Because Yuuya came as a guest, Shen Ling Zou’s training ended early, like a bell cut short at dusk. He had time to breathe, and he’d never liked drills anyway.

“I heard you joined a real fight.” Yuuya cradled the cup the maid brought, steam curling up like pale mist.

He took a light sip, the fragrance flowing in like a warm stream, the bitterness riding it like dark bark.

“Mm. That’s right. Father thinks I can stand on my own now.” Shen Ling Zou’s voice was steady, like still water hiding a strong current.

He didn’t argue. As the next generation, expectation sat on his shoulders like a mountain only he could feel.

“The enemy you hunted—was it a Witch?” Yuuya set the cup down, the porcelain clicking like a pebble striking a pond.

The Divine Ling Family was one of the strongest among the Clan Head lineages in the Underworld, a peak ringed by storms. Enemies gathered like crows, and hostile forces never slept.

With the Church lying low, it was easy to guess. Their best targets would be the Magic Institution’s Witches, like lone fires flickering in the dark.

Yuuya himself had clashed with the Magic Institution not long ago, so the guess felt solid as stone.

“No. My first live target was someone from the True Palace Family.” Shen Ling Zou’s answer cut across Yuuya’s thought like a crosswind.

“Don’t look that surprised. The True Palace Family is allied with the Magic Institution. They’re our enemies all the same, like wolves from the same pack.”

“You’re calm,” Yuuya said with a thin, bitter smile, like tasting tea gone cold. “No wonder—you’ve walked the battlefield, and it’s marked you.”

He thought of the boy who used to stand behind him like a shadow, now stepping into the same road like two tracks in fresh snow.

“I always knew I’d walk the path of battle,” Shen Ling Zou said, calm as moonlight on a blade. “I knew that when I was small.”

Sometimes, Yuuya thought, silence is scarier than disgust, like frost that kills without a sound.

“The True Palace Family isn’t like the Magic Institution,” Yuuya warned, voice low as a late wind. “A Witch acts alone, but a family arrays itself like a wall.”

“When a Witch moves solo, they’re quick to deploy and ready to meet them, like shields locking in a line. So, Zou, your opponent’s different.”

“I know. But overall, the True Palace Family is manageable,” Shen Ling Zou replied, eyes steady as stones in a river.

“No. You’re thinking too simply,” Yuuya said, a cloud passing over his face like a shadow over wheat.

The Underworld was a tangled forest; no one could map every path. The situation never ran straight; it twisted like vines around a ruined gate.

Right now, peace held because three powers checked each other like a tripod holding up a cauldron. Break one leg, and the stew boils over in a storm.

Yuuya didn’t want Shen Ling Zou to learn that only on the day the sky split.

“Zou, you’ve a long road ahead,” he said, like an older traveler at a crossroads. “If you get too sure now, you’ll pay for it.”

“…I know, Yuuya. I know,” Shen Ling Zou said, weariness brushing his words like ash on snow.

“My life’s never been mine to steer,” he went on, breath steady as falling rain. “Since I was little, I knew I belonged to the Underworld.”

“I don’t want puppet strings on my wrists. I want a reason like yours—obey the family, but not be caged by it, like wind through a lattice.”

“…” Yuuya listened, heart tight as a fist.

“I want to grow strong,” Shen Ling Zou said, eyes like flint. “That’s why I learned the secret art. That’s why I walked into the Underworld.”

He wanted freedom, like a bird beating its wings bloody against iron bars, longing for open sky.

In some ways, Shen Ling Zou was like his sister, especially in that hate of being confined, like twins to the same moon.

Maybe they couldn’t walk the same path, but roads sometimes meet like rivers, and you try anyway.

Yuuya’s mind drifted to darker waters. His sister would face this too, sooner or later, like dawn no curtain can stop.

She, too, was of the Clan Head bloodline. Joining battle wasn’t a question, just a clock ticking like rain on stone.

Would she fight one day, like Shen Ling Zou, just to break her chains, like ivy splitting brick?

Yuuya didn’t know, and he didn’t want to know. He wanted to guard her, like a hand over a candle, and never watch her step onto a battlefield.

For now, there was time, like a long summer evening. Yun Shi still hadn’t learned the family secret art, so real combat stayed a distant thunder.

But that wasn’t good either. A Yun Shi who couldn’t learn the secret art was a blemish, like ink on white silk.

The Four Pupils Clan and the Flamebu Family were as strict on blood kin as the Divine Ling Family, like iron rules forged in winter.

As blood kin of the Four Pupils Clan, if Yun Shi didn’t master the secret art by the set age, then… the consequences might mirror the Flamebu Family’s, like a shadow mimicking its source.

“Yuuya, what’s got you so lost?” Shen Ling Zou asked, voice tapping lightly like a twig on a window.

“…Ah. It’s nothing.” Yuuya gave an apologetic smile, thin as a crescent moon.

He’d been thinking about his sister, of course. How could he not drift? He had to admit it—he was a doting brother to the bone, like roots sunk deep.

