“Mm—mmm…” Medith rubbed the sleep from her emerald eyes, a fog lifting off a quiet lake. Last night’s revel burned her dry like summer grass. The Radiant Knights were warmer than a bonfire, and there were too few of them to go around.
Good thing they had hearts like soft rain. When the women’s fatigue showed, no one tried to take advantage. They walked them back to rest, lanterns gentled to embers.
Washed and brushed, Medith patted her cheeks, sparks back in her gaze, and stepped out like sunlight through leaves. The sound roused Sais. She yawned, eyes slitted like a cat at dawn, and drifted into the washroom. A short while later, she followed, steps light as mist.
Last night, Sais had been hot as iron fresh from the forge. So many invitations to dance, the clamor swarmed like bees. If Medith hadn’t soothed her like cool springwater, she would’ve snapped. She offered a single dance to clear her debts, then slipped free like a fish. Even so, her body gave out first, and she toppled early.
Talking to humans drains the spirit more than battle, like walking through fog instead of rain.
They stepped out, and Sais saw Medith smiling toward the canteen, a breeze through bamboo. There, Fangge had removed her ghost mask and wore a green fairy ensemble, spring light on her face. Nameless sat across from her, laughing, both hands sketching patterns in the air, like tracing last night’s moves with invisible ink.
Medith tapped Sais’s slender hand and drew her along. They took seats by the pair, chairs creaking like old boats. Mercenaries glanced back, their eyes like flints. Medith had her old boldness again, steel under silk. Yet the memory of last night’s swaying steps clung to their minds like perfume, hard to shake.
Fangge, now, was a feast for the eyes, moon on dark water. Her raven hair coiled low, sunlight catching and flipping off the strands, a black waterfall arcing in a bright room. Her doll-fine face held a dusting of powder, a whisper of red like dawn at the horizon.
Her lips, tinged with rose and a hint of blood, were twin cherries on a bending branch, slick with light and full to bursting, the kind you bite without thinking. Her fingers were laced, long and pale as carved jade, ten petals around a secret. Nails thin and sharp, pink crystals at her tips. Her red mouth parted with a teasing crescent, showing neat white teeth like river pebbles, a perfect Eastern beauty painted in breath and color.
Medith’s right hand drifted, a leaf on a stream, and came to rest on Fangge’s long, even legs. Skin smooth as water. Silk-soft under her palm. Something feral in Medith’s core breathed awake, a wolfish thrill curling up her spine. A sly arc tugged her lips.
“What are you doing?!” Fangge’s cheeks flashed peony-pink, half shame, half heat. She flicked Medith’s hand away, a swallow’s wingbeat. Medith shook her stinging fingers, then used jade-slim fingertips to lift Fangge’s smooth chin. “No wonder you hide behind a mask and bandages,” she murmured, voice a purr. “Well, well. Your figure even puts Sais to shame…”
Medith’s bad-girl grin lingered as she took Fangge in like a cat before cream. She crossed her long, translucent-white legs, the lines clean as calligraphy. Her toes nearly touched Nameless’s boots. She wore brown, cherry-blossom high-heeled sandals, little feet swinging, lazy as reeds in a breeze.
The green floral minidress with its open-front jacket made her look like spring itself, pleasing to the eye, yet with a mature grace tucked beneath.
“You’re starting again, aren’t you? Hm?” Sais narrowed her eyes, a smile like a drawn bow. Her face didn’t change, but her fingers pinched the soft skin at Medith’s waist. She twisted hard, like wringing water from cloth.
“Wait, wait—ah—” Medith begged in a rush, eyes glossing with pain, tears pooling like dew. Maybe out of mercy, Sais let go. She even rubbed the spot after, warm palms smoothing the ache away.
“Morning—huh? You two?!” The Lina Sisters had just woken. One look at Nameless and Fangge’s table, and Lina’s eyes spun like quicksilver. She put half the puzzle together in a heartbeat.
[Danger]
A chill climbed Nameless’s spine like an ant trail. He turned and met the sisters’ stunned stares. He opened his mouth. Fangge beat him to it. She propped her chin on both hands, gaze bright and wicked. “Lina, you and your sister are blessed,” she sang. “Nameless’s gunwork is accurate and fast. No openings at all.”
“His endurance is solid. He can burst and hold, push and pull. We fought seven hundred rounds last night—seven in, seven out—and still couldn’t split a winner~”
“Ah?” Lina’s face drained to winter-white. Her teeth clicked like ice, clack-clack, a storm brewing behind her eyes.
“Hey, no, we just sparred, okay? Don’t get the wrong idea. It’s not like that.” Nameless sweated like steamed rice, words tumbling. He shot Fangge a resentful glare. She winked, then stuck out a pink tongue, a fox flicking its tail.
At that sight, the Lina Sisters hovered on the edge of eruption, brows lifting like twin blades. Their lips twitched. Their pink fists clenched, knuckles pale as shells.
“Mr. Nameless, we need a word with you.” Lina smiled, sweet as a knife in silk. She seized him, reverse-locking his right arm with a smooth twist. Rita followed, expression winter-cold. She tossed Fangge a hostile look, a shard of ice across the table. The three of them drifted out of sight like a small storm.
On his way out, Nameless threw a plea for help, a rope cast across a river. Medith only shrugged, palms up, helpless as empty skies. Despair swallowed him like a wave.
“Hahaha… not bad. Didn’t expect it. You’re more fun than you look.” Milia clapped Fangge’s shoulder, approval warm as a hearth.
At the touch, Fangge trembled, a plucked string. Her hand rose a fraction, instinct like a bird ready to startle. She held it back. Then her face blossomed, a flower opening to light, and she smiled, painting the moment in bright strokes.
