Lingcai killed the instrument, like pinching out a candle flame.

“I’m at my limit… how do you stomach that cursed noise?” Scarlet Leaf’s voice came like smoke from a smoldering brazier as they hurried toward Greenwind Street.

But Lingcai didn’t find it harsh at all; her brows lifted like a willow in wind. “…Did it sound bad?”

Scarlet Leaf shook her head, a stone refusing an echo. “I suspect you’re deaf.”

Deaf or not, she was probably a fool; “genius” felt like a badge taped on with spit.

Under the fierce, synchronized pressure of Scarlet Leaf and LilyBell, Lingcai turned off her proud tracker, her pride still bristling like a cat’s tail.

These people just don’t get the charm of science; her sigh drifted like mist over a pond.

Duke Prine’s manor sat on Greenwind Street, a hawk nest on a quiet branch. When asked the house number, he’d only said, “You’ll see it once you’re there.”

Now Lingcai finally knew why: the whole street lay under his net, shops and roofs like fish caught in one sweep.

As he’d described, keep right along the road; at the second corner, dive into the alley’s shade, and the duke’s stable waited in its deep pocket.

A carriage’s bulk was a boulder; if Aniyel wanted to flee alone, she wouldn’t hitch up—she’d throw on a saddle and bolt like a startled deer.

But when they reached the stable mouth, the air was empty, a doorway like a silent well; no sign of Aniyel.

Rich folk didn’t just keep good horses; even their stables wore silk. Pear-blossom wood lined the structure like pale petals, a steel lattice gate held it like a cage of frost. No straw, but blankets under hooves, and marble troughs gleamed like river stone.

Lingcai wasn’t savvy with horseflesh, but one curly-maned, blue-crested white steed shone like moonlight, enough to say these beasts were worth a small lake of silver.

“One, two, three, four…” LilyBell’s fingers tapped like beads on a string as she counted. Duke Prine had said there were eight famous horses here.

“…Eight. Counted. None missing. Looks like she hasn’t left.” Her eyes flicked like sparrows. “Uh, what now, Master?”

If the horses were all here, Aniyel might still be in the capital, a leaf caught in the city’s eddy.

Scarlet Leaf raised another wind. “Lingcai, what if she rented a horse somewhere else? If she’s storming back to her mother’s, she might refuse her husband’s saddle.”

“But she could also still be home, stewing like tea. Should we wait?”

Arms folded, Lingcai stood like a pine thinking in fog. Then she swung her pack to her chest, rummaged, and drew out the white tracker like a bone-white shell. “Maybe we just use this…”

“Turn it off!!” Scarlet Leaf and LilyBell yelled together, voices twin arrows crossing midair.

That blackboard-scrape hurt like ice on teeth; nobody wanted a second bite.

Lingcai could only waggle the tracker, a gull shrugging on a pier. “So are we searching or not? Waiting won’t work; we could drop the chase—no real loss…”

Scarlet Leaf shot that down, finger stabbing the device like a spear. “We’re chasing, period. But can’t you fix that alarm? Change it, or mute it so we don’t hear?”

LilyBell had both hands over her fox ears, palms like leaves. “Master, please don’t. Turn this on in a crowd and it’s a terror attack.”

“So you two truly can’t stand it.” Lingcai’s face stayed clear as sky. Since they insisted, she bent like bamboo. “Fine. Easy. Give me a moment.”

She set her pack down, rummaging like a squirrel in a hollow.

Scarlet Leaf expected something gleaming, a high craft to tame the beast. Instead, the result fell like a dull pebble.

She stared at two black spongey lumps, puzzled a long beat. “You aren’t…?”

Lingcai held them up again, proud as a fisherman with his catch. “Earplugs. Pretty obvious, right?”

“…I can tell they’re earplugs. But, Lingcai, you don’t mean…”

Scarlet Leaf felt her heart skip like a drum dropped. She hadn’t expected a cleaver-cut solution this blunt.

Lingcai looked pleased, a lantern in daylight. “Yeah. Plug your ears, and the problem’s gone.”

That didn’t solve the problem; it just gagged the complainant, like throwing a blanket over a bell.

Still, whatever. If it kept that chalk-scrape off their bones, it was rain on a parched field.

Scarlet Leaf and LilyBell took the earplugs and sealed their ears, quiet as monks. But sponge against fox ears didn’t fit; LilyBell had to hold them in place like petals on a breeze.

Seeing them ready, Lingcai lifted the white tracker, thumb poised like a hawk over prey. “All right. I’ll count down and flip the switch. Three, two, one…”

Screeeeeee—!!!

Thump!

At the first shriek, Scarlet Leaf and LilyBell dropped to their knees like stalks cut by a sickle.

It didn’t help at all!!!

“The volume didn’t drop! What good are these earplugs…” Scarlet Leaf clutched her ears, writhing like a fish on hot sand.

Lingcai spread her hands, a tide parting around rock. “It’s louder, yes. The signal’s thick, like scent in rain. That proves Miss Aniyel is nearby.”

Screee—!—! Scree—ee—!

LilyBell cried with eyes squeezed shut, a cub begging the moon. “Master! Please! We get it! Put that miracle away!”

A fourth voice cut in like a broom through dust. “Who are you! What is that noise! It’s killing me! Why are you at someone’s door! Do you know who you’re messing with!”

“Huh?” Lingcai tilted her head, the sound like a familiar bell.

She killed the tracker, and turned; there stood Aniyel, brows knotted like thorns, hands over ears, eyes clenched. Only a shoulder-slung satchel hung on her, the rest trimmed for flight.

Once the shriek faded, Aniyel opened her eyes, ready to spit fire. But seeing Lingcai in the middle, her sweat ran cold like melted snow, and her voice softened. “Y-Your Highness, Princess…”

Why was the Princess here again? Weren’t they supposed to stall her, like ropes holding a gate?

Aniyel’s heart tripped, a sparrow dropping from a branch. Done for. That man must be caught, and he wouldn’t let her off.

Betray others, and betrayal circles back like a returning tide.

If the Princess chased her here, she meant to haul Aniyel back for questioning, a net pulling tight.

Aniyel refused that fate; she spun and ran, feet scattering dust like startled quail, giving Lingcai no chance to speak.

Lingcai watched her turn, two, three steps, and she was out of the alley like a bead rolling off a tray. She glanced at Scarlet Leaf and LilyBell. “She ran. What do we do?”

Scarlet Leaf scooped Lingcai up and broke into a sprint, an arrow loosed from the bow. “Do you even need to ask? We chase!”