“Sin Ling... isn’t a bad kid?”

She parroted Ling’s words like an Echoer, a little broken recorder, and Ling answered with a smile warm as a brazier in winter.

“Yes, Sin Ling is a good girl, and she’s my cute little sister, isn’t she?” Her voice fell like spring sunlight through bamboo.

When did that begin? From the moment Ling stepped into this world, I was born like a noon shadow stitched to her heels.

It felt like hundreds or thousands of years, a river with no banks, slow and cold as moonlight on a lake.

Ling never made a big splash, and I never grew; we drifted like fallen leaves on a quiet pond.

Then one day, for reasons I never knew, Ling slaughtered the gods, and I shot up like bamboo after rain.

After that, I kept drinking in Ling’s sins, cup after cup, like bitter tea at midnight.

At first it was fine, light as mist on a field, but later it pressed down heavy as a mountain on my chest.

I don’t know when it happened, but my feelings went missing, like birds scattering before a storm.

I gave myself a plain name, easy as a signboard on a roadside stall—Sin.

Then, at some other vague time, I felt the Yanluo King’s summons, a drumbeat from an unseen temple.

I was tossed into this pitch-black place, like a stone dropped down a dry well.

It didn’t matter; it was just one desolate shore traded for another, like moving from frost to deeper frost.

No light, only darkness, like ink swallowing the page; no company, only loneliness, like wind through an empty hall.

Hungry, I ate sin, chewing it like stale bread; thirsty, I ground sin into liquid and drank it like tar.

That was my only pastime, a one-string lute in a silent room.

Then even appetite died; hunger and thirst went silent, like the last candle snuffed by a cold sleeve.

My last entertainment was stripped away, like a toy taken from a child at dusk.

Maybe a few hours ago—my memory is smudged like wet ink—Ling came.

I walked over with a petty grudge, wanting her to taste loneliness and boredom, like feeding her snow and ashes.

The revenge failed; instead, I had fun, like a cat batting a ribbon in sunlight.

Then she praised me. Yes, praised me, the way spring praises a bud breaking earth.

Was this the approval I’d starved for—a sweet fruit at last? Joy? Pleasure? I didn’t know.

Only the warmth in my chest was clear, like a small stove catching flame.

For once, I knew exactly when it happened—just now, like a bell struck in a quiet shrine.

I don’t know how long I drifted in thought; when I came back, Ling was still smiling, bright as a crescent over dark water.

“But... Sin Ling made Big Sis suffer... Even so, am I still a good girl?” Her voice trembled like a sparrow in rain.

Cold sweat slid down Ling’s brow like dew off a leaf; this child really knew how to hit the sore spot.

“Uh... no, I don’t mind any of that, really, and Alicia’s fine, isn’t she?” Her words fluttered like fans at a summer fair.

Sin Ling didn’t notice the awkward crease on Ling’s face; she was too happy, eyes glittering like stars in a basin.

“Really?! So Sin Ling really is a good girl?” Her joy burst like fireworks over a river.

Watching that radiant excitement, Ling felt a thin thread of comfort stitch her guilty heart, like a warm needle through cloth.

Since the enemy was talked down, she relaxed and, in her head, played the little “battle over” chime like a bell on a shop door.

“Alright, time to wrap up. If we get out safe, you’ll live with me as my sister, like two lanterns in one house.

“I bet Alicia, that rascal, will be too excited to sleep when she finds she has another adorable sister; her smile will spill like honey.

“Oh, and I’ll sign you up for school, desks and chalk like snow, and then...” Her words flowed like a brook after thaw.

Ling kept talking to herself, not noticing Sin Ling’s face dim like a cloud sliding over the moon.

“Um... Big Sis...” The call was soft as a brushstroke.

Ling stopped her daydreams and looked at the sister she had, at least in name, like a name carved on a doorplate.

“Let’s... not go out, okay?” Her request fell like a feather hiding a stone.

“Huh?” The sound snapped like a twig.

“Just stay here and play with your little sister, okay?” Her smile curled like a silk ribbon.

Ling’s body sent up ominous warnings, drums under the ribs, the way birds go still before lightning.

“No... listen to me, little sister. The world outside is beautiful, like markets lit with lanterns.

“We can eat so many tasty things, like candied haw and hot jiaozi, steam rising like clouds...” Her persuasion was a thread in wind.

Sin Ling shook her head, gentle as grass in a breeze, and the inner siren wailed louder like a storm siren by the sea.

“Big Sis, we can’t leave, you know. So if you really want to play with me, then stay here forever, like a lock rusted shut.

“Forever.” The word coiled like a snake around the heart.

〣( ºΔº )〣?!

Yandere... Was she born for the yandere tag, like a rose with hidden thorns?!

“I’m not yandere, Big Sis. This is my love for you~” Her sing-song lilt floated like petals on tea.

What kind of off-script, cursed plot is this, like a kite that won’t follow the string?!

In her head, she slammed a heavy Rulebook to the floor and stomped it, pages flying like startled pigeons.

Weren’t loyalty and affection supposed to jump to 100 after a good speech, like numbers flipping on a counter?

Now it’s off the charts; one day she might gently take my head off, cradle it like a porcelain bowl, and sail into the sunset on a cruise.

“Um... my lovely little sister, I still think the outside world is more fun, like a festival night.” Her voice tiptoed like a cat.

“No way~ Big Sis. I used my secret weapon to seal this place, like talismans stitched across a gate.

“Nobody can get out, and nobody can get in to spoil our world of two~” Her sweetness was a ribbon over iron.

Ugh, secret weapons are the worst, like sand in warm rice!

Grumbling inside, Ling watched Sin Ling’s sunny smile with a flutter of unease, like moths around a lamp.

“Little sister... forgive the blunt question, but what secret weapon are you talking about?” Her words crept like cautious footsteps.

Sin Ling kept that beautiful smile, bright as a white lotus, and raised one hand high like a pale branch.

“This one~” Her tone chimed like a bell.

Snap. Her fingers cracked the air, and the sound rolled around the black space like thunder in a cave.

Then thick, long, unnerving, knobby, pitch-black tentacles punched up from the ground, like eels erupting from an ink sea.

They writhed and sometimes twitched, jerks like dying snakes on wet stone, and Ling did not think of Magical Girl X Tentacles.

She had only one thought, sharp as a nail through silk—WTF.