Nana Toki’s voice tolled through Dragonbreak City like a funeral bell, every word a cold nail hammered into Jiges’s ears.

Yes.

He lost. Lost completely, like a banner torn and cast into the mud.

From the moment he accepted Trollop’s “gift,” his plan wore the brand of failure, like ink staining white silk.

His eyes went hollow as he stared at the wreckage below the walls, a field of broken steel and frost-bitten stone.

Nana sprang from the ice dragon’s brow, the instigator of it all; her right hand—Demon Hand—flushed a heart-quickening crimson, like embers under skin.

That scarlet hand dragged a massive black axe across the ground with a harsh hiss, and she moved past Jiges like a reaper walking a winter road.

She didn’t spare the defeated a glance.

She headed into the main keep, hunting for Ling’er Long, the princess Trollop had sent like a pawn across a cold board.

As for Jiges, she chose to let the King of the Hedon Kingdom judge him; a simple death felt too cheap, like tossing trash into a river.

He would pay for what he did. In this life, he would know no good days, like a tree bound in iron.

At the same time, the System’s ping guided Nana straight to a chamber beneath the rooftop, where Ling’er Long sat locked away like a bird in a dark cage.

Ling’er hadn’t imagined Nana would cross a thousand miles of wind and snow to Dragonbreak City; only when the door splintered and a hand pulled her to the rooftop did she wake.

She saw Jiges collapsed like a broken marionette, and an ice dragon dyed blood-red and feral, like a storm with teeth.

“Why are you here?”

“Why can’t I be here?”

Nana set Ling’er’s feet on the ice dragon’s brow. As the dragon’s claws snatched Jiges up, she shot Ling’er a sideways look. “Don’t forget—you’re the one I kidnapped.”

“…”

So for that one reason, she came alone and slaughtered a city? What kind of person does that?

“Did you kill all of them?”

Standing on the dragon’s brow, Ling’er looked down at Dragonbreak’s ruin; her heartbeat stumbled like drums in a tight chest.

She hadn’t watched Nana take on the whole city, but these broken streets drew the missing picture like charcoal on paper.

“If not me, did they all mass-suicide in front of me?” Nana’s gaze weighed Ling’er like a teacher judging a foolish answer. “Did the Four Heavenly Kings bang your head when they grabbed you?”

“Eek—stay away. Stupidity spreads like a cold. I don’t plan on catching it.”

She pushed with a dismissive hand, as if shooing away smoke.

“…”

Her tongue was still sharp, still merciless, like frost on a blade.

Ling’er almost snapped back—but the sight of cuts and bruises across Nana’s body snagged her words like thorns.

“Do the wounds hurt?”

She stepped close, eyes on the scar under Nana’s collarbone, a pale stroke like a crescent on skin.

“They?” Nana touched the mark, tone flat as winter light. “I’m used to them. Worst case was already on the table. A few scars are nothing.”

She glanced down, a hint of disgust like grit under teeth. “Doesn’t mean I like them.”

She signaled the ice dragon, and they rose toward the Hedon capital like a shard of glacier cutting sky. Before she left, she froze Dragonbreak City solid, a white tomb under sun.

It was iron proof of a fool minister’s bid to start war with the Marl Kingdom; she wouldn’t let the Four Heavenly Kings bury it.

“If you don’t like this pain, why did you come for me?”

Ling’er watched the world slide by under the dragon, colors streaking like brushwork across a scroll. “You’re Hedon’s princess. Even if he used me to win against Marl, I’d still be your prisoner. Why bother?”

“You really are dense, aren’t you?”

Nana’s Spirit Energy pulsed as she steered the dragon. She turned, met Ling’er’s eyes, and let a small smile bloom like a quiet flame. “I told you. You can only stay by my side.”

“Not an hour. Not a minute. Not a second.”

“Mm…”

Her heart jumped like a startled deer. His words sounded like a confession wrapped in steel and snow.

“Do… whatever you like.”

Only with Nana did this strange warmth rise, a soft glow like coals in a brazier.

It felt like they’d known each other for a long, long time, like old ink on familiar paper.

Maybe staying like this wouldn’t be so bad.

The thought flickered through Ling’er’s mind like fireflies, then was pinched out as quickly as it came.

Don’t be ridiculous. They couldn’t possibly stay together forever, like a kite and its string.

