Fulin had flung caution to the wind, but once calm slipped back in, she knew she’d been reckless.

Now she was in her Chaos Vampire true body, her Blood Clan traits buried beneath a clever trick. On the surface, she was a blonde, blue-eyed little angel—hiding in the last wagon of Reina’s convoy. The cargo bay was packed with luggage. Fulin tucked herself into the deepest pocket and just pretended to be another piece of baggage, like a kitten curled tight, head down, not moving.

The reckless part wasn’t the hiding. If you aren’t found, you aren’t in danger. The gamble sat in her next step, a real test of her acting. She no longer had Lance’s ready-made persona to wear.

After the convoy had gone a long way, she picked a slow stretch. She rammed her head into a rack on purpose. Crates toppled and rolled across the bed with a thunderous clatter. Fulin cried out, sweet and pained. "Ow~!"

"Who’s there!" The wagon driver snapped to the anomaly behind him. He hadn’t caught the words, only that something had slipped inside.

The wagon halted. The rest of the train shuddered to a stop too. Footsteps thudded, drifting closer to this carriage.

"Who’s in there? Get out!" A burly man, by the sound of him. Fulin recalled he was a mercenary guarding the envoy group.

Judge the timing. Good enough. She hurriedly ‘rolled’ out. Not with her usual nimble poise, but with the clumsy scramble of a ten-year-old, tumbling off the wagon.

A golden-haired cutie stood there—exactly the top-shelf treasure merchants loved. The men around the wagon flipped from alert to leering in a heartbeat, their heh-heh laughs greasy and loud.

Disgust prickled. She almost flared. Then her heart sank. She scampered off, adorably awkward, ducked behind a tree trunk, peeked half her head out. Eyes squeezed shut in pretend terror. Her voice rang like silver bells, bright as a yellow oriole—soft and warning. "D-don’t come any closer~!"

She was cute by nature, a Blood Clan little girl who couldn’t help it. She knew it well; anything she did carried charm. So when she poured two months of practice into a full, honest performance of cuteness, it was lethal.

The envoy group—mostly gross uncles—froze right there under the blast of her ‘moe.’

Seeing them stall, the little Fulin inside her preened. Hmph—perfect. Just as planned. Couldn’t be smoother.

Next, step two… Wait. Where’s Reina?

The first step was to stall the envoy group with charm, buying time for the Rose Knights up front to arrive. Then she’d pivot and charm them instead. But Reina was nowhere to be seen. Only the lechers kept sidling closer.

"D-don’t come closer!" Anxiety bit down. She thought everything would unfold by the book, yet at the hiccup, panic bloomed. It felt like real fear—like a little girl scared of a pack of dirty old men. "If you come any closer, I’ll—I’ll kill you all~~"

She crouched with her head in her arms, mumbling murder in baby-soft stammers. The sight was too adorably absurd, and the envoy group broke into howls of laughter.

"Hey now, where’d this little miss pop up from? Says she’ll kill us. Hahahaha!"

Minutes ticked. They crept in: five meters, four, three, two… Hit one meter and she wouldn’t hold. She’d snap and unleash an Arcane Mage’s speed-cast, and in the cold logic of magic, she’d wipe them out.

Luckily, at two meters, the Rose Knight Reina finally appeared. Her voice cut clean and stern. "That’s far enough."

The highest-ranked among them had spoken. No matter how strong their lust, the envoy group had to douse themselves and step aside. Reina walked up to the crouching Fulin and held out a silk scarf with hands browned by sun and hardened by training, still gentle. "Little one, are you crying?"

Little Fulin shot back at once. "Impossible. I’m not crying." The words trembled, a sob tucked inside. Her vision blurred reflexively. She rubbed her eyes. Her cheeks came away wet. Had she actually cried? The realization struck far harder than she’d imagined.

Before she could finish, Reina crouched, brought her face close, and dabbed Fulin’s cheeks with quiet care.

Fulin wrestled free of her tangled thoughts and found Reina’s face near and warm. In those eyes, a softness like a mother’s fondness for her child. Of course that couldn’t be true; it had to be a trick of the moment. Yet with the girl’s face so close, her heart beat fast. Her cheeks burned. Shame pricked, and she turned her head away.

Reina touched her forehead to Fulin’s. A gentle nuzzle. Comfort flowed like warm water. "Are you scared? Don’t be. Big sister’s here. If you’re afraid, you can hold on to me."

