On the road home, Mira wrestled with her thoughts like a kite snagged in branches, until today she finally made up her mind.
No matter what, she would clear things up with her sister today.
As for why today...
Because the exile label might stir debate, and because they needed to build Adelaide’s momentum, the team stayed out of sight.
They let all the laurels rest on Adelaide and Menglan.
The plan worked like a well-timed rain, turning a once-suspected human candidate into the Elven Realm’s darling.
Yet it meant doors in Mira’s schedule swung shut like bamboo blinds the moment she returned—until today.
Lady Silan, head of the Carne Family, sent Adelaide an invitation to a victory banquet, and Adelaide said yes.
Even if it looked like a trap dressed as a welcome mat, Mira didn’t shout like Varie did when she first heard.
She trusted her sharp sister had her reasons.
More important, Adelaide wrote in her last letter: she wanted Mira as her partner for the night.
A lantern-lit excuse to meet openly—that was exactly what Mira needed.
Resolve warmed her like tea.
She wouldn’t force Adelaide to say what she didn’t want.
But if they found a quiet corner, she’d say: whatever comes, let me be your strength.
Even a moment would do; if her sister could lean on her, share that caged weight.
She rehearsed that syrupy confession in her head, face tight as frost, all the way to the rendezvous.
Then resolve cracked like thin ice the moment they met.
“You look beautiful today, Mira.”
That one line melted her iceberg expression into a spring rivulet.
Adelaide’s gaze went straight to Mira’s face—or her bun—and the bell-tipped jade hairpin that sat there like it belonged.
“Not bad for my pride and joy. You figured out how to pin it like that. Looks gorgeous~”
Her smile was light, her voice airy, like walking on clouds.
Heat fluttered in Mira’s chest like a sparrow.
She parted her lips, but nothing came.
“Mm, and you look perfect in a qipao. We should buy one as a spare dress.”
Her gaze traced her curves, earnest with a teasing edge, and Mira’s color splashed like sunset.
“And these ears look even more real than last time. Did the Lioness—Varie—get them for you?”
“...Yeah. She got a note and went to see Queen Dreamlan... um, sis, please don’t touch them like that...”
“What’s wrong? Do mimicry props have sensation?”
“No. I’m just afraid they’ll come loose...”
Adelaide nodded and let go of the pinch on those pointed ears with a soft laugh.
Mira couldn’t meet her eyes; beneath the mask, her cheeks burned like sunset.
“All right, my curiosity’s fed. Let’s go.”
She suddenly hooked her arm through Mira’s, pressing close like silk.
Mira stiffened for a beat. Adelaide noticed and glanced up.
“Relax. Don’t be so tense.”
Her tone turned playful, like a cat flicking its tail.
“You’re my partner tonight, remember? Do me proud, okay?”
Mira couldn’t withstand the surge of warmth; all her rehearsed lines blew away like smoke.
Partner? The word spun and spun, her thoughts knotted like twine.
Adelaide’s warmth at her elbow burned like brushfire through her reason.
What was happening? Why was her sister different tonight?
Good questions, but answers were mist over a river at a moment like this.
Mira didn’t even catch the crafted intent in those words.
Joy bubbled like spring water; she pushed it from her face.
As for the heart-to-heart mission, they could find a quiet nook after the banquet.
She couldn’t pull free from that warmth, so she let it tow her like a current through town.
Dizzily, Adelaide tugged her into a side alley near the Carne manor.
“Uh... is there anything I should watch for—” she blurted, just before they stepped out of the alley.
Adelaide just shook her head with a laugh.
“Mira only needs to be cool and silent. Leave the rest to me.”
Cool? Did she mean the same strong aura as last time?
Uncertainty fluttered like moth wings, but Adelaide didn’t slow.
In one step, she drew Mira over a threshold carved in pure Elven style.
Butterflies and fragrance rushed over her, drowning her senses like a spring tide.
Passing the magic film at the door, color flooded her vision.
She almost raised a hand to shield her face, then her senses adjusted.
Not butterflies, but tens of thousands of butterfly orchids surged around her.
Soft pink, vivid red, bright gold—warm hues pressed in like a summer crowd, yet without the dry tang of stems and leaves.
Magic stirred a gentle indoor breeze.
Orchids swayed half-real, and the air carried layered perfume—rich as liquid scent on the nose, never cheap or cloying.
Parting the sea of orchids, the source of scent revealed itself—clivia, tulips, edge-banded daphne, great cymbidiums, wintersweet and plum.
Flowers Mira couldn’t even name joined the chorus, a lush bouquet like a noblewoman’s invitation, beckoning them forward.
“Hmph. They really laid out a grand array,” Adelaide murmured at Mira’s ear.
Red blossoms fit the Carne Family’s theme, a warm sea veined with two jarring threads.
A half-withered night-blooming cereus, and a shriveled sprig of forget-me-nots, pitiful amid the crowd.
Those were the house flowers of the Fana Family and the Illuin Family.
The provocation was clear as a raised fan, yet Adelaide didn’t flinch.
Her heels tapped the floor at an unhurried pace.
“Keep walking. Eyes ahead. Ignore them,” she said softly, feet steady.
Before they left the floral ring, they were already the room’s focus.
Gazes converged like arrows—some curious, more unfriendly, colored by Carne loyalties.
Murmurs slipped through blossoms like wind through reeds, and Mira understood Adelaide’s warning.
They’d staged a flower sea and a crowd to smother them with presence.
If the human candidate flinched an inch, tomorrow’s papers would crown that retreat as the headline shot.
But if they’d stepped into the trap, they wouldn’t let it snap shut.
They showed no timid flicker.
Instead they moved like they belonged, sinking into this curated warm beauty as if it were a lake made for them.
Especially Mira—gold hair, sharp ears, and the blue eyes behind her mask—she matched every Elf in sight.
She lived that role: the cool, forceful anonymous Elf.
—Is that the one who burst in on the Trial of Beauty...?
—So mysterious, I love—uh, I mean, she kind of looks... handsome?
Their chilly approach worked; whispers braided with new tones like ivy through brick.
Adelaide and Mira kept their eyes forward and walked to the seats set for them.
Opposite them sat an Elf in a red-and-white gown, graceful and composed.
One hand propped her cheek as she watched them with lively interest.
“Good evening, Miss Adelaide... and this mysterious ‘Elf’ sister.”
Her tone was lazy and loose, like a daily hello, yet Mira’s eyes narrowed.
The sentence was in Mira’s not-quite-fluent Chinese—except the word “Elf” slipped out in Elven speech she understood.