On the other side, news of Nana bringing Ling’er to the Hedon capital spread like wildfire in dry grass.

Before the King could finish his surprise, the palace roof blew open, sun spearing in like a blade of gold.

“Yo. Your princess is back.”

Perched on the dragon’s brow, Nana threw a casual greeting like a pebble across a pond. “Long time no see, Your Majesty. Miss me?”

The King of Hedon: “…”

Miss you, my foot.

He squinted into the glare, scalp bare as an autumn hill, and peered up.

Above the palace, his princess rode an ice dragon he’d never seen, circling like a hawk—bringing the enemy’s grand princess beside her like a winter guest.

The sight hit hard, like thunder under ribs.

He could just make out a familiar figure clenched in the dragon’s blood-tinged claws.

Hiss… was that Jiges? Why was he up there like a fish in the talons?

Before he could think, Nana and Ling’er leapt from the dragon’s head and dropped to the hall like snowflakes landing silent.

“Why’d you suddenly come back to the capital, Bingtang?”

Stroking his beard, the King sat on his throne and studied them, eyes steady as a lake.

Rumors said his princess had kidnapped the enemy’s grand princess; only seeing the two side by side gave the tale its weight, like ink finally drying.

His princess looked… not quite right, like steel forged too hot.

“Your ‘fine’ minister did something big.” Nana’s tone was even, but every word hit like a hammer. “He snuck to Mida Village to snatch the woman I kidnapped. Then he tried to start a war with Marl.”

“If I hadn’t seen it myself, I’d have thought he stabbed you and took your crown.”

“Impudent!”

A minister in rich robes—Lida—jabbed a finger at Nana, outrage bristling like a porcupine. “Even as Princess Bingtang, you can’t insult His Majesty in the royal hall!”

“Lida, quiet.”

The King’s voice cut clean, stopping the bristle. “Let Bingtang continue.”

He eyed Nana’s crusted blood and frost-bitten armor, curious weight in his gaze like a pebble feeling the river.

“What’s this about kidnapping and war with Marl?”

“So you really didn’t know.”

Nana smiled, soft as a cat’s blink, and clapped once.

Above, the ice dragon loosed a long roar, bone-deep as mountains cracking.

Jiges dropped from the sky like a stone.

Before anyone could scream, Nana shaped ice into a giant hand; it caught him mid-fall and set him down before the throne like a sack of grain.

“This is the culprit—he came to my Mida Village to take the Marl grand princess and tried to spark war.”

“This… impossible!”

Lida’s face shifted fast, color draining like tea from a cup. “Jiges is our chief minister. He wouldn’t defy His Majesty and start a war on his own!”

“I knew you wouldn’t believe,” Nana said, voice calm as snow. “Whatever. Take this to Dragonbreak City. You’ll find what you need.”

“Then we talk.”

She flicked an Amber Talisman to the King, the slip flashing like golden leaf in sunlight.

After she erased Dragonbreak, her Hidden Space linked back in, its cold presence settling like a familiar shadow; relief warmed her briefly, then cooled.

Something was wrong, like a note off-key.

In this plane, someone else felt like her—a Transmigrator lurking under the skin of the world.

Her Hidden Space wasn’t common trinketry; even the System couldn’t peek or meddle. Yet someone had severed her link, clean as a knife through silk.

There was a hand behind the curtain.

“…”

The King studied the Amber Talisman and the unconscious Jiges, sinking into brief silence like a stone in deep water.

What was going on?

Jiges had stood in his hall just yesterday morning like a loyal reed.

Today he was accused of kidnapping and private war, tossed to his feet like a shucked husk.

And Nana’s blood-caked state didn’t look like a lie, more like truth written in scars.

“Go. Send men with this talisman to Dragonbreak City.”

He gave the order to Lida with a slow nod, words steady as a drum.

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

Lida’s face stayed tight, but he took the talisman and strode out, boots tapping like sticks on ice.

“Bingtang, you didn’t return only for this.”

Watching Lida leave, the King turned back and let his question settle like mist. “Say the rest.”

“If I say it, will you agree?”

Nana’s smile tilted, light as a crescent moon.

“That depends on what you ask,” the King replied, beard under fingers, tone dry as old parchment. “If it’s abdication, then no.”

“Relax. A throne? I don’t care.”

Nana’s mouth curved, a hint of warmth like tea. “I want only one thing from you.”

“Speak.”