The three little ones tangled into a chirping knot, sparrows squabbling over a crumb, until even the System watching from the alley’s shadow couldn’t find a way in.

Cold caution first, then motion—she was only an outsider breaking the surface, a stone tossed into a still pond. Too much meddling, and the mindscape could skew, like those planes that had collapsed and gone feral. So whenever the System sat with Nana, she tiptoed like on frost, afraid one misstep would freeze the host in sleep forever.

“Eh? Yi, is that you? You came too?” The call popped like a bubble.

Maybe she’d stood dazing too long, a reed in the wind. Yan Xiao and Qi, circling Nana like two bright kites, spotted her at the corner where street met alley.

“Uh… I wanted to check on you, and I brought some food.” Her voice was a soft lantern. She’d temped at a bakery in the residential district, counting coins like pebbles. Not much, but enough to buy modest treats, small warmths against a long night.

Her host was still a child of the slums, a leaf in hard weather. Even the dry bread everywhere in the residential rows was grain she rarely tasted.

“Eh? Yi, can I really have these?” Nana hugged the long loaves, eyes shining like dew on morning leaves. For her, this was several days of sun. Then worry rippled up. She peered at the System with a timid glance, a fawn under brush. “But if you give these to me, what about you? You live here too. Without food, the days will be rough.”

A flicker of truth, then a mask—she couldn’t say her borrowed body needed no bread, moonlight running on moonlight. Ningyi weighed excuses like stones, then picked one that wouldn’t crack. “I’ve got a little cash. If I run out, I’ll buy more. And I’m working hard, same as you. So don’t worry about me. Take the bread and hold tight.”

“Yeah, Nana,” Yan Xiao slid in with a smile, a breeze through grass. “From her clothes and steady look, Yi doesn’t seem like a usual slum kid. It’s fine to accept.”

Nana squeezed the loaves, eyes skittering between her arms and Ningyi, tangled like vines. After a long beat, she spun and darted to her tiny wooden hut, swift as a swallow. “Wait for me, Yi! Take these handmade candies too!”

Silence poured in, warm and aching. The System stared at the pile now in her hand, little wrapped suns. Her host was too honest as a child—this sweetness was almost painfully cute.

“These are too many,” Ningyi said, gentle rain over a dry patch. “I’ll take just a little. Didn’t you say you sell these to earn? Giving me so many might hurt you.” She plucked a small handful, then returned the rest like placing petals back on a bloom. “Keep these. I’ve got enough.”

“But—”

“No buts, Nana.” Qi slipped behind and hugged her slim waist, laughter like bells. “Fussing forever means you never grow strong. Didn’t we promise to go treasure hunting? If we keep talking about food, time will slip through the cracks like sand.”

Treasure hunt. The phrase glinted like a coin in a river. Curiosity pricked first, then thought—inside her mind, the prophecy left by the Queen of Time stirred like an old banner catching wind.

“Treasure…?” She leaned in, eyes a lantern. “This slum has treasures to find?”

“Legendary treasure?” Yan Xiao’s smile was shaded, a fan half-open. “Of course not. Qi’s treasure hunt is just turning out trash cans.”

“Eh?” The System blinked, a bird startled mid-flight. She’d pictured a myth under dust, a hidden trove with a history’s weight. It was only trash cans—plain and sharp as a tin rim.

“Disappointed?” Yan Xiao asked, tone soft as dusk.

“A little,” she admitted, rue under the tongue. It fit the world’s grain—this was a slum. If treasure were buried here, someone would’ve dug it up long ago. Only one thorn remained: “Why call trash-digging a treasure hunt?”

“Because this is a slum.” Yan Xiao’s answer landed like rain on parched earth. “In a world like this, you need faith or fuel to keep going. Nana’s ‘treasure hunt’ is exactly that—a star to walk toward.”

“So,” she added, light pooling, “we’re heading out with Nana to hunt for treasure. Ningyi, what will you do?”

Pause first, then choice—the System wanted to stay, to bask in the small warmth of her host’s orbit. But until she mapped this world’s rules, she didn’t dare stir the water too hard. “I’ve got other work. You go with Nana. We’ll play next time.”

“Alright. Good luck at work.”

A soft haze drifted across her vision. Yan Xiao’s manner felt too familiar, like a melody she knew yet couldn’t name. It was a fog of memory—someone had lifted a strand from her head, and no wind told her when.

Maybe it was stress carving shadows. Since she’d stepped into her host’s mindscape, she’d held herself taut as a bowstring, afraid a small twitch would send the world’s arrow flying wrong.

At least the fog clung only to Yan Xiao. With Qi and her host, the air stayed clear.

“I’ll ask my master next time,” she thought, resolve settling like stone.

She stepped out of the slums and into the residential district, feet tapping a steady path. She’d find a short job first. In her host’s mindscape, extra preparation was a shield. In a society stacked like a ziggurat, money sometimes hit harder than any blade.

She quickened toward the bustling commercial square, a river of people under a sky of shouts. Ningyi angled for the posting board, hoping for a long-term job. She’d just reached the edge when guards surged in, a steel tide, and pressed everyone back.

“Quiet! Quiet! His Highness Moragus has a new proclamation!” The two leaders wore silver-white armor, spears like cold starlight. Their voices rolled like drums, and the market’s clamor folded into hush.

They pasted a massive white notice over the old patchwork of job slips, blank like snow swallowing tracks.

Residents ringed the board, shoulder to shoulder, a wall of bodies and whispers. The System, small as a sapling among trunks, couldn’t see, only caught shards—“war,” “conscription,” “invasion”—words like knives.

Ding! Optional Branch Quest triggered: War and Resistance.

Quest: Enter Chronos City’s conscription ceremony and become a soldier of the expansion.

Warning: This is a world-branch quest. Your choice fixes your faction identity. This cannot be undone. Choose carefully.

Ding! Remaining time to accept: fourteen days.

The chain of prompts hammered at her skull, wasps in a jar. Only when the guards stepped away did the System push forward, cutting the current like a fish.

“Notice… In recent years, Chronos City’s population has surged… city resources can’t bear such a burden. For Chronos City’s sake, His Highness Moragus has resolved to expand our borders. In the coming days… a fifteen-day mandatory conscription. Please prepare your hearts…”

“Huh? Conscription, war… territorial expansion? Wait!” The words snagged like thorns. She was shoved out, stumbled, then rose and dusted herself off, face crooked with doubt.

Chronos City might be called a city, but its lands stretched wider than many countries—an ocean, not a pond. How could it fail to carry a tide of people? And if the rulers piled food and treasure in the royal quarter, feasting nightly and never trimming expense, how could the coffers be bare?

This so-called expansion—could it be sailing under another flag entirely?