Mysidia had flocks of dragons roosting, but no “elves”—those tall, beautiful folk of the wild who hunt and weave magic live only in fantasy. Even the Cosmic Bubble has no record.

So the meaning of pointed ears leans the other way.

…Vampires. And a born pure‑blood vampire at that.

Yekase broke into a run after her.

But the shell forced her stride into a schoolgirl sprint, arms pinned close, steps shortened. With little heels biting, she whispered Celestial Speech, Levitation Spell, easing her ankles as invisible vectors nudged her forward.

She chased into a zone far from any transit hub, yet packed thick with buildings. The houses were visibly aged. Then the magic lettering slid across Yekase’s vision: [Old Quarter (Safe Zone)].

The pointed‑ear ducked into a slice of space between two houses.

Yekase hesitated a beat, then slipped in after.

—[Throat‑Slasher Alley].

That’s what the glyphs said.

A lightless slit boxed in by walls on all sides, a single narrow seam left open for no clear reason. The difference from outside was so stark Yekase thought she’d stepped into a Cosmic Bubble—urban planning error? Oh right, Mysidia doesn’t do planning.

“Such generous escort—this humble one dares not accept it.”

The vampire halted in Throat‑Slasher Alley, speaking without turning.

“Then why lead me here?” Yekase’s smile overlapped, inside and outside, feigning ignorance.

“Hmph. Enough chatter. If it’s battle, then battle!”

What kind of chuunibyou… even the translator’s gone wuxia, Yekase thought, suddenly curious about her raw voice. She reached to remove the translator, but touched only the puppet’s silicone ear.

The vampire drew a jeweled dagger from her chest.

Seeing that ferocity, Yekase dropped the banter. She pulled Dawn of Eden from the portal case.

She bled Flash Energy through shell‑translucent fingertips, feeding the Gunblade. Her left hand brushed the spine; red veins flared along the blade. She shouldered it high.

Pre‑motion set, Yekase breathed a thread of sound. “Celestial Speech—”

—They moved.

Arrow‑nocked, both bodies turned the same instant, sliding aside—opening distance.

“—Blood Arrow!”

Two blood‑red streams lanced toward each other’s former spots and burst into twin mists.

…?

One with a dagger, one with a Gunblade—yet the first reflex was a Blood Arrow volley?

The vampire blinked at Yekase’s expected mirror. Her reaction stalled for a heartbeat. That heartbeat was exactly what Yekase wanted.

No hesitation—she fired a signature Levitation vector dash, hugging the ground, breaking the sound barrier, and slipped into the vampire’s guard.

The puppet shell rewrote her daily mannerisms, but its database had no “fight with grace.” Right now, it was just personal armor.

“Evolution: Chain Blade—”

“—Mark of Crimson!”

Blood‑red bat wings snapped open behind the vampire. One savage beat, and she became a red afterimage, sliding out of Yekase’s sword line.

Bloodline magic—the original version of that art.

Mark of Crimson is to vampires what Deep Breath is to dragons—a power carved into genes, a legacy from ancestor and clan. Even hunted to near extinction by the Church, it remains their last pride. Using it means she’s dead serious.

“So—”

Yekase raised Dawn of Eden and caught three parallel slashes of steel claws.

“I still want to ask—why are we fighting, guest from Labyrinth City?”

Raw body strength—impressive.

But only that.

Evolution: Chain Blade was already in effect. With Flash Energy’s learning and adaptation pushed to the limit, Yekase needs only three beats to read an attack route.

The second claw scythed in from the right toward her weapon arm. Yekase lowered the Gunblade, left hand bracing, blocked—no leverage, and she was flung.

The third claw speared for her center while she hung in the air.

With this midair posture, she couldn’t dodge—any Levitation adjustment would be chased by the other claw—unless—

Unless a body art that guards and strikes at once.

“—Tenfold Blade.”

Her whole form canceled like a fighting game input, hard‑deriving a new state. She twisted half a turn from nothing. Dawn of Eden’s edge, blazing with Flash Energy, cut on the slant and severed the claw that should have entered her body.

