"I’m back." Eli pushed the door open, and a slipper flew at him like a homing pigeon gone rogue.

"Too slow! What were you doing?" Edlyn stood akimbo, cheeks puffed like an angry kitten.

Eli yawned, tossed the slipper back toward the bed like a lazy pebble into a pond. "Scouted a bit. Then traded blows with an idiot, that’s all."

"Huh? What happened?" Edlyn’s interest sprang up like a sparrow off a branch; she bounced from the bed and hopped to his side.

Eli hurriedly scooped her midair; she draped around his neck, then slipped down to the floor. "I was bored to death today. For cat’s sake, the vendors here are stingier than winter; a single candy costs a fortune!"

Her stormy face made Eli chuckle, sunlight through rain. "It’s fine. I’ve got money. Spend at your pace."

Edlyn looked up, mischief glinting like a fox’s eyes in moonlight. "Thanks, uncle."

"Pff… uh… you’re welcome."

The word “uncle” knocked half the life out of him like a blunt arrow; Eli slunk to the washroom to rinse off and crash like a felled tree.

Edlyn flopped onto the bed, hugged Angela, and laughed like a brook breaking ice. "Hahaha! Angela, did you see his face? Hahaha—like he just swallowed an Oreo whole."

"Ow. Sis. I heard you. Seriously. I’m trying to sleep," Angela grumbled, covering her ears like a turtle ducking into its shell.

That cooled Edlyn’s frenzy; she kneaded her cheeks like dough, trying not to cackle again.

By the time Eli stepped out of the bath, fatigue hung on him like wet clothes; he face-planted and slept. Angela was already out cold, soft as snowdrift.

Leaning on the bed, Edlyn eyed her sister’s tiny snores like silver threads. She pinched Angela’s cheek. "You little slacker, enjoying life, huh?"

"So dark… Meatballs are yummm…" Angela drooled and smiled, dreamy as a cat in sunshine.

"Ugh!" Edlyn wiped her mouth with a tissue like swatting a fly. "Filthy little gremlin."

Across the room, Eli’s faint snore drifted like a warm breeze. Edlyn frowned, peered over Angela toward him like a curious crow.

Mm… looks dead asleep, right?

She nodded, slid off the bed, and padded barefoot to Eli like a shadow on rice paper. She braced her hands and rolled him over.

Her strength flagged; she nearly toppled onto him like a toppled reed. With her arms planted beside his body, his slow breath fanned her chest—warm as late-autumn wind—painting her cheeks rose. She jolted back to the floor like a spooked deer.

She pressed her hot face with both palms. "What’s wrong with me? Ahem. Whatever. I’m here to torment the Hero."

A few slaps to reset her mood; then she pulled a goose-feather quill from a drawer. She dipped the plume end in ink like night drinking a star, and bent over Eli to write artistic nonsense across his face.

She set the quill on the bedside table, mouth covered to smother laughter, and reached for Eli’s hand—planning to frame him as a sleepwalking culprit.

The moment her fingers closed, Eli’s arms rose like tides and wrapped her tight, refusing to let go.

Edlyn startled, a bird winging against a window. She squirmed hard, suspecting he was faking sleep and playing brute.

But there was no follow-up. Puzzled, she looked up.

He was still dead to the world, sleeping like a hog in mud. Edlyn curled her lip. "Tch…"

Wait—no! Why am I excited?!

Sensing the bundle in his arms stirring, Eli frowned gently and tightened his hold, the way one hugs a pillow in a familiar room. He tucked his head against Edlyn’s front, breathed in her scent like a quiet tea steam, and sank deeper into sleep.

"You—pervert!" Edlyn tried to move, but his strength held like iron vines. She gave up with a sigh, eyed his face covered in her inked doodles, and snorted. "Heh. Serves you right."

Only his breath answered, steady and warm. That warmth slipped under her clothes like a shy gust and sent a shiver skittering down her spine.

She lifted her gaze. His familiar face lay inches away, a moon she knew too well; somehow her bottled-up annoyance ebbed like tide leaving sand, and she drifted in a daze.

It was winter already; the land outside lay barren as bone, and night gnawed cold like a wolf. The charcoal brazier made the room a small island of embered comfort.

A yawn stole over her like a moth. Boredom puddled; she leaned on Eli’s head, feeling his heat like a hearthstone. Her eyes began to duel, one heavy, one stubborn.

Nap a little.

A voice breathed in her ear like soft snow.

Don’t sleep! He’s the Hero! What Demon King naps in the Hero’s arms?

Another voice shouted like a bell struck hard.

