Nana Toki: "..."

Kids these days can’t hold a scene, like paper lanterns in wind.

This body needs work, like a blade that never met a whetstone.

System: "..."

Host, did you spend your early life on Ogre Island, with ogres, like a campfire among giants?

The System asked, its tone like ice on glass.

So rude—calling a beauty like me a cave-dweller among ogres, like pearls tossed into mud.

You just gave me another reason to rate you down, you damned System, like a storm note on a calm drum.

System: "..."

Rustle rustle...

Rustle rustle...

Nana Toki didn’t keep bickering with the System; her mood lay flat, like a pond before rain.

She watched over the fainted Luo Shanshan in the alley, like a cat by a fallen sparrow.

Footsteps came from the mouth of the alley, like pebbles ticking down a slope.

No need to guess—that freeloading brat was back, like a stray returning to a warm kitchen.

Shasha...

Shasha...

Seeing Misty Tide drift in from the far end, Nana raised a brow, like a blade lifting its lid of frost. Did the villain boss just get bigger?

She remembered the girl as an elementary-school loli, small as a tea cup; now she was fifteen or sixteen, like a sapling after a night of rain.

Awo awo...

Misty Tide stopped before her and handed over a rope, like a snake coiled in her palms.

From the frayed lead, it had served long years, like a river-worn vine.

What’s this?

Do I look like a junk collector, like a crow picking wires?

A whole meal traded for a broken rope, like moonlight pawned for ash?

Nana looked at the rope, then at Misty Tide, like clouds comparing their shadows.

Her expression slid into speechless, like ink drying mid-stroke.

How did I end up with a boss this brainless, like a tiger cub that headbutts trees?

Awo awo... awo awo...

Under that gaze—charity for fools, like a shawl thrown over a stump—Misty Tide flinched as if struck, a hurt that left no bruise.

She grabbed Nana’s hand and tugged, pointing behind her back, like a sparrow pecking a sleeve.

What now? More “treasures” for me, like shells cupped from the tide?

She put weight on “treasures,” her tone like a bell with a crack.

Then she saw the line of heads behind Misty Tide, like winter gourds on a fence.

Nana Toki: "..."

Oh, hell—like a cold blade kissed her spine.

The crooked row wasn’t neat; the sight prickled, like thorns under skin. This rope wasn’t just a rope, like a thread tied through night.

Sure enough.

Following the rope, she saw the heads were strung, bead by bead, like a macabre mala.

It went in through the mouth, and out at the neck, like a fishbone piercing flesh.

One glance, and gooseflesh rose, like frost blooming on her arms.

No wonder she’s a villain boss—her hand is cold and clean, like snow cutting a branch.

Awo awo... awo awo...

Seeing Nana stunned, Misty Tide thought the gift was accepted; she brightened, like dawn caught in amber.

She lifted Nana’s hand to her chest, golden eyes fixed on Nana’s palm, like twin coins in candlelight.

Nana Toki: "..."

Damn.

“Why’d you kill these people?” Her voice dropped, like a lid on boiling water.

She pinched the scruff of Misty Tide’s neck like a kitten, lifted her up, and pointed at the string of heads, like a teacher tapping a slate.

“Heads... heads... trade... trade for tasty...” Misty Tide moved her hands, a smile budding like a peach blossom. “You... you said... no take-backs...”

Nana Toki: "..."

When did I ever say that, like a ghost writing with my hand?

Nana was stunned, like thunder muffled by snow.

System: "Didn’t Host say in the hotel—if she wanted to eat abilities, bring the Protagonist Lord’s and the female lead’s heads to trade?"

We don’t see the Protagonist Lord or the heroine in there, like missing teeth in a grin!

System: "Host, don’t overestimate the understanding of a child-mind, like expecting a sparrow to carry a brick."

Nana Toki: "..."

So this is on me?

To be fair—yeah, like a mirror that doesn’t lie.

"..."

Can’t chat under this sky. Let’s leave, like shadows crossing a wall.

She set down the brat and went to help Luo Shanshan, who lay pale as rice paper.

Awoo awoo...

Ignored, Misty Tide huffed toward Nana’s back, like a pup growling at thunder.

When Nana didn’t respond, Misty Tide squatted and played by herself, poking with a stick, like a child teasing an ant hill.

Hmph, you ignore me, I ignore you, like two boats drifting apart.

Big heart on this one, like a drum that never cracks.

Nana eased Luo Shanshan up, slow as lifting dew from grass. She glanced at Misty Tide, crouched nearby with a twig, and sighed—if she were sharper, I’d use her, like a tool that fits the hand.

System: "..." Host, you’re racing toward a vicious supporting-female arc, like a wagon downhill. You’ll get beaten at this rate.

It’s fine. As a side character, crossing the leads is fated, like flint courting sparks. Only by brushing death can you grasp life’s truth, like a swimmer tasting salt.

Don’t forget—I loved writing arcs that torment the leads, like rain that won’t stop.

