He saw Edgar in his private chamber, and fury surged like steam under a sealed kettle. He almost shouted, but cold reason clamped his throat like iron.

“We meet again, my friend,” Edgar said, his smile a porcelain mask under lamplight.

“What’s that supposed to mean—trying to drag me into the mire? Get out, or don’t blame me if the blade comes down like hail.”

“Ah, Your Grace Slunwedon, words like that prick like thorns,” Edgar said, miming a tear with fingers light as feathers. “I came at great risk through shadows. I came to tell you this: Her Majesty already has you in her sights, like a hawk over a field.”

His heart knotted like weeds in a flooded ditch, and doubt rippled like oil on water. Before, he’d never bend to Edgar’s words, but lately the Queen’s moves hung over him like a drawn sword.

Edgar watched his words take root like seeds in damp earth, and joy flickered behind his eyes like a candle in a draft. “Back in the council hall, Ling Xuewei already suspected you. She thinks you led her away on purpose, like a fox baiting a snare.”

“Edgar Warren, isn’t that lie a bit crude?” the Duke said, his voice falling like frost on stone.

“What do you mean? I’ve no need to build paper tigers to scare you,” Edgar said, his gaze flat as a slate lake.

“If you’ve no need, why are you here?” Slunwedon sneered, a knife-edge grin under winter light. “You’re not the kind to bring warnings for free, like a wolf bearing soup.”

“I’m only mindful of the times we worked together,” Edgar said, the words dry as ash on the wind.

“Heh. You think I’m as easy to fool as you are?” the Duke said, disdain piling like snow on a branch.

Fine, very fine—he swallowed his rage like a viper nursing poison in cold leaves. If they all looked down on him, they’d all pay like coins dropped into a black well.

“Duke of Slunwedon, I came for serious business that cuts like a whetstone at night,” Edgar said, eyes dark as a new moon. “I need you to lure Ling Xuewei out of Starfate City, and I’ll slip inside like a shadow through an unlocked door.”

“Impossible!” the Duke snapped, the word cracking like ice on a river. “Last time chaos covered you like smoke; this time it’s suicide. Kerlinveil Xuewei isn’t some easy mark—she’s a lioness with iron claws.”

“I know she isn’t,” Edgar said, hate glinting like a shard of glass. “One day I’ll kill her with my own hands, like snuffing a lantern in a gale. But this time, help or not, the tide’s against you. Even if I don’t use my Blood Clan rank to ruin you, time will wash you bare, and your Queen will scent you like sharks scent blood.”

“You’re threatening me?!” The Duke’s words rang like steel on stone.

“I don’t see it that way,” Edgar said, calm as a night pond. “Help me handle this, and I’ll swear by a Vampire’s honor, a vow bright as cold moonlight. Once I absorb the former Queen of the Blood’s power and become the new Emperor of the Dusk Moon, I’ll help you become this country’s new master, like setting a crown on a waiting brow.”

“Absorb? What do you mean?” His doubt rose like mist off a marsh.

“You don’t need the details,” Edgar said, voice low as wind under eaves. “If I succeed, my strength will match that Queen without a hair’s difference, like one moon mirroring another. It’s a secret of the Vampires.”

His pupils tightened like pinpricks in shadow, and old tales stirred like ravens in a roost. The Queens of the Blood were never weak; the weakest stood at a demigod tier, and Vinoena Qianya of the last millennium was said to brush true‑god heights like a mountain touching sky. If he truly gained that legacy, the board could flip like a storm‑tossed table.

“Let me remind you—don’t forget your current plight,” Edgar said, each word a drip of water wearing stone.

“What do you want done?” the Duke asked, gravel in his throat like sand in gears.

“A wise move,” Edgar said, a rare smile breaking like dawn after rain. “Tell me who, inside Starfate City, hates the Merfolk to the bone, like salt rubbed into an old wound.”

“…Merfolk?” The word fell like a pebble into a dark well.

Inside Starfate City, Jiumi Cottage.

I felt hollow, like a kite with a cut string. “Didn’t expect Qianya to really leave, and now I’ve got one less friend who’d speak for me, wu‑wu,” I said, my voice drifting like smoke.

