Dusk draped the courtyard like a soft violet shawl.

“Okay, just a little more; this time it might work… huh?!” Her hope wobbled like a teacup on a ledge.

Thump! The hard-won pile of leaves took wing like startled sparrows, scattering wider than a blown dandelion.

How many times was that now? The air felt tired, like a wind with nowhere to go.

Yumigawa Senki’s “talent” for cleaning was terrifying, like a river flooding the wrong fields.

No matter how Eastern Moon Aixue and Faya taught her, the result stayed the same, like waves always erasing our sand lines.

The process looked perfect, yet the outcome fell apart, like silk cut by a blunt blade.

I’d basically given up, my patience thinning like a winter sun.

“Qianji Sister, you’re so dumb!” Little Sis’s voice popped like a soap bubble.

“Yeah… so clumsy even I’m out of laughter,” Elyar murmured, her calm like frost on glass.

“Miss Senki, don’t press so hard every time,” Faya warned, like a reed bending before storm.

“This is a normal broom and dustpan; they break like dry twigs.”

“Right, you gotta go slow. You can’t sweep all the leaves into that tiny dustpan at once,” Eastern Moon Aixue added, her tone steady as stone.

Even Little Sis, Elyar, Eastern Moon Aixue, and Faya felt helpless, like nets torn by a stubborn current.

Turns out geniuses like the Servant—good at everything—are rare, like phoenix feathers in ash.

“Uh, you don’t have to go that far… failure happens to everyone!” Senki’s voice thinned, like smoke.

She kept breaking brooms and dustpans, splinters flying like dry rain.

Failure’s normal, sure, but this was too many, like cicadas drowning out night.

“Qianji Sister, you haven’t succeeded once since afternoon,” Little Sis scolded, her words sharp as bamboo.

“You can’t even handle cleaning! So dumb!” She puffed her cheeks like steamed buns.

Her cute face glowed pomegranate-red under the sunset, sweet as a summer peach.

This child… she’ll be a beauty when grown, like moonlight on water.

And the women of the Mizumi Clan? None are plain; they rival the Elven Kind, like blossoms on ancient trees.

“Yes, I admit you’re a once-in-a-generation genius at cultivation,” Elyar sighed, her breath cool as mist.

“But in other things… alas.” Her pause hung like a cracked bell.

“You guys! That’s too much!” Senki flared, like tinder catching.

“No one’s perfect; everyone has weak spots!” Her pride stood like a lone pine in winter.

“True, but even kids can clean,” Faya said, soft as snow yet firm.

“Yeah, sweeping into a dustpan has zero skill,” Eastern Moon Aixue added, like a pebble dropped in a still pond.

“Mm!” Senki bit down on words, her jaw tight as a clamp.

“Enough.” I stood, smoothing my wrinkled skirt like pressing creases from paper.

“It’s dinner time. After this string of failures, I’m sure you have no talent for cleaning,” I said, calm as a lake at dusk.

“So don’t waste time. Try something else—cooking, maybe.” The suggestion rose like steam.

“Xinuo Sister’s right. I’m getting hungry,” Little Sis chimed, her stomach grumbling like a drum.

“Yeah! Let’s cook. I might not sweep well, but maybe something else works?!” Senki blurted, tossing the broom aside like a spent arrow.

I let the gesture pass, my tongue caged like a bird behind lattice.

“Agreed. Just don’t give me another joke, Yumigawa Senki,” Elyar warned, cool as iron.

“Miss Senki, don’t be impatient while cooking,” Faya said, steady as a hearthstone.

“Or we’ll have a fire,” Eastern Moon Aixue added, like thunder rumbling far away.

“Please be careful.” Her words fell like rain on smoldering leaves.

“Of course. I’ve got common sense; I won’t go wild!” Senki squared her shoulders, her resolve bright as a lantern.

I swallowed my retort, holding silence like a sealed scroll.

Then I headed into the dorm first. “Come on, let’s hit the kitchen,” I said, leading like a river current.

“Got it,” they answered together, voices braid-like and warm.

We went to the kitchen, hope fragile as glass.

“Whoa! This is my first time in a kitchen,” Senki breathed, wonder fluttering like a moth.

“It’s amazing how these become delicious food,” she said, eyes roaming like swallows.

Ingredients sat neat and gleaming—meat, fish and shellfish, vegetables—like a market painting laid on a table.

“Right! Cooking’s tough!” Littlesky began, nostalgia curling like steam.

“Back when I—”

“Littlesky, shut up!” Senki snapped, her face iron-blue, like steel under frost.

Seeing that, I felt a shadow pass; Littlesky’s food must be terrifying, like a storm in a ladle.

“Eh?! Qianji Sister, why yell at me?” Little Sis protested, hands on hips like little swords.

She puffed her cheeks and widened her eyes, cute as two glass marbles under lantern light.

“Please don’t argue. This is the kitchen,” Eastern Moon Aixue cut in, voice straight as a plumb line.

“Hurry up, Miss Senki,” Faya added, calm as a riverbank.

“Sorry, coming.” Senki squeezed Little Sis’s cheek once, gentle as kneading dough, then stepped over.

“What do I do?” she asked, poised like a sparrow on a rail.

“Cook rice first,” Eastern Moon Aixue said, pointing like a teacher with a brush.

“Pour the rice into the pot, rinse a few times, then add the right amount of water,” she explained, cadence even as rain.

“Cover the lid, carry it over there, and start the fire,” she finished, finger tapping like a metronome.

“Remember: don’t use too much force, whether washing or pouring,” Faya reminded, soft as moss.

“Got it!” Senki breathed deep, her focus settling like dust.

She started, motions textbook-clean, like calligraphy strokes in order.

We watched from the side, hope cautious as cats.

…After a few minutes, the washing and water went smoothly, like a stream through pebbles.

Senki set the lid, lifted the pot, and carried it to the spot, steady as a porter.

“Next is the fire. How big should it be?” she muttered, thoughts flicking like sparks.

“Bigger flame cooks faster, right?” Her assumption glowed like a rash ember.

A tremor of fire element rose by her side, rippling like heat above stones.

She was about to use magic, though a start-fire button sat nearby like a red apple.

Why magic? My doubt pricked like a thorn.

Seconds passed; fire element thickened around her, coiling like a dragon.

“Not good!” A chill ran through me, like wind across a grave.

My warning came too late, like a bell after the fall.

“Blazing Impact!” Senki cast the spell, her voice a whip crack.

Sacred Realm fire burst in the kitchen, a sun caged and broken.

BOOM!!! The place where she stood turned to ash, like paper in a furnace.

If I hadn’t stopped the spread, the dorm would’ve gone up, like dry fields in summer.

Even so, the kitchen was ruined—food, dishes, tools—everything burned, like leaves after wildfire.

The floor had melted in patches, stinking of char, like night after lightning.

“…” Silence pressed down, heavy as wet cloth.

“Ahaha… looks like I failed,” Senki laughed, brittle as glass.

“…” We all stared, speechless, our breaths held like extinguished candles.