So where are Ling and Alicia now? On a beach, sand warm as steamed rice, and a blue breath of water stretching to the rim of the world.

Ling frowned, brows knotted like wind-tossed willow leaves, unable to believe this cursed place hid an ocean behind its dunes.

Once, Alicia had handed her a world map, ink dry as old bark. Ling skimmed it, saw only a single continent like a lone slab of jade, no blue veins drawn.

She’d been wrong—wrong by an ocean’s width.

She’d overestimated human footsteps and underestimated human sky-dreams, mistaking shallow trails and wild guesses for a full map.

People had stitched ignorance with daydream thread and decided, smug as cats, the world was one solid land.

Like the old belief: the sky a porcelain bowl, the earth a flat plate.

As for why Alicia and the others stood by the surf, we wind the clock back one hour, the sun a lazy coin sliding west.

“Sis, should we head back now?” Ling asked after the fussy alliance rites wrapped up, voice soft as sea glass.

Alicia didn’t answer at once. Weariness pooled under her eyes like smudged ink.

“Mm… how about we stay here a bit longer? I’m beat,” she murmured, her words drifting like a tired tide.

“But…” Ling bit it back. Boredom pricked like sand in a shoe, yet she swallowed it like bitter tea. She wouldn’t pile weight on Alicia’s shoulders.

“Perfect time to let the Dragonfolk pack their ‘baggage.’ They’re migrating to the Mystic Realm, remember? We can hitch a ride on their backs,” Alicia added, smile thin as paper.

With that said, Ling had no ground to fight on. She nodded, a pebble dropping into a well, and kept quiet.

Alicia dozed, lashes half-mooned, missing Ling’s sulk. The Ninety Nine Maiden wasn’t sleepy at all; fox-bright eyes caught every tiny pout.

“Little one, bored?” she asked, voice light as a feather drifting over tea.

“No—way—at—all,” Ling huffed, turning away. She punctuated it with a snort, a kitten pretending to be a tiger. Textbook tsundere.

The Ninety Nine Maiden watched the prickly-cute act and didn’t jab at it.

“Ling-chan’s not bored. But Jiu Jiu is dying of boredom,” she sang. “Mm, I know a perfect place to play with water. Shame Ling-chan isn’t interested.”

She said it in an artfully odd tone, then sneaked a glance like a thief reaching for peaches.

Ling’s body was honest. Her head held stubborn north, but her ears twitched—rabbit flicks—twice. The bait had sunk.

Jiu Jiu kept her face full of lament. “Since Ling-chan won’t go, I can’t abandon guests as the hostess. I’ll stay. Such a pity, though…”

What can I say?

This realm owes the Ninety Nine Maiden a dragon-shaped Oscar.

Expression, tone, and hands all brushed the same ink stroke: not playing with water is a pity. Perfect.

Dragon King, indeed. Her acting gleamed like molten gold.

…At least, Ling bought it.

“Hmph! Since you’re so pitiful, I’ll go with you,” she declared, chin up like a little general.

Anyway, I want to splash too.

Two birds with one pebble: please herself, farm Jiu Jiu’s favor. No reason to refuse.

The Ninety Nine Maiden laughed, shoulders trembling like blossoms in a spring gust. “Ling-chan, tsundere doesn’t suit your nature.”

“Shut up! Drop dead!” Ling fired back, words crackling like firecrackers.

So why is there an ocean here? Ling pointed at the surf, waves lifting silver scales, her heart tangled like kelp.

The Ninety Nine Maiden missed the knot in her chest and slipped into guide mode, voice clear as a bell. “This is the water-play place I mentioned. Big, right? I can even swim in full dragon form.”

No, no, no. If you dive in dragon form, this beach drowns. Even if it doesn’t, two kicks and we’ve scheduled a tsunami.

“You call this place a ‘great sea’? Our Dragonfolk never cared to name it,” she added, shrug in her tone.

“Huh? Isn’t calling it the ocean just common sense? Right, Sis—Sis?!”

Ling turned to ask the reliable one, but Alicia had already flung her arms wide to the salt wind, eyes blazing like twin suns. A genki girl born from sea spray.

Earlier, when the Ninety Nine Maiden dragged her over, she’d grumbled like a shut-in mushroom: “What’s so fun about swimming?” “Swimming’s for normies.” “May every normie explode.”

She’d looked like a hermit crammed into a shoebox, and Ling almost regretted hauling the sleepyhead out.

If not for that limited “Swimsuit Alicia” card she needed to collect, she would’ve let Alicia nap.

“Hey, Sis, calm down! Don’t let people think you’re an idiot,” Ling scolded, tone sharp as a gull’s cry. It usually worked like a charm.

Not today.

“No way! This is the ocean! The ocean that only existed in novels and dreams,” Alicia cried, shaking off Ling’s hand, her gaze holding nothing but blue.

The sea was beautiful, sure. Loving it made sense. But Ling’s chest flared hot. Jealousy steamed up like a kettle.

Ling: fire. Ocean. Fire. Sour as vinegar. Ling. Sour.