“Oh, got it.” Desty’s nod fell like a pebble into still water, then she asked, “I’ve got a question—do Bloodkin eat other food?”

“?” Lucimia’s eyes popped like two bright stones toward Desty. “Right, I forgot. Wait—this question… you don’t know?”

“I don’t.” Desty’s head shook, a willow leaf trembling in wind.

“…” Words snagged in Lucimia’s throat like silk on thorns.

After a beat, her sigh uncurled like mist. “Forget it. We just don’t touch their stuff. We’ll eat what we prepared.”

“Mm.” Desty’s assent was a quiet ripple.

“It’s dinner time anyway.” Lucimia’s voice was soft as dusk. “We eat first. Then we move under the night’s veil and taint the Cross before the rats arrive.”

“Okay. Speaking of… how long till the rats get here?”

“How long… I don’t know. Maybe a few days.” Her uncertainty was a cloud drifting. She spoke while drawing delicacies from her Storage Ring, dishes blooming like lanterns on a festival night.

“Mm. When the rats show up, the people here will…” Desty’s thought stalled, a bird catching in net.

“…” Lucimia didn’t answer. She set the food on the table, colors like a painted scroll, then patted Desty’s shoulder. “Stop thinking. Eat first.”

“Okay…”

—

They ate in a hush thick as snow. The air sat heavy, a pond without ripples. Even their own hearts felt fogged and far away.

A little girl’s arrival cracked the quiet like a pebble on ice.

“What’s that?” Lucimia glanced toward the window. A small head, half-hidden, peeked in like a sparrow at the eaves. When her gaze turned, the girl flinched and ducked, yet a ribbon of blue hair still showed.

Desty turned, too, catching that thread of blue like a river line on a map.

“Uh… did we get exposed? That was fast.” Her whisper fluttered like a moth.

Lucimia covered her face, a palm shading a lamp. Then they called the girl into the wooden hut.

At first, the girl stood stiff, a sapling in unfamiliar wind. Soon her nerves melted, and curiosity lit her eyes like stars. She glanced between Lucimia and Desty, then at the table—exquisite foods she’d never seen, arrayed like a miniature banquet.

“Um, sisters,” the girl asked, chin tipped up like a lily bud, “so Bloodkin eat food too? I thought you only drink blood.”

“Well…” Lucimia scratched her cheek, a cat caught mid-purr, unsure. She bumped Desty with her elbow and murmured, “You know this better. You answer.”

“Eh? Me?” Desty’s panic skittered like a startled fish. After a long pause, she whispered, “I don’t know either. The books never said if Bloodkin eat other things. They only said you need enough blood.”

“So what do we say? Looks like we haven’t blown our cover. We could keep acting.”

“Say Bloodkin do eat other food. There’s no Bloodkin here anyway; no one will know.”

“Mm… that works, but we should keep it subtle.” Lucimia’s caution folded like paper.

“Subtle?”

Lucimia didn’t reply to Desty. She crouched, moonlight catching a tiny fang, and smiled at the girl. “Little sister, what’s your name?”

“I’m Aili,” the girl answered, obedient as a sparrow on a branch.

“Oh, Aili, did you want to know if Bloodkin eat other food?”

“Mm!” Her nod was a tapping drum.

“Alright. I can tell you. Bloodkin do eat other food.” Lucimia’s smile stayed steady, a lantern without flicker. “But we usually eat food with Bloodkin flair.”

“Oh!” Aili’s eyes widened like lakes at dawn. She beamed at Lucimia. “I knew it. Bloodkin must eat other things too. If you only drink blood, that’s way too boring.”

Hearing that, Lucimia blinked, a shutter catching light, and caught a thread. “Sounds like someone’s been debating this. Were people arguing about whether Bloodkin eat other food?”

“Not me.” Aili shook her head, ponytail like a swinging bell. “It’s the village. They’re debating whether to bring you sisters dinner, because you’re fighting off monsters for us. They don’t want you working for nothing.”

“At first, they thought, since you won’t let villagers provide blood, they could bring food. But a simple dish seemed rude, so they talked about killing a chicken. Some said chicken was bad and a pig was better, and then it turned into a quarrel. But someone jumped in and said, ‘What if Bloodkin don’t eat human food?’ Then someone else said, ‘What about animal blood?’ So the debate shifted—from what to send, to whether to ask what you eat, whether you eat human food, and whether animal blood is okay.”

“Uh… that’s a mess.” Lucimia rubbed her temple, a wave pressing shore. She steadied her tone. “Why argue about whether to come ask me?”

“Because!” Aili puffed up, sunlight in her voice. “They said it’s bad manners to walk out and then turn back to bother you. Something about adult etiquette, or noble etiquette. So they say don’t send food at all. It’s so fussy. I don’t understand, so I came straight over. And I saw you were eating.”

“I see…” Lucimia’s reply drifted like reed-sway. She couldn’t pick a neat answer that fit every ear.

Still, she understood the root. This was a small village, as quiet as a rice field at dusk. Villagers feared some powerful nobles might strut like hawks and crush them like ants.

Unsure what words would soothe, she caught another detail, a spark in ash.

“Sorry to pry,” she asked, voice a calm creek, “who first suggested sending us food?”

When Lucimia spoke, Desty—who had sat back down to carve a hearty bite—set her knife and fork down at once. Her focus pricked like a fox’s ears.

Time with Lucimia had sharpened her, if only a little. She knew why Lucimia asked.

Lucimia was testing for a puppet behind the curtain.

“Uncle Chad,” Aili said, bright and guileless. “He’s the best cook in the village.”

A cook? A cook could reasonably suggest sending food, as natural as smoke rising from a stove. Lucimia still tucked that name away, a pin in a map.

“I understand. Thank you, Aili. Tell them there’s no need to bring anything.”

“Mm-hmm! Okay! You’re welcome, sister!” Aili nodded hard, a drumbeat of agreement.

“Oh, right.” Aili stepped for the door, and Lucimia called her back, her voice a silver bell.

“What is it, sister?”

“One more question. Where do you live?”

“I live on this end too,” she said, open as a clear sky. “I’m by the river. You sisters are near the well.”

“Got it. See you, Aili.” Lucimia waved, her hand tracing a willow arc.

“Mm. Bye, sister. Um…” Aili hesitated, a bird hovering before a branch.

“Something else?” Lucimia asked, her tone warm as tea.

“Um… can I come talk to you later? I want to chat about Bloodkin stuff. I really like it! I want to go to school and learn history and culture. But… my family won’t agree. They say there’s no money, and my dad wants me to become a Swordmaster…” Aili’s head dipped, her voice fading like twilight.

“Sure. As long as I’ve got time.” Lucimia accepted, her smile a soft lamp.

She thought, I can always make things up.

“Really? That’s great! Thank you, sister!” Aili clenched her small fists and pressed them to her chest, joy fluttering like sparrow wings.

“Bye, sister!” She waved, then hopped away, a skipping pebble down the path.

After watching Aili leave, Lucimia formed a Fuzzy Orb, a plush sphere condensing in her palms like a cloudlet. It blinked wide round eyes, innocent as a winter seal.

“Go. Watch that little girl.”

The Fuzzy Orb straightened at once, cuteness hardening into duty like frost into crystal. It saluted with its tail, then leapt from Lucimia’s hands and melted into shadow, a streak of ink sinking into earth.