She’d been back only a few days, yet boredom crawled like ants under her skin; Ling wasn’t built to sit still.

Instead of staring at retro anime with dust-dry plots, she’d rather roam with Alicia, catching windfall perks like petals blown across a road.

So she gave the whole “nation” a day off (four people and one beast; the Elvenfolk hadn’t arrived), like hanging a lantern in noon sun.

She played with Remi and Flan till laughter echoed like bells, then got dragged to a bath by Alicia like a duck to warm springs.

No surprises after that; she slept like a pebble sinking through clear water, and the day folded shut like a fan.

—

At dawn she said goodbye to Remi and Flan again, words soft as mist, and told them to work hard like bees in clover.

Then she headed for the oversized chamber they’d prepared for Edmund, a room like a barn built inside a castle.

Knock, knock… Little lamb, be good, open the door, she sang, voice skipping like a stone on a pond.

Click—the door, custom to his bulk, yawned open like a castle gate under moonlight.

“My lady… I am prepared,” Edmund rumbled, formal as a winter oak; “we can depart at your word.”

He bent down, gentle as a hill kneeling, so Ling and Alicia could climb, like squirrels hopping onto a warm boulder.

They didn’t fuss; they vaulted up and settled into his fur, plush as a high-end sofa and warm as sunlit fleece.

For a male, the big guy smelled surprisingly clean, like fresh straw after rain; not a hint of musk in that thick pelt.

“All right! SS Edmund, move out!” Alicia pointed ahead, finger sharp as an arrow.

Nothing. Edmund didn’t budge, and her pose hung in the air like a kite with no wind.

“My lady… where to?” His voice tiptoed like a cat on frost.

Right. Alicia had never told him the destination; she’d only said, Rest well, you’re working tomorrow, like tossing a pebble and forgetting the ripples.

“Ahem. So… Edmund, do you know where your Beastfolk live?” Her tone brushed light as a feather, but the words landed like thunder.

Ling felt Edmund shiver beneath them, a mountain trembling like reeds in a breeze.

“My lady… may I be so bold to ask… the purpose of going there?” The question crept out like a mouse from a wall.

For Edmund, that crossed a line, like stepping onto temple tiles with muddy boots.

Alicia and Ling were both his masters in name, even if Alicia kept waving the word away like smoke.

A subordinate doubting a master was a tree leaning against the wind; it shouldn’t stand.

But Alicia didn’t care for that kind of ritual; she flicked rules aside like dew off a leaf.

“To bring the Beastfolk into the Mystic Realm, of course.” Her smile rang like chimes in a spring breeze.

Relief melted Edmund’s shoulders like snow under sunlight; he agreed with all four paws and his tail, heart bright as a lantern.

“Understood. And I apologize for the offense.” His head dipped like a tide falling.

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s go!” Her clap snapped like a twig.

Edmund gave a low bleat, a sound like a cello, then bolted, legs pumping in a goofy Husky dash like waves tripping over themselves.

Ling felt his joy through every bounce, a roller coaster of steps; even Yufan Ling’s iron body sent up sparks of pain like flint on stone.

She didn’t know why he was so happy; if he kept this up, her rear would split like dry bamboo.

No speeches; she smacked his back, a tiny strike like a needle in a mountainside—small, but it found a nerve.

“Uuuuu!” His wounded wail spread like a wolf’s cry on snow, and he stopped dead, tears trembling like dew on lashes.

He looked back at Ling with eyes sweet as syrup, and the syrup made her gag like bitter medicine.

“Back off! Don’t look at me like that. Gross. Ugh.” Her disgust cracked like ice on a river.

“Master…” His voice wilted like a frostbitten leaf, sorrow curling at the edges.

Rejected… rejected by Master… what’s the point of breathing this world’s air, he thought, a candle guttering in a draft.

Ling felt zero guilt; that face couldn’t harvest guilt if you watered it daily, a stone garden without moss.

This world runs on face, she sighed inside, like a moon judged by its halo.

“I’ll give you three seconds. Run. Try bouncing like a Husky again, and I’ll let you taste pain from the abyss.” Her words fell like black snow.

No one wants abyssal pain for breakfast; Edmund didn’t ask why her temper burned, he just obeyed like a soldier beneath thunder.

He finally ran steady, a river smoothing out after rapids; the bone-rattling bump eased to a sway like a cradle.

Alicia wrapped her arms around Ling, resting her chin on Ling’s head, a big moon balancing on a small cloud.

“Ling, your temper’s been flaring,” she teased, voice warm as tea. “That time of the month?”

Ling froze, a deer in sudden torchlight, then recalled every shapeshifter novel she’d read like pages fanning in wind.

“No way! I’m still small. I haven’t started!” Her denial popped like a spark from dry tinder.

It’s common enough for women, but who asks so bluntly? Even if she’s my sister, it’s a spear straight through the curtain.

Nope! I don’t care, I don’t care—still can’t ask that! Her thoughts fluttered like startled sparrows.

“Sis, seriously. You can’t ask your little sister something that embarrassing! I’m not talking to you. Hmph!” She turned away, arms crossed, cheeks puffed like buns.

On the surface, silence; inside, only Ling knew the truth, pain coiling like a hidden eel.

Damn it. That earlier jolting… it hurts, a cold tide in the gut. Even this tough body can’t weather this weird thing, like steel creaking in winter.