Soft. Warm. Bright.

That’s all Nana Shi feels as her mind swims up from the dark, a mist lifting to show a white-silk ceiling and furniture shining with gilded excess. Her awareness wavers like heat over stone.

“Tsk… did I… come back?”

The room tastes familiar yet wrong, like a melody played off-key. She reaches out by habit, her fingers sliding over a silk bolster, then knocking something hard—glass-cold under the pillow.

…Why’s there a mirror under my pillow?

She lifts a round mirror, no bigger than her palm. Her reflection stares back: a perfect shell with ink-dark, tired dead-fish eyes that dampen any light.

Ah… finally back. Not riding some stranger’s flesh this time. Truly back in my own world.

Her lips tilt; the girl in the glass awakens, her face gathering life like spring sap rising.

Good. Looks like that one’s plan actually worked.

Covers off. Shoes on. Feet to the floor. The motions flow like water down stone.

She raids the wardrobe, chooses something without thinking, then glances at the clock on the wall. Just past noon—sun tipping high, omen bright.

Click.

The white, ornate door pushes outward. The guards posted on both sides stiffen, hearts kicking like startled deer.

“Your Maj—”

“Shh.” Nana Shi stands in the doorway, white dress like a moonbeam, one finger to her lips. Her smile is soft, her tone indulgent. “Do you know how long I’ve been lying in there?”

“By… Your Majesty’s leave—counting today, six months.”

“Only six months, huh.” Her breath turns wry, a willow-lean sigh. So many planes with that unlucky fellow, and here only six months. High tech, you sly fox.

The two soldiers flinch. Six months isn’t short, Your Majesty. The city’s been a nest of hornets.

“What big things happened while I was out?” She idly twists a loose strand that drapes to her chest; the motion is light, but the air curdles. The soldier feels a chill spread like smoke from a brazier gone wrong.

“Uh… there were.” He swallows, knuckles whitening on his spear. He leans in and lowers his voice. “A few days after Your Majesty fell unconscious, the local rulers who’d allied with us started visiting each other—often. And inside the city, many ministers have been meeting foreign envoys. Especially from the eastern neighbor, Neqivana. They’ve sent envoys five times this week.”

“Well, that’s no small thing.” Nana’s eyes narrow, a cat in sun watching birds. Her tone flicks with a ribbon of mockery. “Ignore the idiot neighbors for now. Do you know which of our own have been cozying up?”

“We do.”

“Good. Gather them all in the grand hall.” Her voice snaps like a fan opening. “And drag along the envoy from the Aba-Aba Kingdom. In Chronos City, who doesn’t know Nana Shi is the warmest host?”

She flicks them a golden talisman slip. The corridor beyond gleams like a river of light; her smile is soft as tea steam. “I’ve slept too long. I owe old friends a proper catch-up.”

“You understand what I mean?”

“We do.” They accept the talisman with both hands, heads bowing low, shadows pooling at their feet.

“Good. Go ahead. I’ve got something else to handle. I’ll be there soon.”

“Yes!”

Her “something else” isn’t trouble, just a long road that bends like a reed in wind.

The quiet around her feels strange, like a cicada chorus cut off mid-note. Nana walks past flowerbeds and carved stone, slips through narrow lanes, and in her mind she weighs how hard to beat that woman when they meet—no more than necessary, but enough to be remembered.

She’s owed for watching over Nana while her memories were sealed. Leaving without interest would be bad business.

Twisting through the alleys, she stops before a battered little shack—like a child’s pretend house, its door swollen and splintered from rain and sun. She steps forward without looking twice.

The world flickers. Scenery peels away like paper, and she steps into a pocket space, the air rinsed clean and still.

Nana takes in the familiar room, satisfaction curving her lips like a crescent moon.

“Come out. I know you’re waiting.”

“Hm. As expected of Nana—always sharp as a hawk.” An iron door irises open in the wall. A figure in a long black coat drifts through, night-cloth swallowing light. Her voice is no longer filtered through machines—just a human woman’s tone, velvet with cool.

“Welcome back, Nana.”

“Less fluff.” Nana’s smile stays sweet as sugar water; her words hit like ice. “Before I blow your head off, tell me about—seven—no, Nesting Phoenix.”

…

Still not cute. She used to be adorable, a small wildflower.

The woman exhales a rueful breath, then gets on with it.

“Nesting Phoenix is stable. If not for that mess with Blue Magpie, she’d almost be fully awake.”

“Speak human.”

…

“In short, we’ll need a few more plane-hops.”

“No problem.” Nana Toki’s voice is flat water, no ripples. “I endured that many trips already. I don’t care about a few more. If anyone blocks me again, I’ll twist their head off.”

“Emmm. Whatever makes you happy.” The woman shrugs, easy as wind. With Nana, failure’s never on the table.

“Since we’re here, about that favor I asked you ages—”

Whoosh—

Before she finishes, Nana tosses something her way.

“That idiot’s power core, right? Yeah. I brought it back.”

“Oh! Watch it, Nana. That’s Xiao-1’s only power core. If it gets dinged, I’ll cry.”

She snatches the core midair, handling it like a fragile bird. A sigh slides out of her. “I’m done playing the clown. Never again. You didn’t see my girl at the end—storming off. I labored for years to build her, and she sided with you. Talk about blood loss.”

“Heh. Guess my charm is just too strong.” Shameless pride sits on Nana like a tilted crown.

…

“Fine. Xiao-1 grew well, so I won’t fight you for it.” She pins a floating screen with one hand, fingers dancing like dragonflies. “Since you’re here, want to witness Xiao-1’s rebirth?”

“Pass. I have other things.” Nana turns, her hand cutting the air, impatient as a cat flicking its tail. “She’ll have a mountain of questions. Explaining is a pain. You do the witnessing.”

…Her style is still a strong wine.

“I’m heading out.”

“Right. See you.”

They trade farewells. Nana’s silhouette thins and fades in the pocket space like mist at dawn. The woman glances back—and blinks at the table. At some point, a few handmade sugar candies wrapped in shiny paper appeared there, clear as frost in sunlight.

Chronos City feels the weight of an Imperial Writ drop like a thunderstone.

In six months of her coma, no one dared issue one. Now, after a long drought, here it is again. Even if the whole continent doesn’t quake, many within Chronos City are about to burn.

“Damn it. Wasn’t she still comatose? Who issued this Writ?”

Since Nana Shi took the throne, every command—wars and executions alike—has flown through the Imperial Writ. In Chronos City, once a Writ is out, only Nana herself can cancel it. Otherwise, no one’s blade can cut it.

In the grand hall, ministers huddle like sheep in rain, whispering under the vaulted chill.

“Six months of silence, and suddenly this?”

“Could she have… woken up?”

“Impossible! The best doctors on the continent said she’d never wake again. She can’t just rise from nothing.”

“But I woke anyway. Doesn’t that just ruin your day?”

A cold voice slides through the hall like frost over stone. Noise thins; breaths catch.

The ministers turn. Panic drains their faces, pupils pinning tight.

Behind them stands a woman of exquisite beauty, her half-smile like a blade sheathed in silk, watching them with amusement.