Three minutes of pavement and neon later, Rafi reached the nearest hotel. Not one of those shady dens. A proper—love hotel, clean as moonlight on tile.

She walked to the front desk. The clerk’s face popped with surprise, then softened into a blessing, like someone sending off a bride by lantern glow. Rafi noticed, sure. She had no patience to explain things to a pack of yuri shippers, one by one. No one would recognize the great, beautiful, clever Rafi anyway—hmph.

Cradling the loli, she kicked the door open with one leg. The door slammed like a drum. She tossed the still-sleeping girl onto the bed. The mattress gave like a cloud; thank the gods, or the girl would’ve taken another hit.

Rafi grabbed the in-house phone. Her voice was steady as night rain. She asked room service to bring up medical supplies and food.

She glanced at her dust-caked self, then at the girl quiet as a pond at dawn. Relief flickered first, then mischief. Since you’re out cold, you won’t mind if I shower first, right? Hee-hee~

She stripped at light speed, toes sketching quick little dance steps across the floor. In a swish, she dived into the bathroom.

Bang!

She’d shut the door too hard. The echo rolled like thunder. Rafi didn’t care. She trusted that girl—dead to the world—wouldn’t wake for that.

Emmm… Call it the East’s mysterious timing; the moment the thought left her, the girl’s lashes trembled like moth wings.

She opened her eyes. The shackles that had clamped her body were gone, leaving a strange emptiness, like taking off a heavy winter coat in summer shade. Uneasy, yes. But no way would she ever want that thing back on.

She scanned the room first, nerves tight as bowstring. An empty bedroom, candlelight flickering like fireflies, and in the bathroom the hush of water, a stream whispering against tile.

Memory flooded in like tide. Confusion cracked open and fell away. She’d been saved… by a pink-haired beauty. And that beauty’s chest—flat as a board in a carpenter’s shop.

No, no! Heat flared; she shook off the drift of foolish thoughts like dew. Wariness settled back in, a wolf circling. New city, no anchor, childhood sharpened into survival—her guard rose like a wall.

“Whew—so good.” A woman’s voice floated from the bathroom, warm as steam. The water hush ceased. The rescuer—good or bad—was about to step out.

Click…

As she’d guessed, the door swung open. A pink-haired girl in a white towel walked out, skin shining like pearl. And yes—the chest was a desert, not a valley.

Rafi blinked at the sight of the girl sitting up on the bed. She’d made it out in under ten minutes—her best record in centuries. Yet the girl who wouldn’t wake for thunder had opened her eyes in less than that.

“Hey… don’t get up. You need to stay down.” Her voice was firm, like a hand on a kite string.

The girl froze. Warmth sparked under her ribs, a coal of surprise—was that concern for her?

The girl didn’t lie back, just paused like a fox in brush. Rafi stepped in and eased her down, palms gentle. She brushed the girl’s forehead. Roughness snagged her fingertips—there, the faint ridge of a scar. Even her brow had taken damage.

Sympathy welled up, soft as mist. Rafi’s gaze warmed; her tone smoothed into big-sis velvet. “Kid, what’s your name?”

The loli had hoped silence could ward off awkward small talk, like pulling a quilt over a storm. The sudden question startled her; words tripped like stones.

“I… I… I’m… I’m…”

She wanted to answer, but the name wouldn’t come. She scraped her mind and found only fog. Panic rose first, cold as river water. If she couldn’t recall her name, what about the rest? Had everything been erased?

The deeper she probed, the heavier the dread grew, a black tide pressing in. Her body began to shake, involuntary. She might not feel the rhythm of it, but Rafi felt it clear as drumbeats through her hand.

Is she… afraid?

Rafi pulled the girl into her arms. Her magic unfurled like incense smoke, not to strike but to soothe. A succubus’s power brushes the heart, smoothing jagged edges. Here, it made the perfect sedative.

Whether it was the embrace or the magic, the girl’s tremors ebbed, calm settling like snow.

Even as the girl went still, Rafi didn’t let go. Something in this small body mended her, too. If she had to put it into a picture: Ling was hotpot to Rafi—irresistible, but you overheat fast. This girl was ice cream in high summer, a sweet chill that quenched every spike of restlessness in a single bite.

She held on a beat too long. The tiny person in her arms pushed, polite but firm, like a sparrow’s wing against a palm. Only then did Rafi let go, reluctant as dusk leaving a lake.

Free of the hug, the loli didn’t gulp air; she rubbed her reddened nose instead, cheeks puffing. Looks like Rafi had an iron board somewhere—one press, and the nose took the hit.

Painfully honest.

It was lucky Rafi was busy daydreaming about her ice cream and didn’t notice. Otherwise, something not fit to describe might’ve played out right here…

A light tap landed on Rafi’s shoulder, tugging her back from her reverie. She turned, and her reluctant look made the girl hesitate—was waking Rafi a mistake?

“I… I’m Nina. Ni for Nina, Na for Nina~”