“No mistakes on the map. Every plot here is split clean down the middle, like squares of tofu. And that extra piece? That belongs to your new little sister—Yufan Ling. Though ‘new’ is a stretch. She’s been here ages. You lot are either out carousing like stray dogs or holed up in your rooms playing with action figures. How would you ever notice?”

The old king stomped, anger sparking like flint on stone, that familiar I-raised-you-for-this look heavy in his eyes. Huh? By the sound of it… Alicia might actually be the one he trusts most.

“People say you shouldn’t air dirty laundry, but I’ve gotta say this much. Not one of you puts me at ease like Alicia does. Even the youngest of you, even the unrelated Yufan Ling, worries me less than most of you. That’s why I’m choosing the new king this way. If you’re happy curling up in your tiny corner like a cat in a sunbeam, then fine—live as you please. But if you truly want the crown, you’ll learn how to be a king, step by step. That’s all. Now, pick your starting plots.”

The “First Prince,” the “Second Prince,” and the rest rushed in like a flock of crows to fresh grain, each clawing for the best slice. They all had opinions about the sudden “sister,” but greed smothered their words like a hand over a candle.

“Oh—almost forgot. The largest territory at the top of the map belongs to Alicia and Yufan Ling. Try to steal it and you’re disqualified on the spot.”

One line cracked like thunder. Half a dozen hands froze midair like winter birds. By the time they snapped out of it, even their second-choice plots were gone, swept away like leaves in a stream.

Alicia didn’t shove into the scrum. She lounged on the sofa atop the high platform, watching the scramble like a lazy cat watching koi. A loli perched on her belly like a warm little kitten.

“So? Ling, isn’t this plan neat? You saw how greedy they are, like fish at feeding time. If you’d popped out without a word, trouble would’ve swarmed like wasps. With the king-choosing as a screen, the most they can do is envy you or hate you for a breath. Then they have to bury their heads in governing their tiny patches.”

Yes. As Alicia said, this moment was tailored for Ling. It looked fair as a still pond, yet the deeper water ran uneven. With the king’s little “airing dirty laundry” act earlier, the crowd’s goodwill drifted toward Alicia and Ling like incense smoke, quiet but thick—stacking the deck before the game began. And yet…

“But whose idea was it, really? Sister? I don’t think so…”

“Idiot. Can’t you save your sister a little face? …Although, yeah, it wasn’t your sister’s idea.”

“Then who?”

“Father, of course.”

Ling blinked, then rubbed her cheek lightly against Alicia’s chest, like a sparrow nuzzling fleece. She didn’t know what to say. She’d imagined some strategist behind the curtain—and found the king himself instead.

This king… unexpectedly gentle.

When Ling fell quiet, Alicia recognized the silence like the hush before snow. They’d been together long enough. She straightened, slid her arms under Ling’s armpits, and drew her in, trying to sweep the chill from the air with her own warmth like a hearth.

Time trickled. Not long, just a few breaths.

Ling surfaced from her thoughts. For a heartbeat she startled, as if a tentacle monster had caught her again in its soft coils. Then she burrowed back into that warmth like a seed into loam.

“Hey… Sis, let’s found a nation.”

The impossible came out level, like a pebble dropped in a still lake—no ripple, just certainty.

Alicia understood. It wasn’t that founding a nation was small. It was that this little loli had no idea how steep the mountain really was. Force? Not a concern. With a nation-erasing—world-erasing—loli here, invasion might as well be a summer thunder that never reaches the ground. But if they truly build a country, they can’t rule by the stick. Smashing the people is a taboo every king avoids, like stepping on your own shadow. And judging by this loli’s current… performance, giving her paperwork would be like handing a crane a plow. Better to let her play volleyball—no one can even receive her serve. A ball can’t endure her slap; it’s thunder meeting silk.

The road to founding a nation looked like inviting trouble to tea. Which meant…

“Mm. All right. It’s a bit unfair to Father, but we’ll build our own later.”

…Heh. I really can’t refuse Ling, can I? Those starry, expectant eyes count as a foul.

With Alicia’s yes, Ling knew it was time to pay in sugar. Or call it a reward. She rolled in Alicia’s arms. Their stomachs pressed, warm as two steamed buns. Her tiny frame only added a playful weight, and somehow that weight made the whole world feel soft. Alicia felt it, and melted.

Ling slipped her hands free, looped them behind Alicia’s neck, and tugged until their noses hovered less than four inches apart. A small smile bloomed like a spring bud. She leaned in and brushed Alicia’s right cheek with a cherry-soft peck, left a hint of sweet milky scent, then darted back. The blush on her face lingered like dusk.

“Th-this is a reward! Only this once! Really! Only once!”

She said it twice, each ending with a little stomp of tone, and even nodded to hammer it in. It should’ve sounded tsundere, but her earnest puffiness turned it silly-cute instead, like a kitten trying to roar.

Whatever. Cute is enough.

Alicia buried her face in Ling’s belly and rubbed, one slow circle with the sun, one against it—until Ling squirmed with laughter like grass in a breeze.

“Dummy sis! That tickles!”

“Mhm, mhm—your dummy sis did it on purpose.”

“I’m ignoring you! Hmph!”