The clack-clack bit at eardrums as the heavy barred iron gate scraped the floor. Its tail gnawed tight and spat tiny sparks like fireflies, and a faint scorched-iron tang hung in the air.

Aside from that, no stench coiled here. Light pooled bright instead of dungeon gloom, and a calming flute drifted from nowhere like thin blue smoke.

Adelaide’s hands were cuffed in front. Escorted by three Elves, she moved at an unhurried pace. Her eyes combed a corridor wide enough for three grown humans shoulder to shoulder, noting how the brightness sat like polished glass.

For a prison, this place felt overly genteel, like a guesthouse wrapped in steel.

Skepticism pricked like a thorn. Maybe Elf society shunned harsh sentences and favored reform and schooling for every inmate.

If so, the little one beside her—crying non-stop since the arrest—felt like a leaking kettle squealing in a quiet hall.

Nerves tightened like a drawn bow. They probably weren’t going to die, so why weep like a martyr under pear-blossom rain? The griping steadied her, because the plan ahead would hinge on her improv.

“Stay put. Someone will come question you soon. Be ready.”

The Elf jailer’s tone was unexpectedly normal. No sneer, no swagger. She pushed the boy in with Adelaide, locked the bars with a clack like teeth, then returned to her post.

As she stepped away, chatter rose like sparrows flocking.

“Wow, they even nab kids this small. Long-ears are over the line!”

“Yeah… by the way, what’s with the other one? She’s not an Elf, right?”

“Hold up, that’s a human?”

“Huh? Human?!”

The voices swelled, then switched from the common tongue to the Nacha language, which felt even stranger on Adelaide’s ear, like rough bark under a soft hand.

Eyes pinned her like needles. Most watchers wore time-worn clothes, thread-ends fraying like dry grass, nothing like the Elves’ airy silk that floated like mist.

Yet old was only old, not filthy. Their collars sat straight, not slouched like uneven hills. They wore these not-so-pricey old pieces with neat pride, ironed only by careful hands, as if keeping face—no, here, keeping honor—in pressed folds.

Varie’s ears, fluffed like angry cats, flashed in Adelaide’s mind. She’d asked why beastfolk clung so hard to “face,” and Varie had thundered, “It’s honor!” That flare burned bright in memory. Even without ears showing, Adelaide knew these were Nacha.

“Why’s there a human here? Also, she’s kinda good-looking. I thought she was an Elf.”

“Hey, can you not point at her face like that?”

“Doesn’t matter. Humans can’t understand us anyway.” One Nacha clicked his tongue, then judged, “A human this pretty is rare. Way better than Elves—no stink. Elves reek and make you want to retch—”

“—Actually, I understand you.”

“…”

The critique cut off like a blade through rope, and every cell fell silent like a winter pond.

Then laughter erupted across the jail, wild as a summer storm.

“Nacha curse— you idiot, hahaha!”

“Big Nose messed up! Messed up!”

Someone whistled like a shrill bird. Someone slapped Big Nose’s rear; he hopped forward, tail bristling like a flag, spat a curse, and was just about to blow up—when the jailer barked.

“Enough noise! Quiet down!”

The scuffle stilled, yet Adelaide saw the warning hadn’t truly sunk in, like ripples reluctant to fade.

In fact, the true hush came from an old Nacha seated in the adjoining cell, his presence a heavy stone in a stream.

It was Adelaide’s first time seeing age on a Nacha face—long, dry brows; gray-white hair draped to his shoulders; nails thick and dulled like old horn. He leaned on a fur pad. Young Nacha carry tight, glossy skin over iron muscle, but his muscles no longer held the skin; it sagged in folds, wrinkles mapped everywhere, and his legs had dwindled to bone frames.

You can read past strength by how much skin a body once had to stretch. He must have been a bull of a man. For a Nacha—ears sliced in half grow back in minutes—such visible frailty only says one thing: he was truly old, maybe brushing the limits of his years.

Still, this visibly waning Nacha lifted his head a fraction, swept the room like a hawk’s glance, and every other Nacha hushed, lips snapping shut like sheaths.

It seemed she had met someone high in the Nacha pecking order; a neat, unexpected find. Adelaide inked a note in her mind like a quick brushstroke. Big Nose—the one who’d been pointing at her looks—leaned in, voice lowered, to talk.

“Hey, what’d you do?”

Composure settled like silk over prickle. Adelaide still smiled, warm and courtly, and gestured to the sniffling Nacha kid at her side.

“My tale’s plain. I’m just an innocent bystander swept up by this little one’s brave stunt, a leaf in his gust.”

“Brave stunt?”

“Yes. I’d also love to know why she grabbed a lit firework, a tiny comet of sparks, and stopped the queen mid-festival.”

Big Nose didn’t flinch or frown at that first part. Instead, he asked how the Elves reacted.

