“So I already ate my own little sister clean, like a wolf licking the plate dry…”

“Exactly, exactly! That wicked sister used changing clothes as an excuse, used me up like a tide stripping the shore, then tossed me like driftwood—she’s a total player!”

“Oh? I see. So your sister’s that kind, huh? With a fox’s grin, how exactly did she eat you clean?”

“First she did this and that, waves rising and falling! Then she went so‑and‑so, thunder then drizzle!”

Ling, with “experience” colored like lantern light, spun her story into fireworks that painted the night.

Her blend of adjectives and sound effects lifted the so‑and‑so into scenes, brushstrokes hanging in the air for everyone to see.

Hmm? You say you can’t see?

Ah, don’t mind it; maybe the Holy Light descended, like sun through cloud.

You can form a party and challenge the boss; who knows, you might win, like a lucky gust catching your sail.

Arthas didn’t understand a word, a rock in the stream. Ninety Nine Maiden listened with delight, like a cat in cream. Alicia’s face darkened, a storm bank swelling on the horizon.

“I see, I see. So your sister’s that type… But why don’t I remember ever doing something like that?” Frustration simmered like a kettle; Alicia spoke through clenched teeth.

Annoyance pricked like nettles. Ling wriggled from Arthas’s arms like a cat slipping from a blanket and turned to spot the fool who dared doubt her.

“You—”

You’re not my sister; how could you know! The “you” barely left her lips before her gaze caught Alicia’s face; the rest of the words fled like startled fish back into her belly.

“Me what? Keep going~” Alicia’s smile shone like sunlight over ice; Ling felt winter wind under summer sun.

“You… y‑you…” The cold tied her tongue like a frozen reed; the “you” wouldn’t grow into a sentence.

Alicia bent her knees, the tide sinking until their eyes were level.

Her hands brushed Ling’s cheeks, gentle as foam on sand; at the first touch, Ling shivered like a leaf in frost.

Not satisfied, Alicia pinched that soft cheek, pulled a tiny jelly‑smooth bit, then let it go, letting it spring back like a pebble popping from water.

“Mou~ Ling‑chan, don’t be so tense. Share with me, okay? About that mean, player sister—I’m really interested~” Her voice flowed like honey, her eyes like crescent moons.

“You… I… you… You’re talking nonsense! My sister is the world’s cutest princess, a sugar‑crowned moonlight princess who belongs only to me. I won’t let you insult her!” Pride flared like a banner in wind.

Those stuttering seconds gave Ling time to craft the “perfect” line, a little rogue’s trick, like chalk on pavement—anything works as long as it’s cute.

If it’s cute, it counts. If she’s cute enough, Alicia will forgive, like snow melting under spring sun.

But will reality oblige? Ah… it actually does.

Ling’s cuteness worked on Alicia like incense on a restless heart. Alicia had kept score over the secret slander, embers glowing red, but at the sudden sweetness, her payback plan fizzled to ash.

“You sweet talker!” Alicia pinched Ling’s little nose, a playful tweak like a sparrow’s peck, then stood and headed toward the sea, her back light as a kite in wind.

The little one who dodged disaster exhaled, a fish spared the net, relieved by Alicia’s bright tide—she wouldn’t chase that slip anymore.

“Ling, what are you even talking about?” Arthas, not airheaded but short on common sense, tugged the topic back like a child pulling a kite string.

Ling spun on her toes, rose like a sprout, pinched his nose with two tiny fingers, and gave it two twists. “Dummy, forget it!” She huffed away, tracing the trail of Alicia’s footprints, like stepping stones in wet sand.

Left behind, a bewildered Arthas stood like a lone pole, while Ninety Nine Maiden covered her mouth and snickered, a gull laughing at foam.

Alicia never confirmed the tale of “devouring” Ling. Even if she did, surely she ate at least a nibble, like a squirrel stealing one nut. That answer will live only in the sisters’ memory, sealed like a shell on the seabed.

It’s the seaside, after all. Alicia and the others had to swim a bit, like otters skimming the blue.

But just playing in water grows dull, like a billboard of curves numbing the eyes after too many sunsets. Ling’s mood sank like a calm tide at dusk.

She lay bored on the shore where waves stroked and withdrew in patient rhythm, a metronome of foam. Ling lay there, her eyes emptied like a sky after rain.

She was the second to turn into a salted fish; Alicia and Arthas still swam happily, two swallows chasing light across the water.

Hmm? The first? Of course it was Ninety Nine Maiden. She splashed for ten minutes, then climbed ashore, said she had something to do, and vanished like mist.

So across the scene, everyone had a task. Only a salted fish named Ling lay on the sand, her “salt” diffusing like summer haze over shells and footprints.

“Ah…” Her sigh stretched like a strand of kelp; this beach trip was truly poor—nothing to do but swim, a single note on a broken flute.

Beach volleyball? You need a ball first; Alicia’s two “balls” don’t count, those moons belong to the sky.

Barbecue? Alicia has fire, a star cupped in her palm, but you need meat. What would we grill—Ninety Nine Maiden’s “dragon tail meat”?

So it’s a fantasy—anime beach episodes don’t quite sail in another world; next time, prepare, like setting nets before dawn.

For now, Ling decided to be a salted fish, watching pretty girls play in water, a lazy cloud above a glittering bay.

“Haa~” She yawned, like a cat in sun. Maybe seeing Alicia too often dulled the edge; the fanservice scene felt flat, a tide without sparkle.

So boring… The thought drifted like a dandelion seed. Her eyelids sank, twilight closing over the shore.

Before they fully closed, she didn’t hear the rustle behind her, sand whispering like reeds in a night breeze.