The day before classes began, the air lay still like a dawn lake.

An hour after breakfast, Eastern Moon Aixue and Faya arrived in crisp uniforms, steam from our tea drifting like morning mist.

“Amamiya, school starts tomorrow,” she said, voice chiming like a small bell in cool air. “Let’s get ready and head for Egisia Academy now.”

She slipped into the living room like a spring breeze, lifted two pastries from the tray like lifting clouds—one she handed to Faya, one she let melt like snow on her tongue.

“Oh? Classes are tomorrow—why go today?” Confusion pooled in me like rain in a basin, and I set my novel down like a quiet stone.

“Egisia Academy is a bit far,” Aixue said, smile warm as sunlight on tea, “and there are forms to file like reeds to count, so we go a day early. Some even go a week ahead, like swallows flying first.”

She finished her pastry with a soft sigh like silk, then beamed. “Mmm—Amamiya, your pastries are little moons of sweetness. Thanks for the treat.”

“Mm, thank you for the hospitality,” Faya added, her smile soft as candlelight behind glass.

“I see. Servant, Hill, go change into your uniforms,” Xinuo said, words crisp as winter air slicing through pine.

“Yes! I’ll change right now!” Hill chirped, a sparrow hopping branches, and began tugging her skirt down, silk rustling like grass under wind.

“Hey, hey! Hill, not here!” Shock pricked me like hail, and I reached out as her snow-white skin flashed like cold moonlight. “Go change in the room!”

“Oh—got it!” She nodded like a bobbing reed and pattered toward the rooms like feet on shallow water.

A long breath left me like steam from a kettle. “Honestly, I need to teach Hill some basics,” I muttered, words floating like drifting clouds.

“Later,” Xinuo said, eyes calm as still pools. “Servant, go change now.” Her fingers pinched my cheek like a playful crab, then she stuffed the uniform into my arms like filling a sail and pushed me toward the changing room like a tide.

“Ugh, fine,” I said, voice falling like a pebble into a well.

Inside the changing room, my mood swayed like a hanging lantern. “Why a girls’ school again?” The complaint rose like a thin wind over grass. “Wouldn’t a normal academy be fine?”

The uniform lay in my hands like frostwork on glass, beautiful and cold. “Though… I grumble every time I wear women’s clothes,” I thought, the thought drifting like an autumn leaf.

“No. Enough.” I shook my head like shaking dew from branches and drew a deep breath like filling a lung with pine. I stripped without hesitation, movements quick as a sparrow’s flutter, and slipped into the uniform like slipping into moonlit water.

I loosened the ribbon in my hair, strands falling like a stream over stone, and combed until it flowed smooth as silk.

I pushed the door open, stepping out like stepping from shadow into pale morning.

“Servant looks perfect in women’s clothes,” Xinuo said, voice calm as a cool river.

“Right! Boss’s girl look is the prettiest!” Hill bounced, eyes bright as stars.

“Amamiya, at Egisia Academy you’ll be famous in a heartbeat,” Aixue laughed, like bells over a harbor.

“Um… Amamiya, you’re very beautiful,” Faya murmured, words soft as petals.

Praise fell like peach blossoms, and I winced inside like a cat caught in rain. This wasn’t the kind of blessing I craved.

“Fine, fine. Xinuo, why aren’t you changing?” I asked, noticing her still in a snow-white long dress like winter draped over a willow.

“Not used to it. Don’t want to,” Xinuo said, voice even as stone.

“Right, okay.” I let it drop like a leaf. Turning to Aixue, I asked, “Egisia Academy sits on the sea, right? How do we get there?”

“That’s simple,” Aixue said, smile like sunlight on waves. “Carriage to the coast, then the academy’s ship—like stepping from road to silver ribbon.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go,” Xinuo said, words like a clean blade of wind, and she headed for the door like a white crane.

“We’ll go too,” I said, standing like a stalk in breeze.

“Mm, okay,” Faya chimed, getting up with a rustle like reeds.

We followed Xinuo out, our steps beating like small drums on polished stone.

Outside Proud Moon Palace, a carriage waited, lacquer gleaming like black water, and the horses pawed the ground—Gale Horses, A-class beasts with manes like storm clouds and eyes bright as sparks.

“Amamiya, may you all have a wonderful time at Egisia Academy!” The voice of Eastern Moon Aotian drifted in through the window like a warm wind.

“Thank you for your blessings, Your Majesty Eastern Moon Aotian,” I said, arranging an elegant smile like a fan—playing the noble lady though my heart sulked like a rain-soaked cat.

“Uh…” Aotian froze for a heartbeat, stunned like a stag under lantern light, then recovered with a cough like dust shaken from cloth. “No need to thank me. I won’t delay your journey.”

He looked to the coachman, eyes firm as iron. “Go now.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!” the coachman replied, voice taut like a drawn bow.

The whip cracked like lightning. “Hyah!” The carriage surged forward like a wave released.

On the road to the coast, the carriage hummed like a shell at the ear.

“Whoa, Boss! There are so many places we haven’t explored!” Hill pressed her face to the window like a cat to glass, eyes sweeping streets like swallows skimming water.

“True,” I said, watching the tide of people like a river of colors, the busy avenues like woven brocade, and taverns and shops rising like cliffs of wood and light. “When we first reached Proudmoon City, we strolled a bit, then that Intela mess soured the mood like bitter tea. We barely shopped afterward.”

“Next time you return, Faya and I will be your guides,” Aixue said, sipping red tea like sunset in a cup.

“That’s right,” Faya said, smile shy as moonlight on snow. “If you don’t mind, we’ll guide you.”

“Then thank you in advance,” I said, gratitude settling like warm rain, and I looked at Xinuo across from me.

“Xinuo, why are you always reading? Doesn’t it get boring?” Curiosity swirled in me like wind in bamboo.

“Then do you find the scenery outside boring?” Xinuo asked, eyes steady as deep water.

“Uh…” Her reply knotted my words like vines, and silence pooled like shade. Then I sighed, admitting that streets blur like a painting when stared at too long. “Xinuo, give me a book.”

“Servant, here,” she said, offering it like passing a lantern.

“Thanks.” I smoothed the wrinkles in my skirt like smoothing ripples on a pond and set the book on my lap like a sleeping cat.

“Boss, boss, I want to read too!” Hill’s head dove into my chest like a playful otter, eyes hooked on the pages like fish to a lure.

“Hill, like this I can’t see,” I said, exasperation fluttering like moths, and I lifted the book and let her sit on my lap like a warm bundle.

“Hehe, Boss smells nice—so nice!” Her little nose twitched like a rabbit’s, and she grinned like sunshine breaking through clouds.

“Hey! Don’t sniff—so embarrassing!” My face heated like a kettle.

And so, in laughter light as petals, time slipped by like sand, and in a blink we reached the coast, the sea flashing like a vast mirror under noon.