8:12 a.m., December 31. Medith drifted through the familiar city in her regiment uniform, winter light like pale silk on stone. The streets had shed their old skin—soldiers stood at every post like iron pines. Her Crimson Sun had swelled to three thousand, a rising tide under a red dawn.
With the Queen at her back, she felt untouchable. Even if she hauled the whole city here, the Queen would only beam at her, like sunshine breaking over water.
“Commander!” A Crimson Sun squad of a dozen called out, voices drumming the air.
Medith smiled and dipped her head. The officers wore matching cloaks, a flock of ravens at rest. Yet her silver hair shone like frost, and the black sun branded on her brow burned like an eclipse. It was too bright, too loud.
Looks like I need something to hide that mark. The thought tasted bitter. From a hundred meters, they’d pick her out like a lone crane in snow.
She hated being read like an open book, a scroll unrolled in the wind.
“Medith.” The Queen snagged her like a fisher at a park bench, as if she’d known the current would bring Medith here.
She wore a pale-blue dress, shoulders bare like moonlit stone, a hem floating over pink-white legs. A light rouge touched her cheeks, while her lips burned a lush crimson, dew-bright under the sun. Her scent curled through the air, sweet as spring blossoms by water.
Medith coughed, awkward as a sparrow caught in a sudden gust. That scent dragged her back to that night’s storm.
“Your humble servant greets you, Your Majesty.” She bowed her head a notch, like a reed bending to rain.
The Queen glanced back with a smile, then tapped the empty space beside her with white fingers, inviting Medith to sit. Her look was teasing, a cat playing with its ribbon. Medith sat, stiff as a sword in its sheath—she was still the subject, and the Queen still the sky.
She noticed the Queen’s nails. The polish was sea-blue, bright as a clear bay. It matched her hair and grace, a jeweled wave, grown-woman glamour that didn’t abandon poise. Those lips, red as a drop of fresh blood, begged a bite—temptation set on porcelain.
“Uh… Your Majesty, I need to say something. I’m afraid it might offend you…” Desire rose like heat off black stone. She kept her eyes away, afraid the dam would break.
The Queen slid closer without shame, looping an arm around Medith’s slim waist. “Speak. It’s fine.”
“Your Majesty!” Medith pushed her back on reflex, heart kicking like a startled horse. “Your lipstick and nails… honestly, I don’t like them. It’s too flashy.”
Blue eyes widened, sea breaking on rock. A beat later, she panicked like a girl in sudden rain. She hid her hands behind her back and scrubbed at her lips with scented tissues, as if she could wipe a sunset off the sky.
Something soft pressed down on Medith’s head. Darkness dropped like a curtain, and a familiar scent folded around her.
“Mei-chan~ Guess who?” The voice teased like a ribbon flicking her cheek.
Medith’s small hand shot up and smacked. A pale mound quivered like jelly, and a woman’s coy scold slipped out. “Ya~ Mei-chan, you’re so bad—”
I’m so dead. Fear knifed her belly. She sprang up, but Sais’s deft wrists looped around her waist, binding her like ivy. “Where are you going?”
“I… I’ve got business. I’m swamped.” Medith pried at Sais’s hands and stepped to leave. A voice hit from behind, cold as winter steel.
“Oh? So that’s what this is. A secret park rendezvous. How leisurely of you, Commander.”
“Mm…” Medith’s heart went gray, a leaf sinking under ice. Ruined.
“Isn’t this Captain Sais? What a coincidence.” The Queen had wiped off the scarlet, revealing soft pink lips, her smile smooth as lacquer.
Sais dressed simple today: a white gauze dress floating like cloud, half her calves bare. Her snow-bright arms tasted the air. Brown heeled sandals held smooth, even insteps, and pink toes glittered like pearls in sunlight. Straps crossed into a tiny heart, cute and cruel.
“How could I compare to Your Majesty’s treasured favorite? You carry the realm on your shoulders. How could a place like this suit you? Let me escort you back to the palace.” Sais’s reply was polite as a blade in silk.
The Queen’s smile iced over. Her gaze sharpened like a drawn arrow. “Is that how you speak to your Queen?”
Sais wore her professional smile, thin as paper. Contempt cooled her eyes. “Your Majesty is wise and mighty. Sais is loyal beyond measure. My reverence is second to none. How did Your Majesty sleep in the study that night?”
Her smile dropped, and killing intent slid in like shadow.
“Warm as a hearth. You wouldn’t know how sweet that sleep was.” The Queen’s lips held a victor’s curl.
Sais laughed, low and brittle. Then she glanced sideways. Medith stood like a winter cicada, silent and trembling, hands knotting over each other, boot toe searching the ground like a shy fish.
The Queen caught it, and truth lit her eyes. “Seems the captain slept sweetly too.” Her voice softened, bravado bleeding out, a hint of bitterness like tea steeped too long.
“Likewise.” Sais’s word fell like frost. They stared each other down, two blades tip to tip. The air dropped a few degrees, tension stringing the park like a tightened bow.
Up on the white-stone railing, the girls wore green Sprite outfits, leaves dancing on wind. From below, you could glimpse hems fluttering, breeze teasing the edges like a shy tide.
They sprawled over the rail with soul-stealing poses. Milia went further and perched on top.
She swung her long legs in green knee socks, brown boots tapping the rail with clack-clack beats, like woodpeckers on bark.
Passing Sprites caught glints beneath the skirt, the wind a mischievous hand. Men and women alike paused, eyes snagged like hooks.
“Hey! You’ve been weird lately—selling sex appeal to grab attention!” Iling slapped Milia’s head. Milia yelped and clutched her hem, cheeks pink.
Melia straddled the rail and propped her cheeks with both hands, face complicated as stormed water. She looked down at Medith, who stood there sheepish and small. “Ah… times change. I used to bully that Medith. A few months, and her hair turned white. I barely recognize her.
Even Sais, with that ‘nasty’ temper—her hair and eyes went red, and she morphed into a domestic wife. Life, huh…”
Lina and the rest copied her and hopped onto the rail. A line of long, jade-smooth legs hung down, knee socks adding a tug of heart to the scene.
“Big Sis Mei, why are you sighing like an old granny?” Iling stuck out her tongue, playful as a fox.
“Commander’s still Commander. One ‘business trip,’ and she settled the Queen. Even tamed that thorn Sais. Respect.” Rita’s tone danced on the edge of truth.
“You’re done! I’m reporting to the Commander! The Commander’s the best! Hmph~” Milia puffed up, righteous as a little tiger.
“Simping to the end,” Phiby said, disgust tugging her lip.
“There’s everything to—hey, hey, hey… ya—” Milia threw her hands to her hips, overbalanced, and tumbled into the flowerbed like a dropped sparrow.
“This idiot! Great, we’re spotted…” Lina grumbled, but she still leaped down after her, skirts flashing like green leaves in flight.
