Whenever Varie came up, Queen Dreamlan’s voice lightened like sunlight through leaves. Adelaide’s hunch felt ninety percent right, and she primed a barbed smile like frost on steel for their next face‑to‑face.

But now wasn’t the time—she flicked a glance at the roof tiles like a bird scoping a perch, swallowed the heat that wanted Mira and payback, and stepped into the flow of the street.

First order of business was simple as a compass: find a family willing to stand behind her like a windbreak of pines.

Anyone could sign up for Flower Dancer, but only those with banners raised by a family got seen in the market’s haze, just as Queen Dreamlan had warned at parting like mist thinning at dawn.

In the Elven Realm she was only a guest, and the only coin she carried was blood, like a single bright seed against a field already sown.

Queen Dreamlan, by contrast, brimmed with faith like a cat warm in a sunbeam. Don’t worry, a family will want you. Like that annoying one, you’ve got a face as cute as spring and as far from your insides as winter.

Adelaide’s brow twitched like a plucked string; some small thorn of guilt pricked as if she’d slighted Her Majesty without noticing.

She shook it off like dew from a sleeve; no use chasing shadows now—start with a map, start with the roots, start with where the families set their halls.

“Please… I’m begging you. Think again. Without you, so many innocent souls will be dragged into a pointless storm—!”

A familiar thread of a voice tugged her ear like wind through chimes. She turned and saw an unfamiliar Elf at a mansion gate, flanked by two stone lions splashed with red paint like blood on snow.

Ugly words streaked the statues and the door alike, the letters clawed in red like thorns: “traitor,” “saint,” “sinner.”

Inside the threshold stood another Elf, face fair but spirit worn thin like paper in rain; the same red scrawl scarred the door behind her, harsher as knife‑cuts.

She parted her lips with guilt clouding her eyes like smoke, then let out a helpless sigh like a leaf falling.

“I’m sorry, Qingning… I… can’t keep going under this pressure. It isn’t just me—my wife and daughter hid back home and still got this. So, I’m sorry. The World Tree entrusted a child to me, and I have to answer to her.”

“I understand your burden, but—please, wait, there must be another path through these brambles…!”

Bang. The door slammed like a drumhead hit flat, a hard answer to anyone left outside in the wind.

Qingning’s hand fell like a dropped ribbon, eyes shut tight as night, teeth on her lip like a trapped moth; she stomped once, a spark on stone. “Damn it. Damn it!”

After the shout blew through like a gust, silence settled on her shoulders like dust; she crouched right there, palms over her face, her mask crumbling like wet clay.

“How did it come to this… What do we do now…” Her voice thinned like smoke.

Adelaide watched from a little distance, a red flicker in her eyes like coals taking air.

Qingning… The name chimed with that Elf in the prison, the one who had begged for the Nacha sisters, the voice matching like a key in a lock.

What a coincidence—chance meeting like two leaves crossing in a stream—yet a different spark leapt through her mind like flint, and she stepped forward.

“Bad luck keeps chaining bad luck… It’s so unfair—huh?” Qingning felt a shadow fall cool as shade; she looked up through damp lashes and found a handkerchief offered by a slender hand like a white petal.

“Tha—eh? A human??” Her surprise jumped like a cat, then she clapped a hand over her mouth, voice dropping like rain. “White hair, red eyes… are you the one Sarrat saw last night? And why give me this…?”

“In my homeland, leaving a weeping beauty alone is a sin, like walking past a blossom in frost,” Adelaide said with a soft smile, bending like a willow. “If this cloth can wipe your tears, that’s its best home—and if you’d like, I can be your listener, like a kettle kept warm.”

Qingning flushed rose‑pink, caught by Adelaide’s gentle look like a moth to a lantern, and lost herself for a heartbeat.

“Miss Qingning?”

“Ah—here! I mean—yes!” She sprang up like a wound spring and took the handkerchief with stiff fingers. “Th‑thank you.”

She didn’t wipe her tears at once; her hands fluttered at her waist and back like nervous birds. Adelaide used the moment and spotted the white night‑blooming flower on her chest, an emblem like a moonlit bloom.

Just as she’d guessed; if she moved with the Nacha Tribe, she had to be Fana—Fana (White) Family, a pale blossom in a darker grove.

The Fana Family was young as a new shoot, less than a century old, and hadn’t joined the last election, yet their name traveled like pollen on wind.

The reason was simple as water: unlike the hostile Carne Family and the neutral Illuin Family, they stood with the Nacha Tribe, searching for peace like bridge‑builders over a flood.

Fame aside, the gawkers outnumbered the true believers like crows over cranes, and their support lagged far behind the two big houses, a gap wide as a ravine.

Adelaide glanced at the red‑smeared lions and door, then asked softly, a ripple across still water, “So… what happened? If you can share, maybe I can help.”

“You… heard all that?” Qingning lowered her head like a bending reed, then asked after a small pause.

Adelaide nodded like a falling petal, and Qingning drew a deep breath, the need to speak swelling like a tide; but at the flow of passing Elves, she forced up a thin smile like a paper fan.

“If you want to know, please come with me, Human lady.”

Adelaide followed Qingning through a few narrow alleys like veins under stone, to a small courtyard home, its walls also tattooed with red paint like rash on skin.

