About half an hour later, the table looked swept by a tide, almost empty, because Lingsaki fed me every bite like a gentle breeze.

Phew—warmth crawled back like sunlight breaking mist.

I drained the juice from her cup, relief loosening me like untying knotted vines; not at my peak, but strength flowed back by half.

“As long as you ate your fill, dear brother.”

She smiled, moon‑soft, and dabbed my lips with a handkerchief, motions light as drifting petals.

Honestly, I was drowning in it; I’m a man, and she’s a vision like spring in full bloom.

She’d been on my lap, facing me, for a long while, and knowing she’s my sister didn’t soften the rope of restraint.

“Uh… Lingsaki, could you get down?”

I asked, awkward as a sparrow caught in rain, while basking in her gentleness.

“Please endure a little longer, dear brother.”

She set the handkerchief down and hugged me tight, head burrowing into my chest like a small animal: “It’s been too long… I’m sorry.”

“...It’s fine. Let’s hold a while more.”

I wrapped her slender, soft frame and stroked her hair, black as night, sleek as flowing ink.

“Mm.”

We stayed locked together for nearly ten minutes, silence warm as a lake at dusk.

“Right, Lingsaki, did you bring clothes?”

I stood and saw my outfit, torn like a battered sail from the fight with Luolin; wearable, but rough as sand on skin.

“I did. Please wait, dear brother; I’ll look.”

She tidied the tabletop battlefield, not letting me lift a finger, then rummaged through her spatial pouch like a swallow in its nest.

Minutes later, she held up a dress, apology bending like a willow: “I’m sorry, dear brother, my pouch only has women’s clothes…”

“Women’s clothes are fine; better than this ragged thing.”

I’d expected that; I took the skirt with a helpless smile and changed, used to such things like a traveler to rain.

Hmm, a bit tight, taut as a drum skin—close enough.

I studied it: unlike Lingsaki’s gothic loli black, this was a plain purple‑blue princess dress, misty with organza and ribbon like drifting cloud.

It felt light as air, but moving in it was clumsy, like walking through tall grass.

“Wow! (thump‑thump)”

“Huh?”

I blinked and saw starlight in Lingsaki’s eyes, cheeks tinted rose like peach bloom.

“My dear brother turned into dear sister in a blink! And… so pretty!”

“Ah‑haha…”

Her praise left me adrift like a boat on moonlit water, so I coughed and steered: “It’s getting late. Let’s go find Lingxiao.”

“Mhm, you’re right; hogging you like a pillow isn’t fair to Lingxiao.”

She nodded and drew the Book of Night from her waist, its cover dark as midnight: “Please hold me tight, dear brother.”

“Like this?”

I stepped behind and hugged her. My hands went too high and caught something cloud‑soft.

I squeezed, reflex quick as a startled bird.

“Ah—dear brother, that’s…”

Her voice twanged like a plucked string, and I realized both hands were on her chest.

The scene felt déjà vu, like pages from old manga; lucky to live it, unlucky to think that now.

I let go fast and moved to her waist: “Sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

“It’s fine… if it’s you, dear brother.”

Her blush bloomed like cherry, and before I could answer, she flipped the pages, fingers swift as wind.

“Book of Night, page one hundred thirty. Spatial specialization magic—Area Transfer!”

Space rippled like water, the world wheeling like a storm; my head swam for a heartbeat.

Then the spin broke like a bubble, and I opened my eyes in another place.

“Huff—huff—”

Lingsaki’s face went pale as paper; sweat beaded like dew, and her breath came in waves.

“Lingsaki, you okay?”

I wiped her brow with my sleeve, worry fluttering like moth wings.

“I’m fine… huff— It’s just the drain from a long transfer, heavy as winter; a short rest will do.”

She gave me a smile, light as dawn, telling me not to worry.

“Then—pft!”

“Beloved dear brother!”

I didn’t finish; someone slammed into me like a sprinting deer, and I toppled, legs swept like grass in wind.

“Eh… what—”

I tried to rise, but there was a soft weight on my chest, scented like fresh rain.

I looked up; a girl sat astride me, joy shining like morning stars.

She had Lingsaki’s exact build and face, yet her hair was pale gold like wheat in sun, her eyes blue‑green like sea glass.

Her dress matched the gothic cut but was white as first snow.

A book hung at her waist too, its cover white, different from Lingsaki’s night‑dark.

“Lingxiao, long time no see.”

I smiled and hugged her, warmth spilling like tea; my other sister, Lingxiao Amamiya—Lingsaki’s twin.

“Mm‑mm! Beloved dear brother!”

She nestled her cheek to my shoulder, close enough our faces brushed like petals; her breath tickled my ear like feathers.

As she squeezed tighter, two soft curves pressed to my chest, embarrassing as a secret in daylight.

Not small either; like Lingsaki, Lingxiao had grown into a graceful beauty, far from the little girl who once chased behind me like a sparrow.

Years had passed; change was natural as seasons.

After about ten minutes, Lingxiao let go and settled back on my waist, her blue‑green eyes studying me like a painter.

She finished, face contrite and playful, and dropped a dagger of words:

“Who knew, after years apart, my beloved dear brother awakened a cross‑dressing kink? Even though you look beautiful in a dress… mm! Don’t worry, dear brother—I’ll try hard with Lingsaki to accept dear sister!”

“That’s right, dear sister is nice too.”

Lingsaki chimed in, laughter ringing like silver bells.

“No, no, no! Lingxiao, you’ve got it wrong—I don’t have a cross‑dressing kink!”

I fought for the dignity of an older brother like a banner in wind; being judged by your sister that way is a sorrow I refuse!