Doll is only the Divine Name of the girl with gold hair and gold eyes, her Gothic dress black as night and edged with dawn-bright gold.

A Divine Name never changes. Since the first bearer, as eras erode like tides and clouds drift like herds, it stays the same through death and inheritance.

Beyond that, every Deity keeps a True Name—her name from before divinity, the name like a seed under snow, still warm.

Time (false) calls herself Wei. Nightfall is Linlang. The first Misfortune was Buye. The third Misfortune is Little Ash. And Doll’s name is—Alice.

If a Divine Name is where a Deity’s radiance gathers like thunder over peaks, then hearing it shakes mortals like a storm hitting glass. A great one’s Name can drop them in a faint.

Then a True Name is every Deity’s Achilles’ heel, a throat bared to the knife. Whoever truly holds it can curse with it like a poisoned needle.

To hold it isn’t to have heard it in passing, like wind through reeds. The Deity must speak it solemnly, fully awake, with the intent of entrusting it, like placing a key in your palm.

Once spoken, it means absolute trust, a treasure handed over like a heart placed in your hands—her sharpest weakness given to you.

As with—Wei.

...

...

“Wei.”

“What?”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Huh?”

The talk happens at home—Little Ash’s home, now Ye Weibai’s home, like a lantern house in a looping tide.

In this World where time stands still, trapped in an endless Cycle like a clock whose hands only circle.

It’s a morning like always. Sunlight spills over the glass like honey, pooling across the rooms like warm gold.

Wrapped in that ice-blue glow and led out of the white room, Ye Weibai didn’t have time to think. His vision went dark like a blink between stars.

Realizing he had entered the Void Tunnel, he shut his eyes by reflex, like a swimmer ducking a wave.

Then he felt two moist, soft petals touch his brow—no, kiss fits better, he thought, heat blooming like a flower in frost.

That softness should be someone’s lips, he thought, and his heart thudded once like a drum under silk.

He parted his lips, ready to speak. The warmth that held him fled in a rush, like startled wings at dawn.

Even with eyes closed, he felt it—the owner of that blue light bolting like a guilty cat, slipping into the void like water through cracks.

But why?

What is she timid about? Why fear meeting me face to face?

No, fear isn’t right... it’s... shy.

...

...

Ye Weibai’s guess was right.

It was true.

It was... shy.

Even Wei hadn’t expected that, like moonlight finding a hidden pond.

It went like this.

Void is the Queen of the Void, the mistress of space, a hawk riding empty skies. With the clue from the space shard Wei gave her, she easily found where Doll had caged Ye Weibai.

The instant she caught Ye Weibai’s scent, she crossed a thousand distances like stepping over puddles, tore open that World like silk, and flew to meet her little brother.

Wei arrived right behind and ran into Doll, who had felt her barrier break and came like thunder over hills.

One had her ward stolen like fire from a hearth. The other had her play cut off at its climax like a string snapped mid-song. When they met, it was volcano meets earth.

But in truth, there was no spectacle. Because the strongest Deity, Trade, had set the Rules like iron rails, they never traded real blows.

They only rammed minds a few times like cold waves, their struggle hidden and dull as a knife in cloth. Any louder, and if Trade heard, the price would be worse than losing a Divine Name.

Trade loathes rule-breakers like a judge who hates lies.

Wei felt Bai’s aura steady like a hearth flame. She ached with worry for him and feared Void, that unstable storm on a horizon she herself had clouded.

She had deceived Void. Wei knew exactly who Ye Weibai was like a scribe knows his own handwriting.

He could never be Void’s “little brother,” whose soul was long annihilated like ash scattered on wind.

If Void cooled down and saw it, that would be real trouble—wildfire in dry grass.

Wei shot Doll a cold look like ice on steel and slipped into the void like a fish into dark water. She had to catch Void.

Doll, her show interrupted, didn’t feel like pursuing. She wasn’t a War Deity, fists for fireworks, craving a brawl for its own sake.

She had more than one stage, more than one mask and curtain, like a theater with endless halls.

Besides, she had smelled the scent of that woman, Void, drifting like frost.

That one is a stubborn storm, a true trouble.

Although... that boy... did seem interesting, like a rare book with a secret spine.

The golden-haired girl glanced at where Wei vanished and frowned slightly, like a harp-string tightening. For some reason, she felt the subtle ache of having lost something precious, a pebble missing from a river’s song.

...

...

“Where?!”

“Where?!”

“Where are you, Bai?!”

Wei didn’t excel at travel. To avoid exposing her true self, she didn’t dare use full strength, like a hawk flying low among branches. She couldn’t compare to the Queen of the Void.

Anxiety filled her like floodwater. Jaw clenched, she almost burst her disguise and raced through the void like a meteor.

She feared Void, in rage, would tear Bai to dust like paper in a storm. Even she wasn’t sure she could revive someone killed by the power of Void—bones swallowed by night.

