“What are you even here for?” Medith snatched a cup, gulped water to rinse the taste, disbelief stuck like grit on her tongue.

“For you all!” Sais flicked a key to Medith. Medith caught it on reflex and found a silver key, its gleam rich as a coin fresh from a mint.

“What’s that supposed to mean? We can live in the noble quarter?!” Melia snatched the key, her smile glazing over like sunlight on water.

Medith, clueless, twirled a lock of hair like a ribbon in the breeze. “What do you mean, noble quarter? Your housing’s cut into zones?”

Sais rose, smoothed her clothes like pressing creases in paper. “Of course. How could lowborn live where nobles do?”

When Medith heard “lowborn,” her brow tightened like a knot. “Call it what you want—people are people. Don’t draw your own borders; only the people can. When the crowd decides what you are, that’s what you are, not what you declare.”

Sais’s mouth popped open, disbelief shining like glass. “Figures you could sway the Queen; your tongue cuts. I’m here to take you to your quarters. Come on,” she beckoned, like a tide pulling the shore.

Sais turned, spread her arms like wings.

“What are you doing?” Medith’s guard rose like thorns; she wondered if this woman had another trick.

“Relax, just hold her.” Melia didn’t overthink; she hugged Sais’s slim waist like ivy and shut her eyes.

Medith hesitated, then followed suit, wrapping Melia’s soft frame like a looped ribbon.

“Wind Magic!” Sais shouted, and Medith felt her body blur into a gust, racing like a wild stream. The hard wind slapped her face hot as sparks.

After several minutes, the rush ceased. She opened her eyes to palatial splendor, mansions and halls glittering like frost. The craft was so fine it made her breathe out a sigh like mist.

“Damn this noble order... how much coin from common folk bled into all this shine...” Medith muttered, the glare piercing like shards.

For some reason Sais heard. She pointed at a distant council hall, finger straight as a spear. “That was built by the Queen and the Elders together. And the lowb—our own folk got paid. It’s not what you think. Our funds mostly come from outside trade. The allied kingdom of Eunomia is our main partner; they’ve helped with almost everything. The price... was granting them a wealth of Wind Magic knowledge.”

“Then why not have them deal with those hunters?” Medith’s shock thumped like a drum. “With a kingdom behind us, why swallow dust? If you fear a counterattack, we can call for their aid. Their stance fully supports it.”

Sais’s eyes dimmed like dusk. She said nothing, silence settling like ash. Melia tapped Medith’s head, a soft knock like rain. “We know you’d burn yourself for our people’s safety. But it’s far from simple...”

Seeing them choke back words, Medith frowned, time stretching like cold fog. Five minutes later she pressed her forehead, heavy as stone. “Are those hunters from other nations? Or... hunting under foreign license?”

Both their eyes flew open like startled birds, fixed on Medith.

Sais let out a bitter smile, thin as a scar. “You’re frighteningly sharp. The hunters come from all over the continent—many are humans of other states. That’s why the Queen cares about their origin. So she doesn’t dare start a war, not even a punitive one. If they’re backed by a foreign power, chaos blooms. It touches the fate of our own country. Even allies like Eunomia will look away unless it’s genocide-level assault.”

Medith listened, her brow cinching tighter like a drawn bow.

“Alright, rest first. Prepare well; you started this, so you carry the weight.” Sais said, then turned and left like a breeze slipping through a door.

“Will you go?” Medith’s voice moved like a cool draft.

“Don’t call me for kids’ scuffles,” her words flicked like leaves. “Big sister’s busy,” a shrug light as dust. “That’s that,” a door closing like a clap of wind. Sais didn’t look back, dissolving into clear wind.

“Kids?” Medith’s word hung like a hooked question mark. Medith blinked, lashes fluttering like moth wings. “A hundred B‑rank sharpshooters could pepper a mountain into a beehive. If that’s ‘kids’... is Sais A+ or S?” The thought hit like cold water; this woman might be terrifyingly strong.

“Let’s go,” Melia said, tone steady as a river stone. “She’s right—rest well, then move. Wait too long and trouble ripens.” Melia lifted the key; a pale green glow pointed like a compass needle. They followed the light.

They stepped into a palace, climbed a lavish stair like a flowing carpet to the third floor, and slipped into the far corner room, doors set like twin sentries.

Medith pushed the door. A massive room opened up, a hall wide as a small field, lined with sculptures, armor, and long swords. A noble rug spread like thick moss.

A grand crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, scattering sunlight like silver rain.

Rooms flanked both sides. Medith opened the left: a spacious chamber with a vanity, a host of dolls, and a big soft bed. Pink quilt and sheets lay neat as petals.

Melia stepped in, saw the trove on the vanity, and her eyes lit like lanterns. She scrambled forward, clutching bottles and jars. “This... this... is this...”

Medith didn’t fuss over it. She kicked off her boots, slipped out of her short skirt, pulled a white tee and black pants from the wardrobe, then dove onto the soft bed, hugging a pillow and rubbing like a spoiled kitten.

“What’re you doing, Melia?” Medith watched her clutching bottles, eyes shining like stars, tongue tripping.

Melia hugged the jars to her chest like treasure. “Um... can I have these?”

“Tell me what they are first.” Medith grabbed a green bottle and twisted the cap. “Wow—what is this? Why so fragrant?” She covered her nose and set it down like a hot coal.

“Ah—!” Melia yelped, seeing the cap left loose, panic fluttering like wings. “What’re you doing! That’s sacrilege! Do you know how rare this is?”

“What are these, anyway? Can you eat them?” Medith frowned at the array on the vanity, eyes moving like wary cats.

“Cosmetics. Only the tech nation of Thanatos makes them. Everything you’re seeing comes from Thanatos. These can make a woman a hundred times more beautiful, they say. The yearly supply to outsiders is scarce—rumor says even the Queen has few. And they gave you this many...” Melia spoke, hands stroking them like silk.

“Oh. Then take them all.” Medith said, untouched as stone.

Melia’s smile froze, brittle as ice. “You don’t care for crown, don’t care for coin, don’t crave pleasure. Now even instinct doesn’t tug at you. What do you want?”

Medith sat up, eyes cold as blade-light. “To save myself.”