In twenty-seven years, Yekase hadn’t exactly lived on an island, but this was the first time someone yanked her home to mooch a meal.

Was it even “mooching” if you got dragged like a stubborn kite in a headwind? She couldn’t tell.

All she felt was fear, a cold tide climbing her spine.

Getting closer meant longer conversations, like a river running wider. Lies cracked like thin ice when stretched too far, and her double-agent life would be hunted by both cops and crooks.

“Doctor, do you really not own a single decent outfit? Half the closet is plaid shirts and jeans… what’s this? A T-shirt with Mickey Mouse? Doctor, your taste is awful!”

“I won’t let you insult Mickey Mouse!”

Yekase snatched the T-shirt with the giant cartoon face, folded it like fragile silk, and slid it back into the drawer.

“My bad, my bad. Mickey is cute. Hm… not a single skirt. How am I supposed to match anything?”

“What I’m wearing is enough…”

“No. At least lose the lab coat, and change the pants! Forget makeup, but brush your hair at least!”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t brush your hair?”

“I can’t.”

They stared at each other, quiet as a room before thunder.

Ling Yi sat on the floor, fished a wooden comb from her backpack, and patted the spot in front of her like a stern auntie by a riverbank.

Where did this pocket-sized housekeeper come from?

Instinct made Yekase resist, but her passive defiance only thickened the air like stale tea. She sighed and sat.

“Honestly! Doctor, you have absolutely zero girly vibe. With your raw materials, a little polish and you’d be adorable.”

Well of course—after that much “renovation,” how ugly could a reconstructed face get? She couldn’t say that. So she kept quiet, her silence fluttering like a shy fan.

“It’s fine. In return for giving me the Flashblade System, I’ll make you a bona fide pretty girl.”

“I don’t really need—”

“You do! When we’re famous heroes on TV, I refuse to have you in plaid and jeans beside me!”

“Then I won’t take interviews… wait, why are we assuming we’ll be famous heroes?”

They slipped into easy banter like friends strolling under willows. Ling Yi smoothed Yekase’s long hair, let it fall like a black waterfall over her shoulders, then circled to the front and nodded, satisfied.

“That’s about right.”

She handed over a white button-down unearthed from the back of the closet—the one from an old job interview—and… a plaid skirt.

“Where’d that come from?”

“My spare school uniform. You can borrow it.”

“I don’t—”

“You can borrow it.”

“…”

Her gaze burned with a hero’s vow, a torch that didn’t waver in wind.

“Fine. I’ll wear it.”

Yekase gave up the fight like a banner lowered at dusk. She’d never had much of a spine; otherwise she wouldn’t have worked years for a cutthroat firm just for materials and tech.

Off went the lab coat. Off went the jeans. Off went the Mickey Mouse T-shirt—a different one than before—like peeling off armor.

“D-Doctor?!”

“Hm?”

“W-why aren’t you wearing…?!”

“Oh? Because I’m really fla—”

“That’s not okay! Even if you skip school, live in a room like a junkyard, bury yourself in gadgets, and mutter to machines, you must respect your body, Doctor!”

Yekase shot to her feet, palm slapping the table like a thunderclap.

“Is that really your impression of me?!”

“Am I wrong?”

Ling Yi didn’t yield an inch, her words like spears.

“…Not really.”

Yekase shrank back into her seat, a turtle into its shell.

“How can this be… Doctor, you keep rewriting reality for me! How can anyone be this unaware? You’re a walking disaster… are you even a girl?”

At least a year ago, she wasn’t.

Ling Yi jabbed a finger at Yekase’s nose and declared, fierce as a general: “Too late for now. Tomorrow after school, meet downstairs. We’re buying proper underwear. No refusing!”

“Got it…”

Yekase felt like she was playing house with a little kid, a strange warmth drifting like steam. She knew most high-school girls weren’t this noisy, yet she couldn’t imagine kicking Ling Yi out, let alone confiscating the Flashblade System.

Usually, she marked boundaries like chalk lines.

Had she… actually started thinking of Ling Yi as a friend?

A chatty seventeen-year-old?

While those thoughts jammed her brain like a frozen screen, Ling Yi mistook the stillness for cooperation and dressed her head to toe, even slid on her socks with careful hands.

