Sunlight poured over a sleeping loli like warm honey spilled across a quilt, the sting in her eyes making her rub them as if brushing away sand. She stretched her arms toward the ceiling, a kitten-soft moan slipping out that would set any loli-lover buzzing.

“Mmm~~”

Seeing Ling stretch, Rafi ruffled her wheat-gold hair, smiling at the dazed little kitten she’d caught waking.

“Awake?”

Rafi’s voice steadied Ling’s foggy mind, curiosity rising like mist as she scanned the room.

“Where are we?”

“Home. The match ended. Don’t know why you’re such a sleepyhead—soon as it ended, you dozed off in my arms. Your prizes are there—two very cute little lolis. And those two slave collars are in your room. Go grab them.”

Spotting two slaves sprawled on the sofa like folded birds, Ling finally let her breath settle; at least her little harem had arrived. She remembered a scent in Rafi’s arms—something sweet as spring milk—and how sleep pulled her down like a tide. But… what was that scent?

Rafi nudged the spacing-out Ling, her voice a gentle tap on water.

“Lunch at home today. Outside, a swarm of dragons is attacking. Better not go out.”

Watching Rafi say “dragons hitting the city” with tea-time calm, Ling felt her worldview wobble like a paper lantern in wind.

Dragons at the gate and they’re still eating at home—maybe only the end of the world could rattle them.

Truth was, most citizens had ducked into defensive buildings like mice into walls. Rafi was the odd one out, a candle steady in a storm.

They ate “lunch”—two loaves whose purchase time was a mystery and a bowl of noodles, a bare meal like dry straw in a rainless field. No one here could cook; hunger was a quiet drum in the room.

Ling leaned out the window, watching dragons rampage like black typhoons. They smashed houses like toy blocks, trampled crops into mud, and chewed meat whose faces were gone but whose terror still clung like smoke. They were sin walking, a storm with teeth. A line surfaced, cold as iron:

“That day… humanity remembered… the fear of being ruled by dragons…”

Something was off. Ling noticed no dragon drifted near their side of the street, veering away like birds from a taboo grove. As if something terrifying lurked by her window. Did she… have body odor?

She swatted the thought, pride rising like a peony in bloom. No way. A cute loli like her doesn’t stink; at worst she’s milk-sweet, right?

Rat-tat-tat—

Gunfire chattered not far away, snapping her daydream like a twig. Men with rifles stitched bullets across dragon hides, while mages cast buffs and heals like netted light, tossing little magic orbs that annoyed more than harmed.

Some brutes swigged potion from elemental vials—liquid shining like sour starlight—and hefted greatswords or iron staves, charging with obvious intent: chop off a dragon’s tail, as if a trophy could redeem a sky full of fire.

Boom!!

Air buckled with a heavy roar from above—a sound like a mountain moving—caught only by Ling’s needle-sharp ears. The street’s ordinary folk missed it completely.

Something’s coming, cutting the air like a hawk’s dive.

Ling snapped her gaze skyward, tracking the hiss across the clouds. It came closer—tail blazing like a comet—fast as a hunting falcon.

Oh~~ it’s a missile.

Boom—

The missile slammed into a dragon’s back, blossoming into a violent explosion, heat rolling out like summer wildfire. Houses around shattered into splinters, yet the humans huddled under a mage’s shield and took only scrapes. The dragon wasn’t so lucky. The sudden strike left no time for a defense spell; the beast could only clamp its scales tight like locked iron, but the missile carried a sharp penetrator—a spear hidden in thunder—that punched through “indestructible” hide and tunneled in.

It detonated inside the dragon’s body, a sun caged under scales. Most of the blast was swallowed by flesh and bone, so the worst of it stayed with the dragon. That was why one mage’s shield could keep the humans standing.

Shards from the missile—iron thorns—remained in the dragon, and something like a holy knight’s justice had smeared them with poison. Numbness flooded its limbs like winter frost. The giant collapsed, crushed by weight it couldn’t lift. Beneath drooping lids, the one eye it could still command burned with anger and defiance, a coal refusing the ash.

Ling shivered at the sight, a chill skittering down her back like a spider.

“Whoa, that’s brutal. Looks like it hurts a lot.”

As her words left on a breath, two big hands slid over her eyes, darkness falling like a curtain.

Damn it, what’s blinding me?

You couldn’t blame Ling for bristling; this was the juicy part.

Before her protest sharpened, Rafi’s voice poured soft and stern into her ear.

“Nope. Little lolis shouldn’t watch gory stuff.”

…

Ling’s forehead gathered black lines like storm-scribbles.

Are you dumb? Saying that to a cute loli who can turn men into limbless stumps?

She pried Rafi’s hands off, turned, and locked eyes with her, throwing a declaration that hit like a gong.

“I’m not a loli. Your whole family’s a loli!”

Rafi scratched her right cheek, troubled, and glanced at the puffed-up little yellow cat that was Ling.

“Thing is… you’re the only family I’ve got left. You definitely are a loli. I’m not, probably. So… are you insulting yourself?”

Raised on the manners of a past life, Ling almost bowed an apology. She froze, then snapped upright as truth bit.

“Wait. Aren’t you a princess of the Ailusen Empire? How do you have no family?”

Rafi blinked, confusion pooling like ink.

“Huh? Didn’t I tell you? The king adopted me; I’m not his blood. My status is low. I’m called ‘princess,’ but I rank under servants. There’s nothing there worth remembering.”

So much like her past life. Maybe pain recognizes pain, and that’s why they clicked—two stray comets crossing. Ling swore to treasure Rafi, to never let another blade touch her heart. In this world, only she understood the weight Rafi carried.

Thoughts softened into action. Ling hugged Rafi, her arms short as a sparrow’s wings but still enough to wrap warmth around her.

“Sorry, Little Fi. No matter what happens, I’m staying with you. I won’t leave.”

“Really? No matter… what… happens… right?”

Rafi’s tone rippled oddly, but Ling took it as a tremble born of joy.

“Mm. No matter what…”

She was a soul thrown out by the world, like Ling. If they didn’t huddle together for warmth, what could Ling hope to find in this frost?

Forget the rest. As long as Rafi’s here, it’s enough. Even if the world burns, if Rafi’s here, it’s enough.

Rafi hugged back, a wide embrace, and they pressed together like two embers nursing a shared flame.

They were still “keeping warm” when a voice knocked at their little world like a pebble at a window.

“Are you our new masters?”

Ling’s reflex sparked; she pushed Rafi out of her arms and turned to the slave sisters who’d woken, dodging an awkward caught-in-the-act scene like a dancer stepping past a spill.

“What are your names?”

The blue-haired loli drew the girl behind her like a shield, then spoke, steady as a small bell.

“I’m Remi, the older sister.”

The golden-haired loli peeped out, her tiny voice trembling like dew on a leaf.

“I… I’m Flan. I’m… my sister’s… little sister.”

Loli voices heal the heart like warm tea; Ling felt herself melt like sugar in hot milk. But thinking of someone who’d enslaved these two, she wanted to… repay him hard in a very questionable way (…thank him?).

If not for him, she might’ve missed the two lolis everyone would adore, and her harem plan would’ve stalled like a boat in dead water.

Hm? Wait… their names are… Remi and Flan?!

With a reaction arc that could circle the globe three times, Ling only now grasped the core problem, the penny dropping like a stone into a deep well.