Fulin watched Charlotte spring around the room like a startled kitten, popping up and down like corn in hot oil. She snorted a laugh. "Hey—no need to be that dramatic."

"No, seriously," Charlotte bounced, twin tails whipping like dragonfly wings. She finally skidded to a stop before Fulin, words spilling like beads. "Charlotte just felt like she was dying. It was so spicy, so awful!"

Empathy flitted through Fulin like a soft lamp, yet delight bloomed like a mischievous flower in a hidden courtyard.

It felt like teasing someone fed a secret hunger in her bones.

The realization drifted over her like a thin mist. Was she the kind who builds joy atop another’s pain?

If so, wasn’t that a twisted taste? The thought rang through her chest like a hollow bell.

Yet Charlotte’s look just now had been truly funny; Fulin couldn’t deny it.

She let out a pfft of laughter, a ripple under quiet moonlight.

Charlotte caught the sound like a sparrow catching crumbs. "So you were teasing Charlotte!" As the peppery sting faded from her nose like a receding tide, she stamped and pointed straight at Fulin. "Charlotte I—so mad, so mad!"

"Mad?" Fulin’s smile curved with wicked spice, like a chili tucked behind the lips. Patience thinned like paper; she poked again. "And what can you do? I’m a Chaos Vampire."

Charlotte stamped; her twin tails flared like fox brushes. "Don’t underestimate Charlotte! The Dark Blood Clan won’t be bullied. Take this!"

She was only a head taller than Fulin, but she leaned on that body—barely fit to be called big sis in Fulin’s eyes—and in one breath shoved Fulin onto the double bed like pushing a cloud down.

Even pinned, Fulin kept the same taunting lilt, bold as a heron on a stone. "You pushed me down—so what exactly do you plan to do?"

What, you’ll actually go through me? Fulin laughed inwardly, a cat curling its tail.

"Take—this—meow!" The silly loli Charlotte roared like a kitten in tiger stripes. She pressed Fulin, hugged her, and they rolled across the bed like two peonies in a breeze.

After a few turns, Charlotte caught Fulin’s ear between small teeth, a nibble like a fish tasting bait. "I’ll tickle you to death!"

She said it, and between little bites, she blew a thin breath, cool wind over hot tea.

"Hey! Wait—" Fulin hadn’t expected that trick; carelessness blinked like a dropped stitch. Her strength drained like water, and a tingling, sweet-aching buzz spread through her body like spring rain.

Moments later, Fulin couldn’t endure it; soon, she was the one meowing.

Charlotte looked down at Fulin—cheeks flushed like cherry petals, eyes hazy like mist, legs soft as jelly—and her heart chimed with satisfaction. "Heh heh heh—now you know how strong Charlotte is?"

"You—how dare—" Fulin couldn’t even string words; breath came in tatters like torn silk. "Watch me pay you back!"

"Wu—waa—meow!" Next, it was Charlotte’s turn to yowl.

So the two enchanting, adorable girls of the Blood Clan wrestled on the bed without rest, bodies glistening with fragrant sweat, and in no time the room brimmed with their sweet scent like a spring orchard.

They kept trading attack and defense, swapping roles like waves on a shore, for a full hour.

Legs wobbly, itching so bad she could hardly walk, Fulin finally climbed down from the bed. She forced herself upright and explained the earlier nose-blowing, words placed like careful stones. "I saw you could barely open your mouth, so I sent it in through your nose."

Charlotte, who could never truly beat Fulin, lay rolling her eyes on the bed, voice broken like a frayed string. "S-so that’s it… ah… ah…"

Fulin saw her color no longer ghost-pale but rosy like dawn. "And look—you’re bouncing around now, aren’t you?"

"Th-thank you, Lady Fulin. Your essence—Charlotte is thoroughly enjoying it now!"

Fulin knew the gratitude was genuine, yet Charlotte saying that in this state felt odd, like scenes from certain doujin back in her previous life.

For example, a Blood Clan girl fails at revenge, gets hypnotized, and gapes in shock, and so on.

After a short rest, Charlotte had enough breath and crawled off the bed like a kitten dismounting a windowsill.

"Feeling better now?"

