“Ah! My dear princess, our empire has finally unified this world!” Alicia swept in wearing that odd men’s getup, arms flung wide like a banner snapping in wind, eyes blazing like festival lanterns toward Ling on the high dais.
Ling caught the warmth like a spark catching dry pine. Joy bubbled in her gaze like spring water. “Ah. My prince. This moment—”
“STOP!!!!”
A sharp voice cracked like a whip in a cold field. Zi strode in with a white paper tube like a rolled-up scepter, and bonked Ling’s head twice, clean as drumbeats.
“How many times have I said it? Feeling. Feeling! Where are your feelings? You’re not here for a monotone contest; you’re here to perform! Put some heart in!”
Ling cupped her head, more aggrieved than hurt, like a cat scolded out of a sunbeam.
It’s not my fault there’s no feeling, she grumbled inside, clouds gathering quick. What kind of plot is this? Why’s Alicia the prince while I’m the princess? I’ve logged more time being the guy than that one who was born a girl! And Zi’s so fierce now… nothing like that shameless lolicon from earlier, who fluttered like a moth around any loli-shaped flame.
Only Ling found Zi’s switch strange; everyone else stood calm as old trees in a steady wind, like they’d seen storms before.
“Are you even listening to me?”
Smack! The paper tube landed again, crisp as a ruler on a desk. Zi glared, thunder behind her eyes. This girl can’t act, won’t listen—how can a loli be this disobedient? How could anyone like a loli this bad?
“Last time. When you act, if you can’t access the feeling, simulate a different scene in that tiny head. When you need to be moved, recall something that moved you. When you need to be angry, you—”
Zi was fierce like a winter hawk, but her advice landed like rain on dry soil. Not like others who bark “Where’s the feeling?” and then toss you into the fire without a map.
I’ve been drilled by her so many times already, Ling thought, winded as a runner. Even if I’m not tired of it, Zi’s voice will be. For her sake and mine, I should take this seriously—just a little.
“Did you get all that?”
“Mhm, got it~” Ling’s grin floated like a paper boat on a pond, impossible to tell if it would sink or sail. Zi eyed her, half-trusting, half-wary, then walked back to her seat, pausing every few steps like a cat checking its tail. Rehearsal resumed.
“Three, two, one—start!”
On the cue, Alicia snapped into character, arms unfurled again like wings catching a morning breeze. “Ah! My dear princess, our empire has finally unified this world!”
“Ah! My prince! The moment is finally here!”
With a breath of focus, the loli finally sounded like a person, not a metronome—wooden edges sanded smooth like river stones.
“See? That works. You could’ve done this earlier.” Relief softened Zi’s face like sunlight through leaves; the look was a mother’s, watching a sapling put on its first green. Maybe age turns anyone into an elder when a loli is near, like gravity pulling tides.
…
“Why are you here?”
A black-haired loli leveled a longsword at Ling’s neck, the blade cold as moonlight on ice. Her brows tightened like drawn bows; her eyes spat fire like a kiln—pure, bright anger.
Zi clapped from the side, voice ringing like a bell. “Oh—Xi’s acting jumped up a level out of nowhere. Not bad!”
Her praise slid straight into Ling’s ears like a pebble into a pond. Ling didn’t agree at all. From the person with a sword at her throat, if this were acting, that’d be great—like waking from a nightmare to blue sky.
“Answer me!!”
“Th-this…”
No wonder Ling couldn’t answer. Alicia had hauled her here like a fish netted out of the river. Ling thought Alicia had told everyone. Turns out one loli, like a stray cloud, missed the wind.
“You lolis… one by one trying to steal Youxiang.” Xi’s voice cracked like thin ice. “I came first. Liking Youxiang, getting teased by her—I was first. So why is it like this…”
“Hey… whatever, but don’t pull that melodrama trope. People will get the wrong idea, okay…” Ling’s heart fluttered like a sparrow. A pure, cute loli like me wouldn’t seduce other girls; it’s the plot pushing me toward Youxiang, like a river pushing leaves. Why’s your possessiveness a storm that won’t pass?
“Heh… heh… heh…” The laugh broke, gears grinding. Xi’s sword trembled like a plucked string. The gap to Ling’s smooth neck shrank, less than five centimeters, like frost creeping over glass.
“Ah, Xi knows. Xi understands. If I kill you—if you don’t exist—then Youxiang will only look at me. Forever. She’ll never leave me!”
She’d gone dark. Pitch-dark. The candle blown out, the room all shadow.
Zi saw it too, her face paling like paper. At first she’d thought it was improv, a spark to ease the tense air. But this wasn’t play; this was lightning tasting for a tree.
“Xi! Stop!”
The blackened don’t hear. They fear no scolding, no whip, not even death. Their eyes lock on the target like hawks on a red dot; the rest of the world goes night-black. That perfect focus is a blade’s dream: her thrust tracked the smallest drift, corrected for air like a swallow in wind, and the strike would not deviate—only land where her gaze burned.
Squelch.