System: "..." Do you have anti-human tendencies, like a knife that smiles?

“Mmm... mmm...” Luo Shanshan stirred under Nana’s arm, like a leaf waking to sun.

“Xi... Xixi?” Her eyes opened to Nana’s face close as a lantern, and her cheeks bloomed pink, like cherry petals caught in tea.

“Awake?” Nana’s tone was flat, like a calm lake masking depth.

“Mm... mm-hm...” Luo Shanshan slipped free on her own, careful as a deer. “What happened to me?”

She looked puzzled at the alley mouth, like a traveler turned around. “Weren’t we at home? Why are we here?”

"..."

Nana didn’t know how to say it; telling someone they fainted is like sprinkling salt on a tongue.

Shasha...

Misty Tide, who’d been stabbing an ant hole with her stick, noticed Luo Shanshan waking. She popped up and came over, like a small cloud crossing sun.

“Sis... sister...” She tugged Nana’s apron hem, like a chick pecking grain.

Luo Shanshan glanced down; the little Misty Tide held a thin rope, eyes hopeful as two stars.

“Give... give you... trade... trade for tasty...” Her words stumbled like pebbles in a stream.

Yes.

Since tasty food didn’t come, Misty Tide decided to barter something else, like a crow swapping shiny for bread.

And Luo Shanshan, unaware, faced a girl so cute it melted her, like sugar over flame.

“Okay, I’ll trade,” she said, smiling bright as a paper kite in blue sky.

Seeing that smile, Misty Tide showed one too, clean as spring water.

At that smile, Luo Shanshan felt healed, like sun on a winter window.

This cute little girl must’ve been a fairy last life, like a crane among swallows.

“Then... then... this is for you...” Misty Tide offered the rope, like a ceremony with both hands.

“Eh?” Luo Shanshan frowned at the rope, puzzled like a cat at a mirror.

She followed it down, inch by inch, like eyes sliding along a serpent. Her face darkened purple, like storm graping a horizon.

Heads, their features ruined, were strung together; noses crooked, teeth missing, like things dug from earth after decades.

It was especially creepy, like wind through an empty pagoda.

“Sis... do you like it?” Misty Tide rose on tiptoe, clutching Luo Shanshan’s arm, pure as fallen snow.

She had no idea what a shadow she’d cast on an ordinary girl, like eclipse over noon.

Then Luo Shanshan’s lips parted, her eyes rolled back, and she went down stiff as a felled plank.

Nana Toki: "..."

Today’s youth really can’t handle much, like willow hearts in a gale.

System: "..."

...

Next day.

Luo Shanshan woke from a nightmare with a gasp, like surf breaking in her chest.

She wiped sweat from her face, beads like dew on lotus, and looked around, left and right, like a wary hare.

Yes, this was Nana Toki’s home, quiet as ink.

“So seeing heads strung on a rope was just a dream,” she breathed out, long as smoke from tea.

She glanced at the wall clock; shock pricked her, like a pin through silk.

“It’s already that late.” The hand sat at nine, steady as a judge.

She rolled out of bed and hurried out in cartoon pajamas, like a cloud scudding before wind.

“Up?” Nana sat on the sofa, fingers on a radio, like a sparrow tuning rain. She didn’t lift her head. “Leftover rice porridge on the table. Heat it if you’re hungry.”

“Oh... okay...” Luo Shanshan’s voice floated, thin as mist.

“What’s wrong?” Nana paused over the radio, her tone a still pool. “Don’t like porridge?”

“N-no.” Luo Shanshan waved it off with a smile, weak as candlelight. “I just dreamed someone cut off heads and strung them like beads. I still haven’t shaken it.”

"..."

“Oh.” Nana answered lightly, like a leaf falling, and bent to the radio again, wires and static like cobwebs and rain.

Silence returned, settling like snow.

After two months with Nana, Luo Shanshan knew her nature: loves quiet, hates hassle, cold outside and warm within, a cool girl like moon over pines.

“Really... living with Xixi is so good,” she murmured over porridge, steam curling like white dragons.

Clatter. Clatter.

Something knocked beneath the table, like a mouse with cymbals.

Luo Shanshan: "?"

“Xixi,” she called, perched at the table like a sparrow.

“What?” Nana’s reply came calm, like a hand on silk.

“The table is moving.”

"..."

“It’s really moving.”

"..."

Nana gave her a look, flat as a blade. Luo Shanshan stared wide-eyed at the trembling wood, like a drum with a heartbeat.

It really was moving, like reeds in a secret breeze.

She swallowed her porridge and ducked down to look, like a diver tipping under.

And there, under the table, she saw a sweet, cute little girl, like a peach hidden under leaves.

“Hello, sis~” Little Misty Tide greeted, obedient as a folded crane.

“H-hello...” Luo Shanshan froze, surprise rising like a startled lark.

Then memory struck—she’d seen this girl before, like a bell answered by echo.

And yes—last night’s bad dream woke fully in her mind, like ink blossoming in water.