Fulin answered with the smallest sound. "Mm…" Warmth pressed close. She felt like a cloud drifting over soft hills, then sinking into a valley where sunlight doesn’t reach. It lacked the sun, yet felt like home. Her cold body and colder heart began, impossibly, to thaw.

…

Night rolled in. Magic lamps opened in the luxury carriage, steady and bright.

Only Reina and her two handmaids were inside. Reina asked, "All right, little one. Can you tell me where you’re from?"

"I…" The touch lingered on her skin. Looking into Reina’s earnest eyes, Fulin felt her cheeks blaze again.

The odd spell of it faded as reason returned. Her heart dipped. She slid on the mask she’d forged through trial. Her small face lit up, wide eyes bright. She recalled Alice’s haughty poise and adopted an heiress’s air. "My name is Fulin Lindebel. I’m thirteen. A month ago, my father sought refuge with Uncle George. We live in the tower annex at George Keep. I’m Count George’s distant niece."

She kept the performance crisp and shining. The intel was perfect. A month ago matched the purge of spies inside George City. Outsiders, cut off from sources, couldn’t verify. It had to hold.

Reina listened, then tilted her voice, playful and sharp. "Such a tiny little lady. But—you’re lying."

Doubted already? Fulin blinked, baffled, and pressed on. "No, I’m not."

Reina’s lashes shimmered. "Oh? You’re really thirteen? I thought you were pretending to be mature."

Fulin swore inside. Thirteen is pretending to be mature? She wasn’t even trying. Did she look younger than thirteen? Impossible. There had to be another angle. If the plan worked, then it would be perfect…

Watching the little girl sink into serious thought, Reina smiled. She gently pinched Fulin’s nose. "All right, I’ll believe you. Then tell me—how did you climb onto the wagon?"

Fulin straightened, proud as a peacock, innocent of any wrongdoing. Which, to be fair, she hadn’t done. "I slipped in when no one was looking!"

That tone gave Reina a headache. She asked, "Little one, why sneak aboard? Don’t you think it’s dangerous?"

Finally, the key question. Whether she could pry out intel hinged on this one shot.

Fulin’s gaze shimmered. She recalled how Vivian had once said ‘That’s amazing’ to him with honest awe. She fought to show that same pure admiration, with a thread of truth. "Because big sister looks strong. You knocked down the bully who tormented the city—just like that."

Having sold her old persona, she widened her eyes and pleaded on. "But Uncle George said I have to marry that bad brother. I don’t want to marry. Can you take me away?"

She kept blinking, doe-eyed.

Faced with such an absurd request, Reina should’ve refused. She hesitated instead. At last, an awkward smile pulled at her lips. "I can only take you away for a while. Is that okay?"

Fulin answered with bright joy. "Okay!"

Inside, she rejoiced. As long as she could be alone with Reina, with the guard down, she could cast the Arcane Mage’s intel spell "Mind’s Confession." On a successful cast, it reveals the target’s weakness. Depending on timing and place, the reveal might skew. But because Fulin Belit is a max-level Arcane Mage, among the three valid reveals, one will always be the one she needs most.

In short, if she stayed by Reina’s side, played a harmless little shadow, she would find the perfect window for "Mind’s Confession" and uncover Reina’s flaw as a knight.

Yet, looking at this girl who was fierce in public and gentle in private, Fulin felt a pang. She was about to deceive a pure Rose Knight. Guilt pricked. It faded fast.

She leaned into Reina with a quiet hug, like a daughter nestling into her mother. Rest settled over her.

A whisper in her heart: Reina, I only want a simple life in this world. Please forgive my ruthless means.

…

Ten at night. The convoy passed Mai-xiang Town.

A small town less than two kilometers from Licar City. Reina’s carriage split off. The convoy continued toward Karl City. Reina returned to her villa in the town.

They dismounted. Reina took Fulin’s small hand and led her into the hall. Magic fixtures, finer than anything in George City, lined the room. A maid who knew some magic but wasn’t a mage waved her hand. Chandeliers on ceiling and walls flared to life. Warm, steady light drove the darkness out.

Reina lifted Fulin high—she only reached Reina’s midriff. "You’ll stay here tonight!"

Being treated like a child made Fulin bristle. But she had to play the professional tag-along. Even if they called her a little girl, she had to beam. "As long as I’m with big sister, I can go anywhere."

"Then—come take a bath with big sister."

Fulin’s pure smile froze. Her mood lurched hard. Does being a little shadow mean following her into the bathhouse too?