In Terracafe’s lavish courtyard, Xi lounged in the sun like a cat on warm silk, her ragged frock replaced by a purple evening gown that bloomed like night flowers.

“By the way, Xi, you still haven’t said how you came to Terracafe.” Irina, a red‑haired pixie of a girl, asked with eyes bright as morning dew; she was Xi’s childhood friend, a lantern from old fog.

Irina had even planned a banquet for tonight, a swirl of lights and music like a river of stars in their honor.

Xi would rather bite her tongue than tell; she glanced over, and saw Irina’s chest still road‑flat, the same straight plain as when they were little.

Catching Xi’s gaze, Irina’s face darkened like a cloudbank; she eyed Xi’s full curve, then her own endless highway, a hard horizon of sighs.

So disappointing.

“Why’s yours so big?” Her voice skittered like a pebble on glass.

“Ah… mine…” Xi blinked, then caught the meaning. “Mine’s… fine. Most people are around this size.” Her words fell like calm rain.

Irina went pale, like chalk in shade.

“Most people are this size…” The phrase echoed in her skull like a bell in a cold corridor. Most people… most people… most people…

“Doesn’t that mean I’m not normal?” She bit her beige skirt like a sulking rabbit, eyes reddening like embers; she looked ready to cry, a small storm in a teacup.

Xi didn’t comfort her; this scene was a wind that blew a hundred times in childhood. Leave her alone, and the weather would clear.

A few minutes of quiet, and Irina snapped back like a spring, bright as a sunrise, as if nothing had ever fallen.

“Xi, let’s go shopping. The night’s banquet needs starlight, and we can’t show up empty.” She reached for Xi’s hand, then saw tired shadows under Xi’s eyes and let go like leaves dropping.

What could exhaust her so deeply? The question hung like smoke.

Irina didn’t know. Xi wasn’t just tired; she’d nearly died, a candle guttering in a sudden draft. With Irina quiet, Xi finally stilled like a pond. “Tonight’s banquet… should I tell Ouyang? If he knows, it might end like a storm instead of a waltz.”

Her thoughts drifted toward Ouyang, a name like a blade in silk.

Suddenly, the whole city shuddered like a drumskin. Xi stood amid the crowd, watching bodies scatter like sparrows driven by a hawk.

“Hahaha… Weak mortals, tremble, fear, submit… hahaha…” The laughter rolled like thunder from the central clock tower.

Crack.

The ground split, a jagged seam like a dry riverbed. Far roofs swayed like drunk boats, ready to capsize any second.

“Run! The demons are coming out of the earth!” A voice shrieked like torn paper.

Panic rose like a tide. From the fissures, demons climbed—bone wings like bleached blades, horns curved like sickles, eyes crimson as coals, fear sharpened to a point.

But each demon wore Ouyang’s face, a nightmare mask; the sight crawled over Xi’s skin like frost.

Do something. Her heart pounded like a drum, but her hands were empty, a compass without north.

“Xi, save me…” Irina was seized by an Ouyang‑faced demon; its long tongue slithered across her cheek, slick spit glazing her face like gutter slime.

“Help me…” Her cry frayed like a torn ribbon.

Xi bolted toward Irina, feet flying like sparks, but the demon unfurled its bone wings and carried her off like a hawk with prey.

“No… don’t… Irina! Put her down!” Xi’s voice ripped like cloth; tears spilled like a sudden squall.

“Sis, save me…” A smaller voice cut like a needle.

Xi turned. Her little sister hung in Ouyang’s arms atop the clock tower; he bared bloody fangs, a wolf at moonrise, teeth wet as rubies.

“Little sister…” Xi stared, frozen like ice on the eaves; she tried to climb, but the heights were a cliff without handholds.

Snap.

Ouyang bit down on her sister’s neck with a sound like breaking twigs.

“No…” The word fell like ash.

The world lurched, and Xi stood in a grand hall, Irina’s home; Irina lay drawn and quartered, limbs torn like threads. A demon crunched an arm—crunch‑crunch—chewing like gnashing gravel.

It kicked something aside—thump—and a round thing rolled, rumble‑rumble, a ball of horror; it was Irina’s head, hair splayed like ink.

The scene twisted again. Xi stood atop the clock tower, Terracafe beneath her like a sandcastle in a black tide; buildings collapsed in a slow wave, and the distant dark walls fell like dominos.

