After I stepped out, I drifted with no destination, like a leaf riding a lazy breeze. The pantry at home was full, so I didn’t need to buy a thing. Between cooking and eating, I always choose eating, like a cat choosing sun over chores.

A snack would do for afternoon tea, sweet as steam curling off a cup.

Tap-tap—huh? How have I never seen this chapel? I tilted my head like a sparrow listening for rain, puzzled by the stranger in my street.

Forget it. I never paid attention before, my memory fogged like morning mist. Not remembering feels normal.

On the wall out front, someone had scrawled big letters with a paint marker, bold as fresh ink on rice paper.

“If you feel tired and lost about life, why not come in and sit?” Tch. I’m not lost at all—right now I’m happy, bright as a lantern at dusk. I frowned, a little storm gathering between my brows.

My mouth said no, but my feet slipped inside on their own, drawn like tide to the moon.

The chapel was shabby, like a reed hut compared to the Church of Dawn’s cathedral in the heart of Starfate City. Inside felt cramped; the fixtures were ancient, creaking like old pine. In prosperous Starfate City, that’s rare—clearly, this church wasn’t loved, its pews dusted like abandoned teacups.

Because… it was run by Beastkin.

Most important of all, there were no cute Beastkin ladies here. Only a sleazy fox-man, dressed like a priest, a borrowed robe on a mangy pelt.

The moment I saw him, I almost spun on my heel, quick as a swallow.

“Since you came, it means you’ve got doubts about your life,” he said, voice soft as incense smoke. “Why not ask me, little Merfolk sister? Your gaze is dim, like a lamp low on oil, so you must—”

Weird. He hadn’t even turned around. How did he know I’m Merfolk? The thought rippled through me like a cold wave.

Fine. I’ll just find a reason and bury him, quiet as snow falling on a grave.

“Hey—” The fox-man flinched. Sweat ran down his temples, shining like dew. “Don’t go burying people for no reason! Little sister, didn’t you come because you wanted advice?”

“Oh, you can read minds!” Realization clicked like a pebble hitting bamboo. “Then I should even more—”

He sighed, a tired wind over dry grass. “Aren’t you curious how I know you’re Merfolk?”

“What’s there to be curious about?” I tilted my head, a gull eyeing the tide. “You just said you read minds.”

“…” His silence hung like a paused bell.

“That’s not the reason!” He wiped his brow again, palms shaky as paper fans. “Little sister, there are lots of reasons. First, what you’ve done is too conspicuous—a lighthouse flare across the land. The continent’s high circles are watching you.”

“Oh? Go on.” I set my ice shovel aside, its metal cold as winter moonlight, and sat wherever, like a cat claiming a warm tile.

Let the fox talk. I could bury him later, neat as earth on a root.

“Second, our church’s core is ‘go with the flow’ and ‘everyone equal,’” he said, smiling bitterly, a cracked porcelain smile. “It’s ironic. Even our own nation struggles to let races speak as equals, but it’s the truth. We Beastkin revere the God of Judgment and Heavenly Order. It was He who granted us beasts without reason the right to live as a race, like wild wolves given names under the sky.”

Huh? Dreamsound told me the Merfolk began as ordinary fish in the sea, a swirling school under sunrise. By that logic, aren’t Merfolk just Beastkin too? It still doesn’t explain how he saw I’m Merfolk, and the thought drifted like foam.

“Not like that,” the fox-man said, another bitter curve to his mouth, dry as old tea. “Race names are decided by the gods who grant our meaning. Third—little sister, even from a distance, I can feel the aura around you warping, twisting like a reed under winter wind.”

“…?” I quietly picked up the ice shovel again, frost ringing like glass. “Keep talking.”

Her move rattled him; his composure fluttered like a scared sparrow. He forced a breath, steadied it, as if setting a bowl on a still table. “I suspect you recently went through something beyond the ordinary,” he said, voice low as rain on tiles. “And it’s about family.”

Does getting ‘drilled’ by my little sister count? If that counts, then yeah. The thought pulsed like a blush hiding under a scarf.

Seeing me react within his expectations gave him confidence, a small flame catching. “Child, sometimes family’s choices matter more than strangers’ eyes,” he said, words gentle as a hand smoothing silk. “Don’t worry about others’ gazes. If there are still family by your side, choose to trust them and lean on them. Because only they will treat you sincerely, like a hearth in winter.”

“…Sincerely?” The word tasted warm, then cooled like tea gone cold.

So why do I feel Xuewei just wants to poke me through? I haven’t even done anything to anger her, my thoughts clouded like a rain-swollen sky.

Tangxue’s pupils, never bright, went darker still, like a deep pool at night.

Fox-man, danger.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, panic fraying his tone, crackling like dry straw. “I mean, you should respect your family’s opinions more. After all, they’re the closest people besides yourself, bound like roots under one tree.”

Suddenly, a buzz pressed against my chest, a tremor like a cicada at dusk. Dreamsound was contacting me.

I shot the fox-man a glare, sharp as a knife’s edge, then walked out, steps steady as a drum.

Fine. I’ll spare you this time. If Dreamsound reaches out on her own, it must be important, like a wave that won’t wait.

Once the plague-star left, the fox-man finally exhaled, a long breath like wind escaping a cracked flute.

If that scene had kept going, he’d have crashed for sure, flipping the cart in the mud. Good thing her mom came calling, a rope thrown to a sinking man.

In the outer courtyard, I tapped open the communicator Dreamsound made me carry. Her translucent figure rose before me, like moonlight collecting in water.

“Hello~ Shengsheng, did you miss Mommy?” Her voice rang sweet, like candy melting.

“Yes.” The word fell simple, a pebble on still water.

“Eh? Really?” She sounded delighted, bubbles in her tone. “I thought my little Shengsheng would go all tsundere, ‘I don’t miss you at all!’ and then still lean in for a head pat, like a kitten.”

“You’re overthinking it.” That kind of thing is for kids—no, even kids wouldn’t. My answer walked cool, like shade under bamboo.

“Mmm… Someday I hope my little Shengsheng faces her own heart, clear as a pond after rain,” she said, softness wrapping me like a shawl. “If you ever want to be clingy, Mommy welcomes you anytime.”

“Then why… did you come find me?” My question flicked like a fish tail.

“Does a mother need a reason to chat with her daughter?” Her smile shone, warm as coals in a brazier.

“I guess… no.” The admission felt gentle, like snow settling.

“Right~” Her laugh chimed like wind-bells.

“When will Shengsheng come back and sleep with Mommy?” she whined, play-sad like a drizzle. “Boo-hoo, I can’t sleep without you beside me, like a pillow missing its warmth.”

…Without noticing, my dim pupils were regaining color, like dawn bleeding into night. Then a faint shimmer flickered there, a light-thread weaving through.

“Shengsheng, your face doesn’t look great,” Dreamsound murmured, concern soft as moss. “Did something bad happen? It’s okay…” Even as a projection, she hugged me, arms like quiet tides, and stroked my back the way she used to. “If you can’t bear it, come back anytime. Mommy is always waiting at home, like a lamp in the window.”

There was no touch at all, yet the embrace felt warm, like sun through winter glass.

“…Old hag.” The words slipped out, wry as bitter grapefruit.

Dreamsound’s virtual smile froze, a pixelated glitch popping like static. “If Shengsheng keeps calling Mommy that,” she said, cheeks puffing like a steamed bun, “Mommy will get mad, okay?”