Sure, the teacher found out. Lucky for me, she’s buyable—do her a “little” favor, and she’ll seal her lips like a pond under frost.

Click. Mm. “Good angle. Turn a bit more.”

She held a digital camera like a hawk’s eye. The “girl” before her in a gym suit stood stiff, shame burning like a red leaf, yet didn’t dare protest.

“Isn’t that enough...?”

“No way. This is the big secret of Yunshi Bianqi, the school’s famous face and number-one reverse-trap.”

“I get it already! I’ll do it!”

She had me by the throat; I could only submit, like driftwood caught in a current. It’s just one or two outfits, I told myself. I could grit my teeth.

“Alright, next outfit.”

“Still more?!”

Nope. I couldn’t swallow it.

A bitter taste pooled in Yun Shi’s chest like old tea. The leverage was hers; and offstage, this woman didn’t act like a teacher at all.

“By the way, Ms. Yukimi, didn’t you say you’re not into girls...?”

“I’m not into girls. I’m into cute things. Especially you~ I used to think that adorable face was wasted on you. I’ve changed my mind~”

“No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“What are you saying~ I’m only twenty-four. I’m not in a rush~”

“Teacher, you look kind of terrifying...”

“No, no. I just love cute things. That doesn’t keep me from dating, right~”

“I’m sorry, I was wrong. Please let me go!”

Yun Shi swore she’d never provoke another woman in this lifetime. Too scary, like a thunderhead rolling toward you.

Maybe unmarried women carry a kind of lingering grievance, like winter wind that won’t leave.

Only when Ms. Yukimi finally got her fill did Yun Shi get to change back. The story in between is better left buried, like footprints under fresh snow.

She looked like a good person at first glance, but maybe not. Dressed and unsettled, Yun Shi stepped out with a knot in her heart.

“Come again, Classmate Yunshi Bianqi~”

“I’m never coming back!”

She’d sooner die than return to that haunted den.

Outside, the sports festival had ended. Today’s matches were done; tomorrow would be the final day. Time flew like swallows—no feeling as you’re immersed, regret only when it’s gone.

The sun sank, a slow ember. Some students stayed over; some drifted home. Every path led to a nest. Yun Shi could only head to her own lonely roost.

“Let’s buy a few things.”

Even late, dinner needs its ingredients. If time squeezed like a vise, instant meals would have to do.

The market still pulsed. Office workers had just clocked out, and the aisles brimmed like a mild tide.

Yun Shi grabbed a piece of roast meat, dropped it into the cart. Long independence had sharpened her eyes like knives—she knew quick, tasty pairings by instinct.

In moments she had everything. She checked out, then headed home. A day like this ran you ragged; she wanted food, a hot shower, and sleep. In a few days, she’d fly abroad. On that shell-torn front, there’d be no dinner to savor.

The sunset bled west. Dusk stitched gold into every corner. Yun Shi walked the main road; passersby drifted by like leaves. She kept her eyes on the path home.

“Grandma, let me help.”

“Thank you. Mizuki-chan’s gotten so thoughtful~”

“It’s nothing. I just had time.”

A familiar voice curled like smoke. Yun Shi turned toward it. Mizuki stood with a broom, sweeping in front of a house. The old woman nodded kindly and went inside.

“Mizuki-chan really has changed~”

Muttering to herself, the grandmother opened the door and vanished into chores.

Mizuki swept alone at the threshold, her face free of burden, like someone watering a beloved garden. From her stance and calm eyes, she cherished the chance.

It made sense from Mizuki’s side. She’d leave the country soon. There wasn’t much time left to stay with family. She wanted to squeeze sunlight from every minute—help her parents and neighbors with little tasks. She didn’t know how long she’d be gone. Maybe she wouldn’t return.

Mizuki had changed. Most of all, she treasured each second like dew, and her attitude toward family and neighbors shifted like spring light. She remembered the old her—waiting for her mom to finish chores and cook, watching neighbors bustle while she watched TV. She felt a pang for that past self.

Some things are only precious after you lose them, like water in a drought. Mizuki had lost enough; she wouldn’t lose the most precious. She guarded this hard-won peace.

“Hm? Xiao Yun, when did you get here?”

Mizuki looked up, saw a familiar figure, and smiled as she stepped forward. Yun Shi realized she’d been staring, lost in thought, and coughed.

“Just passing by. Nothing else.”

