“Hey, hey, mister, what’re you doing?” Eli came skipping to the palace’s back gate like a sparrow on spring tiles, and tapped the skulking man.

The man jolted like a cat shot with cold water.

He turned and saw a little girl; relief spilled over him like warm sunlight after rain. He ruffled her hair and smiled. “Little one, go play over there.”

He pointed toward the nearby slope, its grass rolling like a green wave, and shooed her gently.

First time taking a surprise headpat, Eli shot him a strange look, like a fox sizing up a lantern, then drifted away step by step.

The man ignored him, shadows clinging to him like damp ivy, and prepared to make trouble.

Eli tapped his shoulder again. “Hey, big bro, looks like some folks over there want a word.”

“Huh?” He glanced where Eli pointed. A few patrolling soldiers in caps signaled his way, their whispers rustling like dry leaves.

Then they grabbed their weapons and ran, boots drumming like a storm on wooden drums.

The man wiped cold sweat, then scooped Eli up at the waist and bolted, like a thief fleeing under a crescent moon. “Crap! Incoming!”

Slung over his shoulder, Eli watched with helpless eyes, his sigh drifting like a thin cloud. “This guy…”

“You ahead, stop right there for inspection!”

“Damn.” The man clenched his eyes, then a blue magic circle bloomed in his pupils like frost-flower glass. Eli felt a faint dizziness, like a boat nudged by a hidden current, then blinked. “Eh?”

The man went into a half crouch, exhaling in a soft hiss like steam escaping a kettle. “Safe now.”

On his exposed forearm, Eli saw a red cross, boxed in white like a seal pressed in wax.

Eli froze, thought tightening like a knot. “Huh? This… looks like… the New Era Sect?”

The man tilted his head, caught Eli studying his arm, then glanced at it himself and chuckled, the sound light as tossed pebbles. “What’s wrong, little miss? Looks neat?”

“Uh?” Eli came back to himself, smile flickering like a candle. He didn’t answer. Instead he asked, “Uncle, where are we?”

The man rolled his neck like a crane testing the wind. “Emmm, no clue. My magic isn’t directional teleport. How would I know?”

Eli rolled his eyes, pout bobbing like a cherry on water. “Don’t tell me everyone in the New Era Sect can teleport?”

“Whew. Right, little one, I haven’t properly thanked you. How about I buy you something sweet?” He flicked his wrist, laying warmth over the words like honey.

Eli arched a brow, her gaze spinning like a small windmill. “Sure, but Mom won’t let me go off with strangers.”

“Ah? That so? No worries, just call me Albert. What’s your name, little lady?” Albert grinned, light as a paper kite.

“Hey, how can you ask a lady’s name so rashly?” Eli’s brow danced like a skipping stone.

Albert scratched a laugh, awkward as a cat caught stealing fish. “Then… honored miss, may I ask your name?”

“Mm. I’m… Yi… Yiyi.”

“All right, ma’am, we’re acquainted then?” Albert bowed with the grace of a willow in wind.

Eli—Yiyi’s smile bloomed like peach petals, and she bounced a tiny hop. “All right then, Uncle Albert.”

“Ah… am I that old?” Albert tilted his head, wry as a bent reed.

“Yup!”

“Speaking of which, how do we get back? Mom’s waiting for me to come home for dinner.” Yiyi folded her arms and tilted her head, thinking like a kitten watching falling snow.

“Uh? Don’t worry. I’ll get you home, little one.” Albert barely held back the urge to hug, his hands twitching like birds.

“Mm. Okay, thanks, mister.” Yiyi smiled sweetly, like sugar melting in tea.

Damn, that cuteness hits like a nosebleed. Albert sighed inwardly, thoughts scattering like confetti. Whose kid slips out and gets scooped up by me?

If you knew their gender, you’d bleed harder—like red rain from the eyes, a full-face splash.

Eli—fine, Yiyi—swallowed a wave of nausea, like riding a spinning teacup, and chanted in his heart, “Cat ears are quantum mechanics!”

Looks like keeping that loli spirit is going to be tough for Eli.

…

“Miss, you really don’t want it? The place I found is the best around this strip.” Carlo watched the two girls, helpless as a broom in a storm.

He’d run into two girls who didn’t care about looks, and as for money—well.

By the usual script, a girl with a suitcase and another in tow screams tight budget, like a purse with moths.

But they didn’t care about money either. Why?

Edlyn flipped through the listings like turning autumn leaves, finally finding a place she liked. She eyed the fussy blond Carlo, then pulled a flask from her pocket.

She poured in some clear liquid, smooth as poured glass, and handed it to Carlo. “Boy, you’ve been following us awhile. You must be thirsty.”

Carlo blinked, lips parting like a cracked seed. He started to say he wasn’t. Gold flashed in Edlyn’s eyes like dawn on a blade, and thirst crashed over him like desert wind. His hand moved on its own, he drank, then muttered, “Thanks.”

Edlyn smiled, then her face sharpened like a drawn bow. “Tell me. What black outfits run this area?”

