grateful.
Maneko and Ayako traded knowing looks, smiles bright as crescent moons. Yun Shi ignored them and kept her eyes on her rice.
And yet, for her, this was a small gift with the taste of home. She was only a guest, but the feeling of home had happened to her, real as steam.
Something in her chest turned sour-sweet. Was it being moved, or sadness? She couldn’t tell.
She only knew this: Miyuki Kiseki had given her, tonight, the flavor of family. If Mizuki hadn’t insisted she stay for dinner, she might never have felt this ache bloom.
So toward Miyuki Kiseki, beyond a quiet thank-you, Yun Shi could find no other words.
“If you’d like, Yun Shi-chan, you can come over anytime.”
“Eh...”
“It’s fine. We’d love to have you. Mizuki-chan would be happy too.”
“...”
“That’s right, Yun Shi. Come to my place again next time!”
“My little sister already said so. Don’t turn her down.”
With everyone saying that, Yun Shi’s mouth found no shape for words. She didn’t know what would be right.
She felt nothing but moved, like a tide under the ribs. For a second she wanted to break into tears, but her iron patience held. She kept quiet. Her chopsticks stilled.
After so many years alone, she was finally being accepted. Even if it was a polite gesture, it was still something to rejoice in.
Yun Shi was happy.
No reason needed. Just happy.
“It’s late. Mizuki-chan, walk Yun Shi-chan home.”
“Okay!”
After dinner, Ayako set to washing dishes, and Mizuki went to see the guest out.
Yun Shi gathered her things and stepped through the gate. Night had fallen completely. A clean moon hung like a silver coin. Mizuki walked her home. Their steps moved side by side.
Yun Shi felt reluctant, like fingers loosening from warm cloth. Time had slipped too quickly, leaving her no chance to linger.
“Um, Yun Shi, thank you for today. Thanks to your tutoring, I’m a little confident about the exam now.”
“...Mm. I didn’t help for your sake, so don’t thank me.”
Mizuki knew how Yun Shi was. She didn’t push. She just smiled. She was long used to that prickly honesty.
When had the two of them grown so close? The thought surprised Mizuki. She’d once believed they’d never cross paths. Now, look at all these tangled threads.
She didn’t dislike it. She liked it, in fact. She had met a Yunshi Bianqi that wasn’t the one in everyone’s rumors.
She’d seen a different face, a different temper, and a hidden side no one else knew.
From never expecting to connect, to wanting to be her friend, to wanting to help her, to wanting to stay by her side—Mizuki had changed in a dozen quiet ways.
Why was she so drawn to this person? Mizuki had no answer. Why...
“Miyuki Kiseki.”
“Oh. Hey.”
“Today I... was a little happy. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I’m strange, I guess...”
“Eh...”
Mizuki paused. Yun Shi stood ahead of her, back turned, words being gathered like fallen leaves in her hands.
“I don’t dislike it... That’s all. Thank you.”
“!”
“Mizuki.”
It was the second time Yun Shi had called her by name.
Besides Sham, Mizuki was the second friend granted that small grace.
You could tell, then, the weight she held in Yun Shi’s heart.
Not a casual friend. Someone truly recognized. One of a kind.
Mizuki had done it. She’d been accepted.
That wish she’d once whispered—to be friends—had come true.
“W-what? If you don’t like me calling you that, I won’t. Fine?”
Maybe it was Mizuki’s silence. Yun Shi flushed and tripped over her words. A flicker of disappointment crossed her face—shy, lovely, quick.
“No. I like it. You can call me that.”
Mizuki laughed as she said it. Her heart, meanwhile, went bright and wild.
“R-really? Good...”
Yun Shi exhaled. The disappointment blew away like mist.
Mizuki smiled. A thought, light as a lantern, rose in her.
“Yun-chan.”
“—W-why are you calling me that? Calling me—”
“Is that not okay?”
“N-no, I—I, uh... do whatever you want!”
Out of words, Yun Shi turned, face crimson, and bolted down the street. “No need to walk me!” she tossed over her shoulder.
Mizuki watched her go and smiled, joy as light as the moon on water. She hadn’t expected to see Yun Shi this cute, so shy she ran.
They had changed how they addressed each other. Their bond ticked up a notch. Mizuki could hardly contain her happiness.
It didn’t last.
Slowly, the joy on Mizuki’s face faded into fog.
She remembered she liked someone.
Her Night Phantom.
And now, she felt the same for someone else.
Yes—just now, Mizuki realized she had fallen for Yunshi Bianqi.
The feeling matched what she felt for her Night Phantom. Like two ripples from the same stone.
When had it begun? Maybe the first meeting. Maybe before they were dragged into the Underworld. Maybe when she saw the different Yun Shi. Maybe after the pool incident and the holiday cram sessions...
Miyuki Kiseki liked Yunshi Bianqi. She couldn’t deny it.
But she was lost. She had always known she liked the Night Phantom. And now, her heart moved toward another...
Had she changed her heart? Perhaps not. She still held her feeling for the Night Phantom. And she also held this new feeling for Yun Shi. That meant she liked two people at once.
How could she choose...
Loving the Night Phantom—two girls together—would be hard.
Loving Yun Shi would be easier.
The trouble was, she didn’t want to give up either.
So she drifted, untethered.
“Elana...”
“Mm?”
“What should I do...”
“?”
“I’ve changed. My heart’s changed.”
The lost girl’s eyes went hollow as a night window.
A sleepless night. Two people came away with something. One found the ache for home again, and a friendship true as a clear bell.
The other found love—only it was love grown from the soil of betrayal.
What would come of it, no one knew. The girl didn’t either.
