Wang Xiaoming’s directions came with a practiced snap, like a compass needle kissing north.

I had no idea how many times he’d walked strangers through these streets; the habit sat on him like worn leather.

He was so precise he counted steps like beads on a prayer string; that’s already beyond giving directions.

Still, that was a side tale; Ling followed the thread like a silken ribbon and reached a lavish building, likely King Alex’s office.

At the gate, no greeter, no guard—empty like a temple at dawn.

Had the empire’s power struggle drained them so dry they couldn’t hire a soldier?

It wasn’t her business, her heart a lake without ripples; Ling pushed a door carved with strange bird spirits.

The old wood complained, “creak-creak,” like winter branches.

The sound snagged the young receptionist’s attention.

So, not everyone was dismissed; at least a single receptionist perched here like a swallow.

But only a receptionist?

The place looked fallen from grace, a stark shift from the city’s first-glance prosperity, like spring turned to late autumn.

What happened in between?

Had that early prosperity been a painted screen?

“H-hello… do you need something?”

Her train of thought faded like mist blown by a bell-clear girl’s voice; Ling focused on the receptionist again.

“Ah… yes. I’m here on behalf of the Mystic Realm. I heard—”

Before Ling finished, the flustered girl moved like startled sparrows, jabbing the desk phone with both hands.

One soft call later, Ling could hear her whispering like water under a bridge; still, she turned her eyes away and refused to eavesdrop.

After all, life needs a little surprise, like a lantern behind paper.

“M-miss, I’ve opened the elevator for you. Inside, turn left.”

“‘You’ turned into ‘you, ma’am.’”

Ling felt amused like a cat’s tail twitch; shy pretty girls get pardons for free.

“Thanks~”

She posed with the few princess manners she’d cribbed from Alicia, a leaf-light curtsey, then skipped into the elevator in tiny hops.

The doors slid closed like eyelids.

Weightlessness… then calm… then arrival, a stone dropped into still water.

“Ding—”

Well, the ding was her own sound effect; the doors opened silent as snowfall.

A door waited ahead, obvious as a moon gate.

She took a few small steps, hand on the handle.

The quarrel inside froze her like frost.

Playfulness rose like a fox’s grin.

She leaned on the frame and pressed her ear to the wood.

Her mouth made a little cat-shaped w, eyes half-lidded.

“Hey! Alex, how long do we wait? Didn’t you say you told them to hurry over?”

This was a man trying to push King Alex, a voice like a drum; who could order a king?

“Shut it! Alicia just got back. I already told her two young maids. Alicia will be here sooner or later!”

So that shout was Alex; not someone ordering him, but someone at his level barking back.

At Alex’s level? Only the three kings fit.

Excluding Elusen’s queen, that left the Uru king.

“Right. Even you can’t bring them here that fast. Wait. You’re not rushing back to that trashy Gluglu country, are you?”

The voice was female, cool as jade; likely Elusen’s queen.

“It’s not Gluglu! It’s Uru!”

“Who cares? Sit properly. And keep quiet when ladies are present, like wind holding its breath.”

“Hmph! I’m the world’s number one gentleman under heaven. Never heard of that rule.”

Silence fell like snow; neither King Alex nor Elusen’s queen wanted to answer the idiot king of Uru.

With quiet pooling like ink, should she go in?

The thought rose like a bubble and popped.

Not by Ling’s choice, but by the noisy Uru king crushing it under his heel.

“Hey. You bored?”

“…”

“…”

“Wanna make a bet?”

“Okay.”

“What’s the bet?”

The quiet cracked like dry twig; one was truly bored, the other just curious.

“Then let’s bet on when those two little ones will arrive. How about it?”

Alex shot it down like rain on a candle.

“No. I did notify Alicia and her. But what if only Alicia comes? From what I know, Ling’s pretty lazy…”

Outside, Ling felt a cross throb onto her forehead, hot as a brand.

What do you mean lazy! It’s called saving energy, plans for the long road ahead; how could smart pacing be ‘slacking’?

“Fine, then we bet on when either one of them shows. Any one counts.”

“I’m in.”

“No objection.”

Both agreed. Gill smiled with a half-curved fox grin that made onlookers feel netted like fish.

“Then, the stake is this: whoever nails the time… gets to eat snow—if you catch my drift.”

“I promise you’ll be the only one allowed to spill colorful language afterward~”