They reached a small diner called Lion King’s Pride, a warm den under a golden sign.

The receptionist saw Lymriel, murmured an apology, and bolted like a startled sparrow.

Less than a minute later, the owner came in a neat little suit, fluttery and deferential like a leaf in wind.

“To keep Lady Alice’s maid automaton at your side, you must be someone of stature.”

“No, I’m just a traveler…” Ling Yi tried to deflect, heart dipping before her words.

He nodded fast. “We won’t pry into a guest’s privacy. Your presence makes our humble shop glow. Please, this way—your private room has a lovely view.”

Lymriel tapped Ling Yi’s shoulder, a feather-soft hint to let the misunderstanding ride—a true “Alice maid automaton” was here anyway.

He led them into a booth, raised the menu like a fan, and pitched to Ling Yi, eyes skimming Lymriel like a painted screen.

It couldn’t be helped. That figure was a maid automaton—obedient, unfed, unable to sit without leave—only a quiet statue in lace.

“Allow me to present our house treasure, the ‘De Finchy Cipher’! Crafted by the legendary Alchemy master Sandryon de Finchy, it hides seven-by-seven, forty-nine composite locks—Sorcery, alchemical arrays, Infinite Power, pure mechanics.”

On the menu sat a plain water dispenser, fussed over with gilded trim like gaudy creeping vines.

At “combination lock,” Ling Yi glanced for help like a swimmer reaching for the rail. Lymriel kept her smile, still as a lifeless doll.

“Press for water and you’ll get plain boiled water. Solve more locks, and the drink grows richer and more nourishing—perfect for a connoisseur who can befriend Lady Alice.”

The very “connoisseur who befriends your Lady Alice” was right here, playing a doll in the corner.

Got hooked on being someone else’s proxy?

In that fine, awkward heat, Ling Yi settled on a bright-red conclusion, like sealing wax cooling: dear Doctor Yekase was, damn it, a hardcore fetishist.

She tuned out the rest. Her mind painted Yekase behind the mask, maybe a tiny toy switched on—solemn outside, inside her eyes rolling back like two pale moons—

No—what am I even thinking?

Her body jolted; crimson washed her cheeks like a sudden dawn. She breathed deep, cooling the iron inside.

Meme contamination. It’s all meme contamination.

Her sharp inhale startled the owner like thunder spooking a cat. Afraid his chatter bored the guest, he apologized at once.

“Ah, I’ve no eye for timing. You must be eager to solve the puzzle. Forgive me—I won’t disturb your delight.”

He withdrew, and in minutes a server brought in the De Finchy Cipher.

Only Ling Yi remained, with the clicking dispenser on the table like a cricket in metal.

And a silent automaton standing in the corner, a porcelain figure in shadow.

“Doctor—?”

“…………”

“Miss Yekase—?”

“…………”

“Lymriel!”

The doll came alive like a switch flipped, and responded steady, “What is your command, Master?”

The sight made Ling Yi itch like an ant under silk. She swallowed those unspeakable fantasies and asked, “What’s this game? You like this?”

“We’re infiltrating the court in a few days,” Yekase answered lightly. “Practice with you first, so I don’t blow the cover on entry.”

“You absolutely like this! Who’s the one using booze as an excuse to go feral!?”

“—Master, this dispenser has forty-nine layered locks. How many do you expect to solve?”

“You’re changing the subject!”

“Luckily, this room has a maid automaton whose database holds plenty of Sorcery, Alchemy, and mechanical lock knowledge. She’d love to serve her Master. What do you say?”

Lymriel smiled with grace, tilting her head like a swan.

In that instant, a string snapped in Ling Yi’s mind like a taut bow cut.

Before she knew it, she had Lymriel pinned to the wall, her left hand pressed up like a leaf under glass.

“…………”

“Hah….”

“What does Master intend? Lymriel needs to begin unlocking now.”

“I…” Her head bowed; her long hair draped over puff sleeves and an open neckline like a silk curtain. Her breath heated, tinged with a flavor that teaches the tongue to crave.

She brushed her cheek against the wig’s dry fibers, gently bit the tiny silicone ear, and whispered, thin as a mosquito, “I’ll apologize to Sister Bailu afterward.”

…………

…………

“This is a simple code conversion. Though Lymr—my specialty isn’t microcomputers, this level shows up all the time in literature.”

