Tap, tap, tap—the horses thundered, hoofbeats stitching the empty plain, while the wheels rattled like pebbles rolling in a dry streambed.

Alicia glanced back at Lian, who still burned bright like a lantern in dusk, confusion clouding her face like mist after rain.

“Hey, Lian. What’s up with you? Why do you look so excited?”

“Nothing~ I just didn’t expect him to show up here.” Her words drifted like a leaf catching a sudden current.

In a world like this, his appearance felt unreal, like a wolf straying into a temple. Curiosity gnawed like wind on old wood; she had to learn more. Maybe there were clues hiding like seeds in loam.

“‘He’? Who is he? A friend?”

“No, no, definitely not a friend.” Her tone cooled like shade under pines. “More likely an enemy. With his arrogance, we’re just a little bread roll to him.”

“A little bread roll? What kind of weird metaphor is that?”

“Not weird. He isn’t human. Why would he care about humans?” Her shrug fell light as ash.

Clunk—the carriage jolted sideways, the reins must have slipped like a snake shedding skin.

Alicia turned stiffly, a prickle running down her spine like winter rain. Bad news felt near, heavy as stormclouds.

“So… Lian, what do you mean ‘not human’?”

Lian’s smile was sweet as honey, but mischief flashed like a fox’s tail. “Literal. A vampire.”

At the word, Remi snapped to attention like a sparrow hearing hawk’s wings. She looked at Lian, thoughts flickering like candlelight.

“Miss Lian, by ‘vampire,’ do you mean what Miss Ling told us before?” She gave the small wings on her back a little shake, feathers quivering like grass under breeze.

Lian saw the wings and understood the question, her gaze sharpening like a blade drawn. “Close enough. But yours is a fake vampire. Fake ones look harmless, all delicate limbs and gentle manners. The real kind? Like him—power coiled like storm muscle, beauty cut like marble, wisdom flaring from his eyes like twin suns, ambition pounding like drums to conquer the world. He’s the type to shout ‘The World!!!’ all day, and, oh, most importantly, he’ll crush enemies with a steamroller.”

Alicia listened to Lian’s vivid sketch, but power didn’t rise like thunder in her mind—only that theatrical, overblown vibe, the kind that swirls like stage fog. It felt just like Ling back then.

“Whatever. I mostly want to know why you’re so eager to find him.” Her voice settled like a stone in a river.

“I told you, it’s not a big reason.” Lian’s eyes cooled like moonlight on water. “I’m just curious. Hearing about it and seeing it with your own eyes aren’t the same.”

More than anything, she had to confirm if this was his true self or a projection between worlds. She prayed for the latter, like hoping rain falls only on distant hills.

“Forget it. I won’t press. It’s noon anyway. Time to get off and eat.” Alicia’s words clinked like utensils set down.

She yanked the reins; the carriage eased to a halt like a tired ox. Alicia stepped down, her boots thudding soft as ripe fruit falling.

“Lian, you and Remi go find something edible. I’ll lay out the cookware here.” Her hands moved like swift swallows, already planning the fire.

Lian nodded, agreement light as drifting pollen, then pulled Remi into the trees, shadows dappling them like fish-scales on water.

“Remi, can you tell what’s edible and what’s not?” Lian’s voice slid quiet as a stream under roots.

A perfect maid never fails—Remi puffed her chest, small as a sparrow’s, and patted it with pride. “Flan and I used to forage outside. This is a small problem.”

“Good~ that’s great.” Lian pointed left, her finger drawing a path like chalk on slate. “You two search over there. I’ll sweep the other side and haul back a bunch. We’ll sort out the inedible later.”

Remi froze for a heartbeat, alarm fluttering like moth-wings, then reached out to stop her. “Miss Lian, I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

But Lian didn’t plan to listen. She turned and slipped away, her steps light as a fox crossing frost.

She had something she had to do, a thread tugging like a current beneath the forest hush.

Past the trees, Lian found a strange place built of stones, each carved with lines like old veins on river rock. The air felt like a whisper against her ear.

—Was it these? The thing calling me just now…

She laid a hand on one stone. Nothing happened—only dust clung to her skin like faded snow.

She flicked it off, motes dancing like gnats in sun. Then she stood and watched, still as a crane by a pond.

Every stone looked deliberately broken, edges gnawed like bones. This wasn’t natural. And if it could call to her, then life had once rooted here, the kind that grows where wind and time weave together.

She summoned the Script, words rising like ink pooled in a well. Magic flowed into it, and black letters unfurled, refreshing like a scroll rewound after years in a chest. It cost more mana, dripping away like sand, but she didn’t mind; it would return in minutes like tide.

“Ling reassembled all the fragments by matching their fractures,” the Script wrote, voice cool as lacquer. “Erosion over time altered each scar, but with the carvings as guides, she fit them together. Light bloomed across the stone.”

Emmm… So I just have to reassemble them. But why is the Script speaking in third person and using Ling’s name? It feels like it’s telling me someone else is about to do this. But this is me. Why?

Ugh! So annoying. All Aer’s fault—she shoved the Script at me and vanished like smoke. What a jerk.

Lian patted her cheeks, driving the gnats of thought away like wind in reeds. “Forget it. I’ll ask Aer when she’s back. I’ll just do the thing.”

She began to rebuild, piece by piece, like stacking blocks under quiet rain.

Click. The last stone settled, the sound neat as a key entering a lock. The megaliths returned to their original shape, a puzzle finally breathing again.

Lian rose into the air, drifted back, and looked. A small girl’s statue emerged, faint as a silhouette in fog. And—this girl looked a little like her. Coincidence, she told herself, like finding a face in clouds. The world loves echoes.

Light bled across the statue like dawn washing snow. Radiance gathered behind the girl, folding into a twisted door, warped like a whirlpool under moonlight.

The statue shot inward, swallowed like a fish taken by a vortex—dragging Lian along, her body pulled like a leaf toward the drain of fate.