“Please… don’t mind it,” Qingning said, voice tight as a string.

Adelaide smiled and shook her head, an easy wave like grass in breeze. Qingning lifted the ring and knocked; after a beat, a familiar face came to the crack like a quick sunbeam.

“Qingning? How’d it—eh, you brought a guest?” The short‑haired beastwoman’s eyes widened like twin moons. “Wait, aren’t you that finger—”

“I’m Adelaide,” Adelaide cut in, a clean slice like a fan’s edge. “Glad to see you again, Miss Sarrat.”

“R‑right, I’m glad too…” Sarrat’s reply faltered like a paw on smooth stone.

Last night’s prison flashed for both of them like lightning on cloud; they shook hands at an awkward arm’s length, smiles pulled like tight silk, while Adelaide’s hidden fist knotted once more like a pebble in cloth.

While she was slapping that damned lioness in her mind like a palm on water, Qingning stepped into the yard and said, face full of apology like rainclouds, “Sorry. I still couldn’t persuade her…”

“It’s okay,” Sarrat said, steady as a rock, guiding Qingning to sit and rubbing her back like calm waves. “We’ve got days yet. Fresh funding just came. We’ll call everyone. If we search together, we’ll find an Elf willing to help.”

“Sorry to cut in,” Adelaide said, voice gentle as dusk, “but what exactly do you need help with?”

Sarrat looked to Qingning; after a brief hesitation like a held breath, Qingning nodded.

“You… know about the Flower Dancer election?”

Adelaide nodded once, a hinge moving smooth as oil. Qingning continued, words steeped in bitter tea, “That person you saw… she was our Fana Family’s candidate this round.”

She paused, the taste turning bitterer, like bite marks on a green plum. “…At least, she was.”

“She isn’t anymore?”

“Mm.” Qingning’s answer fell like a dull pebble. “Two days ago, a group from the Carne Family marched. They splashed paint on our candidates’ doors like blood on banners, and they harassed her kin. So she quit.”

A heavy sigh slid out of her like wind through bare branches. Sarrat lowered her head, fingers twining with Qingning’s like ivy, trying to warm her hand, but Qingning shook her head and wore a brave face like armor.

“Miss Adelaide, I brought you back and told you everything so you wouldn’t spread it,” Qingning said, words careful as stepping stones. “If this leaks, our morale will sink like a boat with a hole. At least until we find a new candidate…”

“But a new candidate won’t be easy to find,” Adelaide said, a quiet arrow straight to the knot.

Qingning’s eyes widened like pond rings, which told Adelaide she’d struck true.

Through Queen Dreamlan, she knew Elves were born by the World Tree’s grace, with yearly births only in the low hundreds, like dew drops counted at dawn.

Most of those spots were long absorbed by the Carne and Illuin great houses, like rain caught by big cisterns before it touched the grass.

So finding a gifted dancer willing to serve a weaker house was no easy harvest for the Fana Family; otherwise Qingning wouldn’t have crumpled on the street like a flower in hail.

“Why don’t you and Sarrat sign up yourselves?” Adelaide asked, voice light as drifting ash.

Qingning waved both hands fast as wings. “I—I barely dance, and those airy dresses don’t suit me. As for Sarrat…”

She glanced up at her Nacha partner. Sarrat shook her head and added, steady as a drumbeat, “It’s not forbidden, but with things this taut, my identity would backfire. We can’t make it look like the Nacha Tribe’s here to seize power.”

“I see,” Adelaide said, surprise shaped on her face like a painted mask, while inside her last knot unwound like silk in warm water.

Then she let the line she’d prepared bloom like a lantern. “In that case, maybe I can help.”

Qingning’s brow rose like a lifting fan. “You mean…?”

“If you don’t mind,” Adelaide said, every word clear as bells, “I’d be happy to be the Fana Family’s candidate in the Flower Dancer election.”

Silence fell again, a soft snowfall that covered the floorboards. Two looks jabbed her like needles, the same as when she’d once declared herself a ‘finger player.’

She held her smile like a candle in wind and didn’t let it gutter.

After a few breaths, Qingning spoke first, careful as stitching. “It’s not that I doubt you… but having a human represent us seems…”

“It sounds counterintuitive, but it’s an edge,” Adelaide said, palms open like a book. “You need someone who shows the Fana Family’s open mind, without putting a Nacha face on stage.”

“Someone like me hits both marks like two swallows on one branch. I’m a woman who can compete. I’m also an outlander, which signals diversity.”

“My identity won’t provoke the reflexive backlash a Nacha would, like a red cloth to a bull. Isn’t that an advantage?”

“Uh…” Qingning and Sarrat froze again, thoughts blank as a wiped slate, and only after a few heartbeats did the gears begin to turn.

Even if what you’re saying makes sense, the first trial of the contest is a dance, and every contestant needs an Elf partner; the rule’s carved in stone.

Even if you’re willing to enter, we probably can’t find you a suitable match this fast—the schedule’s closing like a gate at dusk.

Ah, about that, you don’t need to worry—truth is, that’s the biggest card I can lay on the table for you, a lantern in the fog.

Huh?

Confidence settled first, like a quiet lake; then Adelaide let a sure smile bloom.

I think you’ll definitely like my dance partner—like a breeze through spring leaves.