Alicia stooped and lifted the Black Dragon’s core, black sigils shimmering like storm-scales as dense mana surged like a tide and shocked her heart.

Even her Demonblade felt like a child before a mountain, a toy beneath a thunderhead.

It was her first time touching a core this strong, like gripping a sun wrapped in midnight vines.

“This Black Dragon’s mana core is monstrous, like a fortress carved from night!

If you forged a staff for an S‑class mage, it’d leap like lightning into a godlike S+ realm.

What… what kind of beast did I just fight and crawl away from, like a ship through typhoon surf?”

Ling watched Alicia fixated on the core, a sour tide swelling in her chest like vinegar in rain.

Hmph—Alicia’s a jerk who clearly doesn’t like Ling, like a door that shuts with frost; Ling risked herself to save her, and she runs off to pet a rock.

Ling never does empathy; in her eyes, Alicia simply wouldn’t look at her, a window shuttered against sunrise.

Thud thud thud!!! Footfalls hammered the ground like a drum, loud on purpose, one last thread of hope flickering like a candle in wind.

Of all choices she would soon make, this was the one she’d never regret, carved like a promise into stone.

The heavy, angry steps pulled Alicia from airy future fantasies like a rope yanking a kite from the sky.

She saw Ling poised to leave and grabbed her arm, fingers tight as ivy on brick.

“Ling! Still mad, like a thundercloud clinging to the ridge?”

“Sorry. I was just passing by, like a shadow on water.

Please don’t cling to me like wet reeds.

We have no ties now, like two paths split by fog.”

Yokai really carry twin faces, like the moon’s bright and dark: raging at being ignored, then refusing any gaze to land.

But as the words fell, Ling regretted them, like a pebble that starts an avalanche.

Alicia’s grip loosened and dropped like a wilted leaf, head bowed, hair curtaining her face like rain-soaked silk.

Ling couldn’t see her expression, but instinct said Alicia’s heart cracked like a glazed cup.

“…Hey.” A cry near a lament slipped from Alicia’s lowered head, thin as a bird in winter.

Ling’s gut said this wouldn’t turn into some drama where the heroine sobs and clings; the wind smelled of trouble, like iron before a storm.

Knowing the scene would tilt bad, how could she stay frozen like a deer in lantern-light?

But she couldn’t hit Alicia, didn’t want to strike her, fists slack like opened wings.

So there was only one answer, sharp as a crow’s call—run.

On instinct, Ling rose like grass pushed by gusts, ready to leave.

A tug caught her wrist mid-flight, Alicia’s hand clamped like a hawk’s talon.

Not good, not good—this plot’s starting, like thunder rolling down a valley.

“Ling! I know you hate me, and I know I hurt your heart like a thorn under skin.

But I can’t forgive someone who loves slaughter, like a wolf who smiles at blood.

No—worse: you didn’t kill them; you left them broken and alive, forced to fend for themselves, bodies and minds crushed like reeds under ice.

That’s cruelty worse than death, a winter that never ends, so I won’t make up with you until you shed that brutal edge.”

Ling had braced herself, whispers telling her they walked different roads like rivers split by mountains.

But when Alicia spoke so coldly, that thin self-protection shattered like glass on stone.

Does it hurt? It stopped hurting long ago; she sank like a stone into the deep, helpless in a silent sea.

There was no choking, no burn; only drifting in blue dusk, a soul that couldn’t rise.

“If it’s like that… why bring it up again, like salt thrown on wounds?

You dumped Ling and keep hurting her, drop after drop like rain on slate—does that amuse you?”

She should have roared, like a tiger on a ridge, yet her voice came flat as a river rock, no color in it, no heat, just a retelling like a passerby echoing a rumor.

Alicia’s thoughts stalled for three heartbeats, a windless pause.

“Of course not. Giving pain is pain itself, a thorn that sticks in the giver’s palm.”

Alicia’s words stirred no ripple on Ling’s face, a lake without wind; her tone stayed icy, and even her pronouns shifted like birds changing flight.

“So what do you want Ling to be? Ling was born this way, like iron coming out of fire.

Ling was born craving this, like a moth chasing flame.

All along… Ling had nothing; everything was a gift tossed like scraps.

