Yue Liuyi hadn’t expected that trailing the bunny sprites through green-shadowed brush would open into a place painted like a bedtime tale.

Red mushrooms with white freckles rose like lanterns, each cap lifting from moss like a ruby umbrella.

Stems three meters tall wore tiny wooden windows like firefly eyes; stone steps and a wooden door gave the grove a quaint, storybook hush.

These mushroom houses were the sprites’ nests; chanting “one, two, three,” the tireless bunnies bore the girl’s stone statue to the village heart, like ants carrying a pearl.

“Where are we?” Her curiosity fluttered first, then her gaze swept streets as narrow as streams, trimmed with moon-marked crystals and vines strung with gem-bright drops.

“This is the bunny sprites’ homeland,” Dixue said, voice light as windbells. “Inside the Rainbow Sanctuary, folks call it the ‘Rabbit Warren.’”

“Rabbit Warren? No wonder it never shows up in daylight paths.”

“Mm! Bunny sprites keep to quiet secret realms, like dew that avoids footprints.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because they’re too friendly. Near humans, they get scooped for soup, like carrots in a pot.”

“Soup!?”

“Yes. Or adventurers farm them for XP and loot, like mowing a field.”

“Uu… when you say it like that, humans do carry a mountain of guilt.” The thought pricked like thorns; her heart sank before her reason stirred.

She weighed it in silence, like a scale under moonlight: so much of human tech feeds on other lives—clothes, food, the small necessities of warmth.

Maybe that’s the price of surviving winter, she thought, a fire fed by fallen branches.

But if you hold the highest firebrand, you owe an equal light—duty that burns as bright as your rights.

Tech should grow and civ should climb; as higher beings, we’re to ferry life’s spark to worlds no foot has trod, like seeds on the wind.

Let footprints bloom on dry, hot planets; let research tents dot eternal ice; keep finding unknown magic and forging new tools, like smiths at a dawn anvil.

Then civilization will flourish like spring orchards, and life will have room to branch, leaf, and sing.

If we laze and only strip the forest, the river will run dry, and our city of songs will crumble to dust.

Squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak!

The rabbits’ cries snapped her from drifting thoughts like a pebble breaking a pond; the blue-haired girl looked up.

Even the sprites inside the mushroom houses hopped out like beans popping, each offering a treasure cupped in two paws.

Garlands braided from wild blooms gleamed like sunrise; honey in glass glowed like amber; bracelets of tiny gems winked like stars.

“Hehe, having Little Yue is the best~” Dixue hooked her arms from behind like a warm scarf, joy bright in her eyes. “These are their prized treasures!”

“Usually adventurers have to fight for them, like pulling teeth,” she said, “but with Little Yue here, they give them up like rain to earth.”

“Huh, seriously?”

“Uu, Lady Liuyi is amazing!” Emily blurted, eyes sparkling like a magpie’s over a hoard; it looked like a little paradise built from trinkets and light.

“Uu, uu!” As for a certain highborn princess, the girls let her protests drift away like smoke.

“Honored World Tree Maiden, welcome to our humble village.” The voice rose gentle as a drum wrapped in felt.

“Huh? Who said that?” Yue tipped up her face like a flower to sun, searching the sound.

From the press of sprites, a big rabbit shouldered through like a drifting cloud—larger than the green ones, staff in paw, white beard flowing.

He should’ve looked steady as an old pine, yet the crowd squeezed him crooked till even his whiskers went askew.

“I’m the village chief,” he wheezed, breath puffing like pipe smoke. “This is our small heart’s gift. May the World Tree Maiden accept it.”

Before the tide of rabbits swallowed him again, the chief pressed a present into her hands—a tiny dress as splendid as dawn petals.

Unlike human or elf work, it was made all of green: a vine for the waist, a skirt of pale pink and white petals, fragrant as a spring breeze.

Just holding it, she felt a soft brush like morning mist; the scent was faint, like a flower behind a veil.

“Thank you so much, Elder!” Dixue’s voice chimed like silver; she took the dress and lifted it to Yue’s chest to measure.

“Huh? LittleSnow?”

“Little Yue, quick, change into it! We can’t march to battle like this; it’s too embarrassing, like going to war in slippers!”

“Eh!?”

Only then did Yue notice, heart skipping like a stone—her clothes were torn to shreds.

At the shoulder and ribbon, the dress had become off-shoulder and midriff, and the blue-haired girl hadn’t even felt the breeze.

(Huh? When did that happen? But… LittleSnow’s outfit is also…)

She glanced at Dixue and saw lightning-scorched holes peppering the silver-haired girl’s clothes, glimpses flickering like moonlight through leaves.

“Um… I’ll pass!!!! LittleSnow’s outfit has holes too! You change first. I’m fine, because I’m a—”

(Huh?)

