“Oh? You’re still here.”

Surprise pricked like a needle; I glanced at the girl slumped on the ground, a lone leaf caught after a storm.

“Uh, I’m Faya Tira, thank you for saving me just now—ow, wah!”

Her thanks snapped like a twig, pain blooming across her pretty face like fire under frost; both hands clutched her right foot as her body trembled like a strung bow.

“Hey, don’t sweat it; we just happened to drop in here like birds blown off course. Huh? What’s with your foot?”

Seeing Faya’s face twist like a knotted ribbon, I walked over through the grass like wading a shallow stream and crouched before her like a steady rock.

“Mm, let me take a look first.”

Crouched, I took her right foot in my hands like lifting a fragile teacup, brought it closer, then slipped off her shoe and long stocking like peeling damp bark.

“Mmph!”

Strangely, her pained look vanished like mist in sun; her head dipped, cheeks flushing like a summer peach, which felt oddly out of place.

“So it’s a sprain, huh, and a nasty one at that.”

With the stocking off, her ankle showed red and swollen like a ripe plum, the injury obvious as a bruise on snow.

“Xinuo, Faya twisted her foot.”

I turned and called to Xinuo, my voice tossed like a stone toward still water.

“Hmph! Servant, figure it out yourself, don’t ask me!”

Xinuo turned away like a cat flicking its tail, annoyance rolling off her like heat from a brazier.

“…Fine.”

Bafflement drifted through me like fog; left to my own devices, I scanned the undergrowth like a hunter searching tracks.

“Manluo vine, manluo vine… ah! Got it.”

Ten meters left, beneath a big tree like a green umbrella, I spotted manluo vine and sprinted over like a gust skimming the grass, plucking several strands quick as a sparrow’s peck.

“Hold on a sec for me.”

Back by Faya, I set the vine above her ankle like laying a cool leaf on flame, then twisted hard, wringing it like a wet rag.

Three seconds later…

Drops of green juice fell one by one like dew, pattering onto her ankle like rain on a warm stone.

When I’d squeezed every drop like milking the last light from dusk, I tossed the spent vine aside like shed snakeskin, then cupped her ankle with both hands and rubbed gently like smoothing silk, spreading the juice even.

“Done.”

When the sheen lay even as morning glaze, I took out a handkerchief and wiped my hands like drying them by a hearth, then smiled at Faya. “Faya, your foot’s fine now. Rest a few minutes and you can walk.”

“Ah—my name!”

At my words, color surged higher like sunrise, flooding her cheeks.

“Hm? Don’t tell me your name isn’t Faya?”

“No, no, it is Faya, and… thank you so much!”

She lifted her head, face cherry-red like an autumn maple, and thanked me; then she saw me and ducked again like a shy bird into reeds.

“It’s nothing. I’ll head out first. See you.”

I slid her stocking and shoe back on like fitting leaves to a branch, stood up, said goodbye, and walked toward Xinuo like stepping from shade to sun.

“Um… bye.”

Her voice was soft as a moth’s wing, almost lost like a sigh in wind; shy girl, like a bud that won’t brave the rain.

“Servant, I’m upset.”

As soon as I returned, Xinuo pinched my cheeks like crab claws, kneading with stormy force like waves pounding a cliff.

“Uu, Xinuo, go easy! I didn’t do anything wrong—why’re you mad?!”

Tears welled like a sudden squall; I looked at her with a stray dog’s eyes under eaves.

“I don’t know, but I’m upset, so I’m upset!”

Her words thudded like a drumbeat; no reasoning, just thunder for thunder’s sake.

“Who does that… uu…”

“Master’s angry! Poor boss.”

Hill watched me with pity like a lantern dimmed by mist, sympathy hanging on his face like dew.

Three minutes later.

“Alright. Outside this grove, there seems to be an empire. Let’s head over.”

After kneading me like dough for that long, Xinuo’s temper cooled like rain on heated tiles, and she spoke to me and Hill.

“Uu… fine. Xinuo, whatever you say.”

I rubbed my swollen cheeks like pressing a bruise on fruit, tears stuck like fishbones in my throat—why does helping someone make Xinuo mad? I didn’t get it at all, like staring at smoke.

“Let’s go, let’s go!”

“Mm. Spatial Transfer.”

Space rippled around us like water in a basin, the world tilting like a kite caught by a new wind.

…

Meanwhile, in the Latvis Empire, inside Rat City, in a certain lavish restaurant.

“Young Master Lal, we’re back.”

Five men in black slipped into a richly decorated room like shadows into lamplight, heads lowered as they addressed a youth within.

He sat there in clothes rich as gilded brocade, an arm around a lightly dressed young woman on each side like twin ornaments; he was handsome enough, but his eyes were dull and bloodshot like dead fish, reeking of indulgence like stale wine.

He was Lal Dia Kage, second son of the current head of the Kage Family of the Eastern Moon Empire, a notorious wastrel whose name slithered through the Eastern Moon Empire and its neighboring empires like a bad rumor.

“Oh? Where’s Faya? Why didn’t you bring her back?”

Lal didn’t spare the men a glance; he kept flirting with the women in his arms like a cat toying with ribbons.

“Uh, Young Master Lal, we were about to grab Miss Faya, but at that moment…”

They looked at each other like cornered dogs; at last the leader spilled everything, words tumbling like beans from a split pod.

“What! Someone told you to get lost, and you actually got lost? Who was it! Who dares ruin my fun!”

Lal shot to his feet like a spring uncoiled, slammed the table like thunder hitting a drum, and roared.

“Uh… we don’t know. Just as we were about to succeed, they appeared like ghosts out of fog.”

The leader waved weakly like a wilting reed, helplessness hanging on him like damp clothes.

“Then take me to them, now! I’ll see who dares spoil Lal’s delight! Who dares tell me to roll!”

“But… there was a dragon with them.”

The black-clad man hesitated, the memory of that crushing pressure settling on him again like a mountain, and he shook like a leaf.

“So what if it’s a dragon! The Kage Family ranks in the top ten on the Eastern Moon Continent! A mere dragon is nothing!”

Lal’s mouth ran like a cracked bell, his scorn a cold snort like frost on iron.

One dragon is “nothing,” sure—but it could smash half your Kage Family like a hammer through a clay wall; and even if you could fight it, if a dragon wants to leave, you couldn’t cage the wind, could you?

Thinking that, the leader felt sorrow for the Kage Family like mourning in rain—how did the mighty Kage Family’s head sire such a brainless wastrel?

“Forget it, Young Master Lal. They shouldn’t have gone far; we’ll take you.”

They had no choice; Lal held their leash like a chain, so the leader swallowed his dread like bitter tea and agreed.

“About time! Darlings, wait for me. I’ll be back after I teach those blind fools a lesson.”

True to his reputation, Lal couldn’t leave without teasing the two women again like a fox brushing past hens.

“Alright, take me. And call in a few mages—B-rank and above! I want to see what makes them think they can offend Lal.”

“…Alright.”

What a brainless young master, they all thought, their shared sigh rising like steam; knowing there’s a dragon, and you call B-rank mages—sending lambs to a wolf’s maw, plain as daylight.