“Wake up!”
Ling lay sprawled on the bed like a sleepy cat in a sunbeam, rubbed her eyes, rolled over, and sank back into dreams like a stone into a pond.
Her mind was a buzzing beehive all last night, swarming with thoughts of Alicia; sleep never landed until dawn, so there was no way she’d pop up like a spring.
On this bedding like a warm island, only this little creature still slept; Alicia had washed up like a morning breeze, came back, and found the little one unmoved, so she took on the wake-up duty like a bell at daybreak.
But clearly, the little one didn’t appreciate the lifeline tossed across the tide.
Alicia bent a little, her breath brushing Ling’s ear like a feather in the wind.
“If you don’t get up, I’m stealing your Sister Alicia away~”
—The Daemon’s whisper!!!
Ling’s eyes flew open like shutters thrown wide, only to find Alicia’s silhouette framed like a lantern against the window light.
Her low blood pressure fled like mist before a shout, clarity snapping in like frost, and in a heartbeat she realized Alicia had tricked her.
Puffed cheeks like two steamed buns, she huffed, “Pfft pfft—Sis, you lied!”
Alicia looked nothing like a culprit; she twirled in place like a ribbon in a breeze, then tossed a girl-next-door wink like a tiny thunderbolt, and Ling got zapped on the spot.
“Sis didn’t lie~ If I feel like it, I can walk off right now, and that’s me ‘stealing’ your Sister Alicia, isn’t it?”
Words tangled like weeds on Ling’s tongue; nothing useful sprouted, so she could only puff up like a little pufferfish, slip on her shoes, and let Alicia wield toothbrush and towel over her face like a playful tyrant.
Fingers danced over Ling’s chest like butterflies, tying a neat bow; then a small hand poked her puffed cheek, and the soft doughy feel wrapped Alicia’s finger like warm mochi, making her reluctant to let go.
“Okay, okay… don’t be mad. Come with me to find Rafi. She’s laying out today’s plan, and we shouldn’t leave her waiting like a lone lamp in the night.”
Still a little sulky like a child hugging a cloud, Ling still laced her fingers with Alicia’s, and followed, stepping into each footprint like a sparrow on snow.
——————————————
“Haven’t had breakfast, right? No idea if the taste hits your bells, but try a bite~”
A few maid-like figures drifted in with trays like swans with platters, but Ling’s gaze wasn’t on the food—it snagged on the maids like a hook in silk.
Strangely, the maids felt powerful, their auras like sheathed blades beneath lace and bows.
They were dressed properly, sure, yet every maid uniform’s hemline perched at the top of the thigh like a teasing wave on a shore.
And how come every maid here carried C-cup-or-bigger “weapons,” a whole armory bouncing like cherries on a branch?
Are we going to war or serving tea?
Rafi ate happily across from her, cheeks moving like tiny pistons, and Ling’s eyes on her were a tangle of reeds in a breeze.
Is this her kink, or the last Demon King’s shut-in tastes? Feels fifty-fifty, like heads or tails in slow motion.
“Not eating?”
She’d only just seen Rafi start, but in a blink like a sparrow’s wing, Rafi had finished her portion; did this woman roll with the glutton trait?
“Eh… forget it. I’m not hungry. You eat.”
She glanced at her own bowl—black mush like inked porridge, as if someone tossed a dozen ingredients into a pot and boiled them into night; one look and her appetite shrank like a tide.
“Really not eating? There’s more over there. I don’t need you—ah, never mind, you haven’t had this anyway.”
Rafi hesitated for a heartbeat, then snatched Ling’s bowl like a magpie snatching a coin.
This time, Ling watched Rafi eat with both eyes like lenses, catching every move.
It looked like a magic trick: one bite went in like a pebble in water, no chewing seen, and the next bite followed like a swift shadow.
Her mouth never bulged or spilled, as if she skipped the chewing step and sent it straight down like a stone through a well.
But is that inky mush really tasty, or just brave?
She turned to Alicia; there sat another happy eater, savoring like a cat with cream… okay, it seemed only Ling couldn’t raise a single spark for the black mush.
Their two-person feast was quick, joy like sparks that flashed and faded in just a few minutes.
“Well then, burp~ let’s run through today’s plan. Today’s the final wrap-up.”
I really wish you picked a more formal place for this—like a table, not a battlefield of empty bowls.
But Alicia had no complaint, and Ling swallowed the thought like a pebble under the tongue.
“Ahem. Not much to say. Just hold the line on one condition: [A Daemon’s only objective is Beastfolk slaves]. No matter what substitutions they propose, don’t agree.
“If talks truly stall, you can bring out: [You can obtain the Demon Elite].”
“The rest, I’m leaving to your improvisation. I believe you two can do it~”
It started proper like a clear stream, then turned murky in the back half like stirred silt.
Believe us? That’s exactly what a shirker says when handing off the hot potato!
“Alright, alright~ You two, do your best. The portal’s open. I’m heading back for a nap, so I won’t keep you~”
With that, she really slipped away like a fish through reeds, ignoring the looks of the two left behind—textbook buck-passing in broad daylight.
“Tch… seriously.”
Annoyed or not, the gist was clear; she’d wing it on the spot like a swallow catching wind, and Ling knew her own style like a mirror knows a face.
She always spoke casual, even a touch forceful, like a drumbeat in a market; if trouble came, she’d clap back, simple as thunder.
“Then… Sis, I’m heading out.”
With a quick farewell like a leaf on a stream, she stepped into the portal’s shimmer, and not long after, Alicia followed; the room fell quiet again, a pond under moonlight.
