After a tide of pointless chatter, everyone worked themselves to exhaustion, flopping like a beached fish. At least the must-do chores finally got done.

Amelia was in bright spirits, like sun after rain. She summoned a flock to prep, saying we’d feast tonight. That had Elfe and Ling smiling for a good while.

But before that, the clock still had to drag its feet. The banquet waited somewhere down the day, not now.

"Ah... I’m suddenly so bored. Do we really just stare into space for hours?"

Ling grumbled like a kettle about to hiss. Beside her, Alicia rubbed her head, annoyance snapping like a whip.

"You were the one whining about being tired. Now you’re whining about boredom. Why so much trouble? Learn from Elfe—see how well-behaved she is."

There it was—the legendary boss: Someone else’s perfect child.

And fair enough—Elfe was obedient in certain ways. While Alicia and Ling rested, Elfe kept walking here and there to help, a princess without princess airs, endearing as a stray cat that actually listens.

But—no. I don’t like her. She fought me for Alicia before, and now she’s stealing Alicia’s heart. Hmph. I’ll never fall for that nine-tailed fox.

Ling’s chest simmered with spite, like coals under ash. She stood up out of pure pettiness and walked off without a word.

"Where are you going?"

Alicia’s simple question met a small storm. The little girl snapped back, cheeks puffed like a drum.

"None of your business! Hmph! Bad sister!"

Watching Ling’s angry back, Alicia felt something slam her heart. Not butterflies—more like a meteor strike that left a crater.

In short, my Ling is still the cutest.

Don’t mind the hopeless Ling-lover. Ling stormed off so far she didn’t know where she was. It didn’t matter; as long as she didn’t see Alicia, any road was fine.

Thud!

She walked kicking pebbles, treating each stone like it was Alicia. She focused so hard her gaze stayed down. She missed the hazard above, bumped her head, and toppled backward like a felled sapling.

Trembling, she pushed herself up. Her anger—or call it dissatisfaction—hit its limit and spiked like an overheating gauge.

"Damn it! Even you bully me!"

No mercy—her fist rose in a rising dragon punch. It didn’t send anyone flying, but her knuckles bit into something hard. Dust pattered down like ash.

What the hell?

Crack…

Reflex made her look up. A stark fissure cut the ceiling like a lightning scar.

Whew… scared me half to death. Good thing it’s only a crack.

There’s a notorious jinx called Lu’s Flag Syndrome. People infected are face-slapped by fate at every turn. Unlucky news: Ling is a textbook case.

Crack…

The fissure widened right after she spoke. More grit fell, tapping her tender face like cold rain.

Knowing trouble was coming, Ling rolled backward. She used that split-second of invincibility frames to dodge the collapsing rubble.

Lucky not to get buried. Otherwise, who knows—Ling might’ve flattened the whole place in a tantrum.

She lifted her head. Smoke and dust veiled a heap of broken stone, but behind it a golden door gleamed like a slice of sunset.

Wow—an actual hidden room. Found without a bomb. That’s skill.

She patted the faint dust off her skirt, curiosity flickering like a moth as she eyed the golden door.

What now? If Alicia were here, she’d never let me go in.

Who cares? Who is Alicia to me? Nothing to do with me.

The thought reignited her petty pride. Chin up, she cocked one leg and kicked the door open, all swagger.

Thoom!!!

"Special delivery!"

She hopped into the darkness beyond. As if aware, the door swung shut behind her. Her kick had bent it; when it closed, it left a narrow gap that would bug any neat freak.

Ling didn’t notice; she was too busy chasing the deep, secret dark behind that door.

Moments after the door shut, a figure stepped before it. Tall lines, red hair flowing like flame—those two signatures were enough.

Who else but Alicia?

The crash from the rubble had drawn her like a bell. She knew Ling attracted trouble like lightning to a high tree, so she ran over and found the closed door.

The door alone wouldn’t have caught her eye, but the pile of debris in front of it drew a clear line of clues. She rushed up, trying to pry the door open.

No luck. The door held a rule like a carved ward—only one may pass. Once Ling entered, it deadlocked. No one out, no one in.

Alicia didn’t have Ling’s brute strength. Even if she kicked with all she had, this door wouldn’t budge, stubborn as an old mountain.

Maybe persistence would crack it, but time slipped like dry sand, and she couldn’t waste it.

So her focus narrowed to that single gap in the door. A seam born from Ling’s earlier kick, thin as a knife’s smile.