It had been a while since a problem worth dissecting landed on her desk; time slipped like water under ice, and December crept in like frost on glass.

The Sovell Conference finally loomed, a lighthouse rising over cold seas.

Yekase asked Jiang Bailu about the schedule; Mira’s reply was breezy as wind over a cliff: just stick with her. That careless swagger fit that madwoman like a wolf’s grin.

So, on the afternoon of December 14th—

Yekase stepped through the doors of Unrecognized Consortium X again, a threshold that smelled of oil and ozone.

She followed a maid automaton to the leader’s office; her knuckles lifted to knock, when a strange duet leaked through the wood like mist.

“Let me see…”

“…Don’t!…”

…

Is this the wrong time to barge in?

The “let me see” sounded like Mira, bright as a knife; the other voice—the one pleading—rang familiar, like a bell she’d heard in another winter.

Young woman, familiar tone.

In a flash, Yekase stitched it together: Mira must be using this Todo Moka identity to bait some clueless classmate into her oversized room, intent on a crime that would outrage heaven and men, beneath even beasts.

Can’t let that go down.

Even if she can’t beat Mira—

Some things you do not because you can, but because your heart won’t sit still.

Yekase moved to do what felt right, like a sparrow diving into storm.

KLANG!

“—Hands off her!”

She kicked the door off its latch like a thunderclap and stormed into the office, momentum like a wave; her right hand had already found the Gunblade’s hilt, ready to draw and split Mira’s head the moment she saw a beastly scene.

Inside, a giant screen bloomed like a window.

On it, Pikachu and Link stood on a floating platform, endgame music surging like a tide.

Mira and a girl sat shoulder to shoulder before the glow, two silhouettes against an electric sea.

…Yekase caught the girl’s profile and froze, like a deer in a snowbeam.

Waist-long hair with natural curls at the tips, a petite frame like a sapling not yet budding, cool-sculpted features like frost on jade, and a pair of perfectly shaped C-cup “headlights” that somehow didn’t look out of place.

“You’re here.”

Mira set the controller down like a pebble on still water, smiled sunshine-bright, as if the kicked-in door and shouted line were a breeze through curtains.

…No, not ignorance.

She noticed, and she was already winding up for payback, like a cat flexing claws.

Cold sweat slid down Yekase’s back like rain; but the shock of that girl hadn’t faded, a knot stuck like a fishbone in her chest.

That girl, she was…

Huh? Wait? Why…

“Intro time. This one’s a Magical Girl-slash-necromancer I picked up off the street recently—Shanon.”

The girl frowned at Mira’s wording, like a cat with ruffled fur. “My name’s Liancheng Carol. That codename’s past tense.”

—Liancheng Carol. A pureborn Japanese girl with a dad addicted to Western airs, a paleontology lover, a wielder of dark magic, the Magical Girl Shanon.

Why…

Is she here?

Did she claw her way out of the Void Realm by herself, like a moth tearing free of silk?

“This one’s Yekase, my classmate. Yep, same class,” Mira said, voice easy as tea steam.

“I’m not interested in ordinary people.”

Carol glanced once at Yekase, then turned back, like a fox ignoring a lantern.

…Yeah. It’s her.

Yekase had doubted her own memory until that line landed like a stamp; then she knew—this was the one she remembered.

Second-generation Magical Girl, member of the Twenty Second Squad, one of the people she’d tried every trick to bring home.

Sitting in Mira’s office.

Casually playing video games, like any rainy day.

…And she didn’t recognize the current Yekase. Thanks to Mira’s lie, she filed her as a normie. Perfect.

Everything we’ve done up to now…

Wasn’t in vain. Ecstatic.

Mira drifted to Yekase’s side, voice a thread of smoke at her ear. “Picked her up late last month. What did you do?”

“Ouroboros…”

Yekase felt a click. “…I briefly opened a channel to the Horizon.”

“Knew it was you. Knew that Gu punk didn’t have it,” Mira chuckled, a wolf with good news. “Not bad. You make this mama look good.”

I fused with Ouroboros—how does that polish your face.

And your special self-address used to be “this young lady,” didn’t it? Dropping the silk to show the steel at last?

Yekase kept the snark behind her teeth, wore a strained smile on her face.

“Why not tell her?” she asked, low as ash.

Mira raised her voice to the couch. “Carol, remember our logistics captain back in the day? The one surnamed Liu. What d’you think of him?”

“That repressed STEM guy? I called him Second Squad Leader for a whole year—was that not enough? If he dares show up in front of me, then…”

Mira shot Yekase a look like a fan flick: See it? Still want to tell her?

Message delivered, neat as a stamp.

“If you hate repressed STEM guys that much, what if Old Liu came back as a cute girl—would you be friends with her?”

“Hah? What is that, gross!”

Carol’s disgust spiked, theatrical as a stage mask.

