“Mm… it’s so tight…”

The loli muttered at the band biting her belly, a snake coiling at her waist. She’s already thin; cinch her again and she’ll flatten like a salted fish on a sun-baked stone.

Complaints don’t help. Alicia tricked her into this crew, net cast and hauled. A soft “Hmph!” puffed out like steam from a kettle. While no one looked, she turned her back and secretly loosened the strap. Relief spread like spring rain across dry fields; her whole body sighed, one note short of a moan.

“Hey~ what’s the little loli doing?”

A Daemon’s whisper brushed her ear, cold night mist on skin. Her fingers froze on the sash. Fear bloomed like frost across her face.

“Hm? The little loli won’t answer Alicia’s question? Alicia will cry, you know~”

Alicia’s hand rested on her shoulder, then slid down her smooth skin like a lazy stream. The touch sparked no thrill—only fear rising, shadow piling on shadow at dusk.

“Big sis… ugh… don’t…”

Her plea trembled, teardrop-thin, the last card that usually saves her; it was her final hope bobbing in a storm.

It worked—almost. Alicia’s hand stopped. She didn’t go further. It halted at Ling’s waist… then blurred like wind through leaves, grabbed the two cords floating at her sides, and yanked hard, left and right.

“Ahhhhhhhhh!”

Her scream cracked the air, thunder over a still lake, a cry that rattles even human hearts.

Yes, those cords were the waistband. Alicia pulled with ruthless force. The cord cinched like a bowstring; even Ling’s absurd defenses flared with pain. Who forged this thing? It holds against a Yokai’s strength—wicked craftsmanship.

“This band is for a corset. You don’t loosen it at random. Got it?!”

Ling toppled. Words died on her tongue. Her belly was strangled tight, pain pounding like war drums until thought burned away; she was played—broken, really.

Alicia looked at the limp little body, pity stirring like a soft breeze. She knelt, hands quick as a weaver, tying hundreds of dead knots into a neat net. At the end, she added a red Chinese knot, a lantern tassel brightening the bind. She believed if Ling truly didn’t want to wear it, she’d untie it herself. When that day came, Alicia wouldn’t force her again.

“Alicia!”

A shout rose from not far behind. Alicia glanced at Ling, still not recovered. She kissed Ling’s forehead—light as a drifting petal—then turned and ran back to work, leaving the girl sprawled and faint on the cold floor.

Time drifted…

“Where am I?”

Ling rubbed her sore belly and pushed herself up. Her fingers met bumps and ridges, a little mountain range. She looked down: a mess of dead knots and a pretty Chinese knot resting on her stomach.

“I really am… gods damn it…”

She muttered a hard curse, exasperation scribbling dark lines across her face. She bent and started picking at the knots one by one. Maybe she’s built with a debuff; even a dead knot, her little fingers could only nibble at the edge and never catch the heart. Frustration flared; her back ached. She gave up on cleanliness, dropped to the floor, and sat. She curled into a ball and kept picking. From far away, she looked like a fluff ball, round and small.

“Child, what are you doing?”

The voice from behind stilled her hands. She turned—no real sweat—and saw a green-haired woman. A smile bloomed on that face, the kind that makes hearts thump like startled birds.

Ling tilted her head. The woman rang a bell: green hair, fine features, eyes with the calm glow of a knowing big sister. Normally, you don’t forget a beauty like that, but the memory felt fogged, mist over a pond.

“You’re…?”

“Yuuka~”

The woman answered for her, light as a flute. Ling heard the name and remembered: one of the people Alicia had introduced back then, a flower among thorns.

“Oh~ Sister Yuuka… eh?”

Her reflex finally fired. Fear colored her face, shade by shade. Yuuka found the reaction odd. She reached out a right hand. Ling took a half-step back, fear clouding face and eyes—the special kind reserved for those who chase lolis.

Yuuka’s hand hung in midair, then calmly returned, no embarrassment, habit baked in like clay. She’d reached for many lolis; many had dodged; repetition makes a shield.

“Don’t be afraid. Big sis won’t hurt you.”

Yuuka fished a lollipop from her pocket. Her smile didn’t waver—yes, that classic predatory-uncle grin, sugar bait on a hook.

But who is Ling? She can punch god-kings and dropkick Dio. She’s read JoJo front to back. A human… connoisseur. A genius loli. How could some outdated goldfish-uncle tricks tempt her?

So of course, Ling slapped the offered lollipop aside. In her eyes, Yuuka the loli-lover was stamped harmless, no threat at all.

Yuuka, though, was surprised. Her kid-pleasing trick failed. A loli, refusing the lure, not even glancing at the candy… Was this—could it be—the fabled, limited-edition, top-tier… ice-cold loli?

And thus, tagged rare and exquisite, Ling still had no idea she was about to be swept into a whorl she wouldn’t easily escape.