Not long ago she had rewritten a worldline like a loom reset. She couldn’t cast that heavy rewind of Time again so soon.

Good news—Bai’s aura was calm, like a lake at dawn. Better, the two had stopped somewhere ahead, hanging like lanterns in fog.

Wei finally caught up to them, drenched like rain-soaked silk. Before she could breathe, the ice-blue queen surged toward her like winter tide.

So I’m exposed? The thought fell like a stone.

She readied herself to fight with a weary sigh like wind through pines—then froze at Void’s face and posture, two lanterns lit with the wrong color.

In her wildest dreams, she’d never imagine the Queen of the Void—heedless of all, infamous among the gods, a name that chilled the Void-Forgotten—would look... shy, like a schoolgirl clutching her sleeves.

Yes, Void rushed up—but with cheeks flushed like peach blossoms, and she hugged Wei, anxious and glowing like frost under sunrise.

Wei wore Time’s current face—a small girl with shoulder-length deep-blue curls, like dusk waves. An oversized pale-green robe draped her like mist.

A hood too big shadowed her little face like a leaf over a sparrow. On her chest, a blue quartz clock breathed light like a sleeping firefly.

Stunned by Void’s look—she thought she saw a mirage, heat on a road.

Tell the gods that Void can blush, and it’s like saying the War Deity, Crimson, wants peace for the rest of her life. They’d sooner believe the latter.

After all, Trade always beats the War Deity down like rain on flame.

Wei was too shocked. She couldn’t move before Void folded her into an embrace like a wave swallowing a pebble.

Her petite frame vanished in the tall queen’s arms, head sinking into soft warmth like a sparrow in cotton. She couldn’t get a word out.

Void spoke at a girl’s rapid clip, like beads spilling from a torn string. “Time! What do I do! I’m so scared! It’s been so long—my brother must’ve forgotten me! What do I do, Time!”

Wei finally wriggled her head free like a fish slipping net. She stared, stunned. “Your little brother... you’re sure Bai is your little brother?”

The words left her and she knew they were wrong, a slipped note.

Void, bright with excitement, didn’t notice. Her eyes lit like stars. “Bai! My brother’s called Bai? What a beautiful name! It sounds so good!”

“...” Wei went blank, fog over a field. “You don’t... even know your brother’s name?”

Void didn’t hear her. She kept talking, breathless. “Just now! When I held him, he said—‘That’s nice.’ I’m so happy! My heart’s bursting! I could die of happiness!”

“...”

A bad omen pooled cold in Wei’s chest like winter water. She wondered what had gone wrong, what thread had tangled.

In her plan, she should be clashing with Void like storm and cliff—she had used the forbidden word “little brother” to deceive her. She had no choice; she couldn’t find Doll’s den.

If she couldn’t win, she’d force a Time Reversal and run, like rewinding a broken song. Whatever it took, she’d keep Bai safe.

But what was this?

Skipping a fight is good as rain after drought. Yet Void truly taking Bai as her brother—that’s trouble a hundredfold, like tinder catching in dry wind.

Not good. Whatever misstep happened, whatever sense misfired in Void, Wei would not hand Bai to that ticking bomb, a clock with a crack.

“So... what are you worried about?” Wei asked, careful as stepping across ice.

“Worried? I’m not worried!” Void smiled like sunlight on frost. “I have my brother now! I fear nothing! But...”

She glanced at Ye Weibai floating in the distance like a snow-white leaf. Her posture went shy, like a swan tucking its neck. “I’m a little afraid... my brother won’t recognize me. After all...”

Void laughed, brilliant as a comet, face filled with happiness like a lake with moonlight. “We’ve been apart for almost thirteen thousand years!”

It was a beautiful smile, one to light winter orchards.

Seeing it, Wei’s fingers trembled like leaves. Her heart sank like a stone into deep water.

Sorry, Void. Cruel as it is... I can’t hand Bai to you.

“I have an idea.” After a long silence, Wei spoke, voice even as a metronome.

“What, what?”

“First, steady your heart. Prepare. Best to watch how brothers and sisters across Worlds get along, like learning a dance.”

“Then, you should first let Bai—”

“I’ll leave my brother with you, Time!” Void’s eyes flashed like sun on ice.

Wei’s mouth fell open like a door on its hinge. “You trust me that much...”

Void gave her a curious look, clear as a winter sky. “Aren’t you the one who told me about my brother?”

Wei wanted to say more. In the end, she only gave a bitter laugh, like a bell under water. “Yeah. That’s on me. Leave him to me.”

...

...

Back to the beginning.

“Wei.”

“What?”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Huh?”

The blue quartz clock hovered in midair, trembling like a teardrop.

A girl’s cold voice came from somewhere far, like wind out of a well.

“Why would I be mad? Don’t be ridiculous.”