“Haah~ Morning, Fulin~” Reina stretched like a cat under dawn, her arms arcing like branches greeting the sun.

Fulin’s cheeks tightened first, then her voice followed. “M‑morning~”

Nerves crawled like ants under her skin, before her eyes traced Reina’s waking breaths.

Reina rose as naturally as a flower opening at daybreak, unaware of anything amiss on her body.

The Blood Clan’s light bite was a sip of mist, a tide that left no ripple on the shore.

No beast’s gouge, no mosquito’s welt, nothing but silk‑smooth shoulder under the camisole strap, pale as jade with a sunrise bloom.

Relief rolled through Fulin like cool water, as she watched for long minutes, a sparrow on a fence.

Reina hopped off the bed with a rosy glow, yet no wobble, no weakness, only spring in her step.

Fulin’s chest loosened at last, like a knotted kite string freed to sky.

“Staring at your big sis that long~?” Reina teased, then peeled off her nightdress, breezy as a wind in summer grass.

Panic spiked in Fulin like a startled deer, because in thirty years no girl had ever changed right before her.

“W‑why are you changing all of a sudden!?”

“Eh~? Can’t I?” Reina blinked, tossing her “fresh” clothes onto the bed like fallen petals after rain.

Words failed Fulin like a dry well, so she sighed. “It’s… not that you can’t. Sigh.”

She turned away and moved by habit, her mood a steady drum before her hands began.

Wash, change, comb—each step flowed like a stream finding old grooves.

For more than two months she had done this first, then triggered Dual Incarnation.

What once felt thorny now became moss underfoot, forced into familiarity.

Reina watched her, eyes bright as morning dew. “Fulin, you’re really practiced.”

“Am I?” Fulin answered without thinking, like tossing a pebble in a pond.

“Yeah, I thought you were one of those super delicate young ladies~~”

Fulin tilted her head, curious as a bird. “How delicate?”

“Mm~~” Reina frowned in mock agony, then spoke, drawing a fairytale on air.

“Like a storybook princess. Wakes in a crystal‑trimmed room, with maids orbiting like stars.”

“They dress her, choose her gown, pick her hairstyle… everything done by others, while she pouts by the window.”

Fulin’s heart skipped like a drum dropped down steps.

Because she knew that was the opening sketch for Fulin Belit, the role framed before any player took control.

A pampered, headstrong little princess, nailed by Reina’s arrow of words.

Anxious heat blurred her hands before her denial stumbled out. “N‑no way…”

Her combing turned messy, like a breeze tangling willow strands.

“Of course not. But~” Reina stepped behind her, warm as sunlight on the nape.

She caught Fulin’s small hand, lifted the comb, and the strokes fell like rain.

“See? You haven’t combed by yourself for long. Your method’s off. Let big sis help.”

Fulin’s doubts fluttered, then settled like swallows on a beam. “Please… sister.”

Soon Reina had not only combed her hair smooth as silk, but tied two high side ponytails, light as twin crescent moons.

The rest fell as a shining river, a style that blended twin‑tail charm with lady‑like grace.

It was a classic heroine’s crown, and it fit Fulin Belit like a blossom on its branch.

Fulin stared at the mirror, heat rising like dawn mist, and whispered, “Thank you… sister.”

“No need. Your hair is truly good, like straight water that never kinks overnight.”

“I barely had to work, so I chose what suits you. Looks great, right~”

That struck Fulin’s office‑worker blind spot, and she nodded like a shy sprout. “Mm, it looks nice…”

“Then lift your chin.”

“Mm.”

Truth be told, unease came first, a shadow before her step.

Fulin was never at ease with girl‑to‑girl chatter, and school memories buzzed like cicadas about taste, clothes, and hair.

Thankfully, the thorny topic ended fast, and the ribboned style soothed her like cool shade.

Breakfast followed, the day unfolding like steam from a kettle.

They went downstairs to the hall that moonlit as a dining room, where the long table already gleamed with plates.

Fulin and the two maids had the classic small but high‑protein lady’s meal, neat as chess pieces.

Only Reina’s place held a full, almost lavish knight’s meal, square bread like a golden brick on a napkin, wheat aroma rising like warm wind.

Beside it sat a little dish of butter, pale as cream clouds, the pairing tidy and refined.

Ahead lay two slabs of bacon on a saucer, their color vivid as autumn leaves in the right flame.

A few drops of fat shone golden as late sunlight, and the smoked meat snapped like thin ice.

A finger tap would hum that smoky perfume, speckled with peppers, cumin, and wanderer’s spice.

You could imagine a bite, full as a harvest moon, and flavor bright as a struck spark.

Next sat a scallion as long as a flute, about the size of the bacon.

Maybe it was a different breed; it didn’t roar like harsh onion.

It was more like celery on Earth, a faint bitter with a green, almost coconut breath.