Once everything was in place, Ling Yi nudged her into the bathroom.

“Look at yourself.”

“Uh…?”

Ink-dark hair lay soft on her shoulders, bright against the white shirt, plain yet clean as first snow. With the bangs tamed, the willow-arched brows and clear eyes finally saw daylight, and even her habitual late-night shadows looked lighter.

Even Yekase had to admit she’d been wasting that old master’s handiwork.

“Pretty, right? You were already this pretty.”

“Mm… fine. I’ll… thank you. A little.”

“Okay, let’s head to my place for dinner!”

Ling Yi herded Yekase to the entryway, got her shoes on, shut the door with a heel, and steered her downstairs like a tugboat.

“Stop pushing! I can walk.” Yekase slipped free and retreated to Ling Yi’s rear flank like a cautious cat.

“I’m just worried you’ll panic in a skirt and bolt.”

“My adaptability doesn’t need your concern.”

“Oho? Which ultra-adaptable young lady can’t even brush her own hair?”

Yekase had no comeback. She pinched a bit of fabric at Ling Yi’s waist, a quiet tether like a child’s hand on a sleeve.

“…This good enough?”

“Doctor, you’re ridiculously cute…”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks. How far is your place?”

“We’re here.”

“Huh?”

She looked up. A three-story house with a garden rose like a calm white ship. A two-meter metal fence carried a wooden nameplate, brushstrokes reading “Ling.”

Didn’t show it, but the kid’s family had money.

Ling Yi opened the gate and led her in. The garden brimmed with potted flowers and greens, all thriving like a small, well-run kingdom.

“Dad calls the yard ‘Eden Hope Paradise.’”

She rang the bell.

A grown woman opened the door. Ling Yi chirped “Mom,” then introduced the new friend she’d met at the convenience store.

Yekase stared at the woman’s face and froze, a lightning flash held inside her chest.

“What’s with you, spacing out at someone’s mom? Come in already.”

“O-oh… sorry for the intrusion.”

The shock was simple as a knife-edge.

She knew Ling Yi’s mother.

She’d never expected to meet like this, in this soft-lit doorway—

The woman, alias Lin Mei, was the HR chief of a small Sinister Organization Yekase once worked for—Unrecognized Consortium X—and the interviewer who’d hired her back then.

And the shirt from that interview was the one on her back right now.

Swallowing panic and snark like bitter tea, Yekase slipped toward the living room and stole a look at Ling’s mother.

Casual home clothes. Gentle face. Polite warmth. No sign of a Sinister Organization by daylight.

“Thank you for looking after Ling Yi.”

“Not at all… I’m Yekase. Something happened at the convenience store and… we kind of… became friends.”

“No need to be so formal. Make yourself at home. Ling Yi has many friends, but she rarely brings anyone back. You must really click. Father’s finishing the last dish. Dinner soon.”

“Of course we click! We even took down a robber together! I’ll tell you over dinner.”

Their chatter flowed normal as a stream. Safe, for now.

Cold sweat cooled Yekase’s back like morning dew. Thank heaven the surgery had been thorough, even the gender switch, enough to fool a former coworker’s eyes.

Reassured, she glanced toward the kitchen at the apron-clad man’s back, a homely silhouette in warm light.

…Weird. He looked familiar too, a shadow from an old alley.

How could that be?

“The long-awaited sea cucumber soup is here!”

As she chased the déjà vu, Ling’s father emerged with a clay pot, steam curling like small dragons.

“—Pft!”

Slicked-back hair. A vertical scar splitting the forehead like a lightning strike. Wasn’t this the boss of the Nightlord Syndicate, the crew Unrecognized Consortium X crushed four years ago?

Back then, the drone swarm that wrecked their HQ was her design. And this boss had cozied up with an enemy org member already?

Yekase’s heart bucked like a spooked horse, but her smile stayed host-perfect. The man’s sunny face frosted over the instant he saw her at the table.

“Ling Yi’s friend?”

“Y-yes!”

What was that reaction? Did he see through her? Impossible.

He nodded once, set the pot down, turned, and slipped into a room, door shutting like a guillotine.

Going to grab a knife? I need an excuse—

“Father’s shy around strangers,” Ling’s mother said. “He always hides like that.”

That’s shyness?!