Aimless—that was the mirror of her heart, a leaf turning circles on a windless pond.

With Sham minding the house, the place sat like a quiet nest; if she got hungry, she’d forage on her own.

But once Yun Shi stepped out, her compass spun in empty sky; no star to steer by, just feet drifting like dandelion fluff.

Sham courting her so actively wasn’t without reason; the pull was a tide, not a whim.

Yun Shi had left the Underworld a year ago, yet her ears still caught its distant thunder; she knew a little, like hearing rain behind a wall.

The Magic Institution clashing with the Quadra Eye Family wasn’t rare; in the Underworld, it was like the regular rumble of drums before a meeting.

Unless both sides bared all their fangs, it wasn’t a storm, just weather.

It had nothing to do with her now, yet old ties were roots under stone; she had once been of the Quadra Eye Family.

Naturally, she cared most about her brother, a lone lantern in her night.

No news of him gnawed like cold wind under a door; the anger had no hearth, so it smoldered in her chest.

Without noticing, Yun Shi wandered into a school, drawn like a moth to a hive of sound.

It was the loudest hour; a tide of bodies pressed tight, heads bobbing like a shoal, everyone ramming forward like rams at a gate.

What treasure lay within, worth breaking heads for like cracked gourds? The question flickered, and the answer rose like steam.

“Yay! I got in! Look, look, my name’s on it!”

“For real? Me too! Same school!”

So it was the admission list, names pinned like bright fish to a board; fresh test takers hunting their future perches.

They were middle-schoolers—no, soon-to-be high-schoolers, chicks about to fledge.

Once, she too had cheered at getting into high school, a firework in a small sky.

Faces glowing pulled her back like a tide to the past; Yun Shi couldn’t tell whether to laugh or cry, a storm at the corner of her mouth.

She sighed like a reed in wind and slipped away, a shadow leaving a wall.

School was a place soaked in nostalgia, warm as sun on old benches; yet it was a bridge burned behind her.

She could never cross back; the river had already chosen its course.

Fate felt carved into ice, glittering and cold; Yun Shi let that thought sit like a pebble in her palm.

Maybe it was escape, or a ribbon of self-comfort; sometimes ducking a wave saves you from drowning.

Holding that driftwood of a thought, she left the crowd like a lone crane; the names on the list were dead leaves to her.

She turned, and at that moment, another girl caught the scene like a butterfly in a net.

“Excuse me, do you need help?” the girl asked, voice bright as a bell in clear air.

The sudden kindness staggered Yun Shi; her mind stalled like a deer in lantern light.

“Is it the crowd?” the girl tried again, soft as moss. “Too many people, so you don’t want to squeeze in?”

“Huh?”

The question slid off her like rain on an oiled cloak; Yun Shi didn’t follow at all.

“Look, there aren’t many left inside,” the girl said, smile like a sun-warmed window. “You’ll get your turn soon.

You just finished exams; don’t you want to see which school claimed you?”

So that was it—the girl mistook her for an anxious candidate, a kite she thought shared her string.

Better to explain, or the misunderstanding would grow like ivy.

“I’m saying, I didn’t—”

“It’s fine. Be confident,” the girl beamed, a lantern held higher. “You’ll make it in, I know it.”

“No, listen to me—”

“Even if you don’t, it’s not the end,” the girl pressed on, springwater bright. “There are other paths. So keep your chin up.”

“That’s why I’m saying I’m not even a candidate!”

Being cut off again and again felt like a tight collar; Yun Shi finally raised her voice, a clap of thunder.

The girl froze, embarrassment pinking her cheeks like dawn on snow; she fumbled for a gentler branch to grab.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were still in middle school. My bad. So, are you checking for your sister or—your brother?”

Yun Shi almost spat blood onto the tiles, a drama-red bloom she held back.

“All wrong. I’m not a middle-schooler, and I’m not checking for family. I’m just passing by. Got it?”

Her hiss carried a blade’s edge.

The girl’s awkwardness deepened, a ripple spreading with nowhere to go; she had cast the first stone and couldn’t smooth the water now.

Seeing the girl deflate leveled Yun Shi’s mood like balancing scales; she decided to leave without another glance.

Grrr—

Of course, her belly chose that moment to protest, a drum in an empty room. Even her body joined the rebellion.

She hadn’t eaten since morning; Sham had devoured everything, and she hadn’t taken a single bite.

A girl making such a sound felt improper as a dropped bowl; for a man, it stung that hidden pride even more.

Face stinging, she only wanted to leave fast, a cloud curling away.

“Here.”

As Yun Shi stepped, the girl fished a chocolate bar from her pocket, offering it like a small wrapped blessing.

“No need.”

How could a grown man accept a woman’s treat? Pride stood like a gate.

“It’s fine. Take it.”