“They raised a shield wall on the spot. Later they sealed the area and scooped up passersby like me. You could say they were plenty spooked.”

At that, his nose practically pointed to heaven and he burst laughing. “Ha! The kid’s got spine. Long-ears needed a scare. They think we Nacha all eat grass?—Wait, you said the queen? Queen Dreamlan?”

Adelaide confirmed for the girl. Big Nose slapped his forehead and sighed deep, like wind leaving a bellows.

“Foolish kid. If you must scare someone, scare the Carne Family. Or the Illuin Family. Queen Dreamlan hasn’t wronged us.”

“I… I didn’t know!”

Exasperation puffed like steam; kids were a lot. Adelaide almost covered her ears—then broken voices floated from the far gate like torn ribbons.

“(Yes… I can vouch with our family’s honor… No, not an extremist… It was just a joke…)”

“(Please trust us… the child has no political stance…)”

Thanks to the hearing charm Adelaide had woven earlier, she caught two women pleading with the Elf at visitor intake. In those torn fragments, sincerity rang like clear water.

“(Please… good sister, this tea is from Huhulu Mountain, ten years aged… please, take a look—)”

Adelaide heard the familiar lilt of flattery. The receiving Elf didn’t bite, her refusal clear enough for Adelaide’s side, crisp as a snapped reed.

“Don’t do that. This is a prison; no bargaining. Immediate family gets ten minutes a month. If you want to use it, register here.”

“(But—)”

“(It’s fine. Let’s do that first.)”

One woman still wanted to push; the other agreed. After a brief hush, footsteps rang down the corridor like beads on stone, and a Nacha woman entered their section, drawing every gaze like a magnet.

“Big Sis!!”

The kid beside Adelaide reacted first. Tears flipped to a grin; she sprang up, plastered herself to the bars, and stretched her hand out like a twig to the sun.

“Kort…!”

Her sister’s eyes widened; she hurried forward. Then, under the girl’s shining, hopeful stare—she twisted her ear hard.

“Uwah—ow! Ow!!”

“Hurt? So you do know pain, you little brat!”

Other Nacha, seeing it, started to intercede like people reaching into a fire. But the sister’s face burned red, and she wouldn’t hear a word.

“You got a screw loose? Why steal a firework at all, and powder yourself head to toe? If Queen Dreamlan hadn’t blown the powder away, that blast would’ve turned you to charcoal!”

“Uwawa…” Her ear in a twist, she cried limp as wet cloth, voice bruised with hurt. “B-but, Mom and Dad got locked up by those long-eared bullies, and today when they searched our house they stepped on the toy Grandma sewed for me…!”

“For that, you pull a self-detonation? Let Grandma sew another! Do you know how much work Qingning and I burned through to get our parents out?!”

Under her triple soul-strike of questions, the girl clamped her mouth shut like a slammed window.

“In two days the review would pass. Now look. You didn’t help— you came in too. We’ve one more to pull out, and our parents’ detention gets extended. Tell me, do you deserve Qingning’s hard work for our family? Huh? Do you?”

She pointed toward the door as she spoke. “Qingning” must be the woman still outside, bargaining with the jailer to buy her a little more time, holding the door with her shoulder like a wedge.

By now, most cells read the room and kept quiet. The girl puckered her lips, then spoke low but stubborn, like a small drum in rain.

“I don’t like her. She’s a bad one.”

“You little stink… I’ve told you, don’t hate Qingning just because she’s an Elf. Not every Elf—”

“—But she stole you away!”

The sister froze, blank for a beat, as if the words hit like cold rain.

“Why be with that bad woman! You promised you’d marry me when I grew up!!”

At that, her eye twitched; a blush rose, not quite the color of anger—then she yanked her ear harder.

“What nonsense are you spouting? That’s impossible!”

“Why? Because I’m a girl? That bad one’s a girl too—”

“—Because I’m your blood sister!!!”

…

A double blast landed, and Adelaide went blank for a few heartbeats. First, the “boy” was a girl. Second, “I’m your blood sister.” That line jabbed her already fragile heart like a thorn. Her breath stalled for a beat, the way a bird stalls mid-flight.

A strange feeling rose from deep water. She drew a long breath, trying to push it back down like a lid over a pot.

“It’s not about me. She isn’t Mira’s birth sister anyway—no, what am I thinking! There’s nothing comforting about any of this!”

Her thoughts tangled like vines over a gate. Thankfully, right then Big Nose in the next cell shook his head and sighed.

“Ai, the youth these days are falling morals. We’re told to follow the old rules. Mix with outsiders—especially long-ears—and it never ends well, like a boat on rocks!”

Relief washed over her like cool shade; his matter‑of‑fact tone was a sharp blade that sliced through her buzzing thoughts.

Adelaide pressed the clutter down like leaves under a stone, turned, and asked,

“Do the Nacha Tribe’s ancestral rules—etched like stone—actually forbid you from marrying outsiders?”