“No wonder the Southern Quarter’s premium black tea is this good.”

Cerqin let the fragrance bloom on her tongue like a spring breeze. The gentle sweetness lifted her spirit, and the haze around the room’s mana thinned like mist.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Across from her, the girl with long emerald hair smiled, a lily still and poised. Warm grace veiled a habitual cool, a chill that kept the world a mile of frost away.

But when she saw Cerqin’s surprised joy at the tea, that thin ice thawed under a soft sun. Her fine features warmed, and Cerqin blinked, caught mid-breath.

Anyone who knew this girl would’ve been stunned, as if a stone statue had just blinked.

Bringing Cerqin here for tea a little early in the day was a miracle in this Sanctuary, a phoenix perching in a temple where sparrows nest.

Cerqin recalled the wide eyes of the Nuns they’d passed, faces lit like lanterns at dusk.

The Holy Maiden of the Radiant Sanctuary was a moon hung high, out of reach for common folks. Who would think she’d stop and speak at a chance crossing?

Thinking back to the days since she reached this city, Cerqin sighed at her luck, dice rolling sweet for once.

Being loved at first sight by someone like her… it still felt dreamlight, as if she’d wake in fog.

She trusted her looks—pink hair like a blossom, a face carved fine as porcelain, skin dewy though she roamed the wilds.

With those gifts, she’d drawn near many lovely girls, moths to sugar and candlelight.

She studied the Holy Maiden again. That jade-waterfall hair dazzled, and both her face and aura sat at the peak of peaks.

A girl that perfect—beauty, bearing, power, and pedigree—making the first move was a storm pounding at your door. Few could hold.

Saying she wasn’t tempted was a lie; her heart beat a festival drum.

But she couldn’t stake her whole life on one tree. A forest still called beyond this shade.

After days together, the Holy Maiden’s force and possessiveness wound tight like creeping vines. Cerqin felt the urge to step back.

Playing the good girl was a mask heavy as iron, and her neck ached.

Still, effort pays when you keep digging. After a few days, the mountain gates finally opened, and she was invited into this great Sanctuary.

All she needed was to snatch the target item and slip out of Eastern Sea City, slick as a fish, before anyone noticed.

She would likely never see the Holy Maiden again. That steady life within arm’s reach would dim like a paper lantern in rain, and regret would linger.

But instinct burned brighter than that drizzle. With that, the answer sharpened to one edge.

Her fingers tightened on the teacup, porcelain chill biting her palm.

In her mind, a map inked itself. Spring Tide’s room likely hugged the Nuns’ quarters—left of the front Prayer Hall, behind it, on the way to the rear courtyard.

So the question was simple and sharp. How to leave no footprints, raise no ripple, and slip her leash—or nudge the Holy Maiden aside?

Could a flimsy stomachache, a paper-thin lie, get her past?

If she stalled too long, suspicion would rise, a fishy scent in still water.

If only she could be invited into the target bedroom. But that was a red line on polished floor—private.

Perhaps she could trade a bit of herself for it… No. Too hasty. Don’t cast bait before the hook is set.

She could pretend to leave and double back, a shadow returning. But the Holy Maiden would likely walk her out herself, like moonlight pinning a sparrow.

Once she left the Sanctuary, she’d have to come back through the Prayer Hall, where white-robed Nuns watched like gulls on a shore.

Thinking, she lifted a wheel cake as if it were nothing, sugar sails melting on her tongue, and kept chatting with the Holy Maiden.

“So… wheel cake with this tea is pretty much perfect.”

So good. The joy burst up like a spring, but Cerqin swallowed it and kept her voice mild. Today she was the harmless, well-behaved big sister. That trick had won Spring Tide’s favor fast when they met.

She couldn’t let the mask crack.

“I’m happy you like it.” Spring Tide laughed behind her hand, mood bright as fresh leaves.

“Next time, I can make you something different. This tea sings with rustic, hearty sweets, too.”

“Did you make the wheel cake yourself, Holy Maiden?”

Cerqin couldn’t hide her surprise. The Holy Maiden was even more than she’d imagined.

They’d only met a few days ago, and she was already baking for her. The gift pressed on Cerqin’s chest like a warm stone.

“Just a hobby.”

A Holy Maiden kneading dough—so down-to-earth it felt unreal, though the ingredients surely weren’t cheap silk.

After a while, the heat in Spring Tide’s eyes pulsed like a tiger’s gaze. Cerqin’s instincts pricked with danger, and she chose to gamble. This might be the only window in her life.

If she waited, she’d get eaten, sweet shell and all. She couldn’t keep this candy-glaze persona much longer.

Just as she touched her belly to ask leave to be excused, a voice rang out nearby, a bell in a quiet hall.

“Holy Maiden, an envoy from the Holy Capital requests to see you…”

Spring Tide’s brows drew like a bowstring, then eased. She nodded and glanced at Cerqin with a flicker of apology—then noticed the hand on Cerqin’s stomach, the ghost of pain on her face.

“I’m sorry, Miss Cerqin. I need to step out for a moment. Hm? Are you feeling unwell?”

“N-no.” Panic thumped, then steadied. She kept the motion and rode it forward.

“If you’ve got urgent business, Holy Maiden, that works out. I… also need to go freshen up.”

Spring Tide looked at Cerqin’s shy, pink-cheeked face and faltered, half laughing, half helpless. Adorable, she thought, warmth like sun on jade.

She gave a small nod, explained the directions with a soft voice, and drifted away with the arriving Nun, green sleeves a wave in a quiet bay.

A perfect chance.

And the way she pointed lay toward the living quarters, so close to the target it was a breath away.

Cerqin moved, excitement thudding like a drum she couldn’t hide. Most Nuns were at work in the Prayer Hall, and the rest area lay still as a pond.

Even if someone saw her, the “wrong turn while looking for the restroom” excuse floated like a ready leaf.

She just had to get there. To that place.

She slipped deeper into the quarters, halls long as calm rivers. Soon she stopped at a door unlike the others, patterns carved like climbing vines.

A faint, familiar scent drifted under the frame. Here. She’d caged her expression till now; it bloomed with a touch of intoxication.

“The Holy Maiden’s scent… heh.”

She glanced left and right. No ripple. Her hands moved with practice, a needlefish flick. In seconds, a soft click and the lock yielded.

As she gripped the handle and cracked the door, the carved patterns glowed faintly. Mana breathed out like waking fireflies.

Cerqin’s heart dropped like a stone in a well. She tensed to flee—then caught a glimpse through the gap, a splash of pink tossed by the bed.

She swallowed, throat dry. Temptation hooked her like a swift barb. She pushed the door and snatched the pink.

That snap of movement shattered any hope of explaining.

A flash of green swept to the doorway almost the same heartbeat, bamboo-shadow quick, and witnessed it all.