The vampire felt the turn and sprang back.

…Good. Got the rhythm.

“Lamp to the Nether River—dark magic, lend me your strength!”

As if mocking with symmetry, three jet‑black talons budded a finger’s breadth off the nanometal on the back of Yekase’s left hand.

One Gunblade, one beast claw—ideal close‑quarters kit.

But the vampire folded her claws away and kept a safe ceiling range with blood wings.

“…This humble one has a question.”

“Mm?”

“Why can a mage’s doll… cast?”

“You just thought of that?”

Seeing she’d cooled off, Yekase lowered the Gunblade.

“…Also, say ‘puppet,’ please. ‘Doll’ sounds seriously pervy.”

“Only sapient beings can cast. That’s been true since magic—no, since Runic Words began. Dead matter, even with arrays etched in, is but a puppet repeating motions—what are you?”

“I’m a VTuber.”

“?”

“A suit actor.”

“???”

“My account is [Lymriel Official]. The lore says I’m a maid automaton handcrafted by the genius puppetmaker Alice Marg—nope, no more after that—housing another genius soul.”

“????”

“Right now I’m chasing the truth of the Newton Baseplate. VTubing to net more intel!”

Yekase stowed Dawn of Eden and, guided by the puppet shell, offered a perfect curtsy.

“In short, I’m wearing this shell for a purpose. Temporarily.”

“…You could’ve said that first…”

“I know your lady of Labyrinth City pretty well. Want to call her? I’ll tell her you popped Mark of Crimson in Mysidia and nearly got dropped by a weapon of the same kind.” Yekase smiled wide beneath the mask. Charlotte couldn’t see, but she could imagine.

“I wasn’t dropped, I—”

“Mm—?”

“…This humble one lost!”

The vampire dropped to the floor, then let her knees go soft, kneeling to Yekase.

“I’m so sorry—taking you for a Mysidia guard or something…! Thinking about it, why would a guard dress as a silicone doll, in a maid outfit—”

“Hmmm—?”

“Eek—so, so sorry—!!”

If you’re truly sorry, don’t be so mouthy!

For the first time, Yekase felt real powerlessness from someone else’s words. A sudden clarity that all the trash talk she’d stacked wasn’t wasted—her enemies, cut by it without distinction, will keep living under the shadow called brat gremlin…

I… am a brat gremlin?

That’s fake. A con.

Even if I am, I’m the unbeatable brat that doesn’t job in the back half of the doujin.

“What’s your name?” Yekase casually nudged the vampire’s gold hair with her toe.

“My name is Charlotte U. N. Owen! A fifteen‑year‑old pure‑blood vampire! First mission away from home since birth!”

“…I didn’t ask for the rest. Why dump it all at once?”

This Gen‑Z vampire… judging by everything so far, she just lacks common sense.

Yekase’s ties with Labyrinth City won’t let her leave Charlotte to fend for herself. But letting her run that fishy mission might hurt civilians. Best to keep her close for now.

She recalled the two Mysidia spies sent to Ivalice to steal military intel. These three independent city‑states—outwardly united against the Church and the Sinister Organization—hide undertows rougher than she’d thought beneath their calm surface.

No rush before the court infiltration anyway. I’ll use this stretch to sift the mess.

Then ask Labyrinth City to take her back.

Sending a fifteen‑year‑old alone to another nation for a mission—who thought that up?

“Um… this humble one still doesn’t know the great hero’s name. How should I address—”

Yekase patted Charlotte’s head. “Call me Lymriel. I won’t tell you my real name. You’d blurt it someday, and odds aren’t low.”

“A wise lesson, great hero. Wise indeed.”

The pat felt good—somehow the mechanical shell relayed texture. She cupped Charlotte’s head and kneaded.

“My hair—my hairstyle!”

“You have a style? It’s just shoulder‑length, right?”

“It does!” Charlotte glared up, voice wobbling on tears. “Mother braided a side plait for me before I left! Look— you rubbed it loose!”

“It was the air gust when you fired Mark of Crimson that blew it loose.”