At this moment, Alicia carried Ling in her arms, step by step toward the kingdom, like a small boat sliding through morning mist.

As for why, Ling just said, “I’m tired,” like a kitten curling after rain.

Alicia didn’t buy that someone so strong would tire from walking, yet Ling looked cute, light as a porcelain doll, so she didn’t mind.

Ling swore she wasn’t taking advantage, definitely not because Alicia’s soft curves made perfect pillows.

Ling, that floating book beside you—your spellbook—why stare at it, while it hangs like a pale moon?

Ling had no plan to lay everything bare; she just smiled, a misty curve that hid meaning like fog veiling a lake.

Sensing Ling didn’t want to answer, Alicia asked no more, and carried her on, their footsteps like leaves drifting down a path.

In truth, Ling had been testing the Script’s power since earlier, mining for hidden veins the way seekers pry gold from dark earth.

All abilities must be found by yourself, like stars named one by one in a private sky.

She kept feeding it mana along the road, and the book read like a novel, the travel replaced by ellipses like fireflies.

Those dots didn’t appear at once; they crept out bit by bit, like a slow progress bar filling with dawn.

Ling guessed it was a small bug, a drum before the storm; when the ellipses end, something will happen.

She didn’t know what, but the heartbeat warning let the mind set like a shield raised.

Combat scenes seemed detailed in the Script, steps chalked on the floor, so she could sidestep attacks like a dancer reading marks.

Another gift felt most useful: the Script wrote people’s minds, like a mirror that shows the shadow behind a smile.

Ling wasn’t deeply scheming; with this, she could spot a plot and strike back, like catching a snake’s tongue mid-flick.

But if a scheme had roots sunk for decades, just to bloom for one instant, it was hard to see.

The Script also showed Alicia bore no malice toward her; in fact, she liked her, like sun on a winter window.

It wasn’t the kind of like Ling wanted, but trust felt solid, like a rope knotted firm.

Following Alicia wouldn’t be a bad road; maybe she could gather a harem and stride the human peak, like climbing a jade terrace.

As the tiny doll daydreamed about her harem, soap bubbles popped, and the destination finally arrived.

Ling, we’re here; let’s visit my home first, then go have fun, Alicia said, lantern-warm.

Oh? Oh! Got it, Ling replied, her voice plinking like a pebble in a pond.

She shut the Script and slipped from Alicia’s arms, like a silver fish sliding free of a net.

The doll’s absence left Alicia’s hands empty, wind through sleeves, and she felt oddly unbalanced.

Ling followed Alicia to what she called a “home,” the word hanging like a painted lantern with quotes.

Ummm… Ling thought, steam curling like tea over a cup.

If this thirty-plus–story castle counts as home, then my past forty-square-meter place was what, a pigsty, next to this stone mountain?

Alicia tugged the dazed little girl inside; marble pillars stood like frozen rivers, walls like white clouds, pelts like silent dunes.

Penniless and new to such sights, Ling gaped, mouth open like a door left ajar in wind.

Watching her, Alicia confirmed this was a strange little girl, strong like a tiger cub, yet green-eyed to the world.

Which meant Alicia could still teach—and tame—her, like tying a red ribbon to a restless kite.

Stop staring. I’ll take you to see Father King, and tell him about making you my little sister, she said, silk-thread smooth.

Hearing Alicia still trying to take advantage, Ling snapped back, her protest flicking like a folding fan.

I said I’d think about it! Don’t treat it as set in stone!

Alicia pretended not to hear, scooped Ling up, and strode straight for Father’s chamber, steps beating like drums.

At her father’s door, Alicia grew solemn, set the little girl down, and knocked, knuckles tapping like spring rain.

Father King, it’s me, she said, voice rising like incense.

A voice thick with authority rolled from within, like thunder behind heavy curtains.

Enter, it said, a single word like a hinge opening.

The solemn air made the little girl pull herself straight, spine taut like a bowstring.

Alicia pushed the door open, led Ling in, closed it with a backward hand, and fixed her eyes on the king like arrows.

Next moment, Alicia’s lips parted; a pampered “Father~” rang through the room, and she lunged into his arms like a swan.

The king, white-haired and sixtyish, watched her with tender eyes, gentle as winter sun on snow.

The sudden shift in style left Ling staring, mind fluttering like startled sparrows; this world was odd, and even royals were odder.

Maybe she was the odd one, a lone reed in a different wind.

Left on the side, she still held back, since it was in front of her future father-in-law, patience like tea steeping.

Only then did the king seem to notice Ling, and he eased Alicia from his embrace like a tide slipping back.

Ahem, Alicia, aren’t you going to introduce this la—little girl?

I know “lady” gets stuck in your throat, but don’t hide it that blatantly, snap like a paper fan!

Hearing she’d be introduced, Alicia hesitated, then leaned close and whispered in the king’s ear like a moth near lamplight.

Ling took the chance to open the Script, eyes down like a studious reader, yet she peeked at Alicia’s words within.

What, privacy? Even gods can’t pin me down; chains mean nothing to me, like silk ribbons on a hawk.

Let me search… found it, here—like a pearl gleaming in sand.

In the Script, Alicia hesitated, leaned toward the king, and whispered, words fluttering like silk.

Father, this is a little girl I met by chance outside, named Yufan Ling, with B-class magic power.

Her mind is as young as her looks, like spring leaves on a strong branch.

I can guarantee she isn’t a spy; no one would be foolish enough to send a little girl to spy.

Though her father answered her in most things, Alicia still lied, considering Ling’s special nature, like laying gauze over a flame.

Mm… not bad; looks like I didn’t misjudge her, Ling thought, approval like moonlight on a nod.

Ling was satisfied with the introduction; it kept future trouble down, like a blade folded under silk.

She hadn’t exposed her full strength, which was for the best, like a tiger sleeping in long grass.

After Alicia’s introduction, the king extended his right hand, palm offered like a branch over water.

Welcome to the Moser Empire. I’m King Alex Moser; you can call me Alex.

His voice was steady, like stones laid into a path.