After the match, where Alicia couldn’t see, Ling buried her face against her knees; her body shook like a willow in rain, as if she were crying…

—Ling’s first-person POV—

Yeah, that’s right. I’m a coward, so what; I grabbed an excuse, so what—do you even read the storm inside me?

I failed for eighteen years, lived under other people’s thumbs for eighteen years; I wore chains like a second skin, a shadow lower than livestock.

I had nothing; every breath watched someone’s face; I was always the hired hand bowing to the client, a leaf pinned under someone else’s boot.

And now? You ask me to turn back—even if it’s just back to the girl you first met—why tear open that scab in the rain?

Do you know why I drowned in the 2D world, those anime realms; because my bruised real self could taste sunlight there like a hidden garden.

So yes, I’m a coward; I don’t dare step onto the street of life; I hid where no one can see my heart, a fox in mist.

I had no free life, so I carried myself into the 2D sky to find freedom, like a sparrow slipping past bars.

From the start I was marked a failure; then Heaven tossed me a second life, my tides reversed under a new moon.

I fell in love with this life; I fear the cold will return, the cage will close, the grid of rules will clamp like iron frost.

I fear losing it, because none of this is mine; it was a windfall, a cloak lent by someone else, a borrowed star.

I only wear invincibility like a skin; underneath I’m soft flesh stitched from fear, a rabbit in tall grass.

Since you appeared, I got what I wanted; while I basked in it like spring sun, you tore it away like a winter gale.

You are the one I love and the one I hate; I can only step back, pretend nothing happened, like snow covering footprints.

Let’s just… pretend… nothing happened… alright?

Then why does my heart still ache, like a blade under the ribs; why can’t air come, like a river dammed?

Tap-tap—

Who’s there? Whatever—leave me in this small cave of night, a stone under water.

The steps clear like dawn; a girl with pink hair, a blossom in frost—Rafi. Why is she here?

“Alright, Ling, don’t cry. Forget Alicia. You still have me. Be good, okay?”

Is she comforting me? A small flame lifts inside; so someone still cares for me, a hand in the dark—maybe it’s a dream.

—POV returns—

“Feeling any better, Ling?”

Ling fell into Rafi’s arms like a tired bird; after a long lull, Rafi heard a thin sound from her chest.

“Thank you…”

Rafi stroked Ling’s head with a tender touch, a palm like warm sun; she wrapped her in a hearth-like embrace.

“It’s alright. I can’t bear to watch you cry, little raincloud.”

“Thanks…” Ling said it again, gratitude like dew; maybe for the embrace, maybe for the words; the ache eased a little, like tide going out.

“It’s okay. I’ll stay with you always; don’t be afraid. If you don’t want to move, I’ll cancel tomorrow’s qualifier. I’ll stay.”

Rafi felt the warmth in her arms rub side to side like a kitten; Ling must be shaking her head.

“No need. I still want to fight. If I push someone on the stage to the brink of death, will you hate me?”

Even wrapped in Rafi’s care, Ling voiced the thorn she most feared, like a splinter under skin.

“No way. If you like someone, you accept all of her—flaws and storms.”

Rafi delivered the line smooth as a script, words steady like a metronome, a calm stream without ripples.

But when it entered Ling’s ears, nothing felt off; a small joy opened like a window to light.

Rafi patted Ling’s back gently, a rhythm like rain on eaves, and spoke with practiced warmth.

“Take a bath, then sleep well. And forget Alicia. Don’t let her weigh on your body like frost.”

With Rafi beside her, the night wasn’t as Ling had feared; it was almost comfortable, like racing to a fire after a snow squall.

At dawn, Ling entered the preparation room; this time Rafi walked at her side, two shadows braided in light.

Ling’s spirit had reset like a clear lake, but Alicia sat in a corner chair; her eyes were dull, a shell missing its soul.

Last night, Alicia searched the whole empire like a hawk over fields; every building, corner, and ruin—she left no stone unturned.

But Ling was gone like mist at noon; Alicia worried through the night, a candle burning to the nub.

When Ling approached, Alicia finally looked up; seeing Ling, her eyes sparked like flint, joy bursting without a veil.

Then she saw Rafi beside Ling; joy iced over into wary and puzzled frost, a guard dog at a gate.

“Ling, why are you walking with Rafi?”

Hearing Alicia’s first words brandish suspicion at Rafi, Ling bristled like a cat; she was the one who cast me off first.

Now she cares about my steps, playing me like a puppet—does that feel good, this tug-of-war on my heart?

“Classmate Alicia, where I go isn’t your business.”

“Classmate… Alicia…?”

The shift in how Ling named her pricked Alicia like a thorn; she still didn’t drop her guard against Rafi, a woman’s intuition like a sixth sense.

“Ling, no matter how you treat me now, I have to say it—be careful of Rafi.”

To Ling, it sounded like jealousy, green and sour; the one who stayed by her in the storm was the one that mattered most.

So her reply came cool and flat, her eyes drifting away like clouds that don’t rain on Alicia’s field.

“Thanks for the concern. I’ll cooperate to finish the match. After that, we’ll go our separate ways, river to river.”

Alicia lowered her head, her thoughts locked like a sealed box, her silence a heavy fog.

After their awkward meeting, the commentator’s voice rang out like a bell over the arena.

“Now it’s group match time. Ten fighters, five groups; five winners advance. First group: Rafi vs. Aegio. Second group: Yufan Ling vs. Arthas Menethil. Third group: Alicia vs. Lilith. Fourth group…”

“First group fighters, enter the arena within five minutes.”

Ling watched Rafi’s back as she walked the passage, a figure like a flame toward the wind; she shouted like a trumpet.

“Rafi, go get ’em!”

Rafi turned and smiled, a crescent moon over water; then she shot Alicia a provocative look, a spark tossed into dry grass.

The meaning was clear as daylight: last time, Ling cheered you; this time, she cheers me.

This woman is absolutely not as simple as her surface—Alicia’s first thought rose like smoke from a struck match.