"Yay! That’s great!"

At my answer, the pixies squealed and hugged, a flurry of wings like petals caught in a spring gust. Ha—solving a sibling spat felt too easy. Wait. No. Could it really be this simple? Sakurazuki isn’t the type to go easy; she’s more the beauty with a hell’s-edge smile, the one who nudges you toward the abyss. That’s just the impression she gives me, not gospel.

Anyway—better tread lightly. My relaxed mood cinches like a bowstring, taut enough to sing. A touch of worry is a good talisman.

I draw a slow breath, like cooling tea mist, and ask the pixies in front of me, "Um, can you tell me where Yuexian is? Nothing starts if I can’t see him."

"Right! I totally spaced… sorry, big brother."

The lead pixie taps her head and sticks out her tongue, glittering like a minnow. "We’ll take you to Lord Yuexian, big brother!"

"Mm-hmm!"

All around me, tiny heads bob like pecking sparrows.

"Thanks. I’ll trouble you, then."

I follow the little flock, their glow like lanterns leading down a garden path, and silently pray he’s easy to talk to.

About ten minutes later, we slip behind a pillar near a pavilion. The lead pixie halts me and puts a finger to her lips—shh—her whisper floating like silk.

"See him? The one inside—that’s Lord Yuexian." She flits to my ear, her voice soft as moth wings.

I turn my gaze toward the pavilion. Its lines are fine as lacquerwork, all carved eaves and quiet grace—no, focus. Just as she said, a boy slumps over a table, listless as a wilted reed. He plucks at a red rose, petal by petal, muttering under his breath. Blood-red petals carpet the floor like a spilled sunset. Whoa. That’s the kind of thing girls do, right?

No, no. I shake the thought off like rain from a sleeve and really look at Yuexian.

…

Okay, I admit it—I’m stunned speechless. His looks… now I get why Sakurazuki enjoys toying with him. He’s dangerously cute. Pretty to the point of trouble.

He seems younger than me, thirteen or fourteen at most. His half-curled hair is short and soft as silk, neatly combed, the kind that makes your hand itch to touch. A real red spider lily pins his hair—scarlet as fresh lacquer—lending a foxfire allure to that pale face.

His features are exquisite, but it’s his eyes—a light rose tint, wide and dewy, like water cupped in a blossom—that steal the breath. He’s slender but not frail; the line is just right. And his outfit… wait, a kimono? A woman’s red kimono patterned with roses.

Is he really a boy? Every angle screams moody teenage girl. A glossy-type heroine in full bloom.

"Big brother, what’s wrong?"

I must’ve been staring too long, so a pixie pipes up.

"Ah—sorry!"

I snap back, steady my tone, and start toward the pavilion. "I’ll go first. You wait here."

"Got it! Good luck making Lord Yuexian and Lady Sakurazuki make up!"

"I’ll try."

It’s only a sibling squabble. I can do this… probably. With a prickle of unease riding my ribs, I head inside.

A minute later.

"You’re Yuexian, right?"

I sit across from him and cut straight to it.

"Yes. And you are…?"

Yuexian lifts his head, puzzled, eyes shimmering up close—even cuter, like glaze catching light. His voice is soft as down, and he’s using polite speech too. Right—focus. I introduce myself first. "I’m Yumigawa Sumeragi, a challenger in the Nine Cold Labyrinth. I came to find you so I can clear the fifth floor."

"Find me? Did my sister send you?!"

For no clear reason, Yuexian sparks alive, white cheeks blooming a flushed rose. Cute shouldn’t be this unfair.

"That’s right."

I nod and relay what Sakurazuki told me, word for word.

"That’s how it is. Sakurazuki said if I found you, I could pass through the Garden of Eternal Sleep."

"She… said that? …Uu."

Before I finish, Yuexian breaks into sobs, tears welling like a spring. "Uuu… so… sis… she’s… really hurt! I… I’m awful! Uuu… I just ran away… without a word!"

"Hey, don’t cry…"

By the time I notice, my hand is already on his head, stroking gently, like smoothing a cat’s ruffled fur. "Don’t overthink it. Just go back and apologize to Sakurazuki. She’ll forgive you."

"You’re not wrong, but…"

He turns his face away, red as a ripe peach, shame puffing off him like steam. "Going back and admitting fault like that is too embarrassing! I won’t!" His hands rub together, fidgeting like nervous birds.

…

That switch flipped fast. And—prickly on the outside, syrup-soft inside, huh? I swallow the urge to snark and manage a smile. "Then what would get you to go back to Sakurazuki?"

"Unless she comes to get me herself, I’m not going back!"

He’s stubborn as a mule. Those tears weren’t fake—no, they were real. It’s just pride blocking the door, a gate latched by his own face-saving.

"Thing is… you’re the one being willful here. That’s not great…"

I sigh inside, the sound a hollow reed, and keep coaxing. Please, you two—just make up already.

"My sister plays with me all day! Sure, I love it, but she treats me like a doll! Hmph!"

He turns his head again, cute enough to stab. No, nope—no weird thoughts here. Absolutely none.

"Then tell her straight. She’ll understand. Besides, you don’t actually dislike her teasing."

"I enjoy it… how am I supposed to say that…"

He twists and fidgets, fingers knotting like vines.

"Then why did you run away?"

Is it just me, or is talking to him draining? I’m only sitting here, yet fatigue creeps in like damp fog.

"Because I let her toy with me without resisting, and that felt so unfair. So I bolted!"

Ah. So that’s it—rebellion, but crooked. Let me line it up: he’s happy to be teased, yet he resents how passive he is; he storms out in a huff; now he wants to return, but pride bars the gate.

…

Got it. He’s a prickly-soft type, a headache wrapped in silk. Why does that have to be so much work? Can’t he just be plain and blunt?