On a hillside not far from the Ailusen Empire, Rafi stared at her hand, her mind drifting like mist over water.

—So this… is what being forgiven feels like…

Ling’s single line, “I forgive you,” felt like a mountain sliding off her chest, bones turning feather-light, breath clear as spring air.

If she had to name it, it was like sinking a tired body into a hot spring, steam curling like sleeping clouds.

The heat carried off every thorn of doubt, leaving a body light as a kite and a mind quiet as a lake.

—This feeling… I kind of like it…

It had hit fast, and Ling’s earnest eyes had startled her like a bell struck at midnight. She was glad she’d told the truth.

If she’d kept hiding, real forgiveness might have stayed as far as a star behind clouds.

“Enough~ quit spiraling. Time to do some honest work~”

She stretched on the slope, spine uncoiling like a cat, then eyed distant Elusen and the black tide of Daemons.

“This time… let’s skip the fight. Go straight in and talk. After all… I used to live here…”

—Though the old king’s probably changed, right?

Back then the king was already weathered like an ancient tree. Even if she survived, seeing me like this, she wouldn’t recognize me.

I wore a disguise, a face wrapped in deception, and “Rafi” was the most common of names. No one should link me back.

Rafi bent her knees and leapt, cutting through air like a swan, gliding silent to Elusen’s gate.

She hovered before the city doors, watching figures on the wall like silhouettes against dawn.

She used no cloaking spell, so the instant she appeared, the gate guard spotted her, eyes bright as flint.

—Mm… the guard’s a girl again. Elusen’s tradition still holds like an old banner in wind.

“Stop! Unidentified flyer! State your purpose!”

Daemons at their walls were storm enough; now a stranger drifted in like a hawk. Even a child’s face couldn’t calm drawn bows.

Rafi didn’t bristle. If a man had barked like that, her hand might have fallen like a hammer. With girls, her heart stayed soft as cotton.

“Hey~ big sis, am I cute? :｡･+ (੭ु≧▽≦)੭ु:｡･+”

She leaned into her petite, childlike look, sugar on steel, hoping to melt their edge before sparks flew.

The soldier-sis didn’t blink. Her voice stayed cool as ice on stone, and she beckoned comrades like shadows joining a line.

They came with the same wary air, rifles lifting like a forest of black reeds, muzzles leveled at Rafi’s heart.

Not a single gaze wavered toward “cute.” It made Rafi wonder if her succubus charm had dulled like a blade in rain.

Why couldn’t a succubus nudge their hearts, when her smile was a lantern in dusk?

“Mn… fine. Since everyone’s here, let’s cut to the chase.” She cleared her throat, a small drumbeat.

“Among you, who’s the king here, or at least high rank?”

That brushed the edge of guarded maps. No sane soldier would lay open their lines to a drifting stranger.

They didn’t shoot, which was already mercy, a still pond under wind.

“What are you doing here?! Why seek my king?!”

Rafi had expected that bite. She’d asked with a throwaway hope, like tossing a pebble to test a well.

But… “my king”? Does anyone really use that in front of comrades? Isn’t it “our king” when you share a banner?

From those two words rose a thick possessiveness, like ivy wrapping a pillar.

She rarely needed to pry like this. But alone, she had to harvest every whisper, and a succubus reads hearts like ripples in tea.

That possessive flame seemed to burn in every soldier here. Strange, like the same red thread tied to each wrist.

“Emmm… truly no one wants to step forward?”

What sounded harmless in her ear turned into a growl in theirs, thunder rolling across a tight sky.

It translated to—“If you don’t bring someone out, I’ll use force”—like a blade flashed without being drawn.

Rafi saw anger surge like a red tide across their faces, the world tinting scarlet at the edges of her vision.

The soldiers met each other’s eyes, agreement snapping tight like a clasp, and raised their rifles as one.

A black line of barrels locked onto her heart, pressure dropping like storm-weight before rain.

“Lower your guns!”

Sense found its voice. Someone stepped out like a silver bell ringing through smoke.

A girl in mirror-bright armor took the lead, black hair pouring like ink, silver gleam framing it without clash.

“Little one, I’m the one in charge. State your business.”

“I’m here to see Elusen’s king~”

“I can take you. But tell me who you are. I won’t escort an unknown storm into my hall.”

She said it plain, but Rafi felt her gaze slide over her like a hunter weighing a deer.

“Emmm… fine. I’m the Demon King, here to negotiate with your king~”

Revealing that at first touch was foolish as lighting a torch in a forest.

But without status shown, she might never get near the throne room’s doors.

———————————————

Currently public information

1) The Ulu Empire favors Technology over Mysticism. Their tech outstrips the other two, but their magic and martial arts are weakest.

2) The Moser Empire blends both. Balanced growth, yet ranks second in both tech and mystic arts among the three—an awkward middle.

3) The Ailusen Empire favors Mysticism over Technology. Magic use and martial combat tower over the others, but tech sits at the Information Age.

4) Rafi’s old disguise in the Ailusen Empire carried Deception Magic. To others it looked far from her true form, with no way to connect by build alone.