“Nameless?” Lina cradled her stinging right hand, heat pulsing like a slapped ember.

The sisters hugged the thin blanket; the clinging sheet etched curves like moonlit dunes.

Nameless already wore a white antique robe. He swept up his hair into a simple ponytail.

It sat neat, like a bowstring drawn.

He didn’t spare them a glance. He snatched up his White-Dragon spear and strode for the door.

“Nameless?!” Lina’s voice trembled like a frayed reed. “Start tomorrow? One day won’t kill you!”

“Walking out now... we might actually die.” Her breath snagged like a moth on silk.

Lina’s thighs pressed tight, resentment pooling like rainwater. She glanced at Nameless.

He turned. Resolve blazed in his eyes, a blade cutting straight to the soul.

For a heartbeat, she saw Medith on the battlefield wearing his skin. Lightning struck her nerves.

“No time.” His voice fell like cold iron.

“The Commander risked her life to clear our path, even bartered her proudest dignity.”

“She walked alone into tiger maw and dragon depths.”

“And we drown in moonlit pleasure, clouds overturned, rain spent.”

“From today I train. Even the bare minimum, I’ll shoulder a slice of her burden.”

Guilt surged through him like a black tide.

Rita seized a pillow and hurled it at his face. It thumped like a soft stone.

“You blockhead!” Her anger flared like a torch.

“Why do you think the Commander risked her life to save us?”

“For our daily joys, for laughter in the halls.” Her words rang like daylight.

“What’s wrong with savoring the peace she bought for us?”

Swish. Lina snapped her head toward Rita, déjà vu flooding in like a cold river.

“Rita... you disappoint me.” His tone fell like ash.

“You don’t understand the Commander— not at all.” He shook his head, hollow wind in leaves.

He turned, spine straight as a spear, and left.

“You!” Rita’s breath hitched, anger puffing like steam.

“Sis, look at him— worse every day!” She knelt on the bed, thighs tight, eyes brimming.

“Rita...” Lina’s face went pale, fear ghosting her skin like winter frost.

Rita cupped her water-smooth cheek, heart aching like a squeezed fruit.

“Hey, sis, look at you. He’s wearing you down. Want to...” Her smile curved sharp as a crescent.

Lina caught her hand, dazed, eyes blown wide like full moons.

Her grip tightened like iron; Rita yelped, pain pealing, but Lina didn’t hear.

In a flash, Lina saw the banquet again—Medith advising the Queen beneath lantern light.

We are the Queen; Nameless is Medith. He sees the board; we sleep amid false calm.

Peace dulled us; desire chained us; we forgot why Medith fights. The thought chilled like night rain.

So terrifying. Her heart skittered like a startled sparrow.

“Rita, get dressed. It’s still early.” Lina rose, urgency beating like a drum.

“Sleep at midnight. Train two hours with that idiot first.” She pulled on her team uniform.

Rita blinked, lost as fog.

Lina leaned in, voice firm as flint. “Do you know what you just sounded like?”

“Exactly like the Queen then—fixed in place, stubborn as stone.”

“Medith taught us: never be deceived by false peace.” Her words cut like a clear bell.

“We stepped onto the Queen’s old road.” Her gaze sharpened like frost.

“Luckily, we won’t pay in blood. Up, now.”

Rita jolted awake, cold sweat beading like dew.

Memory and inaction bit her; shame and guilt surged like twin tides.

She dressed in a blur, strapped on longbow and sword, and sprinted for the door.

Outside HQ, the training yard sprawled wide like a sunlit field.

Nameless drilled with his spear, movements flowing like a white river.

Bootsteps approached, familiar as heartbeat. Two Sprite girls arrived, faces stern.

Nameless smiled, then drove himself harder, resolve grinding like stone on steel.

...

“Never thought we’d end up comrades, living and working side by side.” Lilina, President of Crimson Rose, wore a fire-red gown.

Koniya and Cecilia stood with her, like two shadows at dusk.

Koniya heard of Herbert’s death. She should’ve felt joy, but after the two houses’ ordeal, joy froze.

Truth be told, the whole mess sprouted from them like a tangled root.

“We joked for years he was frivolous, lustful, lazy,” Cecilia said, wiping tears like rain.

“We warned him not to die by a woman’s hand. Now... our ‘prophecy’ came true, in its way.”

“Fate grinds and forks like a river of stones, doesn’t it?” Lilina offered her right hand.

Cecilia gave a calm smile and took it, sealing peace like a knot.