Coo, coo, coo—

In my last life, dawn belonged to roosters; here, pigeons hijack the morning bell like petty thieves in mist.

Weird or not, the cooing still tugged Alicia out of sleep like a reed stirring in wind.

She eased her hand from Ling’s grip and slipped from the warm nest, breath a small cloud of winter.

She’d underestimated Ling’s sleep-time sensitivity, a frost-hidden thorn under a fur quilt.

Awake, Ling shrugged off cold like stone; asleep, she felt it like rain on bare skin.

Alicia lifted the blanket, and winter air knifed in, a silver blade in a quiet pond.

Ling’s body, lulled by warmth, flared alarms like red lanterns lit all at once.

“So coooold!!!”

And so a cozy, honeyed morning began under the shriek of a tiny loli, like a sparrow startling the sun.

—

Annoyance pricked first, like nettles under silk; then Alicia rubbed her aching ears, heat blooming in her cheeks.

She watched Ling eat without a grain of guilt, calm as a jade statue under steam.

She couldn’t beat Ling; and it was her own fault anyway, a pebble in the heart she couldn’t spit out.

“By the way, February thirtieth is coming—Moser Empire’s national day. Heard they’re planning some big event.”

Ling paused mid-bite, eyes tilting at Alicia like a cat studying rain.

“Let’s not roast the whole ‘February thirtieth’ thing; it’s empty smoke. Why do slice-of-life flags always trigger at breakfast? Is this the daily quest pickup point?”

“Huh? What’re you talking about? What’s a daily quest pickup point?”

“Forget it. Just tell me about that national day.”

Alicia pulled a glossy flyer from under her seat, still warm like bread, and offered it over.

Ling hesitated, then took it with a little grimace, fingers pinching it like it might bite.

“Emmm… what’s this ‘Que-ge Mega Concert’ supposed to be?”

“No idea.”

“And this ‘Tadokoro Kouji’s Black Tea Workshop’?”

“…No idea.”

“…Then this ‘Shuangshuang-zi and the Anti-Air Princess: A Love Story’?”

“Don’t—know—ehe~ wink.”

Is she truly clueless or playing dumb, fog behind starry eyes?

Inside, Ling rolled her eyes; outside, she wore the regulation loli smile, sugar glaze with a twitching corner like a snagged kite.

“Hey, Sis, Sis, you really won’t tell me?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I honestly don’t know what these weird things are.”

Then why the I’m-not-telling smirk, like a fox hiding feathers?

Heat rose; the flyer became a throwing blade, slicing the air like a leaf in a gust.

Alicia had already become a Yokai; strength sat in her bones like iron under silk.

The mature beauty’s hand traced a perfect arc, moon-smooth, cheap sparkles flickering like bargain-bin FX.

The flyer snapped into the gap between her index and middle fingers, cigarette-cool, sunglasses-black, BGM swaggering in my head.

“Yare yare, Ling. I’ve seen through your skill.”

She flicked the flyer a disdainful glance; that glance struck like a gong—Ling’s trouble began.

“Ling, Ling, Ling! Look! Look!”

Alicia sprawled over the table, leaning in like a wave; her finger trembled over a tiny line of print.

Her excitement poured onto Ling’s face like hot tea splashing the rim, eyes bright as lanterns.

Ling pushed that big face back, inches of air like a shield; then she peered, reluctant as a cat to water.

“…Stage play… recruiting… volunteers… two? What does that mean?”

“They’re casting actors!”

“I know that. I meant, what are you aiming at?”

“Let’s be the actors!”

“Oh, that’s it? I thought you had thunder. Of course…”

“Of course it’s fine, right? Then let’s go!”

“Of course it’s a problem! Who signs up for a stage play for no reason?

“I don’t have an academy crisis to save, and I don’t dream of being a Top Star.

“Who stuffs themselves and goes back for that on purpose?”

“I…”

“Except you.”

“T﹏T”

Her grand plan collapsed like paper in rain, sadness washing her smile into gray.

Ling couldn’t watch it; guilt stirred like dust in sunlight, tickling her throat.

“Well… Sis, it’s not impossible for me to go.”

Alicia’s head lifted at once, hope flooding her eyes like dawn spilling over tiles.

Ling’s refusal melted; she needed a bridge, thin and tricky as ice.

“Only if… only if…”

“Only if?”

“Only if you touch the back of your right hand with a right-hand finger and show me.”

This impossible task will keep her busy, a maze with no exit; I won’t have to play, and my guilt can sleep. I’m a genius, right?

Crack!

Reality slapped Ling like cold water; Alicia taught her what face-smacking truly meant.

Without a blink, Alicia pressed a finger outward, bone snapping like a dry twig.

Her right-hand finger tapped the back of her right hand with ease, morbid grace under a still moon.

The act was grotesque, a carnival in shadows; but Alicia’s face stayed calm as stone, even curling toward a smile.