“You say that, but your body tells on you like sunshine peeking through curtains,” Aunt Yuqiu teased, eyes bright as glass beads. “As the greeter out front, you were chatting people up all eager like spring birds.”

“Shut it, you stinky aunt! I’m a customer now, so treat me nicer, like serving tea on a quiet morning.”

“Yes, yes, little Tangxue,” she sang, her tone tinkling like wind chimes against the eaves.

Her words sounded weird from doll‑sized Yuqiu, and embarrassment prickled like nettles. We’re both petite as porcelain dolls, but I’m clearly older; Aunt Yuqiu looks more like a… the thought fluttered away like a startled moth.

“Little Tangxue, didn’t your teacher, Ling Xuewei, come back with you?” she asked, the name cool as fresh snow.

“Xuewei… she said she’d be back right away,” I muttered, the promise hanging like footsteps fading down a hall.

“Oh? Is she sneaking around behind your back, like a cat stealing fish?” Yuqiu’s mouth lifted, mischief glittering like starlight on water.

“No way! Even if she snuck a bite… what’s it to me,” I huffed, cheeks hot like embers in a braiser.

“Mhm‑hm,” she hummed, smug as a bee circling syrup.

“Quit laughing, you creepy aunt! Do you really not know where Qianya went?” I pressed, my gaze hooking like a fishhook.

“How would I know?” she sighed, her helplessness drifting like a cloud over the moon. “That child never tells this little aunt her trail.”

“Useless,” I muttered, tossing the word like a pebble across a pond.

“Hey! I heard that!” she snapped, her voice snapping like a twig.

“Right, Aunt Yuqiu, I want to ask you something,” I said, the question heavy as wet leaves. “In the last dozen years, did Demon King Jiuqi have anything happen?”

“Why’re you asking…” She paused, memory rising like tide up a pier. “If anything, yes. Over ten years ago, Demon King Jiuqi went alone into the deep sea, waves black as ink, to seek revenge on a sea demon. They fought for days and nights, storms wheeling like ravens, and neither won. Jiuqi was wounded on the reefs, and he’s been recuperating these ten years, quiet as a sealed cave.”

“…Revenge?” The word tasted like iron on my tongue.

“Yeah,” she said, breath leaking like wind from a lantern. “Revenge is common everywhere, like weeds between stones. It’s just a bit rare when it blooms on a Demon King.”

She sighed, and the sound wavered like a candle in rain. “Hatred’s worst trick is making people toss away their lives like wilting leaves. When you love others, you’ve got to love yourself first, like lifting your own umbrella in a storm.”

I went quiet, a fishbone caught in my throat like a snag in silk. It felt like Yuqiu had a second meaning tucked under her tongue, like a letter under a teacup.

Back then, who did little Jiuqi go to avenge, really? My heart tensed like a pulled thread on a loom. Was it for me? It should’ve been for my mom.

I hadn’t expected little Jiuqi to fight Dreamsound to a draw on the open sea, whitecaps rearing like warhorses. I’d underestimated him, and the thought stung like salt on a cut. Wait—if that’s true, then the woman who sent me back was stronger than both Dreamsound and Jiuqi, like a peak above clouds.

She looked so much like Dreamsound, a mirror on still water, so she was probably Merfolk royalty. But just yesterday I checked by comms with Dreamsound, signals pinging like fireflies. That woman wasn’t her kin, and Dreamsound didn’t even know her, like a stranger’s face in the tide.

Still, she never showed me any hostility, her gaze warm as sunlight on winter glass. So she probably isn’t my enemy.

“Tangxue! I’m off work—let’s go play!” Lan’er burst in like a breeze through a paper screen, already changed and suddenly at my side like a shadow at noon.

“Lan’er, don’t fuss,” I grumbled, thoughts drifting like clouds over a mountain. “I’m still thinking about things.”

“Mm—but I finally got off,” she pleaded, eyes clear as spring water. “Play with me, please. I may not be as charming as Teacher Xuewei, but I’ll try my best to make you happy, like tying a bright ribbon around a gray day!”

“???”