22. A New Target

Ten hours later, Lilith woke again, like surfacing from deep, moonlit water.

She hauled her aching body upright, blank-eyed, and lifted the pocket watch by the bed, a brass lump scarred by battle.

Even broken, its hands wheeled backward like koi circling a dusk pond; with a bit of head-work, it still kept time.

Such puzzles never stumped the Little White Dragon, so she shelved the repair plan like mothballing an old coat.

Back when she was Fan Yu, her mother’s daily litany stuck like rice: make it last, mend thrice before you replace.

She scratched the cowlick at her crown, slid off the bed in slippers, and, bleary as morning mist, grabbed the Astrolabe.

She gave it a wave—whoosh—and a clean wind rose like a fan; steam lifted, and her soaked clothes dried in a blink.

Weariness pooled in her bones, so she’d just stroll around Hero Street, tasting the place she’d call home for a while.

She skipped the floor-length coat and the mismatched hood, choosing a sweater, short skirt, long socks, and a small cape like a swallow’s wing.

She left the usual weapon harness, kept only her waist satchel, and slid the Astrolabe into a little strap at her left hip.

As for the Shattered Ark, she set it back in the room, on that bundle of flame, then tucked both under the bed like embers.

After a quick check, she locked the door and drifted down the stairs, footsteps soft as falling tea leaves.

“Good afternoon, Miss Lilith.” At the doorway stood Annie with a big box, fussing like a sparrow with a seed.

The Vampire girl looked up, saw the young dragon, and greeted her brightly; the Little White Dragon answered with a smile and a wave.

“Afternoon, Annie. What are you up to?” Lilith eyed the box, curiosity pricking like a pin.

“Ah, perfect timing, Miss Lilith.” Annie popped up, slapped her forehead like a comic drumbeat. “These are yours.”

“Mine?” Lilith blinked, a little fogged. How would she have a whole box here in Morris?

She traveled light as a swallow; even clothes—one set—got cleaned by magic, so a big cardboard box felt out of place.

“Mm, the patrol guards dropped it off this morning. They said Princess Eliza entrusted it to you.” Annie hugged the box, showing a pasted note.

The tag read “To Lilith,” neat as ink on rice paper, and the signature matched.

“Is that so? Wonder what’s inside.” Lilith stepped over, lifted the lid, and the smell of smoke and salt rose like campfire breath.

The box brimmed with well-kept dry-cured meats and tin-packed protein; they looked edible, not like the rancid sludge back in Udis.

She had no clue where Eliza dug up this stash, a trove stacked like bricks.

In the corner sat a tiny note, lines penned in graceful strokes, carrying a small, simmering complaint.

“I pulled these from the royal warehouse. What are those old fossils burning mana on, anyway?

“If we can store food, a few Vampires who can’t afford blood can at least eat full.

“I’ll keep combing the warehouses. Whatever food I find, I’ll mail it all to you.

“That way we free a huge chunk of mana each month and can lift Morris’s infrastructure like scaffolds after rain.”

“How is it? What did Her Highness Eliza say?” Annie leaned close, eyes wide and glossy like black grapes.

“She asked me to handle the treasury surplus.” Lilith tucked the note into her skirt pocket and bit into a strip of jerky like wood-smoke candy.

“My job now is eating on payroll.”

“Uh?”

“So, Miss Lilith, are you staying here for a while?” They moved to the inn’s dining room, where steam curled from fresh drinks like morning fog.

The Vampire poured for them; across from her, the Little White Dragon munched jerky with simple bliss, leaving the coffee untouched, a dark lake too mismatched.

“Yes. I promised Princess Eliza I’d help with a few things,” Lilith said, calm as shaded water.

Truth be told, Eliza hadn’t assigned a task; she’d shown Lilith the Vampires’ secret and fed her when she needed it most, kindness warm as soup.

That meant Eliza wanted her to stay, at least for now, to help untangle something in the city’s weave.

Lilith wasn’t in any rush; when Eliza chose to speak, she’d act. For now, the Little White Dragon would rest her wings.

She’d been away from the Dragon Territory for so long; it felt right to set down her pack like placing a paper fan.

“It’s not my cue yet, so I’ll wander near Hero Street these next days. I won’t go far,” she explained.

“I see…” Annie lowered her head, teeth catching her lip like a petal; hesitation shadowed her face.

“What’s wrong?” Lilith watched that struggle and couldn’t help asking. “Need my help with something?”

“It’s a little embarrassing.” Annie wavered, then chose honesty, voice thin as a thread. “Miss Lilith, did you find the Legendary Sword in Udis?”

“Why ask that?” Lilith tilted her head, surprised, a question-mark hanging like a hook.

Annie was curious about everything, sure, but the Legendary Sword and a hotel keeper felt like mismatched tiles.

“Uh… I don’t think I’ve told you my background.” Annie glanced away, awkward as a cat in rain.

“This inn isn’t my home on Hero Street. My real place is the little mushroom house there, the one with caps like umbrellas.

“I fell out with my family, so I ran off and opened this inn-slash-hotel.”

“Why’d you clash with them? Sorry if that’s rude.” Lilith couldn’t quite believe it; the Vampire girl looked so well-behaved, like a school lantern.

“It’s a bit tangled, and it has to do with my childhood sweetheart.” Annie’s eyes skittered aside, voice uneven.

“The one next door.”

“Details.” Lilith leaned forward, and her gossip-spirit flared, a small bonfire crackling in her chest.