“Damn it! Why do you even make swimsuits?!”
Ling’s voice spiked, shame burning like a flare. A Lich King sewing swimwear—what a shattered image.
Arthas didn’t care about that goofy “Meow-Meow King” nickname, nor saw anything wrong with swimwear. Her calm sat like winter ice.
“As a king, I received many books tributed by the Undead. Among them were books on swimsuits. But… are you unhappy with this outfit?”
Ling facepalmed, despair drumming in her skull.
What kind of Skeletons are these? What kind of king is this?
Tributing books is fine—strength needs study like steel needs tempering.
But why would Skeletons tribute swimsuit books?
No, wait—swimsuit books, aren’t those weird pinup albums? Don’t tell me your Undead Skeletons like that stuff?
Her image of Skeletons shifted like sand in wind. Even the Undead, it seems, still have beauty etched into their bones.
“Ling? If you’re really unhappy with this set, I can’t help it. In the books I read, that place—cough, that place as big as yours—only one girl had it. And she only wore this set.”
“Shut up!”
Heat surged to Ling’s cheeks like crimson tide. She snatched the clothes from Arthas’s hands.
“Enough. Don’t say another word! Go make a set for my sisters too!”
Arthas nodded, obedient as frost to moonlight, and went back to crafting.
The process was simple.
She muttered a few lines of “Scan and Sync,” glanced over Alicia and the others’ figures, then made them.
And Alicia’s group seemed to have way more styles to pick from. Was it because Arthas’s final chant was “Shaping—D!”?
Was that letter a size range?
I’m in the A range, while Alicia and the others are taller, so they’re in the D range?
—Yes, that’s definitely it.
Ling lied to herself, words like soft fog.
Once everyone’s outfits were ready, Alicia refused to waste time. She told them to find a hidden corner and get changed.
It was the wilds—no fitting room would bloom here like a city flower.
Hearing that, Ling’s eyes lit up like lanterns at dusk.
She could slip away now and dodge that shameful suit.
Her inner abacus clicked clack-clack, bright with schemes.
The moment she turned, her feet left the ground.
Since when did she learn to fly?
“Everyone, Ling and I will change over there. You’re free to choose.”
Alicia’s voice drifted down from above like a cool wind, and Ling understood.
She’d been lifted by the scruff—like a kitten caught mid-sprint.
“Put—put me down! I’m not a stray cat!”
Being carried like a cat made Ling burn with embarrassed sparks.
Knowing what awaited only stoked her urge to run.
“No. You’re not a stray cat. You’re a house cat who runs off. Big sister won’t let you bolt.”
“But… but…”
“No buts. Big sister really wants to see your swimsuit~”
“Ugh…”
With Alicia saying that, Ling’s escape-fire sputtered out.
She hated it, yes—but it was Alicia’s wish.
Besides, she’d get to see Alicia’s too. No loss at all.
—No loss at all, really?
Ten minutes in the future, Ling would question herself.
—Ten minutes later—
“Why are Alicia and the others taking so long?”
Arthas had already changed. The B-range offered plenty of styles.
The deep blue she wore fit her perfectly,
a shade like icebound ocean beneath moonlight.
“I don’t know. Did they run into trouble?”
The speaker was the Ninety Nine Maiden. She’d picked a pure white set from the abundant D-range.
Pure white, she claimed, symbolized her pure heart—snow untouched by footprints.
“Should we check on them?”
Alicia was strong, yes, but Arthas still worried about surface dwellers. Concern fluttered like a wary bird.
Before they moved, a cry rose from nearby—
a shout to shake heaven, though ghosts wouldn’t weep.
“Waaah—!”
A tiny figure in orange-yellow swamwear sprinted toward them, tears streaking like rain.
“Thump…”
She dove into Arthas’s arms without a second thought. Arthas caught Ling on reflex.
Ling’s forehead met Arthas’s B-range. The soft impact bled away speed, saved a nose from cracking.
“What happened?”
Arthas stroked Ling’s hair, stiff comfort like a gloved hand.
“I—I… I’m not pure anymore!!!”
Ling’s head wriggled against Arthas’s B-range, seeming to sob, perhaps doing something else. Only Ling knew the truth behind the act.
Arthas ignored the odd pressure at her chest. She focused on the words “not pure.”
She hadn’t touched surface culture in ages. Meaning slipped past her like mist.
The Ninety Nine Maiden, though, flashed an “I get it” look,
a crescent-smile that said nothing and everything.
“Ling, what does ‘not pure’ mean?”
“It means… it means Alicia ate me up and wiped me clean! I’m not a good kid anymore!”
Which explained nothing. Arthas still didn’t understand.
She lifted her gaze, curiosity bright as a lantern, toward Alicia—now standing behind Ling.
Alicia didn’t answer that look. She gazed down with a horizon-high view, unreadable and cool, like glass under cloudlight.
The inorganic maiden spoke.
“So I’ve already eaten my little sister clean, huh.”