She barely got the “man” out before Dixue’s smile iced over like frost on glass.

“L-LittleSnow…?”

“What strange words is Little Yue saying?” Dixue narrowed her eyes with a crescent-moon smile that didn’t feel warm.

“Huh? No, LittleSnow, I mean I’m a boy, so a little exposure’s fine. I won’t get shy or anything…”

“Boy, huh… not a chance.” The murmur was soft as a knife’s back.

Dixue pulled out a mirror as smooth as a still pond and held it up—it was the one Ailuna had given her.

“Look, Little Yue.”

“Huh?”

In the mirror, Yue saw a bewildered, cute face gazing back, like a kitten seeing snow.

“Do boys have eyes this big and bright?” Her finger traced the air like a brush.

“Huh? Um…”

“Do boys have cheeks this soft?” Her tone was sweet as syrup, and just as sticky.

“N-no, I mean…”

“Do boys have boobs this size?” Her hand landed, audacious as a sparrow.

“Eek! LittleSnow, don’t squeeze there!”

“Honestly! As the World Tree Maiden, you’ve gotta have some World Tree Maiden self-respect. Little Yue, you’re way too rough on yourself!”

“Huh!?”

“So. Put. On. The. Dress.” Each word tapped like a fan on a palm.

“Uu! Fine, I’ll wear it! Just stop squeezing!”

Under Dixue’s gentle tyranny—soft as silk, firm as steel—Yue could only surrender and take the dress.

“Uh… why do I feel something’s off…”

“Hehe~” Dixue’s laugh chimed like glass beads.

The dress was beautiful as sunrise petals and soft as a cloud against skin, yet Yue felt a pebble in her shoe—something didn’t add up.

“Here’s our storehouse. You can use it as a changing room,” the big rabbit said, pointing with his staff like a twig.

“Th-thanks!” The doorway was small as a burrow; only one girl could slip in, so Dixue stood guard outside like a silver willow.

Otherwise, the teasing would never end, drifting in like incense smoke.

“Wait… the more I think, the more wrong it feels.” She stilled, like a deer listening.

Stripped of the torn dress, Yue looked at her girl’s body, and thought sank like a stone into a clear pond.

She’d felt she owed LittleSnow because she was a boy; boys should be broad-hearted and not steal advantage from girls.

But if she truly was the World Tree Maiden, and thought by a girl’s measure…

Then when Dixue teased her, she could push back like a spring branch and choose her own sway.

She could even use her boy’s wit to tease LittleSnow right back—honor for honor, pride for pride.

“Right! I held back because I feared LittleSnow would find out the truth…”

She slipped into the petal dress, and her doubt cleared like fog. Now she saw the knot.

Her body was girl, her mind boy; before, she lost on both sides, like rowing against two currents.

But now, not anymore.

“I’m going to tease LittleSnow. Mm! I’ll be my true self.” Resolve flared like a lantern in wind.

First target—the silver hair. Dixue’s waist-length mane flowed like moonlit water; it was too pretty, too tempting.

(A little bow won’t hurt, right?)

“Little Yue, are you done? Uu! So cute!!!!” Outside, Dixue rocked on her toes like a bird on a branch, ready to pounce.

“Huh?” Yue stepped out, hand reaching for that moon-silver stream—

—and her feet left the ground.

“Up we go!” Dixue chirped, lifting her like a breeze lifts a leaf.

“Meow meow meow?” The sound popped out on its own, small and startled.

In the whirl, Yue realized she’d miscounted one thing.

Strength.

The World Tree Maiden’s body had less force than a willow switch, and Dixue’s moves were mountains—irresistible.

Held high, with LittleSnow’s hands firm as warm iron, Yue’s plots fluttered like paper cranes.

(C-calm down! If the first strike fails, use words!)

“LittleSnow, put me down!”

“Nope~~~” Her voice curled like ribbon. “A cutie like Little Yue should be played with a bit longer.”

“Play me too much, and I’ll break! I might go dark, you know—like Dawn Sky!”

“If that happens, I’ll guard you,” she said, vow bright as steel. “I’ll spend a lifetime fixing you, even stitch by stitch.”

“Eek—uu! Then maybe prevent the breaking before it happens!”

“Hmm… but if I prevent it, I won’t get to see your face after I break you.” Her smile tilted, wicked as a fox’s.

“Waa!! LittleSnow!! What are you even imagining!?”

“Hehe~” Her laugh fizzed like soda.

In short, Yue Liuyi’s first attempt crashed like a kite into a tree.

And the tide didn’t allow a second try.

Jokes aside, Lia was still fighting hard under shadowed boughs.

After a brief rest like a breath between waves, the girls would ready themselves and head to the front to aid Lia.

Yes—beyond the trees, not far from the village, a fierce battle raged like thunder rolling over the forest.