“By the way, Yuuya.” Shen Ling Zou’s tone shifted, like a breeze turning cool.

“Mm? What is it?” Yuuya asked, bracing like a man before rain.

“About the engagement. I’ve thought it over… I’m not suited to your sister,” he said, each word placed like stones across a stream.

“…”

“Forgive my selfishness,” Shen Ling Zou added, voice soft as dusk. “I just don’t want to marry someone I don’t know. It’s that simple. Sorry.”

The next few minutes stretched like a winter night. No sound moved, and steam faded from the cups like ghosts dispersing.

Faces showed calm like painted screens, but their hearts swelled and broke like tides behind them.

“I… understand…” Yuuya said at last, the bitterness in his mouth like burnt tea leaves.

No one knew what fate would look like from here, a road lost in fog.

…

Night fell, and the streets bloomed like a field of lanterns. The wide avenue turned tight as a river choked with boats.

Stalls and carts lined the road like bright shells, the air thick with festival scent like warm sugar and smoke.

“Hey… do we really have to dress like this?” Yun Shi tugged at her blue, clean-lined yukata, fingers fidgeting like sparrows.

“A woman should dress pretty to be a woman. You just don’t get it~” Kananin Rin patted her shoulder, pink yukata fluttering like cherry petals.

Yun Shi’s mood soured, like rain on a kite. Why did she have to wear girls’ clothes again?

Kimono by day, yukata by night—what kind of play was this, like changing masks between acts?

“I don’t get it at all,” she muttered, eyes flat as slate.

She had a boy’s memories, and this felt like a costume that didn’t fit, like wearing someone else’s skin.

Then again, her body was female; wearing women’s clothes was proper, like water finding its streambed.

So tangled, she thought, like threads knotted in the dark.

“Miss, you’re so pretty~” Mia chirped, eyes bright as stars.

“Yeah, it really suits you~” Eil echoed, their sibling harmony smooth as twin bells.

It wasn’t flattery; it rang true like clear glass. But praise for beauty didn’t make Yun Shi happy; it stung like nettles.

Inside, she shouted, I’m a man, the words hitting the walls of her chest like trapped birds.

For now, she still couldn’t accept being a girl, like a moon refusing its reflection.

“It’s a festival, we’ve got to play hard, right, Yun Shi~” Kananin Rin sang, joy spilling like stream water.

“Don’t run wild, Kananin Rin,” Yun Shi grumbled, glare sharp as a pin. “You dragged me out here.”

“Not just you. Those two, Mia and Eil, too,” Rin said, pointing like a wind vane.

“How can you say that!” Yun Shi snapped, shocked like a cat with wet paws.

She’d never seen someone so shameless, like a fox stealing from a shrine.

“Come on, Miss, I’m really happy~” Mia pleaded, voice soft as cotton.

“Yeah, don’t be mad, Miss~” Eil added, his look earnest as a clear sky.

A little girl and a little boy stared up at her, eyes wet and shining like dew on leaves, their pity gentle as a hand.

Yun Shi’s anger thinned like fog in sun. It was a rare festival; wasting it felt foolish, like spilling sweet wine.

“Fine. Do whatever you want!” She puffed her cheeks like a sulking carp, stepped out of Rin’s orbit, and shot her a glare like an arrow.

“Do you hate me now?” Kananin Rin asked, a wry smile bending like a reed.

“Not at all! Miss is great at everything, she’s just stubborn with words. Please don’t mind it, Miss Kananin!” Mia said, warm as a hearth.

“I see…” Rin blinked, surprised for a heartbeat, like a lantern flicker.

Then she nodded. It fit what she knew of Yun Shi, like a key in a familiar lock.

“Excuse me, I’ll go first. Miss, wait up~” Mia called, darting off like a sparrow after bread.

“Gone again…” Rin sighed, smile slanted like a crescent. It looked like only Eil, the small gentleman, remained by her side.

“Care to walk with me, little handsome?” she teased, voice smooth as silk.

“Yes, it’d be an honor!” Eil blurted, cheeks flushing like ripe peaches.

He was a pure boy; being approached by a mature woman turned his heart into a drum.

Meanwhile, Mia searched among the stalls like a bee among flowers, weaving through crowds and lights.

“Honestly, where did Miss go…” she muttered, the complaint light as a feather, without blame.

She planned to scold her a little, to say don’t run off, like a friend tugging your sleeve. Even if she was the same age, not a senior, her care felt like a small umbrella in rain.

“Eh—Miss…” Mia’s eyes snagged on Yun Shi, sharp as a hawk’s, but something felt off, like a melody with a wrong note.

Yun Shi stood by the road, holding a candied apple with one bite in it, the gloss catching light like a tiny moon. Her face showed impatience like a cat flicking its tail.

In front of her, a few high-school boys posed like peacocks, neat on the surface, but their air and eyes weren’t clean, like water clouded by silt.

Mia froze, stunned like a deer in lamplight. Was her Miss being hit on?