Rafi froze like a deer in moonlight, then realized she’d just heard the syllable “god,” like ink spreading in water.

“You mean… a god shelters this country?!” Her words fell like stones into a still pond.

So I was undercover here, living under a god’s eyelids, like a sparrow under a cliff, for that long?!

She’d only begun to savor her luck like warm tea, when Dorado crushed that pride like a porcelain cup.

“No, it’s not shelter. She just comes from time to time, like a passing tide.”

“Each visit she uses divine power to help the girls with…” She coughed, like dust in sunbeams. “Some things are better left unsaid; you know,” and fog drew over the path. “After that, the girls get pregnant, and the bloodline flows on, like a river after rain.”

A small disappointment pricked Rafi’s chest like dusk on a hill. So it wasn’t luck keeping me hidden so long.

Still, conceiving by divine power—sounds fierce, like lightning in a bottle.

No wonder this place is all girls. Humans say females are XX, males are XY, letters like tiles on a board.

Two girls with XX only make XX, like threads weaving the same pattern. So “why is Elusen all girls” finally has its curtain lifted.

She basked in her cleverness like a cat in sun, and marveled at her memory like a clear lake. Even the human studies stayed in her head.

“And then?” The words skipped like a pebble across water.

“The method is simple,” Dorado said, voice steady like a lantern flame. “Give her a drop of blood from two girls, crimson dew on a leaf. She makes a normal fertilized egg, a pearl cradled by divine power. That’s why our Ailusen Empire is so strong with mysteries, like mist woven with stars.”

Dorado sipped her tea, warmth fading like autumn sun, then stared at the ceiling, her gaze drifting like fallen leaves.

“You know, right? The godfolk… are gone.” Her voice thinned like wind over empty fields. “Aphrodite, who sheltered us, died in that unbelievable war, a constellation torn by storm.”

Rafi hopped back half a meter, like a cat spooked by thunder, eyes wide on Dorado.

“You don’t expect me to replace that dead Apho-whatever goddess, do you?! Don’t kid me. I’m the Demon King; I can’t do that.” Her words sparked like flint.

Dorado covered her mouth, and a light laugh rang like a bell under silk.

“What are you thinking? Later Aphrodite got annoyed, like a storm tired of circling. She dropped a chunk of divine power on us, a meteor in a garden. Since then, if both consent, you can conceive by blood alone, like seeds sown by moonlight. Whether she’s dead or alive, it’s got nothing to do with us, like clouds passing a mountain.”

Rafi clicked her tongue—tsk—like a tiny whip, and in her head cursed the “Grand Cosmic Will’s forced settings,” crows flapping over a field.

“Then why tell me this?” The question flew like a stone through reeds.

Dorado drained her tea, the last ember of warmth. She walked to Rafi and knelt on one knee, like grass bending to wind.

“Silently think ‘I’m willing,’ then give me a drop of blood,” she said, words soft as incense smoke, request sharp as dawn dew.

Rafi’s smile turned sweet as a sugared peach. She wrapped Dorado’s waist low, arms coiled like a spring, and gathered strength for three beats, drums in the chest.

One… two… three… the counts fell like hammer blows.

In a flash she threw a suplex, thunder cracking on stone. As Demon King, she spat the cruellest, most heart-splitting line: “You—big—idiot!” The words were shards of ice.

“Come by whenever,” Dorado waved, lumps rising like little hills on her head. She bid Rafi farewell with a smile like a paper lantern. Rafi didn’t bother with her. She shoved the last Beastfolk through the portal, a rippling mirror, and left without a backward glance.

There were just over a hundred Beastfolk here, grains compared to empires; more than some small nations, but the fewest among the three. Rafi hated hassle, so she took them all in one sweep, a net through shallow water.

The terms were simple, scales tipping evenly. Pull out most of the Demon Elite, and leave about thirty they could command as labor, iron hands for rough work.

She didn’t know why the new king of Elusen was so easy to talk to, a willow in soft wind. Since the deal was sealed like a knot, why refuse?

As they watched Rafi’s figure fade like a swallow into the sky, the black-haired girl who’d led her to Dorado stepped to Dorado’s side, footsteps soft as sand.

“Why give the Beastfolk away so easily?” Her voice fell like cold rain.

Dorado turned to the black-haired girl and set a finger on her soft cheek; a blush bloomed like peach petals. “My silly little sister,” she said, like a warm hand over snow. “Haven’t you seen the board yet? She already solved the Ulu Empire and the Moser Empire, pieces swept like leaves. Giving up the Beastfolk was only a matter of time. Better than getting half our people crushed like ants under a boot. The Demon King came to talk, not to hit first; that’s already a good wind.”

The black-haired girl froze, thoughts stalled like a cart in mud. She never grasped such things, which is why Dorado kept calling her an idiot. Even when playing Ludo in bed, the dice clattered like rain.

“Alright, don’t strain that little brain,” Dorado said, voice gentle as rain on moss. “Let me put it plain. We lose nothing by handing over the Beastfolk, not a leaf. These Daemon are far more useful than Beastfolk, like wolves to oxen.”

“Alright… I get it,” the girl murmured, words drifting like a falling leaf.

“No, you don’t,” Dorado sighed, breath like smoke. “Doesn’t that little one feel familiar, like an old scent?”

“Doesn’t, no,” the girl said, voice flat as a stone.

“Fine. Her looks changed a lot, like a mask remade. Even if she may not remember me, I remember clearly, carved in jade. Her scent never changed, plum blossom in late snow, so I knew her at once.”

The black-haired girl felt her brain cells wiped out like candles in wind. Every sentence seemed unreadable, words crawling like ants; even broken apart, they wouldn’t make sense.

“I told you, don’t think so hard,” Dorado said, stroke of calm like a palm over ripples. “That little one turned into the Demon King for no reason, storm from clear sky. She didn’t come to avenge us; that’s already mercy, since we treated her badly back then, thorns underfoot… Forget it. My small plan didn’t land, paper kite cut by rain, but it’s fine; we didn’t lose. Let’s head back; we need to deal with those Demon Elite, wolves waiting at the gate.”

As the last word fell like a leaf, Dorado vanished in a flash, lightning across a shutter. The black-haired girl was left standing, eyes dull like burnt-out lamps, drool tracing lines like thin streams at her lips—by the look of it, her brain had been overworked, a lotus wilted in noon heat.