Carlo’s cheerful mask fell away like a leaf. He stood blank, fog drifting across his mind like river mist.

Answer by answer, guided by Edlyn’s questions, he spilled what he knew, each name clinking like stones in a jar.

After a while, Edlyn nodded with the calm of a moonlit pond. “Good. Now forget everything that just happened. Forget me and my sister. Go do what you were doing.”

“Yes.” Black haze veiled Carlo’s eyes like soot on glass. He walked back toward the station. When the haze thinned, he blinked. “Eh? What was I doing?”

“Sis, what are you planning?” Angela glanced at Edlyn, eyes bright like dew.

Edlyn shut her eyes to think, then tapped her flat chest with a playful thump, like knocking on a wooden box. “Me? Think about it. If I become the final boss of the entire underworld, wouldn’t that be wicked cool and stylish?”

“Mm… Sis, you keep getting these mysterious ideas.” Angela tilted her head, helpless as a crane chick.

Edlyn knocked her on the forehead, grin crooked like a fox’s smile. “Mm-hmm. Eli isn’t around to spoil you now. From tomorrow, up at five. Train with me.”

“Ah! Please no…”

“Do I look easy to sway?”

“Uwah…”

“Why the long face? You love Battle Aura. I’ll teach you.” Edlyn clapped her hands like firecrackers, then took the luggage and led her little sister toward the rental office.

…

“Oh, Hilriad, you finally came. After all that, are you all right?” The elegant lady stepped forward, hugging Hilriad like wrapping silk around a sapling, then looked him over from head to toe.

“Mom, th-this—Father’s watching.” Hilriad flushed like a sunrise, glancing at Jelan Osborne, smirking from his bed like a fox at hearth-side.

“Father.” Regan stepped up and bowed.

Jelan coughed twice, dry as winter branches. “Enough. No need for formality. I’m already half in the earth. The last seat will go to you all anyway.”

“Father, don’t say that.” Regan frowned, lines pinched like knife-marks.

Hilriad slipped free of his mother’s arms, came to Jelan’s bedside, and bowed low, spine straight as bamboo. “Father.”

“Heh, you kids.” Jelan shook his head, a cheerful smile bright as a brazier. “Do what you will, just don’t break the nation’s bones.”

Hilriad stared, drifting like a leaf in thought. Jelan had always stood aloof, a cold mountain no stranger may climb. In Hilriad’s memory, once they passed fifteen, their father’s smiles vanished like smoke.

Now, no kingly majesty—only a sick father under a dim lamp, breath shallow as a tide at dusk.

“Regan, have you identified who attacked Hilriad?” Jelan’s tone turned, like wind shifting at sea.

Regan shook his head, slow as a pendulum. “Sorry, Father. Nothing yet.”

“Mm. Whatever the case, you’re unharmed. I refuse to believe any of you would use a blade that cruel on his own blood.” His words fell like stones into deep water.

After settling his two sons, Jelan sent them to wait in the garden, telling them he’d change and join them under the trees.

“Old man, you’re getting worse.” The lady tapped Jelan’s chest with a playful fist, soft as rain. Jelan smiled. “If I don’t, the Miter Empire’s future turns to fog.”

“Sigh. You’ve worked hard.”

“Mm. Only now do I understand my father’s bitter wisdom.” Jelan rose from the bed, sweeping away the gloom like wind parting clouds, a kingly force stirring like thunder behind a ridge.

He pulled on his clothes, smiling faintly. “The eldest has long sight, but lacks a commander’s spine. The second can read men, yet lets anger ride him like a wild horse.”

He lifted a hand, and the lady tied his sash, fingers deft as swallows. “And the others?”

“…The third—temperament and style—most like me. Frankly, he’s my best heir in mind. I don’t know why he keeps pushing it away.”

“Hm?”

“I tested his waters, and more than once signaled I’d pass the throne to him. He keeps evading, and he’s dragged all his brothers into this storm.”

“The third…”

“He’s testing his brothers’ measure for me. Heh. That’s why I can lie here idle rather than secretly fixing everything.” Jelan shook his head, smile thin as paper.

“What’s with that child?”

“Maybe he just hates sitting still on a throne.” The lady chuckled, like bells at dusk. “If the results come out, what will you do? Really abdicate?”

Jelan laughed, lines deepening like river cuts. “I’m old. The future belongs to the young.”

“Truth is, I worry most about the youngest.” Jelan’s eyes drifted toward the garden, like cranes watching a lake. “He never liked fighting over things, but for a heartbeat, I saw hunger in his eyes.”

“You mean…”

“His ambition might be deeper than we think. His place binds him. He can’t ask us for much.”

“Oh… Do you think this attack was his own play? Abel happened to be there too.” The lady’s smile tilted, playful as a fox.

“Mm. Can’t rule it out.” Jelan nodded, thoughts knitting like grey threads.

“Sigh, don’t stew on it. Your sons are waiting in the garden. Go.”

“Mm.”