Inside the ink-black stage, a single beam knifed down to center. A man in a suit drifted into the light and bowed, like a reed bending to wind.

“I’m glad you all came for this concert,” he said, voice steady as a calm lake. “I know most of you came for a certain girl. For reasons you probably understand, she’ll sing behind a mask tonight. Let me apologize first.”

The crowd answered with a soft wave of applause, palms pattering like rain on leaves. No one flipped tables or roared their discontent. They knew the score; having her here at all was a stroke of luck.

“Then, please welcome her to bring us a song…”

The beam faded, and breath held across the hall like a lid on simmering tea. From the stage’s depths, high heels ticked toward them, a metronome in the dark. When the light bloomed again, it found not the suited man, but a girl in a light, princess-style dress. A mask covered only her eyes, but her signature turquoise hair and neat 1.58-meter frame were unmistakable. The crowd recognized her at a glance—Hatsune.

Hatsune dipped her head, a petal’s nod on a spring breeze. Before she could introduce herself, the accompaniment rose, warm as morning sun. With her fame, who needed an intro anyway?

While Hatsune sang, Lian sat in the student council seats, restless as a sparrow on a wire. It wasn’t the song. It was the emptiness beside her—the seat that should’ve held Alicia.

Worry flooded first, cold as river water. Action came late. Alicia loves to overthink; alone, that kind of mind can spiral like a storm. Lian didn’t know where she was. The call went unanswered. Her wide-area search magic hit a wall, useless in this forest of bodies. It stung—she couldn’t find her, and all she could do was stew.

Vrrr— Her phone buzzed like a trapped bee. Lian scrambled for it. Alicia’s name lit the screen.

Her finger trembled, a leaf in wind, as she hit answer. She raised the phone to her ear, voice a thin, shaking thread. “Hello… Is that… Alicia, sis?”

A flat voice came through, cold as polished stone. “It’s me. Stay put. I’m coming. We need to talk.”

So, she couldn’t dodge it after all. “Mm… got it.”

Beep… beep… beep… The line went dead. Lian stared at the blank screen and let out a bitter laugh, dry as dust.

Right—someone important dwells in this body for Alicia. Now a stranger’s taken the helm. Of course she wouldn’t be kind. Maybe she’d string Lian up, break her legs, then make her fetch snacks—what am I even thinking? No, stop. Focus. How do I explain? Tell the truth, or spin a lie?

Alicia arrived faster than fear could settle. Two minutes, and she slipped into the seat beside Lian, silent as snowfall. Lian’s nerves spiked, tight as a bowstring. It felt like meeting the other family’s parents for the first time. Alicia said nothing. Silence pressed down like a mountain.

After a long stillness, Alicia finally spoke, words careful as stepping stones. “Ling… or whoever you are. What’s going on with you?”

It began. Truth or lie? The choice tangled like roots.

Sensing her turmoil, Alicia’s gaze softened, a lantern dimming. “Forget it. If you don’t want to talk, don’t. Let’s pretend we don’t know, okay? At least let me lie to myself for a while.”

Those self-defeating words blew Lian’s tension away, like wind scattering mist. She met Alicia’s eyes, steady as iron. “Are you giving up?”

Startled by Lian’s sudden shift, Alicia flinched and turned her head, voice thin as smoke. “No… it’s just…”

“Speak honestly.” Lian’s words landed like a bell.

“This… I… I don’t want to give up!”

The answer rang true. Lian nodded, satisfied, then froze, mind skittering like a fish. Wait—didn’t this flip? Wasn’t Alicia supposed to be the one questioning her?

Alicia seemed to feel it too; color rose to her cheeks like dawn. She looked back to Lian. “Can you explain now?”

With that, Lian’s nerves eased, drifting like a cloud. After all, someone here was more nervous than her. “Emmm… what do you want to hear first?”

Alicia hesitated, heart homing in like a compass needle. What mattered most? Ling. “Ling. How is she?”

Just as Lian had guessed. “We’ve lost contact with Ling. I can’t reach her right now. Emmm… that’s not exactly right. Like in the game last time—the one who showed up at the end was Ling herself. I’m sure of that.”

“So that means…”

“Mm. It means Ling was the one who tried to save you.”

“Really… really… Ling… it was you…” Her voice broke like thin ice. “You really… you didn’t abandon me!”

Alicia’s tears fell, bright as beads. Lian could only sigh, helpless as a tide. She shooed the curious stares away and patted Alicia’s back, slow and steady, a hand like a lullaby.

Holding the crying Alicia, Lian lifted her gaze forty-five degrees to the ceiling, thoughts knotting like silk threads.

—Did our roles just flip?