“It’s a long story…” The words fell like a tangled skein, hard to pull free.

Qiange’s expression tightened, a winter lake under cloud; this mess ran deeper than it looked.

“The regional selection exams ended in June this year. I think you know that,” Qiange said, voice like a slow drum. “And the one in charge is Her Highness, the Princess. Everyone knows this.”

Ariex ran a system like the old imperial exams, a net cast wide to catch talent, then assign office like stars set in a court.

Put simply, it was the civil service exam, a gate with iron bars.

“Yeah, that’s true. But how does that tie to you trying to assassinate the Princess?” Kelor clasped her hands behind her back, eyes like knives laid flat, thinking.

“There’s foul play—strings pulled behind a curtain. Because of it, my younger brother died before his time.” Her tone was calm, a still pond, yet sorrow rippled underneath.

Hearing this was life and death, Kelor frowned, a shadow across the brow, but didn’t cut in; she stood aside and listened, like a lantern set to watch the night.

“My brother took the appointment exams three years running. He studied for decades, candle to ashes, yet never once made the list. One thing finally broke him.” Qiange’s face drew back into hate, a stormfront rolling in.

“For the last three years, every list of nominees held only elven names. Not one human. Not a single one.” Each word dropped like stones.

Kelor stared, tongue tied, mind churning like storm surf; she’d never imagined this could happen right under her own lashes.

“…Where’s your hometown?” After a beat of silence, Kelor asked softly, voice like felt.

“Up north, in the Chuerde region. Since the Elven King took the throne, a flood of elves moved there. Wealth and rank pooled in their hands like gold in a basin. We barely have room to breathe now.” Qiange shook her head, a willow shedding rain.

“…Is it like this elsewhere?” Kelor’s question came low, a pebble skipped across water.

“Not just home. It’s across the country, same rot in different wells. We gathered people to march on the royal capital and protest. They scattered us like dust, called us rioters. How can anyone call this a golden peace?” Her words were flint, sparks flying.

Listening, Kelor’s face sobered, stone under frost. She drew a long breath, heavy as smoke.

“Mm… and your brother, in the end…?”

“He jumped into the river.” Three simple words, light as ash, heavy as lead.

It was only a failed list and a heart that couldn’t bear, and he sought the water’s dark mouth. But the race-stained selection was the root blade. As a Princess, Regent over the realm, she couldn’t just let it rot.

“Today, I’ll take charge!” Kelor thumped her chest, voice like a bell struck hard. “I promise you justice. I’ll make it right!”

“…Uh, you?” Qiange’s look turned awkward, then softened, a warm lamp in the rain.

“I know you’re brave and idealistic. But what I’m doing can’t drag you down. Crossing the peak of this nation’s power is like walking into a thunderhead—no good end.”

“You don’t trust me?” Kelor’s eyes flashed, quick and sly, a fox in moonlight.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, but…” Qiange let out a breath, dry leaves scudding. She was already a wanted woman and had steeled herself for death. To pull a clever, brave girl into the storm—she’d regret it forever.

Kelor couldn’t stand being looked down on. She threw her cards on the table, voice like steel rung on stone: “Fine! I’ll tell you straight. I’m the useless Princess you’re after! I’m not scared if you try to kill me now. But I have one thing to do—your justice, I’ll get it back. If I fail, I’ll present my head!”

Qiange jumped at the sudden reveal, then snorted a laugh, a spark popping. She even reached out and fondly mussed the smaller head: “Come on, don’t be ridiculous. What Princess goes out with no guard, swinging a blade and brawling in the street?”

“I… I don’t look like one? You think I don’t look like a Princess?” Kelor slapped Qiange’s hand away, bristling like a cat with its fur up.

“A real Princess wouldn’t start with ‘I, your old lady’ and end with ‘dogshit’ every other sentence.” Qiange’s tone was teasing, light rain over tiles. “You cussed them for good reason. But if you truly want to change this society, you can’t be so rough.”

For the first time in a long while, Qiange smiled, a crescent moon peeking through cloud.

Perfect.

Bloody perfect.

Now Kelor knew what “having a bitter knot you can’t spit out” felt like, a bone caught in the throat.

Fix it. Next time, fix it. Next time she cursed, she’d slap herself, right across the cheek.

She made the vow in her heart, a seed planted in dark soil.

From the street corner, hoofbeats rolled in, drums on earth, and the crowd buzzed like bees.

“Found the wanted criminal! It’s the assassin who went for the Princess! Target’s a woman, black hair, carrying a short tachi!”

“As expected. Show your face and the storm finds you…” Qiange’s expression hardened, iron in frost.

“Son of—” Kelor hissed, habit like a weed.

Smack!

She slapped herself, loud enough to crack the air. Qiange jolted, eyes wide.

“Are… are you alright?” Qiange couldn’t fathom Kelor’s logic; her face was pure bewilderment, a sparrow startled off a branch.

“…I’m fine, I’m fine. You run. I’ll hold here.” Kelor rubbed her reddening cheek, words stumbling like pebbles, but her stance set like a pillar.

Seeing the soldiers closing, Qiange stopped hesitating. She clasped her fists in salute, old etiquette like a lantern bow: “We part today. If fate allows, we’ll meet again. Take care!”

She lifted her scabbard and sprinted into the alley’s deeper shade. The cavalry pressed up to Kelor, steel like rain. Kelor straightened, a wall at the alley mouth, barring the way so they couldn’t push through.

“Who are you? Where is the woman with the blade?” the captain barked, voice like a whip crack.

Kelor almost spat a curse, then swallowed it like bitter tea. She asked back, cool as moonlight: “…What do I look like to you?”

The captain didn’t know the Princess’s face. Their respect was for a distant crown, white dress and gold at a ceremony, not this street-scorched girl. Seeing Kelor so bold, he kept no courtesy, raising his sword, words sharp as ice:

“You? You look like her accomplice! Where’d she go? Speak!”

Kelor nodded as if pondering, a fox tilting its head. She arched a brow at him: “Oh? That so. Then shouldn’t you arrest me first, haul me to the cells, and question me slow?”

“Exactly my thought! Bind her!” the captain roared, orders slicing the air.

“I dare anyone to lay a rope on me— Wait, hey…?”