How did I end up the deputy, and why is Rexi the officer again?

Lucimia glanced at Rexi. Rexi lifted her chest like a proud sparrow, nose tilted to the sky like a little crescent, as if saying, “I’m amazing. Praise me.”

Is this Rexi’s ability? What in the world is her trick? Hypnosis? Could hypnosis block Reversion’s memory reset, like a river refusing to run backward?

Could hypnosis make the soldiers who chased her tumble from their horses, like leaves shaken from branches? Did she put the horses to sleep, like night falling on a stable?

Curiosity pricked Lucimia like a thorn. She said, “Tell me your ability, or I’ll swallow you whole.”

“Don’t! I’ll tell you later!”

“Hmph.” Lucimia let out a soft snort, a breath like frost on glass, and said no more.

If she won’t say, then that’s that.

The city wall rose like a lifting curtain. Soldiers spilled out from the gate in ranks like ripples in a pond.

“Welcome back, sirs, mission accomplished, triumphant return!”

“Welcome back in triumph!”

They saluted, palms cutting the air like blades.

“Mhm, good, good. Let’s go!” Rexi slipped into the role like a cloak, her stride catching the wind like a sail.

Lucimia’s face wore a helpless smile like a thin veil. She followed and stepped into the city with footsteps as quiet as snow.

She passed through the heavy gate like pushing through a mountain. The world opened wide, and the Imperial Royal Capital spread before her, draped in silver, like a lake frozen mid-breath.

Snow drifted down like shed feathers, cloaking ancient stone streets. Each slab was polished smooth as a mirror, reflecting the pale sky like a quiet eye. On both sides, tall buildings rose, spires and towers strict and solemn against the snow, like monks in white robes.

You could feel the city’s deep history, like rings in old wood.

“Come on. Let’s find somewhere lively,” Rexi said, tugging Lucimia’s hand like a kite string.

“In this weather, where’s lively?” Lucimia shook her head, a little sigh like mist.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky. There’s always a market somewhere.”

They passed a few snow-sweepers by the street, who smiled and nodded like warm lamps in winter.

They walked the stone path streaked with leftover snow, and after a while found a place like a market nestled under a wide eave like a sheltering wing. There were no walls, only columns like standing pines, and people moved through in a steady flow like a river. Cloaks heavy as winter nights brushed past tailored gowns bright as spring blossoms.

Vendors spread their wares. From fresh fruit shining like lanterns to hot wine steaming like a hearth, everything was there. Curios glimmered like scattered stars, catching every wandering gaze.

Lucimia’s eyes flickered, dazzled like a moth drawn to light. The sight stirred her like a hidden bell, but the next beat told her it was all false—these people weren’t the originals, just shadows cast by a distant sun.

Her mood cooled, dim as a cloud crossing the moon.

“Hey, this bracelet’s gorgeous. There’s a rose on it. It’d suit you, Lucimia,” Rexi said, lifting a black bracelet and waggling it in front of her like a playful cat.

“A rose? Suits me? Why?” Lucimia took it, curiosity rising like a small flame.

The bracelet was deep black, surface smooth as standing water, the material like porcelain—warm to the touch, hard as quiet stone.

A rose was carved on it, petals layered like waves, the details delicate enough to bloom with a breath.

It felt noble and elegant, with a hush of mystery, the black background throwing the rose into sharper light, like dusk revealing a star.

“Hm? It really is pretty…” Lucimia muttered, surprised Rexi had decent taste like a hidden pearl.

“Well? Pretty, right?”

“Pretty.” Lucimia nodded. “But why say it suits me?”

“Because you’re like this rose—beautiful, graceful, a bit aristocratic. You’ve got thorns too, sharp enough to keep a little distance, and that distance feels… mystical, like fog on a valley.” Rexi’s words flowed like a practiced tune.

“…” It was the first time anyone had flattered her so bluntly. Lucimia felt awkward, like a bird unused to open skies.

“Do you like it?” Rexi asked again, eyes bright like morning.

“I do.” Lucimia nodded.

“Great, then I’m buying it! My treat!”

“Eh—” Before Lucimia could respond, Rexi snatched the bracelet and bounced to the stall, handing the old woman a gold coin like dropping sunlight on a table.

The old woman’s eyes widened like moons. She shook her head, helpless as a winter branch—she couldn’t make change.

That stumped Rexi, since Bevi had packed her purse full of gold coins like a dragon’s hoard.

So she asked the old woman for most of her small change, and told her to keep the rest like scattering grain to sparrows.

The woman hesitated, face wrinkling like dry parchment, then agreed under Rexi’s lilting persuasion.

Rexi came running back, one hand full of change like jingling rain, the other holding the bracelet like a captured star. “Here! Bracelet! Put it on, let me see.”

“…”

Lucimia kept silent, lips pressed like a sealed envelope. She took the bracelet and weighed it on her wrist like a quiet scale.

“What’s wrong? A crack?”

“No.” Lucimia shook her head, her gaze lifting to Rexi like a leaf turning toward sun.

“Why are you giving me a bracelet?”

“Hey, friends give each other things. Totally normal. And you’re so pretty—some jewelry might make you even prettier.” Rexi smiled, light as a willow catkin.

“…I feel like you’re trying to woo me,” Lucimia said, a line tossed like a pebble into a pond.

“Eep? You caught me?!”

“…” Lucimia was speechless, silence folding like paper.

“Haha, joking! Mostly, I want you to relax. I get the sense that before I lost my memory, I was like you—tight as a clenched fist. Then somehow I went careless and happy, loose as a summer breeze. It’s actually nice.” Rexi spread her hands like opening a window.

Before amnesia…?

Lucimia looked down at the bracelet. It was the first time a friend had given her a gift; usually, she did the giving, like pouring tea for others and forgetting to drink.

She looked up at Rexi again and sighed, a soft wind in a narrow alley. “It’s not very useful. It’s a hassle to fight with it on. I’ll probably toss it into my Storage Ring to collect dust, like a moth-eaten ribbon. Better to spend money on food.”

“That… makes sense…” Rexi realized she might’ve misplayed, her mood drooping like a wilted sunflower.

“But…”

“Hm?” Rexi raised her head, hope lifting like dawn.

Lucimia’s lips curved, warm as a small lantern. She met Rexi’s eyes and said softly, “You’re the first friend to give me a present. I like it. Thank you.”

The sweetness of that smile hit Rexi like a bell. She hopped in front of Lucimia, hands on Lucimia’s shoulders like a sparrow landing on a branch. “Really, really?? Hehe—so good!”

“Really, really.” Lucimia smiled helplessly, a touch of spring rain. “Come on. My treat next. I’ll feed you something good.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“You’re not afraid someone cursed the food?”

“Can you not say something so tasteless right now?”

“Hey, safety first.”

“Then there’s nothing to eat.”

“Wait, don’t! I’ll eat.”

“Too late. You’re only eating what I bring.”