“Lian, time to get up!”

Alicia’s shout rang like a brass bell through sleep; and for once she hadn’t tied herself up like a vine, so Lian slept deep as a pond.

Reluctant, she slipped from the sleeping bag’s warm hug, rubbed her eyes with tiny hands like soft petals, and saw Alicia’s fingers reaching to knead her cheeks like dough.

Fear flashed cold as a knife; Lian snapped awake, jumped back a step, and hid her face behind her hands like a small shield.

“W-what are you trying to do?!”

Alicia, spark-bright and playful, planned to tease this little sprite till the morning sun turned honey-gold.

“Obviously, I’m making breakfast out of your tender, juicy little-girl meat~” Her grin was wolfish, her tone sugar-sweet.

That joke might scare a drowsy Ling like fog on a cold lake, but Lian, jolted sober by fear, found it dumb—so dumb her guard fell like a dropped fan, and pity filled her gaze.

Awkwardness drifted in the air like stale smoke; Alicia’s heart tightened, thinking, Why isn’t she playing along? This is awkward… what now?

With both emotional and actual IQ peaking at a mighty fifty-one, Lian felt a dim light bulb flicker and knew what to do.

“Ah… so scary~ Someone save me… Alicia-sis, hurry and rescue me~” She delivered it flat as cardboard, a monotone reading with no music at all.

In Alicia’s ears, that deadpan was a stiff-backed tease; it scraped pride like sand.

Lian, feeling smug as a cat in sun, thought she’d smoothed the ripples, proud of her “acting” like a stage lotus.

Mocked people flare like dry tinder. Alicia yanked some outfit from nowhere, flung it hard at Lian like a tossed net, then stormed out of the tent.

Lian stared at the clothes like a puzzled sparrow, wondering why she’d cooperated and still sparked anger. Are humans really such low-EQ creatures?

By the time Lian dressed and brushed, steam curled like morning mist over the breakfast Remi carried out.

Lian plopped down at Alicia’s right without a second thought, solid as a stone; then the impossible cracked like ice—Alicia scraped her chair and dragged it away, legs squealing like cicadas.

It stunned not just Lian, but Remi and Flan too; Remi froze, food hovering at Flan’s lips like a paused spoonful of clouds—if that’s not shock, what is?

“Uh… Alicia-sis, why did you—”

“Don’t bug me. From now, I’m breaking up with you for ten… no, five minutes!” Her voice was cool as a blade, her glare hot as a coal.

Whoa! That strong? A timed breakup? Is this kindergarten with toy crowns and sand pails?

Seeing Lian’s stunned goldfish face, Alicia laughed; irritation thawed like frost under sun. She tapped Lian’s tiny nose, light as a raindrop.

“Given your performance, five becomes one. Timer starts now!” Tick-tock tapped the air like a small drum.

It wasn’t anger; it was a pout, sugar-sour as a green plum.

Lian understood; Alicia wasn’t truly mad. Tease a little, cuddle a little—she’ll soften like melted butter.

She hopped down, dove into Alicia’s arms like a kitten into blankets, and rubbed twice with soft cheeks.

“Alright~ forgive me~ don’t be mad~” Her voice cooed like a dove, sweet enough to stick.

Alicia fell to the cuteness like a toppled tower; her mouth surrendered, though her heart grumbled like distant thunder. Inwardly: Fine, I’ll forgive you since you’re just like Ling. (Ling: Is my hair green enough?)

“Okay, jokes over. Eat. We need to move faster today; if we giggle like this, who knows when we’ll get there.”

“Aye aye~”

—

On the rattling carriage, with wheels drumming like hooves on a bridge, Lian watched the world roll by like a painted scroll; her heart settled like a still lake.

“Uh… Lian-sis, I’ve been curious. When did that golden butterfly tattoo on your hand get stamped there?”

Flan’s question tugged eyes like a magnet; curiosity pricked the air like needles. Lian’s stomach tightened like a knot—no one had asked till now, and she’d hoped no one would.

“Ah… that? Probably, maybe, it’s, um… a rune thing to speed up spell release. Yeah. A rune.” Her voice wobbled like jelly.

“A rune?”

Flan leaned close, gaze sharp as a hawk, then shook her head like a willow.

“Probably not. It has magic—two kinds, space and time twined like double vines—but it doesn’t look like a rune, no matter how I see it.”

This little imp is getting better at finding trouble! Lian grumbled inside, words fizzing like soda bubbles behind her teeth.

She wore a stiff smile like a porcelain mask and scraped up a “reasonable” line from the dust of her mind.

“Emmm… it’s ancestral. Passed down in my family like an heirloom. Might be written in some lost script. It’s not weird if you don’t get it.”

“I see. That makes sense. But why didn’t Lian-sis have it at first?”

I’d love to know, too! How about you give me a miracle answer, you little sprite?

“Emmmm, it probably appears when the family hits a certain age, or a trigger. Like, there’s that guy, Giorno Giovanna—black hair at first, then his bloodline awakened and turned him blond. So it’s not strange, right?”

“I don’t know who Giorno Giovanna is, but cases like that exist… however, why did you ask it like a question just now?”

Oh my—someone help! What kind of gremlin is this?

“Don’t mind it. I was just… trying to give you a sense of immersion, really. Kids should nap; why think so much?”

She scooped Flan into her arms like a bundle of warm cotton, covered her eyes with gentle palms, and tugged her attention away like a kite pulled from wind.

It worked; once Ling snagged Flan, she flailed and giggled like a wind-up toy. Remi joined in, laughter swelling like a stream; the carriage filled with bright noise, the topic washed away.

Only one felt out of tune—the driver, Alicia, head lowered like a shaded moon, thoughts ticking deep as wells.

Lian—no, from the first time I met Ling—you said you had no parents. How would you know what ancestral rune your “family” passed down?