The surface had been kissed by a fine flame, skin blistered like toasted parchment.

A maid brushed rock‑salt water in delicate strokes, a tide on a shore.

One bite would be crisp and juicy, like biting into spring itself.

Reina ate with simple joy, like wind through tall grass.

A mouth of bread, a mouth of scallion, bread with bacon, bacon then scallion.

No etiquette, no need, only fuel for a Charge Knight who runs like thunder.

She devoured like a storm front, faster than any girl at table, then stretched, satisfied as a cat in a sun patch. “Full~ so full~~!”

The two maids were sisters, sprouting from lower nobility in Maple City.

The older one, neat and sharp with rimless glasses, spoke like a clean blade.

“Lady Reina, you ate more than yesterday, and more than a standard Charge Knight.”

“Your strength may have advanced. Congratulations.”

The younger one, ponytail bouncing and freckles like sprinkled sugar, teased with a grin.

“Reina‑neesan, if you eat that much, will any boy like you?”

“Look at little Fulin—so cute and graceful.”

“Maybe the second prince, Gio Robel, who never seems into girls, likes this type?”

Cold prickles crawled over Fulin’s skin, like walking through cobwebs.

Reina bristled and grumbled, a spark in dry straw. “What I like is none of your business.”

Fulin finished eating just then, and the younger maid pounced like a sparrow, bright and nosy.

“Little Fulin, what kind of boys do you like?”

A wince came first, then a thought. She couldn’t say she didn’t like boys.

The answer fell like a tossed coin, light and deflecting. “I like boys who are like Reina‑neesan!”

The air went awkward for a breath, like a taut string.

The older maid scolded the younger, voice stern as a bell. “Liza, her mind’s still simple.”

“Don’t poke at things a child doesn’t grasp.”

“If she truly falls for Lady Reina, what then?”

The younger drooped like a wet pup. “I’m sorry, sis.”

Reina hurried to smooth it over, hands fluttering like doves. “Alright, alright.”

“Clean up and get ready. We leave soon.”

“Understood!” the two maids chimed, crisp as claps.

Fulin played the clingy sweetheart, confusion in her eyes like gathered dew. “Reina‑neesan, where are we going?”

“Sending you home~~ We agreed yesterday, remember?”

“Just a short time away,” Reina said, already wearing her pale red skirt‑armor that matched her hair like flower to stem.

“I like you, sis. I don’t want to leave.” Fulin’s eyes pooled like spring wells, and she hugged Reina’s arm like ivy to bark.

“Fulin…” Reina’s resistance wilted like soft snow under sun, and doubt warmed her gaze.

Inside, Fulin was eager to go, a hawk impatient to fly.

The act was a veil, a dew‑bright cover for the role she clung to.

She’d planned her exit before she ever slipped into the carriage yesterday.

She would have the big cat come and “snatch” her away in front of Reina, a staged storm instead of a silent fog.

It felt extra, like an extra lantern at noon, but the gain was clear.

No one would doubt the clingy girl’s mask, and no one would pry at hidden fangs.

If she vanished by mist or shadow, suspicion would plant like a black seed.

People might think kidnap, but worse, they might suspect power that didn’t fit a small girl.

With vampire rumors fluttering like bats, it would stain straight toward Blood Clan.

So better to hang the pot on Lance’s hook, clean and open under the sky.

Even if “he” picked up the label of lolicon, so what?

In the Xia Kingdom, many gentlemen with unique tastes lived their own seasons just fine.

For now, Fulin didn’t need to twist roads to return to George Fort.

As the little clingy, she only needed to wilt, then obey. “Okay. Fulin will listen to big sis.”

“Mm‑hmm~ I love good kids most.” Reina smiled, gentle as a hand smoothing bangs.

A maid led the carriage up, reins creaking like old leather. “The carriage is ready.”

“Let’s get in,” Reina said quickly, as if time itself chased her like a hound.

They boarded and rolled out, wheels humming like bees.

But Wheatfield Town’s exit bristled like a hedge of spears, and they couldn’t pass.

Carl Margrave stood blocking the road, with a high mage hired from Golden Bay City and a swath of mercenaries like a dark tide.

Reina stepped down, her gaze steady as iron. “Carl Margrave, what are you doing?”

“Will you even stop a lady’s outing?”

“No, I wouldn’t dare,” he said, smooth as lacquer, far younger than Count George yet no less polished.

“You’re beautiful, noble, and strong—the Rose Knight of the Golden Flower Family.”

“It’s my honor to have you here, and to have your aid.”

He gave her a courteous bow, a leaf falling just so, then pointed toward the carriage, warmth over ice.

“There’s one thing you didn’t tell me, which my messenger reported.”

“You bravely protected Count George’s youngest daughter.”

“That’s vital for the peaceful handover of control at the Crescent Pass trade checkpoint near George Fort.”

“Would you entrust her to me?”