The carriage jolted like a skiff in choppy water, and a blonde loli sprawled over a blue-haired loli—your loli burger, served steaming.

“Alicia, sis, why aren’t we there yet~” Lian’s voice came thin, like a lost soul drifting through reeds.

“So! Miss Lian, if you’ve got something to say, get off me first! Stop using me as a pillow.” Remi’s anger cracked like dry bamboo.

Lian only squirmed, rubbing in lazy refusal, like a cat kneading into a sun-warm blanket.

“Remi’s body is so comfy. Not letting anyone sleep on it is such a waste.” Her words landed like sugar on hot tea, disturbingly sweet.

Remi flushed scarlet, struggling like a fish in a silk net, but her efforts sank without a ripple.

The blonde brat had her pinned with both body and magic; the spell coiled like iron vines, far too strong to break.

Even calling Flan for help turned to smoke; Lian whispered to Flan, flashed her phone, and the kid defected like a sparrow switching branches.

Worse, Flan actually snapped a photo, mischief glittering like frost—was she planning to threaten her own sister?

That thought made Remi’s heart drop like a stone; the world felt treacherous, and she flopped flat, spirit wrung out.

“Alright~ stop messing around in the carriage.” Alicia’s voice carried from the driver’s bench, steady as a taut bowstring.

Lian slid off the thoroughly flustered Remi, reluctance clinging like dew to her fingers.

“Hold it together a bit. Otherwise the next stretch will chew you up; we haven’t even hit a third.”

What?! The word stabbed like an icicle; Lian suddenly wondered if someone had stolen time right out of her pocket.

“Seriously, less than one-third?” Her doubt fluttered like a moth against a lamp.

“Who told someone to waste half a day yesterday? We’d be past a third already.” Alicia’s reply snapped like a fan in summer heat.

Lian knew Alicia meant her, but a genius doesn’t confess; she smiled like a fox under moonlight.

“Eh~ is that so? That jerk is awful. May she be haunted by cuteness, forever trapped in a shadow too adorable to escape~”

Alicia’s temple vein bulged like a drumline; anger pooled hot as boiling broth.

“Then how should we punish that jerk?”

“Uh… make her eat two portions for lunch?” Lian’s pride puffed up like a peacock’s tail.

Alicia didn’t blink. “Make her eat fifty portions. If she can’t finish, toss her into the pot and boil her.”

Thud—Lian’s heart kicked like a trapped hare; she realized she’d set her own snare and stepped in it.

BZZZZ— a shrill buzzing sliced the air; the galloping horses crumpled like felled trees, and the carriage skidded in a long arc before it stilled.

“What happened!” Alicia dropped from the seat, eyes sweeping the plain like knives combing straw.

“Well, well~ I’ve caught a little mouse.” A teasing voice flowed over the empty field like smoke.

“Who’s there!” Alicia drew the Demonblade, its edge humming like winter ice; beside her, Remi cut the jokes and barked orders.

“Flan! Drop a map cannon.”

“Got it! ‘Reaper of the Mist’!” Flan’s shout leaped like a spark.

Blue-and-red mana fanned outward like a tide, and mist rolled in, thick as steamed rice clouds.

“Reaping~” Her voice lilted, and red blade-light flashed inside the fog, each stroke carving the mist like a razor through silk.

When the haze thinned, the earth showed long scars, but no shadow of an enemy, just raw dirt breathing dust.

“Well, well~ kids shouldn’t play with knives and guns. Dangerous toys bite.” The voice bloomed behind Flan like a cold flower.

Flan turned, but a thick hand locked her in place, grip heavy as a clamp.

“Don’t move. You neither. Otherwise I don’t know what this unruly hand might do.” His swagger rang cheap, like tin coins.

Crack—the hand holding Flan snapped off; no blood spilled, the flesh and even the blood turned to ash, drifting like gray snow.

“Threatening us to our faces—are you brain-dead?” Lian’s words fell like stones into a still pond.

The man lurched back a full step, clutching the absence of his right hand, eyes fixed on Lian like a deer on lightning.

“How… did you hit me?” His voice trembled, thin as spider silk.

Lian strolled to Flan as if crossing a garden path, gathered the girl into her arms, then looked at him like he was already a corpse.

“If not for the kids, I wouldn’t hold back. Can’t let cute lolis who’ve killed plenty, even razed cities, get trauma—basic courtesy.”

Her tone was casual, but the promise behind it glinted like a drawn blade; fear flooded him cold as river water.

“Look, I… I just came to say hi. You believe that?” His laugh was hollow, like wind through a broken flute.

“Oh? A greeting.” Lian slid her hand into the ground, fingers biting stone, then heaved up a boulder big as a bull—return gift.

“W-Wait! I’m under DIO’s banner! You can’t kill me!” Panic scattered his words like fleeing birds.

Surprise pricked Lian’s heart—DIO? The quest hasn’t even started, and the plot walks in?

“Is that true?” She let the boulder drop, knelt, and studied him like a curious cat watching a beetle.

“Tell me everything. Depending on what I hear, you might live.” Her voice cooled, calm as night rain.

Hope flickered in his eyes like a guttering candle; at least the table still held a bargaining chip.