Not even a lie could make Mizuki buy that. Yun Shi’s place lay in another direction. “Passing by” didn’t fit the sky.

But Mizuki didn’t call her out. It made her happy she came. Before, she lacked the courage to approach; words stuck like thorns. Now Yun Shi had come on her own.

“So, what are you doing?”

“I’m sweeping for the granny next door. She’s old, and it’s just her and her husband. I wanted to help.”

“That’s the kind of thing only you would do.”

“Ahaha, no, not really.”

Yun Shi didn’t know the context. The old Mizuki wouldn’t offer help on her own. She had a streak of justice, sure—but only when heat rushed to her head. Ask her to do actual work, and she’d weigh the clock.

“By the way, are you hiding something from everyone?”

“Eh...”

“Don’t try to fool me. That lingering look says it all. You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

Mizuki wilted under Yun Shi’s steady gaze, like a blossom in sudden shade.

Yun Shi had already seen through it. The signs were clear. Mizuki had likely agreed to Asagi Renka’s request to go abroad. They might even meet again on the Italian front. That explained her reluctant eyes—she couldn’t bear to leave her country.

Yun Shi had no ties. Mizuki did—family, friends. The more threads on your heart, the heavier the load. That weight makes battlefields feel colder.

“You really see through everything.”

Mizuki could only give a wry smile.

“We’ve known each other long enough. I can read this much.”

Yun Shi didn’t dare admit she knew Mizuki’s full name and identity, Miyuki Kiseki, and had drawn her conclusions from that. Mizuki, naive as spring rain, thought Yun Shi simply noticed.

Miyuki Kiseki didn’t know—the person she wanted to chase had stayed by her side, never once leaving.

“Yeah. I’m leaving. Will you miss me?”

Mizuki stopped hiding. At the very least, now, she wanted to talk a bit more with Yun Shi.

“...You’ll come back, right?”

Yun Shi didn’t answer. She threw the question back like a pebble into a still pool.

Once you step onto a battlefield, every breath flirts with death. Mizuki had stood there before; she knew its cruelty like iron. This time it was overseas. The danger needed no words.

If she could, she wouldn’t answer. She had no certainty.

“Of course. I’ll be back. Will you wait for me?”

She didn’t have assurance, but she wanted to promise. She wanted Yun Shi to wait. She wanted her to rest easy. She didn’t want her to worry.

“If... you can return, I’ll wait. If I can’t wait, I’ll come find you. But hear me. You must come back.”

Yun Shi knew it was hollow. She was heading to a battlefield too, with risks no less sharp. But she didn’t want Mizuki to carry extra weight.

“Hahaha. Relax. I’m not going to war. Why’s this turning into a farewell~”

Yun Shi stayed silent, heavy as stone.

Mizuki’s smile thinned, then faded, until it couldn’t come anymore.

She felt, faint as wind over grass, that Yun Shi knew everything. It couldn’t be true. Still, the feeling perched there.

“Then, it’s a promise. When I’m back, just the two of us—we’ll watch the sunrise.”

She held out a pinky, smiling.

“Why sunrise?”

“Sunrises are beautiful. I want to watch one with you.”

“Then we’ll talk when you’re back.”

Despite her words, Yun Shi reached out. Their pinkies hooked like two cranes touching beaks.

Their promise had no anchor. Maybe it would never happen. Still, right here, they spoke it as if carving a mark on their lives.

Mizuki never confessed. Her feelings stayed folded like a letter in her heart. She longed to say them, even just before leaving, so she’d have no regrets. But she couldn’t. Not yet. She loved two people and owed a debt for that.

After Yun Shi left, Mizuki watched her silhouette until it slipped beyond the horizon. The broom in her hand didn’t move at all.

“So? Is that one also your target?”

Andrea’s voice slid in from behind, teasing like a cat’s tail. Maybe it was a trick of light, but mischief glinted in her eyes.

“Ms. Andrea, I...”

“Say nothing. I won’t let you die. You have someone waiting here for your return.”

“That’s not what I mean...”

“Mizuki, don’t think. Don’t speak. Just remember to cherish the time now. Later, you may not get the chance.”

The sun fell. Dusk dyed the street red. On the girl’s face, sorrow and confusion shone raw, like rain on stone.

Mizuki said nothing. Her mind echoed one wish like a bell in fog—she didn’t want to go.