“Big Sis, catch—this is the punishment for the second sin~”

Her words fell like a pebble into a pond. The water needling her skin vanished, and a concert stage rose like a blooming lotus.

“Second count—the sin of meddling with another’s life~ Honored Big Sis, do you remember a certain poor boy?”

Ling froze, a blank page rippling in her chest. She’d barely spoken to any men since coming to this world; how could she remember some poor boy?

“Well… yeah. One look at your face and I know you don’t. He’s the one you shipped off to Thailand for surgery, forced into being an idol. (Vol. 2, Ch. 11)”

Ling sifted her mind like fingers through sand. Something that spicy should’ve stuck like chili. Yet… nothing.

“I don’t know… Feels like there was someone, and also like there wasn’t…”

She tilted her chin to a nonexistent sky at a forty-five degree angle, a soft, dumb-cute glow on her face. Against Sin Ling’s equally lethal cuteness, it should’ve done no damage…

“Pfft.”

Okay… it did massive damage.

A thin, respectful trickle of nosebleed slid from Sin Ling’s nose, a red thread on white porcelain. She wiped it, glanced at the crimson, and frowned.

“Did I take an internal hit somewhere?”

She shook that useless doubt off like water from a duck. Watching Ling drop the dopey look, she felt a little hollow, like an empty teacup, but pressed on about the boy.

“Anyway… look… anyway he’s not worth your attention, Sis!”

She gave up. She couldn’t find a way to describe that idolized pseudo-girl, so she dragged it back to the point.

“It’s not who he is that matters. It’s that over a little thing, you wrecked his life as a man. That’s a sin. So, as punishment, your great, just, gentle, and the cutest cutest cutest cutest cutest little sister… has decided you’ll feel what he felt!”

???

Ling’s mind filled with question marks, like moths around a lamp. So all that talk was for what? To make her feel the Blackflame Dragon vanishing again? She’d done that already. What, double negative makes a positive and they’ll bolt a new Blackflame Dragon back in?

Too bad—that was just Ling’s daydream. A Blackflame Dragon? In this book? Not happening.

Sin Ling snapped softly. Harsh spotlights speared down like white lances. Ling’s eyes, used to darkness, burned; tears welled like warm beads. She rubbed at her reddening eyes with her small hands.

“Sis, look. This is the stage!”

Gritting through the sting, Ling cracked her eyes open. A sea of black heads filled her view, each face pasted with a white sheet labeled “Audience,” like paper talismans.

Shock rose like a wave and drowned the pain. Eyes red, she stared at the black silhouettes below, pink glowsticks flickering like cherry fireflies. Judging by their outlines, most bodies were softly rounded.

Her brain blue-screened. She couldn’t think… No, she refused to think.

“Sis! The stage has risen. Will you dance one song with me?”

Sin Ling invited her and offered a small hand. Ling glanced at it, then snapped her head away, a tiny huff from her nose like a sparrow’s chirp.

“No way! I don’t dance!”

As if. This loli, dancing in front of a horde of fat otaku? Not a chance. (And hey, what did the fat otaku ever do wrong?)

“Sis, this is your sin. You can’t dodge its punishment~”

“Hah? Says who? I’d rather die—die outsi—”

Even gods bow to the iron law of eating your own words. Mid-sentence, Ling found her hand moving on its own, landing in Sin Ling’s palm like a puppet tugged by a red string. One look at Sin Ling’s teasing smile, and heat climbed Ling’s cheeks like sunrise.

“Heehee~ You’re being so obedient, Sis. Come on, let’s dance~”

Music bloomed right on cue, like fireworks over a lake. During the intro, Sin Ling turned her toward the audience, as if real eyes watched, and gave a proper idol intro.

“Ninety-ninth gen! Yufan Sin Ling—I’ll bring you sin!”

Ling stared, dumbfounded. The next beat, her own mouth opened without permission.

“Ninety-ninth gen! Yufan Ling—I’ll make you shine like starlight!”

—What’s happening?! My body… it’s moving on its own! And… what is that?!

Her gaze shot to the top row. A giraffe was watching her. Yes… a giraffe. (Giraffe: I get it!)

Before she could think why a giraffe, Sin Ling clasped her hand, and their steps unfurled like twin ribbons.

“Wait, I’m not… ready!”

Sin Ling didn’t care. Her body leapt higher, the rhythm tightening like drumskin, leaving Ling no space to resist.

“Sis, once the dance starts, you can’t stop. That’s what the boy thought his first time as an idol. And that’s the punishment you should bear.”

Ling heard every word, clear as frost. But Sin Ling’s speed mirrored hers so perfectly it made the choreography vicious. If she didn’t focus, she’d eat the floor. She had no breath to spare for talking.

But silence didn’t kill inner snark. Ling believed her thoughts would reach Sin Ling anyway.

—FNNDP!