Nothing else happened. Flan slipped out like a cat at dusk, saying she’d go “take care of” Remi; what that care means, only Flan knows.

Alicia watched Flan leave, eyes drifting like willow leaves. She scanned the room and found nothing to do, so she checked what Amelia’s space‑bound ribbon was for.

She sent her mind into the ribbon; her forehead bumped a thin film, light as a dragonfly wing. It felt like a small ward from Amelia, so she drifted deeper.

Her feet touched the ribbon’s inner space; though only spirit, she felt stone underfoot and the earth’s weight steady her.

She lifted her head. Shelves spread like a forest. Most carried labels about magic. A few said magazines, likely meant for her idle hours.

Warmth rose like steam from winter tea. She’d joked about training magic, thought Amelia would forget. She hadn’t. She cared in sideways ways.

She moved deeper into the library until a strange door stood alone, abrupt as a gate in fog.

A door inside a space—odd. But this realm was Amelia’s gift, and there was no silly “Do not enter” sign, so it should be fine.

She pushed gently. Through the half crack, it was pitch‑black; when she opened it wide, lights sprang awake, and the dark flew off like birds.

Everything inside bared itself to Alicia’s eyes.

Uwah~

At the room’s heart floated a bizarre Scythe, a night‑blooming thing. It was double‑bladed, the two blades parallel, their curves studded with backward barbs.

If a normal person took one cut, they might die; if not, they’d wear a scar like a thunder‑split cliff.

The twin edges linked to the haft by something gear‑like, as if the blades could retract or turn. She wondered if that mattered in a real fight.

The haft looked plain, dotted with a few gems for show, a red cord tied at the butt, nothing else.

Below lay a sheet of paper—

“This weapon’s for that little one, Ling. I poured my heart into it! It’s not divine‑tier, but it should suit her for play. Don’t let her punch everything with those tiny fists. Isn’t that pitiful? She’s still a little girl. Save the child!

Amelia

Year 114, May 14, 19:19.”

Alicia clicked her tongue in silence. She’d thought the weapon was for her; turns out it was for Ling.

She had said she’d play with magic, sure, but a token would be nice. Besides, Ling might not even use a weapon.

She’d never seen Ling fight with one. She’d figured the kid liked fists‑on‑flesh, that blunt thunder style. She’d met plenty like that, so she never prepped a weapon.

Mm? Words on the back?

She flipped it hurriedly and found more:

“I know you’ll pout. I didn’t forget you. That red ribbon is a conduit for magic. No more weird wooden staff—just pour mana into the ribbon. Now thank generous Amelia~”

Alicia’s fingers tightened on the paper, heat rising like summer cicadas. She wanted to toss it and stomp for ten minutes, but she let the urge go and sighed.

“Honestly… why are you so gentle…”

“Ling! Got you a toy!”

She didn’t fuss; she just lobbed the double‑bladed Scythe to Ling, then tied the ribbon around her wrist and finished it with a neat bow.

Beside her, Ling caught it in a flurry, afraid a slip would nick her hand or, worse, chip the edge.

Ling raised the blades. Love flared from the root, clear as spring water. Big, feral, and glorious—perfect against her sugar‑cute persona.

That contrast was exactly what she wanted.

Other little cuties swing hammers and throw iron fists; she’d whirl a Scythe on the spot, an in‑place whirlwind.

In a fight, she’d suddenly draw this Scythe; the enemy would freeze like a deer in snow. Just imagining it thrilled her.

“Ling, like it? Amelia sent it to you.”

“Oh!! Of course I like it! It’s so cool!”

Her words tumbled like pebbles, which meant the joy was real. Good—Alicia could stop worrying and move to the next step.

“Then, little sister, tomorrow we go find a dragon—chasing clouds and scales in the high hills.”