Edlyn wavered, lost in a fog of softness. Comfort dissolved her guard like sugar in tea; in the end, the sleepy voice smothered the other. She circled Eli’s head with her arms and drifted off, deep as a well.

Daylight.

Edlyn cracked her eyes, rubbed them, and yawned, flashing little tiger teeth like sunrise on porcelain.

"Morning," Eli said, smiling at the girl in his arms like a sun peeking through clouds.

Edlyn: "...Whoa—pervert!"

Smack!

After the scramble, Eli also learned his face was a battlefield of her ink, a map of mischief drawn like black reeds on snow.

Edlyn felt a flicker of embarrassment and trailed after Eli in silence like a sulky shadow.

Angela watched them, shrugged like a leaf. Whatever. It’s the usual circus. No big deal.

He took them wandering, bought a few little favorites; the day folded like a paper fan.

—

By next morning, Edlyn eyed Eli, who was dressed to the nines, with puzzled eyebrows. "You going to war? Why so formal?"

Eli wore a Grand Mage’s formal garb: a black robe to the knee, and a custom hood that hid his head and face like moon behind cloud. Stones for backup glittered at his belt like pocketed stars, and a few quick-cast spells slept in place, coiled like springs.

He carried a sapphire-crowned staff, the kind that radiated pedigree like frost-blue fire. Edlyn had never seen him so official; the guy usually fought by scribbling a quick sigil like a note on scrap.

He smiled. "Yeah. When things go sideways, a staff’s safer."

"Eh? Where you headed?" Curiosity lit Edlyn like a candle catching wick.

"Uh… an adventure. It’s dangerous."

"I’m coming!" The spark grew to a flame.

"Emmm, if you come, nobody will look after Angela." Eli pointed at Angela, who was eating and practicing her letters like a serious little squirrel.

"…Angela has classes! It’s fine," Edlyn said, breezy as a spring wind.

Angela looked up, sighed, then bent back over her slate like rain returning to the roof. These two and their daily drama—seen it, done it, got the scarf.

"But…"

"I don’t care! I’m going."

"It’s really dangerous. I can’t promise to protect you."

"Nah. I can fight. I know a bit of Battle Aura." She added in her heart, though it’s the demonized kind.

"Emmmm."

"I’m going," Edlyn said, eyes wide as lakes.

Eli sighed, a leaf falling. "Fine…"

"I’m going!"

"…"

"Pleeease?" She pouted, lips like a peach petal.

"Alright, alright. When I tell you to stay put somewhere safe, you listen. Deal?"

"OK!" Edlyn chirped, bright as a bell.

Ah. Figures. This trick tames him every time.

She pinched her chin, scheming like a cat with a mouse. If this works in a real battle… eh, better not.

She imagined running across two armies to cling to Eli and beg. The image pinched her gut like sour plum.

"What’s wrong?" Eli asked, seeing her joy curdle into something odd.

"Nothing." She covered her mouth and waved it off like smoke.

Eli scratched his head, baffled as a goose.

The central district was far; the road stretched long as a river, and they ended in a strange quarter like stepping into a new map.

He and Edlyn both wore mage robes; Eli bore official Grand Mage sigils like constellations. Most passersby kept distance like fish from fire.

"Let’s head there," Eli said, pointing at the swelling crowd like a knot of ants.

The flow thickened, pressure rising like flood behind a gate.

"Mm." Edlyn skimmed the surroundings like a sparrow’s eye, then hesitated, and caught Eli’s sleeve like a small anchor. She tucked in behind him on her own.

It wasn’t enough. The crowd jostled; her small body got peeled away like bark in wind. Panic pricked—then a familiar hand clasped hers like a warm glove. "Careful. Don’t get separated."

Edlyn puffed her cheeks and obeyed, hand in his, the two of them—one tall, one small—threading toward the center like twin comets.

"We of Mit are here today for…"

The speech boomed from on high, righteous as iron bells. Edlyn and Eli both answered with matching yawns, slow as drifting clouds.

To Edlyn, this was old soup reheated; with her around, the Demon Race’s morale hit a peak like a spear to the sky—no need for these brittle justice speeches.

To Eli, it was a familiar script; every nation sang this tune. The words blurred like rain on glass.

Elsewhere, the man from two nights ago spotted the distinctive mage robe from afar, delight blooming like firecrackers. He strode toward Eli, thoughts popping: Didn’t expect him to really come back!

Good. The generous kind. He’d feared Eli would keep sulking at that brat and refuse.

Eli stifled a yawn, purpose steady like a compass needle. For that ruin he had his eye on… Yeah. Sounds a bit weird, but still.