Aer laid the tiny girl from her arms onto the bed, then sat by her like a stone by a river, watching Ling’s sleeping face and the smooth chest rise and fall like a quiet lake.

“Relax… it’ll be quick. Everything’s under control,” she whispered, her voice cold as night dew.

Her baffling words drifted like mist, and Alicia—who’d been cut off for a whole chapter like a lantern losing flame—finally parsed the scene: this felt like standing inside someone else’s memory, a painted scroll unrolling.

She watched for a long while, and a thin thread out of place glinted like a fish-scale; that little loli wasn’t Ling. This wasn’t Ling’s story at all, a mirror misaligned.

Alicia still had fog in her head, but one thing rang clear like a temple bell: a film playing wouldn’t let her watch Lian slowly awaken. So the next beat would be—

“King Crimson!”

A voice with no meaning fell from above like a stray pebble. Alicia’s focus scattered like startled sparrows. Finding nothing, she turned back to Lian—and saw Ling’s eyelids flutter, a moth tapping its wings.

But Aer, who should’ve been elated, showed no joy. Her face tightened, storm-dark, anger seething and… disgust curdling like bitter tea.

Whoosh!

Ling’s body flared with gold, and a second figure, bathed in the same molten light, peeled off like a leaf from the branch.

When two silhouettes stood whole, the glow faded like sunset. Aer raised her right hand and swung, a blade of wind meant to split thunder.

Smack…

Her palm halted less than a fingertip from Ling’s skin—seemingly landing, yet unable to sink even half a step. A blue shield held firm, ice-clear, freezing the strike midstream.

Aer roared at the heavens, embers raging in her eyes like a brazier kicked over.

“World! Are you that scared I’ll wreck your Script?!”

Silence settled for a breath, snow-quiet, and the blue shield vanished. The gift startled Aer like lightning without thunder.

“You… you’d really do that?”

She sounded like she was asking the World’s opinion, but her raised hand was a nocked arrow—whatever the answer, it would fly.

“………………”

No one else could hear the words in the wind through bamboo. Aer understood every reed’s murmur.

“Heh… Sacrifice one to keep the other worldlines running? Cruel as a blade on bone.”

“………………”

“Fine. I’ll take your call. Across countless worldlines, this is your first compromise. If I refuse, wouldn’t that make you lose face? A mask slipping.”

She drove her hand down. As a Yokai, her palm was winter iron, able to punch bare through steel; Ling’s body was jade-hard, but piercing it was still within reach.

Drip…

Blood beaded on Ling’s porcelain skin and slid like red rain. If the new, sudden Ling had bled, Aer would’ve smiled. But the river never runs backward.

Somewhere along the way, the original Ling had risen like a shadow lifting. Seeing Aer about to kill the new Ling, she stepped in, flesh and bone a lacquered shield, and took the strike.

“What are you doing?!”

Aer stumbled back, stunned, disbelief cracking across her face like ice after a stone.

“Impossible. You still had minutes before waking!”

“If I didn’t wake, you’d kill her, right?”

“No! Ling, listen. If I don’t kill her and return the soul stolen from you, the World will erase you!”

“Erase me? The World woke me. Why would she do that?” Her calm was a still pond, ripples faint.

Ling’s reply made Aer freeze. Her features twisted like a storm-crooked branch, then she hurled her voice upward, wrapped in her own magic like silk set aflame.

“You little punk! You set me up!”

“Quit yelling! It’s loud, okay!” The reply snapped back, catty as a sparrow’s chirp.

“Ling, really, listen. I have to kill her.”

Ling knew Aer was acting for her sake, so her anger cooled like rain on stone. But her core stayed iron; she wouldn’t let Aer do it.

“No!”

Normally Aer indulged Ling like a river follows breeze, meeting small wishes like falling petals. Not today. This was life and death, flood against bank.

She flicked a control spell, chains of blue clasping Ling, then lunged with a fist toward the new Ling, a tiger breaking brush.

Resolve like pine set her stance: Ling had learned her magic from Aer and knew she couldn’t win a head-on duel. She wouldn’t meet art with art.

She strained, hands biting into the bind, snapped it like rotten twine, then moved with raw speed, a deer springing, and wrapped the new Ling in her arms like silk around jade.

“Worldline Transfer!”

It was a spell Ling had stolen by watching from the eaves, a bridge over an abyss. Aer didn’t know; if she had, she’d never have taught it—its price was life.

“Ling!”

Aer’s cry tore like a banner in wind as the two Lings slipped away into a white space, blank as rice paper.

Inside that white space.

Ling studied the body identical to hers, a mirror in snow, and smiled with a crescent-moon mouth.

“Go over there and have your fun. I’m sorry about Aer, but I’ve played enough. Your turn.”

“World Identity Construction—Gender Selection,” a mechanical female voice chimed from every direction, wires singing in air.

“Emmm… girl… no, no. Let’s try male. Feels like it could be fun~” She flipped the thought like a coin in her palm.

“Identity…”

“Whatever~ I trust I won’t get stuck. I’ll find a good family! Set the rest however you like. I don’t have the strength to steer anymore.” Her words drifted like a boat without oars.

She yawned, smoke-spiral lazy, truly tired.

“Hey… who are you?”

The new Ling, silent as an unpainted stroke, spoke suddenly, a bell in fog, drawing Ling’s gaze.

“Ah, you’re awake. Sorry, I must’ve been loud.”

“You… who are you?” she asked again, voice ticking like a clockwork needle.

“Emmm… I’m you. My name’s Yufan Ling.”

“I’m… also Yufan Ling?”

“No, no. Duplicate names are no fun. But if you like ‘Yufan Ling,’ I can give it to you…”

“Then what’s your name?”

“Then… I’ll go by Yufan Lian from now on! Mm! Sounds pretty nice!”

The new Ling paused at that name, then smiled, two lotus blooms side by side.

“Yeah, let’s call it that. Like a pair of sisters.”

“As long as you like it.”

“I’m really going now. Have fun over there.” Her farewell fell like a petal.

Lian drifted into fragments, snowflake ash dissolving, and left. A dust-fine sliver slipped into Ling’s body, dew unseen by any eyes.

“World Reset—Memory Reset—World Generation…”

—On Aer’s side—

Watching Ling depart, Aer’s tension faded like mist at dawn, gone as if it had never been.

She touched the headset at her ear, fingers light as a swallow landing. “Well? What’s the World’s suspicion level?”

Aer’s own voice answered from the earpiece, numbers tapping like rain. “19.19%.”

“That so… looks like my acting’s not bad,” she said, mask dropping like silk.

Next came the plan. As for Ling… by now that impostor should’ve stolen her name, a thief’s hand in the ledger. Ling chose it herself, but the taste still felt bitter like over-steeped tea. Forget it. With Lian’s temperament, the plan I kept repeating should’ve tucked itself into her memory, a hidden thread.

A flash split the air like a white fish, and Aer vanished. Alicia stayed rooted, face full of question marks, while the readers circled like crows, bewildered.