"Uh... Ling, if it's just about getting the Beastfolk back, I do have a way."

Her voice drifted like a paper kite in a spring breeze.

???

Confusion buzzed like a hive; question marks pecked at Ling’s skull like restless sparrows.

What the hell? Nina can’t, but Rafi—who’s got nothing to do with Beastfolk—can?

The thought flashed like lightning behind clouded eyes, a storm brewing on the horizon.

Did I even pick the right lead?

The doubt crawled like ivy up a ruin, slow and choking.

Is this girl-crazed pervert actually the one with the protagonist’s mantle?

The idea clanged like a temple bell, absurd yet echoing.

She didn’t want to owe Rafi, not even a grain of salt.

But with no clue for the mission, her words gleamed like a lure flashing in dark water.

"Fine, we’ll—begrudgingly—listen. Just a little."

Ling’s tone clicked like a lock reluctantly turned, a hinge sighing in dust.

"...Honestly, I think if I send a small Daemon unit to 'invade,' that’s enough."

Her plan slid out like a hidden blade under silk, cold and neat.

"What do you mean? You want to invade human lands?!"

Alicia’s voice cracked like a whip, sparks jumping off stone.

Old anger smoldered like charcoal; Rafi had fought her for Ling and nearly cut Ling’s light.

She couldn’t let that shadow crawl over human soil like fog.

Out of nowhere, Alicia’s fingers itched like ants under the skin.

She needed steel in her grip, something to scratch the crawling urge.

Rafi hadn’t expected Alicia to flare like dry tinder in wind.

If she nodded yes, Alicia might leap and slice her head like shearing ice.

Her Demon King bloodline was awake; she wouldn’t die.

But hurt still bit like iron teeth, cold and unrelenting.

"Easy, easy! Miss Alicia, I’m not invading your human lands."

Rafi raised both hands like placating doves, feathers of calm falling.

"I mean we pretend to invade, you pretend to negotiate, then you relay the deal to the humans."

Her scheme traced like chalk on slate, clean lines under steady light.

"That’s like launching a missile, letting it orbit the world, then blowing up the guy right in front of you."

Alicia’s lip curled like a drawn bow; the metaphor whistled like a stray arrow.

"Why should we relay anything? You can bring the deal yourselves."

Her words stood like a stone gate, heavy and sure.

"Nope. A middleman in talks is a sharp bridge, not just a plank."

Rafi’s smile tilted like a crescent moon, sly and silver.

"Especially a free middleman who favors our side."

Her voice poured like warm tea, sweet steam hiding the heat.

Ling didn’t get the whole negotiating dance; it spun like lanterns in foreign streets.

But Rafi, now Demon King, wasn’t just a pretty vase on a shelf.

She had steel in her arm like a tempered blade.

She had maps in her head like rivers crossing plains.

Since Rafi said so, Ling couldn’t really refuse.

It was a raft in floodwater, and she needed to cross.

"Alright then, we—"

"Objection!"

Alicia cut in like a gavel, her shout a blade striking wood.

"Huh? Sis, why not? This helps us."

Ling blinked like a deer in dawn light, ears catching every rustle.

Alicia lowered her head just because it felt cool.

Her posture settled like a hawk on a high branch, sharp and proud.

"You’re right; from any angle, this favors us."

Her gaze shone like polished obsidian, flat and deep.

"But why help us? As Daemons, this isn’t your fight."

Her question marched like soldiers on a road, boots ringing.

"You’re the Demon King—ignoring your people’s interests to help others, isn’t that weird?"

Suspicion coiled like smoke from a black brazier, hard to breathe through.

"Ah... well... I..."

Rafi’s tongue snagged like a thread on a thorn; her eyes dipped like dusk.

Inside, shame hung like a wet cloak, heavy and cold.

She wanted to make amends, a single candle against a midnight room.

She remembered Ling’s despair, eyes like a winter lake, frozen smooth and lethal.

That look carved her heart like frost biting old wood.

Ling had spared her because of Nina, a soft hand pulling a wolf back from the cliff.

Mercy tasted like rain on parched earth, sweet and stinging.

Ling’s face had shown no hatred, a blank porcelain mask.

But Rafi knew the bile was buried like a blade in a sheath under skin.

She’d deceived others and herself, weaving fog like a silkworm in its own cocoon.

The lie trapped her like a spider in its sticky web.

After getting Nina, Rafi felt Ling’s old pain like thorns under bare feet.

She loathed the version of herself who sliced that tender bloom.

Then Ling took Rafi into the forest and left her.

The woods pressed in like green walls, and loss fell like evening snow.

Without that, she’d never have felt love torn away like a page ripped from a book.

She’d never have awakened the Demon King bloodline, fire under ice.

She owed Ling a mountain of favors, rocks stacking like cairns on a bleak ridge.

Debt weighed her shoulders like sacks of grain in winter.

She’d met Ling to hurt her, then got her own wish because of her.

The victory tasted like ash, a feast turned to dust.

Peace invites idle thoughts like lazy birds settling on a warm roof.

Her mind wandered, and guilt piled up like a cliff behind her.

She carried that mountain daily, a boulder strapped like a yoke.

She wanted to chip it away, stone by stone, with small kindness.

But chances never came, drifting past like boats she couldn’t board.

Now the chance shone like a lantern at her feet, bright and near.

If she pushed a little, the mountain might melt like snow under spring rain.

Maybe then her breath would be light like wind through bamboo.

Maybe then she could be happy like Nina, laughter bubbling like a brook.

The hope fluttered like a moth around a candle, fragile and warm.

But who believes "I just want to make it up to her"?

That reason rattles like a hollow gourd, thin and loud.

Worse, compensation digs at buried darkness like a spade in damp soil.

You yank up what someone forced down, and the grave breathes again.

That isn’t comfort; it’s salt rubbed on an old scar, white and stinging.

And some debts stretch like the horizon; you never reach the end.

So she couldn’t say it, not that raw truth.

She sealed it like a letter, wax cooling under her thumb.

Their goal was to rule the world, a banner snapping like a storm flag.

So only one answer fit like a key in an iron lock.

Rafi lifted her head, a smile blooming like moonlight on water.

She said, "I want to join your empire as an equal."