She stepped in and gave Alicia and Ling a shallow bow, like a reed bending in a breeze.

"Sorry. I lost my composure earlier. Let's pick up the discussion..."

Amelia lifted her gaze, then stalled mid-breath. Her eyes snagged on Ling's shoulder, like a hook catching silk.

"Ka... ppa."

Amelia wasn't the only one frozen, a frost statue in spring light. Kappa, perched on Ling's shoulder, also went still, staring straight at Amelia.

Its beady eyes brimmed with disbelief, like a child seeing dawn after a long tunnel, unsure the light was real.

Ling watched their faces, a hunter in tall grass reading wind. She’d thought Amelia would blush scarlet at her own cringe creation.

It should’ve been a prank to shame the Queen, like a bamboo trap snapping shut. Yet this felt more like old friends meeting by a riverbank.

Was her plan to fluster the Queen dead before the first drumbeat?

No need to guess. The next heartbeat gave the answer.

"A—me—li—a!!!"

Kappa forgot Ling’s warning, like a bird forgetting the cage. It pushed off her shoulder with furry little feet and launched in a clumsy arc.

That plush bear couldn’t win a slap-fight with SpongeBob; its dive was a leaf’s fall, not a hawk’s strike. A tumble seemed certain.

Ling could see it coming, like rain written in clouds. So could Amelia. She bolted forward, dropped into a crouch, and scooped Kappa from the air.

She crushed it to her chest like a long-lost talisman, unwilling to let go, as if warmth could glue time back together.

"Amelia!!!"

In Amelia’s arms, Kappa cried her name in gusts, like wind rattling chimes. Noisy, yes, but somehow not hateful to Ling’s ear.

After a long moment, plush and elf finished their reunion, like waves settling after a splash, and parted with a trace of reluctance.

"Amelia, you too! Why didn’t you summon me for so long? Do you hate Kappa?"

Chased by that scolding, Amelia scratched the back of her head, eyes skittering aside like minnows.

"I... became Queen and got busy, you know? I just kept forgetting."

—Please. She’s scared of her own cringe, try-hard phase. She coined a badass spell name, then out popped a powerless teddy. Who wants to whip that out and eat dirt?

Ling kept the snark under the surface, like a fish beneath ice. She had no intention of stripping Amelia’s face in public.

Without Ling exposing her, and with an IQ that matched its battle power, Kappa believed her without a blink.

It even patted her with soft paws and told her not to overwork, like a grandma offering soup. Amelia could only laugh awkwardly.

"Hey! Are we drifting off-topic?"

Alicia, silent till now, finally leaped out like a spark in dry straw, hungry for presence.

Called out, Amelia blinked, like a bell rung awake. Right—this was about the Elvenfolk’s big matter.

"Sorry, sorry. Seeing Kappa got me excited. Let’s continue."

She smoothed her skirt like pressing ripples on a pond, and sat. Her arms still refused to release Kappa.

"Ahem. I’d like a detailed look at your Mystic Realm plan."

She was about to join the Mystic Realm, like a boat aiming for a new harbor; some charts were necessary.

Alicia didn’t hesitate. She reached into a "four-dimensional pocket" and thumped a thick stack of papers onto the table, like a brick.

She pushed it to Amelia. Kappa obligingly lifted the stack with those fuzzy, fingerless paws, miracle grip defying physics, and held it up to Amelia.

They read together, heads close, like two lanterns sharing one flame.

"Mmm... mm... hmm? Mmm..."

Amelia nodded as she read, soft hums slipping out like moths. The sounds tightened Alicia’s nerves like drawn bowstrings.

It was like handing your novel for a live read. Alicia had written every line; of course the air felt thin.

If the terms were skewed, or the wording muddy, or duties unclear, the other side would poke it like a bruise.

But Alicia had worried too much. She’d been to enough tables to learn the currents. There were scuffs, perhaps, but no fatal cracks.

At least to Amelia’s eye, the benefits and obligations sat balanced, like scales steady in a still room.

"Mm. Not bad. Miss Alicia, you’re surprisingly sharp. I expected a clause or two tilted against us. Looks like I was overthinking."

"That means—!!!"

"Yup. On behalf of all Elvenfolk, I agree to join the Mystic Realm. Please look after us."

"You don’t need your ministers’ consent?"

Ling couldn’t help asking, a cat batting at a dangling thread. In stories, an Elven Queen never moves without a chorus of ministers.

Why was this different?

Amelia answered with a scoff, sharp as a snapped twig.

"Hmph. I’m the Queen. Since when do I need anyone to leash my decisions? Not happening."

...

Wow. That’s allowed? Mom, I wanna be Elf‑king!