Central Continent, Mizumi Clan.

At dawn, a soft weight pressed on Serenemoon’s chest, like mist settling on a lake; she’d slept early, so wakefulness rose like a warm tide.

She opened her eyes. Hill was curled on top of her like a kitten in a sunbeam, unbearably cute. Serenemoon smiled, a flower opening, and sat up to cradle the little bundle.

“Mmm, mmm…”

She couldn’t resist; she pinched Hill’s pillowy cheeks. A sweet little sound bubbled out, like a bell in spring rain, and warmth soothed Serenemoon’s heart.

Nights felt empty as a winter courtyard, so Serenemoon, Littlesky, and Hill slept together. By day they stuck together too, like swallows in the eaves. Littlesky still slept at her side.

“No wonder the Emperor spoils little Hill so much; she’s too cute,” she murmured, like praising a bright moon on still water.

By looks alone, Hill seemed eight or nine, a sapling beside Littlesky. She clung and coaxed like a kitten, the kind of charm that made everyone’s guard melt.

“I wonder how the Emperor and the others are doing. May all go smoothly,” she thought, watching a red sun lift like a coin from the horizon. Worry rippled, then stilled, because Littlesky stirred awake beside her.

“Littlesky, you’re up already? It’s still early.” Serenemoon ruffled that cascade of silver hair, smooth as water-silk.

“I slept too early last night. Now I can’t sleep at all,” Littlesky said, stretching like a cat in gentle light. Her blue eyes opened, twin sapphires catching dawn. “Hey, why are you hugging Hill? She’s not even awake yet.”

“When I opened my eyes, little Hill was sprawled on me, sleeping like a kitten by a stove. I couldn’t help—”

“Am I not cute?” Littlesky cut in, cheeks puffing like steamed buns, a petal of protest.

“Littlesky’s adorable beyond words,” Serenemoon said, her laugh like wind bells. “I just saw Hill first and scooped her up.”

“So I sleep too neatly,” Littlesky sighed, the pout flowing away like a small cloud. She crawled behind Serenemoon and hugged her from the back, warm as a shawl.

“Getting hugged by two little girls at dawn—feels like sunshine on snow,” Serenemoon teased, a sweetness blooming.

“That’s only because big brother isn’t here, so I’m clinging to you instead,” Littlesky said, chin on Serenemoon’s scented shoulder, voice like a lazy stream.

“I get it. When the Emperor’s home, I can’t help running over to act spoiled too,” Serenemoon admitted, a blush of spring peach.

“You’re the older sister, though?”

“Who said older sisters can’t act spoiled with their little brothers?”

“…Suddenly, I feel brother’s got it tough.” Littlesky pictured baths and bedtime, sisters clinging like ivy and jasmine; only a brother that gentle would accept it without complaint.

“Everyone at home adores the Emperor,” Serenemoon said, eyes crinkling like crescents. “He says no, but he enjoys it, just a little.”

“Oh, oh—if he loves us that much, he won’t mind,” Littlesky chimed in, a sparrow’s chirp.

“Hey? Hill, you’re awake?” Serenemoon felt her arms stir; she looked down to find Hill rubbing her eyes, dew on morning petals.

“Mm-hmm. Slept so long, this little one’s hungry!” Hill popped her head up, bright as a fresh plum, that tireless spirit her charm.

“Same here. Let’s wash up, then see what’s for breakfast,” Serenemoon said, like planning a picnic under willows.

By the time they washed and changed, the clock chimed eight. Perfect timing: Lei Hua and the others had just finished breakfast, steam rising like light fog.

The weather was lovely—honestly, anything but rain felt the same—so they carried the meal into the courtyard, sunlight pooling like gold on stone.

“Serenemoon, want to go somewhere today? I’m bored of staying home,” Littlesky asked between bites, voice drifting like dandelion fluff.

“A place to play…” Serenemoon mused, thoughts circling like swallows. She spotted Lei Hua in a maid dress passing by and waved her over. “Lei Hua, come here a moment.”

“What is it?” Lei Hua paused, curiosity bright as a lantern, and walked over.

“We want to go out today. Any recommendations? I often see you and Xiaoyue heading out to play,” Serenemoon said, straight to the point, like an arrow to a target.

“A cool, pretty place in summer… try the Sea-Moon Palace,” Lei Hua said quickly, the choice clear as water.

“Sea-Moon Palace? What’s that? First I’ve heard of it,” Littlesky asked, spoon set down, eyes alight like twin stars. Hill leaned in too, curiosity a fluttering moth.

“It’s a palace under the sea that Xiaoyue and I found last month,” Lei Hua said, patting Littlesky’s cute head, a hand light as breeze on reeds. “They say it’s a relic of the Sea Tribe from the old age of conquest. It’s remarkably well preserved.”

She produced a watch-like device from her skirt pocket, the metal flashing like a fish scale, and handed it to Serenemoon. “These are the coordinates. Go after breakfast and wander a bit.”

“Let’s see… pretty far. It’s in the ocean on the other side of the continent,” Serenemoon said, gaze tracing the dial like a gull tracing waves.

It wasn’t the Outer Lands, but the Central Continent still held inland seas, blue bowls set in a green table.

“Why is it called the Central Continent, anyway?” Littlesky asked out of the blue, a pebble tossed into a quiet pond.

“What do you mean?” Serenemoon tilted her head, not catching the thread yet.

“I mean the name itself,” Littlesky said, fingers drumming like rain. “The other four continents—Eastmoon, Southspirit, Westreach, North Abyss—sound normal. Why’d ours end up with something as odd as ‘Central Continent’?”

She’d read a geography book days ago out of boredom, and the question had stuck like a burr.

“Oh, that’s simple,” Serenemoon said, gathering her words like stringing pearls. “Back in the age of conquest, this was the largest land with the richest resources, right at the world’s heart. Naturally, every power chased it. Countless factions planted bases here and carved out borders. So the land that drew every ambition, every contest, and every clash became known as the Central Continent—the center of the world.”

“Oh? Then what was its original name?” Littlesky blinked, surprise rippling like a startled fish.

“If I recall right—Origin Continent,” Serenemoon answered, the syllables steady as stone.

“Origin Continent? That sounds awesome!” Hill blurted, excitement skipping like a stone over water.

“Does the name mean something?” Littlesky asked, curiosity blooming like spring grass.

“Of course,” Lei Hua said, picking up Serenemoon’s thought and setting it like jade. “Origin Continent means this: here is where the world began.”

“In other words, after the world was born, this was the first land to form—the cradle of all things,” she continued, voice low as surf in a cave. “Almost no one knows. And in terms of growth and brilliance, today’s Central Continent can’t match the other four. It still keeps its primal face, like old forest against new cities.”

“So cool,” Littlesky breathed, awe shining like dawn on the sea.