"I don't agree!" Four words struck stone. The elders with raised hands froze like birds in frost, baffled by his refusal of a sure-win deal.

"Why must we trade with her? Why can't we resist? Can't you see this stance is kneeling, the same cold rain as submission?"

If it were only steam from his chest, fine. But—

Annoyance pricked her, like a nettle against skin; her brows knit. The old man talked while his forefinger hovered at Ling’s nose.

"Hey! Answer me!" His voice snapped like dry wood. "Are you all—" He bit off the last word like a torn rope.

"Enough!" King Alex’s voice cracked like thunder. The old man’s frame quivered, a reed in sudden wind.

He set a steady hand on the raised arm and drew it down, like lowering a banner in rain. A wistful shade crossed King Alex’s face.

"That’s enough. I know what you’re thinking, but this isn’t needed." His tone cooled like dew. "Ling isn’t the Demon King. You’re spilling ink on a clean page."

His words rang true, like a bell in an empty hall. It’s like a council posting a cold edict; the class messenger can’t bend the iron of it. Yet students fling all blame at the bearer, shouting at the face of news—foolish, like cursing the river for a stone.

The old man wavered and glanced at King Alex, then let his hand fall, silent, like a leaf. He didn’t sit. He walked to the door, took his hat, and settled it like a cloud. He looked back once, then left, like dusk sliding off a ridge.

King Alex sighed long, wind from a hollow. The itch in his throat crept like smoke.

"All right. It passed unanimously; the matter is set." The words fell like a gavel. Ling thought it was over and started to rise, like a cat uncoiling, but King Alex wasn’t finished.

"And next, I have something to discuss with Ling." Ling blinked, her voice fluttering like a sparrow: "Huh? With me too?" A sudden drag toward the center tugged at Ling’s chest, like a hook. Her thoughts scattered like leaves—did I slip, and is he about to question me here?

King Alex’s tone smoothed like a lake: "Ling, are we and the Mystic Realm [companions], more or less?" Ling bobbed like a buoy. "Ah? Oh—yes, for sure. [Family] works too."

King Alex nodded, a small shadow. He drew from his belt a stack like a contract—thick as a brick.

"This is the treaty Moser signs when we ally with other empires." His words landed like pebbles. "I don’t think we’ve signed one yet. If you acknowledge us, give it your seal."

Ling always carried a seal, a pebble in her pocket. But the contract’s heft made her chest knot, like twine tightening. Her voice ran thin, like a thread: "Hey—didn’t we already agree? Do you still not trust us?" It was simple, just that point snagging, like a burr. To her, it was like two close friends, and one pulls a contract, asks for a signature, saying, "Since we’re good friends, sign it." Even old friends would taste distrust then, like salt in tea. Ling felt exactly that. She looked to King Alex for an answer and met steadiness in his eyes, a mountain line she couldn’t cross with words. Maybe it’s just a small trouble, a knot the size of a pea. She soothed herself, like smoothing silk. She took the seal Alicia had told her to carry and pressed it down, light as a falling petal.

"You are already dead!" The seal in her hand boomed with a deep male voice, a drum in the palm. Usually, Ling worked earnestly because the seal always made funny sounds. But this moment—this voice wasn’t one she liked, cold as iron on the tongue.

"All right." King Alex took back the stamped contract and glanced at the seal in Ling’s hand. A mild smile curved, like a thin moon. "A very interesting seal."

Feeling the air tilt toward awkwardness, King Alex rose from his chair and bowed deeply to everyone, closing the meeting like drawing a curtain. "Thank you for your hard work today." A king without height or distance is rare. The elders all stood, bent their backs in answer, like old bamboo. "You’ve worked hard too, Your Majesty." They filed out in order, taking the few children with them, footsteps like beads on a string.

In moments, only King Alex’s hat hung on the rack by the door. The room held two now: Ling, not rushing to leave, and King Alex, staying.

"All right, Ling, tell me where the space gate is. I’ll send people to take the Beastfolk through. You’ve worked hard—go get some sleep."

Ling didn’t refuse. The room felt itchy to her skin, like sand under a cloak. She had stayed only to let the elders go first, a courtesy. Now, early departure felt right. She gave the rough location. Afraid King Alex would forget, she sketched the route from her mind, clumsy lines like crooked reeds, and finally relaxed enough to leave. At the door she turned back, bowed in his manner, a mirror ripple, then truly left.

King Alex watched the door close on its own behind Ling, melancholy pooling like rain in a basin. His hand tightened without thinking; the stack of treaties wrinkled, little waves in paper.