Should someone like Ling be caged by rules like bars? Is craving freedom itself a sin, like wanting the sky?”

Alicia grew dizzy, mind misted like a valley at dawn; she grabbed Ling’s arm again, refusing any escape like a gate barred tight.

“Ling! What are you even saying? Why bring up these things like ghosts from old rooms?”

Ling stopped holding back; she snapped her arm hard like a whip and tore free, sudden as a hawk striking.

She fixed her calm gaze on Alicia’s fire-red eyes, embers under ash, and asked—accusation or question, it felt like a blade.

“Why control Ling so much? You were the first to abandon Ling, like a boat cutting rope; so why come here now, and for what?”

Alicia was startled by the words, but she cupped Ling’s small face, palms trembling like leaves.

She drew a deep breath, a long tide rolling in, then forced out a crooked smile, stiff as a mask.

“Mm… you’re right; I shouldn’t meddle like brambles.

So—help me drive off the dragons, sweep them like crows from a field.

Then we’ll pretend nothing happened, wipe the slate clean like rain on chalk.

I never met you; I never liked you; let it all be smoke.

Father hasn’t announced taking you as his daughter; we can let it vanish, like footprints under fresh snow.”

If you handed Alicia a mirror, she’d see her face twisted like warped wood as those words spilled out.

Ling didn’t notice, though; the calm before was a girl sunk beneath waves, unwilling to surface.

Alicia’s words dragged her up, rough as a net, and Ling’s true self returned like breath.

“Hey… Alicia… was our bond this fragile, like a paper lantern?

One small thing can break it, one small thing can sacrifice it, one small thing can erase it like erasing chalk.

Am I really that unworthy of your love, like a star you refuse to see?”

Ling cried, tears like warm rain; Alicia held back her own, chest tight as a knotted rope.

She breathed gently, a ripple breathing, smoothing her heart like wind across water, fighting to keep her voice from quivering like a plucked string.

“Y‑Yeah… this isn’t small, it’s a storm.

I won’t be a murderer’s friend, like a dove perching on a blade.”

Her knot finally unraveled, truth tearing through delusion like sun through fog.

Alicia had never faced Ling’s feelings; to her, it was a disposable thing, tossed like a cup after one sip.

Ling had been foolish, like chasing a mirage on hot sand.

The worry resolved, though the cure was bitter as wormwood; resolution is resolution, like night finally yielding to dawn.

After a few seconds, Ling steadied; her trembling stopped like a branch after wind.

Her cute smile reappeared, pinned to her face like a porcelain mask.

“Then it’s settled. After this, you and Ling are unconnected, like rivers running apart.”

It was a smile, but Alicia knew it never reached the eyes, a painted crescent on a cold sky.

Ling slipped free of Alicia’s hand and stepped back a few paces, sweetness on her lips like honey hiding salt.

“Then I’ll prepare. I’ll go solve the problem when it’s time—remember our promise, like a knot tied under the moon.”

She turned and left, no hesitation, footsteps fading like dew.

Alicia watched Ling’s back, a knife twisting in her chest like cold metal, yet she didn’t stop her; she only saw her off like a lantern drifting downstream.

“Wait a little longer, Ling… this end is for a beginning, like spring seeded under snow.”

Her small voice echoed in the air like a thin bell, while she herself slipped away like mist.

Back home, Rafi was playing with Remi and Flan, laughter like sparrows chasing sunbeams.

Seeing Ling return, Rafi ran up and hugged her, arms warm like quilts from the hearth.

“Where’d you sneak off to? You didn’t come back, and I thought you didn’t want us anymore, like tossing dolls from a shelf.”

Ling held Rafi tight, tears falling uncontrolled like rain off eaves.

Warmth spread across Rafi’s belly like a cup of tea; she started to loosen her hold to see what was wrong, but Ling clung tighter, a vine that won’t let go.

“Don’t. Like this… just like this… let me… be still a while, like a pond under moonlight.”

Rafi didn’t understand, but she gave Ling a warm embrace, sheltering her like a roof against weather.

They stayed wrapped around each other, silent as snow falling, hearts speaking beneath skin like rivers whispering under ice.