Do all you elves have a streak of perversion, like frost on every leaf?

That thought flickered through Lingcai’s mind like a swallow’s shadow as Xia forced cuffs and a collar onto her.

The shackles were lined with cloth, soft as moss under stone, snug but not painful.

But the shame and insult bit deeper than any bruise, like cold wind cutting the skin.

Anklets go around ankles, right? Why clamp them high on her thighs, like a trap set among reeds?

While Lingcai’s thoughts scattered like dry leaves, Xia’s next move told her why.

Xia lifted the chain at Lingcai’s thigh; the hidden scenery under her skirt spilled like moonlight over a secret pond.

Heh, heh, heh… Xia savored the leg lines wrapped in black thigh-highs, gaze clinging like dew on grass.

Stop! I’ll call someone! Take these off, now, like smoke lifted by wind!

Her hands pressed her hem back down; fear bloomed on her face like a pale lily trembling.

Is today the day she loses herself again, like a raft swept off a river bend?

Wait—again? Why did she think again, like a bell struck twice?

Xia didn’t let go. Her fingertips nudged Lingcai’s inner thigh, right near the edge of her panties, a spark laid to tinder.

Lingcai jolted like lightning hit her; she sprang up and kicked at Xia, thunder snapping through her bones.

I told you to let go!

Chastity first; grace could wait, like silk folded before steel.

Her kick missed. Her shoe flew off and slammed into the wall, a white bird winging into stone.

Clang.

The white princess shoe bounced off the wall and thudded to the floor like a fallen pear.

Watching Lingcai struggle and fail, Xia’s excitement surged like a rising tide under a red moon.

Haah… haah… Girls shouldn’t lift their legs so freely… people will see everything, like lanterns stripped of shades…

How should I punish a naughty thing like you, like a cat batting a cornered mouse…

It’s over. No escape today, a rabbit cornered by hounds.

As her maiden body trembled, a small explosion cracked by her ear, a firecracker in mist.

Boom.

Then her body felt like a punctured ball, deflating, shrinking bit by bit, like a gourd left in sun.

More precise? She was shrinking, petals folding at dusk.

Under Xia’s gaping stare, Lingcai shrank from adolescent curves back to a petite, childlike form, a sapling cut back to a shoot.

The cuffs at her wrists and thighs slid off as her limbs slimmed, iron rings dropping like shed husks.

With her body smaller, the gown sagged and slipped off her shoulders, like a loose cloak sloughing from a willow.

Well, that happened, like clouds tearing without rain.

It wasn’t just Xia; even Lingcai stared, disbelieving, moths fluttering in her chest.

Why?

Was this change only temporary, like tide drawn back by the moon?

In a blink, she dwindled into a tiny bean of a girl, a dot on the tatami.

The weakness of shrinking made her sink to her knees, soft as cotton, like snow settling on bamboo.

Xia watched, stunned, then stammered, pointing at Lingcai, shock lodged like a bone in her throat: “Wh-what kind of magic is that…”

“Not magic. Alchemy,” Lingcai corrected, the word ringing like metal on stone.

She slipped her wrists and ankles free of the shackles and tossed them to the floor, iron falling like shed carapace.

She held out her hand to Xia. “Key. Take the collar off,” her voice steady like a taut bowstring.

The more Xia looked, the more lost she felt, fog closing over a path.

After a long beat, awareness returned; awkwardness flickered in her eyes like fish scales.

She palmed Lingcai’s head, then exhaled and half-mocked, the sound dry as straw: “Tch. So you’re just a little pipsqueak after all…”

Lingcai knocked her hand away. “Pipsqueak, fine. Can you let me go?” A reed bending, not breaking.

Xia spread her hands and shrugged, disappointed; a busty, long-legged, fresh-faced girl was more her type, like spring shoots over winter buds.

“I’ll let you go, sure. I’ve got zero interest in that barren little frame of yours. Now, business.” She hit “barren” hard, like a drumbeat.

Her mouth said release; her hands didn’t touch the collar, a promise like smoke.

Her attitude cooled like evening over stone. She pinched an envelope between two fingers, set it on the table, and slid it to Lingcai: “I know you want this. Take it.”

Lingcai took the fine envelope but didn’t dare open it, like a sparrow eyeing a tiger’s meal.

It was for Princess Korol herself. Break the seal, invite trouble; see a secret, get silenced, like weeds cut at the root.

She tucked it away and tested the waters: “What is this you gave me…” Her voice careful as stepping stones.

Lingcai truly didn’t know, but Xia took it as an act and waved, impatient, like brushing gnats.

“Do you take me for a fool? Running off to the provinces at a time like this—anyone can see what you’re about.” Her words snapped like twigs.

“Inside is a list of the Brengea Empire’s former officials and loyalists. Kill who needs killing, cleanly, and end the trouble,” like scything a field before weeds seed.

Lingcai drew a sharp breath, ice in her lungs. She’d heard exactly what she shouldn’t, a knife under silk.

After Ariex’s rule replaced Brengea, the Elven King proclaimed amnesty, a broad wind over the plains.

He pardoned Brengea’s former officials and soldiers, no more charges, like snow wiping muddy tracks.

Those willing to serve stayed; those who refused were paid and sent home, coins stacked like winter grain.

And now this? A revenge purge, iron returning to blood.

Lingcai sucked in a breath; after a beat, she asked, “Weren’t they pardoned… why kill them now…?” Words fragile as rice paper.

Xia smacked her own head, headache plain, like drums thudding in a skull. “I don’t know if you’re truly dumb or playing dumb. They’ve raised an army to rebel, and you’re still acting confused.”

Now Lingcai understood, clarity like sunrise on frost.

The old regime’s remnants were gathering arms to overthrow the new, banners rising like storm clouds.

In that case, no wonder blood would be asked, a red river foreshadowed beneath iron skies.

Xia leaned in, disgruntled, words spilling like sleet: “The rebel force led by Brengea remnants is camped near Saltsea Town, about two thousand strong.”

“They fly the banner of restoring the ‘true’ Brengea royal line, recruiting along the border. Who knows where all that money comes from,” coins like ants under a stone.

She paused, then aimed her quarrel squarely at the Elven King and the princess, tension drawn like a bowstring: “I said from the start—kill them all, cleanly. But you and your Elven King father chose soft-hearted mercy, sending them home.”

“Now look. Ten executions could’ve ended it. Instead, you waited till it needs a river of blood. What now? Your call.” Her glare burned like noon sun.

Lingcai hesitated, tongue slipping like a fish: “I can’t decide this. I’ll ask Princess Korol…”

“What?!” Xia shot up, shocked and furious, slamming the table, wood booming like a drum. “You—you—you’re not Kelor?!”

Bad, like a candle snuffed in wind.

Lingcai knew her slip boxed her in; no explanation would dig her out, walls closing like bamboo shutters.

She gave an awkward smile, rubbed the back of her head, a sheepish gesture like a kitten’s paw. “Uh… I just remembered something… I’ll be going!”

She spun and bolted, feet like fluttering sparrows. One problem—her collar was still on, iron like a leash.

Xia yanked the chain dragging on the floor and hauled Lingcai back, a fish on a line.

Xia dragged her close with ease, then slammed her onto the table; the wood shuddered like a struck drum.

“Explain, clearly! Who are you, really? If you don’t, you’re not leaving this room today!” Her voice cut like a blade through bamboo.