Yekase had drawn the curtains, locked the door, and shed the shell like a mask.

She pointed at a small screen at the dispenser’s waist. It was a reusable riddle display; roughly a third of the twenty-odd problems had appeared there, answered by the little keypad beneath.

The screen showed a single line:

[ ?=80; y=? ]

“…………”

Ling Yi curled in a chair, mind full of the shape of two wafers of silicon, staring through air like fog. From the moment Yekase recovered her composure and started the challenge, Ling Yi hadn’t moved.

“The answer is ‘%79’. The 80 without ‘%’ was for difficulty. We’ll just enter 79 here.”

Correct. The machine clicked like a latch easing free; two ports opened on either side, two slender rods rising in parallel like chopsticks.

“These are… two void-crossing coils. A normative Sorcery streamline should pass between for a complete model. Celestial Speech!”

She fed Sorcery between the coils. A subtle balance formed, and shaped lightning burst between them like a penned dragon sketching itself.

“Doctor…”

“Question twenty-nine. Bring the built-in Mind Energy and Neptune Energy into resonance. Why is it still called Neptune Energy—such an outdated relic…”

“—Doctor!”

Ling Yi suddenly raised her voice, startling Yekase like a sparrow spooked mid-flight.

Yekase turned. The girl’s cheeks were flushed, her little hamster face puffed—she was actually angry?

“Those moves were to make you realize I’m an adult too! The kind who could eat you up anytime!”

“At least respect the criminal code, please.”

Yekase couldn’t help a laugh, taking none of it to heart, the mood flat as still water.

Eat me? Her adaptability rivals her Flash Energy; after Jiang Bailu’s repeated chaos, she’d resigned to this body best kept beneath. At this point, no real waves… damn, that sounds weird.

“Ahem. This problem has a minor issue.”

“What issue? Is tuning the band hard?”

“No. Mixed Infinite Power tuning is lesson one for an engineer. But this dispenser’s amplifier—just bad quality control, maybe age-worn. In writing, the pacing collapses; in photography, the focus drifts. That kind of feel.”

If she had a few tools, she could tune it here. But her teleport case held everything—except repair tools.

Teleportation is a long-range Infinite Power effect. If constants drift mid-transit, it’s fine for daily goods. A gadget breaks, you fix it. But if repair tools warp, they can’t fix themselves.

Her toolkit was still aboard the Ambition Divine Ship.

…Explain the issue to the owner? Or rush to Ivalice for a new set? No, not in time, and the feel would be wrong…

Yekase exhaled and straightened. “We have two paths. One, stop here, and we’re guaranteed a 28°C drink. Two, I tune by mechanic’s experience and touch—either we get nothing, or there’s no upper limit. Which do you choose?”

Experience and touch go hand in hand; experience grows touch, and touch makes experience breathe.

In a mechanic or designer’s craft, those two mean a climb to the high end—standing alone, beyond textbook and instrument.

Yekase trusted her touch. Still, she asked her partner.

“Eh? We might get nothing?”

“The boss said it—two wrong answers locks it out. You didn’t listen? I already slipped once.”

Ling Yi scratched her cheek, unsure how to explain listening to briefing intel only halfway.

Thankfully, Yekase didn’t press. She waited, still as a moon over water.

Ling Yi wrestled with it, then blurted, “Do what you believe is right!”

…………

Pfft.

They both laughed, spray-bright and unguarded.

“Alright! The Twin Spires black market’s most sought-after mechanic isn’t dull yet. She’ll show her craft right here!”

Yekase lay forward on the table, eye-level with the crippled-band amplifier. Her free hand descended from above, pinching the knob with care like a hawk taking a seed.

She held her breath.

Her thumb metered the range. Her index and middle fingers, pale and slender like lotus root—began to press.

Ling Yi watched that focus and went spellbound, a moth before a lamp.

Eyes fixed like stars; a profile soft yet hard like polished jade; clean, athletic motions; lips pressed tight—she wasn’t repairing a gaudy old dispenser for their palate. She was making the most beautiful thing in the world.

Creation is always beautiful, like “Beauty,” the sixth quality-point of the Inverted Tree, whose concept contains the source of making.

—ting.

A sound like a silver needle landing.

They both knew at once: she had done it.