"Much better, but—" Charlotte tugged Fulin’s sleeve, waited for her gaze, then lifted her camisole. She pointed at the revealed, porcelain-white little belly, covered her stomach, and said, "Charlotte’s tummy is still a bit hungry…"

Was it necessary to flash your belly just to say you’re hungry? Fulin griped inwardly, tossing a pebble at a pond.

In truth, Charlotte’s belly was indeed flat as a calm lake. The Dark Blood Clan, besides regular blood intake, also needed three meals like ordinary folk.

"Then I’ll take you out for food."

"Okay~~"

Moments later, Fulin invoked the dark warrior technique, Dual Incarnation, and shifted into Shelika like a moon slipping behind clouds.

"Let’s go."

"Mm."

Charlotte, cautious as a fawn, followed behind Shelika and left the room.

They reached the lobby of Rose Traveler. Just as they were about to head out, the sassy maid behind the counter tossed a line like a hook. "Yo—had fun playing with your little bestie?"

Shelika shot her a cold look, ice on a blade, then tossed a crushed giant beetle onto the counter, right under her nose.

Seeing her scheme exposed, the sassy maid’s face froze mid-bad-smile like wax in winter. Fine sweat beaded on her brow like dew.

Shelika cut her a white glance, voice cool as shade. "I won’t report you to the temple. So don’t do that again."

"Definitely—definitely!" The sassy maid grinned awkwardly and waved at the two heading out, words sugarcoated like candied haw. "Wishing you and your little bestie a fun day!"

After leaving Tasty Grand Demon Shrimp, Charlotte’s stomach full, she clung like a sticky, dazed kitten. At a cute 45-degree angle, she tilted her head and asked Shelika, "Big sis—big sis, where are you taking Charlotte to play after lunch?"

Shelika looked at Charlotte’s silly-cute face; her heart tightened like a tied ribbon. She sighed like wind through bamboo. "Hey… I told you, taking you traveling isn’t for play."

"Th-then…" Charlotte ducked her head, twisted her little waist like a willow, fidgeted a bit, then looked up with clean eyes. "Can Charlotte do something for you?"

Shelika pointed at the rows of shops along the commerce street, fingers like an arrow. "Can you go earn money?"

"Earn money? Fulin, you weren’t—" Halfway, Charlotte realized the slip. She slapped a hand over her mouth, then switched. "Why does Big Sis need money?"

To Shelika, that sounded strange, like saying fish don’t need water.

"How do you survive in society without money?"

"We of the Blood Clan can draw relief from the Crimson Temple. We don’t have to work, you know~"

"What?"

Shelika blinked, stunned like a bird hitting clear glass. She searched memory, combing threads like fingers through a loom. Sure enough, it was true: in the Dark Spirit Empire, every Dark Blood Clan member could claim at least ten thousand rupees a year from the Crimson Temple until they can stand on their own.

Ten thousand rupees could cover daily life, sure—as long as you kept it basic, like a hut against the rain.

So in the Dark Spirit Empire, many of the Blood Clan scoffed at that sum. The former “Shelika” included, though not the current Shelika. She immediately sifted her memory for how to claim it.

Unluckily, to prevent impersonation, she’d have to return home to prove her identity if she wanted that money.

No help for it; Shelika let that relief go, like a leaf riding the stream.

"I’ve got major work ahead. If there’s a single misstep, that money won’t even begin to cover it."

"Charlotte understands…" Her head dipped, thoughts knitting like a careful seam. When she wasn’t being silly, Charlotte was a very earnest little girl. In those earnest moments, she had a different kind of cute, like a quiet bud about to bloom.

Sadly, that earnestness was usually an illusion. After a brief think, Charlotte blurted, mind leaping like a frog. "In that case, let Charlotte earn the money for Big Sis!"

She finished and patted her underdeveloped chest like a drum, face brimming with confidence like a sunbeam.

Shelika saw it and felt a knot of worry twist like ivy around a post.

Truth be told, she didn’t believe this silly Blood Clan girl could help with money. More likely, she’d earn nothing and stir up trouble.

Shelika could already picture it—the mess Charlotte would make, and the poor kitten posture when she bowed to apologize.