The girl’s insistence was firmer than expected, a bamboo stalk that wouldn’t bend; she pressed it into Yun Shi’s hand, leaving no room to refuse.

Yun Shi gave her a strange look; the girl answered with a bright, open smile, a sky without clouds saying it’s okay.

Yun Shi studied the chocolate, then tore it open; bittersweet and fragrant slid down like warm tea.

A measured heat lit her belly, an ember catching on dry wood.

It was good—better than it needed to be, a small sun in foil.

She had always had a sweet tooth; in college, roommates joked she wasn’t much like a man, the laughter light as paper, the sting sharp as a reed.

Chocolate was one of her small indulgences, a coin kept warm in the palm.

“First time at this school?” the girl asked, smile steady as a shoreline.

Yun Shi glanced at the plaque: Rakuyoku High School, letters like wings over a gate. Nothing special drew her eye.

“So what if it is?”

“What a coincidence—I’m here for the first time too.”

“…”

“Soon I’ll join this school,” she said, eyes bright as wet ink. “Become a high-schooler—doesn’t that sound great?

Same school means we can all be friends. That’s the happiest thing—everyone’s youth filling up like a spring.”

She was a natural extrovert, warm as a hearth; her smile spilled light like water from a pitcher.

An open, optimistic girl, with thoughts simple as clear glass, no hidden hooks.

Once, a girl like this would’ve been first choice for a girlfriend, a flower easy to love.

But Yun Shi had weathered too many winters; such innocence was snowflake-pretty and Underworld-fragile.

That kind of person didn’t belong in the Underworld; a candle in a well of wind.

“You don’t understand a thing.”

Pretty words were petals; anyone could scatter them.

“Bathed in sunlight, you’ll never feel the damp chill of those who claw through the dark.”

“Eh…”

“You say you can be friends with everyone. I’m not like you. I don’t need friends—there’s no such thing as forever.”

She left without waiting for the girl’s answer, a shadow peeling from a wall and sliding the other way.

Different roads don’t share milestones; people built from different clay shouldn’t force a single path.

Opposites, least of all, can walk arm in arm.

In any case, a child of the Underworld like Yun Shi would never bow to the Outer World’s sunny truths.

“What a strange person…” the girl murmured, watching Yun Shi’s back shrink like a boat downriver.

Strange—but unexpectedly… interesting?

“Hey, what are you doing? Let’s go!” a friend called, voice like a tossed pebble.

“Got it, I’m coming.”

“Hurry up, Mizuki—”

The girl’s long blue hair swung like a ribbon of sky as she turned, then slipped away like passing cloud into the scenery.

The crowd thinned, ebbing like a tide…

…

Groceries bought, Yun Shi went home to cook; a guest waited to be fed, and you don’t ignore a hungry sparrow at your eaves.

To take proper care, she’d bought extra; the moment she got home, the kitchen woke like a drum.

Sham, lured by the smell early, floated by again and again to sneak a taste—Yun Shi gave her no opening, a gate barred with a broom.

“So good, so good… I’ve never eaten anything this good. It feels great to be alive—”

No one was more eager at mealtime than Sham; she ate with a vigor that put many men to shame, a whirlwind in a bowl.

“Were you a starving ghost in a past life?” Yun Shi couldn’t help but jab, a fan flicking the embers.

“But it’s truly delicious,” Sham said, eyes like polished stones. “Not even in Britain did I eat food this good!”

“Watch your image, at least a little,” Yun Shi muttered, a thread trying to tame the kite.

“If you fuss over table manners, you’ll miss the soul of the feast,” Sham parried, chopsticks dancing like sparrows.

“You ate half my portion too, and you still complain?”

“If you knew this would happen, you should’ve bought more,” Sham said, as innocent as a cat with feathers in its mouth.

“So I’m the villain here?!”

Fate between people is a strange river; moments ago, Yun Shi barely knew Sham, their lines barely crossing.

Time stitched them closer, thread by thread, and it felt absurdly natural—like ivy finding brick.

Maybe it was karmic entanglement, a red string tied into a knot.

“Sham Einafel, you’re full, right? Then wash the dishes.”

“Eh? I’m an injured maiden,” she said, weaponizing a wobbly look, eyes damp as morning. “You’d make me wash dishes?”

“Mm…”

“I heard wounds can’t touch water,” she added, showing her hand like a fragile leaf. “Sob, can you really be that heartless?”

“…Fine. I got it.”

What else could she say? The sigh left her like steam from rice.

Yun Shi rolled up her sleeves and walked to the sink, moonlight on steel; behind her, Sham wore a sly smile, a fox with a hen feather.

A black belly is scary; a soft voice hiding a steel hook.

With Sham staying awhile, the days ahead wouldn’t be easy—like walking in rain with a paper umbrella.