Yekase turned her eyes away, like a crane pretending not to see its reflection.

Damn it, why her first? Wouldn’t Dongyue or Hong be easier to handle, like warm wind instead of a sandstorm?

Nine years ago Carol was already like this, but by late war she’d softened, even talked to male staff; after nine years of quiet, did the bond meter reset to zero? Or did something go wrong on return—like summoning a Servant from some throne of spirits and getting an early-war Carol?

Yekase swore to herself—in the name of her future safety—that her real identity must stay sealed. This isn’t a Jiang Bailu-level nuisance; this could end in a corpse.

“…Yekase.”

Mira’s voice, rare as spring rain, softened a notch.

“Since this ancestor showed up, this mama hasn’t had a gap to go…help out her girlfriends. You’ve got the brain—think of something, yeah?”

What, she’s not just ordering me—she’s asking?

Yekase was stunned, like thunder without clouds.

When has Mira ever used that tone with her? Even when the org was tipping over and calling her back, it was “come back if you want,” chin high as a flag. And now—this?

“Why aren’t you calling yourself ‘this young lady’?”

“Cut the bullshit. What young lady am I? She’s the young lady. This girl’s glued to me like rice on a pot; wherever I go, she follows. I’ve been pent up half a month; even a block of tofu makes me want to grind.”

“Then just do her,” Yekase whispered, a smile hiding like a blade in a sleeve.

She couldn’t say she pitied either of them; she was enjoying the show like a breeze after heat. Watching Mira’s queen-of-the-world swagger sanded down by half a month of abstinence was sweet; even being teased didn’t spark her temper—bliss.

“Sure, I like lolis with big headlights. But I don’t lay hands on teammates.”

“So what am I?”

“A repressed STEM guy.”

Yekase rolled her eyes so hard the ceiling spun.

“…I do have a plan, but it’ll be hard to pull off.”

“Leave it to this mama.”

Good. Those were the words she was waiting for, like a key in a lock.

Carol, nice work. That “repressed STEM guy” jab stabbed deep, but Yekase would let it slide like rain off lacquer.

“I’m researching spatial folding. Planning a secret base, move the whole family in. The theory’s nailed, but energy and siting are problems.”

Mira’s eyes narrowed like a hawk’s. “You’re saying…”

“I want an Ra-3009 Mind Energy generator set, and a Cruiser-class personal hoverboard. With those, once I build the base-van, you find a reason to move her into my place.”

Mira huffed a laugh, half smoke, half flame. “Big appetite, huh? Robbing Twin Towers wasn’t enough—you want the national vault now?”

“I can kick back tech later. Under Mikara Aira, Unrecognized Consortium X becomes the world’s eleventh group on a mechanical sky-island. You in?”

…

Silence pooled like ink.

Yekase knew this Mira-silence: not weighing yes or no, but plotting how to grab two Ra-3009s out of thin air.

“Doesn’t have to be Ra. Same-generation output works. The Sovell Conference might have a line. If we land a sponsor…”

Her voice twined like a devil’s whisper, each word etched like a seal on wet clay.

After a long beat, Mira decided, knife-clean: “We leave early.”

“When?”

“Now.”

“…Huh?”

Mira raised her right hand and snapped her fingers.

Eight clots of black Mind Energy bloomed above her like oil-drops, spun into eight Chinese characters that gleamed like iron.

KLANG KLANG KLANG KLANG KLANG KLANG KLANG KLANG!

All eight slammed into the blank plaque behind the desk, printing fresh calligraphy in one breath.

“‘Grab the toad and wring the urine out’…”

The floor-to-ceiling window felt the trigger like a pulse, slid open flat, and unfolded into a glass lift-gantry.

“Carol, this mama’s on a one-week trip. If you need anything, ask Jiang Bailu!”

Before the last word faded, she blinked into a black dragon, shadow like stormcloud; a foreclaw scooped Yekase at the waist, and with a thunder of wings they burst out of the office.

“Wait! I didn’t pack!”

“They’ll have everything there.”

Clamped midriff-deep in a dragon’s grip, Yekase’s fresh trauma of being snatched by a certain dragon flared like a bruise; she yelled, wind ripping her words, “Let go! I can fly myself!”

The claw loosened at once.

Usually, when the grabbed yell “let go,” you don’t actually let go, right?

Free-falling, Yekase’s brain spun like a pinwheel; muscle memory snapped her into the five-word mantra:

“Celestial Speech: Flight!”

Reluctant but swift, she surged up and tucked behind Mira’s tailwind.

Better to fly now—if this dragon really plans to muscle-flight to Europe, at least the boss can tank the headwinds. Wait a day or two, and she’d be buying her own ticket.

“Sigh…”

She still had to call home, like a kite tugging its string.

“You’re a dragon already—can’t you let me ride?”

“Oh? Bold now, are we—”

“On second thought, flying myself sounds safer.”