“Don’t… don’t…” Her plea fluttered like a wounded bird.

Xi’s eyes snapped open to Irina’s mischievous face, sly as a fox cub.

“What’s wrong? Nightmare?” Irina waved a hand in front of Xi, fingers flickering like moth wings; Xi didn’t respond, stone‑still. “Oh no. Even her soul’s lost.”

Xi replayed the dream, each image a thorn; it wasn’t meaningless, it stung like prophecy. “Careless. He’s a Demon King, and I let him roam like wind.”

“No. I have to find him.” Her resolve hardened like steel under a hammer.

The dream was absurd, yet it felt like a warning carved in ice. That Demon King was plotting something dark; she wouldn’t let those visions become real. She had to find Ouyang and watch him like a hawk.

She ran out, feet beating the stone like rain.

“Xi, wait! Who are you even looking for?” Irina didn’t understand, but she chased without hesitation, bright as a chasing flame.

A middle‑aged man watched their backs vanish like commas in fog and shook his head. “These two kids… Cavendo, follow them. Keep them safe.”

“Yes, Your Grace!” Cavendo, armored like a midnight river, dropped to one knee before the duke.

On the street, Ouyang glanced left and right, hunting tools like a crow picking treasures; tomorrow he’d explore the Demon King’s palace. In his words, grave‑robbing under moonlight.

He needed to upgrade his gear, to honor the kings he intended to steal from.

“I’ve got a bad feeling… wait.” Ouyang slipped into a narrow alley, a shadow stitching into deeper shade.

An orange‑haired girl dashed up, panting like a bellows. “Xi, what’s his name? Is he that important?”

“He’s Ouyang. And important? If we don’t find him, he might destroy Terracafe.” Her voice struck like flint.

Hiding in the alley, Ouyang’s face twitched like a pulled thread.

Seriously? I haven’t even started, and that girl already knows? That’s a terrifying intuition. Lie low first. Empty the Demon King’s vault, then talk.

He made up his mind; without the treasure, he’d stay a shadow under the eaves.

If Xi caught him, his plan to “clean out the house” would drown. With him marked as a Demon King, if she still let him stroll into another Demon King’s manor, she’d be either blissfully naive or hopelessly foolish.

A Demon King walking into another’s palace? Nine times out of ten, you wake the other; seven times out of ten, you break the seal. Let a convict tour the prison, and the bad flock together—what good could bloom?

On the avenues, Xi ran herself ragged, breath rough as sandpaper; Terracafe was too big, a sea of streets without a star.

“I’m so dumb. He never set a rendezvous, and I didn’t notice.” Anxiety gnawed like mice; if disaster hit, she owned part of it. She brought the Demon King here, and she hadn’t kept him leashed.

Irina found her chance when Xi paused, breath fogging like white silk. “What happened? Why are you this frantic? You look like someone died, just to find a guy.”

Xi wiped sweat beading like dew on her brow and bit her lip like a rose thorn. “I wasn’t going to say it, but now isn’t the time to hide. I dreamed Terracafe turned to ruins.”

“Ah? That’s it? It’s just a dream.” Irina shrugged with a laugh, light as confetti.

“No. Listen… I… I released a Demon King. His name is Ouyang. I have a contract with him. He’s gone, and this city might be in danger.” Her words fell like stones.

“What… you released a Demon King?!” Irina’s mouth made an O, round as a moon; she was stunned stiff, a statue in wind.

“You’re not joking?” Her voice was a thin wire.

“It’s real. I got tricked. With the contract, if I keep him in sight, he can’t do harm. But I… I let him move freely.” Xi lowered her head, dejection shading her face like rain; any man would want to wrap her in arms and warm her.

“Find him fast. He’s a Demon King; if he runs wild, it’s trouble… but wait, can we even stop him?” Irina clearly hadn’t caught every word, her thoughts fluttering like birds.

“We can. The contract binds him. I can restrain him—if he stands before me.” Xi’s voice steadied like a drawn bow.

“Oh, then you’re a contract holder. Still, a Demon King like yours going off the rails is rare.” Irina’s eyes glittered like curious stars.

Xi barely heard. Finding Ouyang and stopping that great Demon King from wreaking havoc was the only road ahead, a line of fire she had to cross.