Spring Tide sat at the edge of her bed, face dark as a stormcloud, her gaze cutting to her feet where Cerqin lay prostrate, forehead to the floor like a practiced ritual.
"You’ve got some nerve," she said, cool as iron in rain.
On Cerqin’s head perched a square of white cloth—the pure white panties she’d, on reflex, lifted from Archbishop Mingxi’s room—like a guilty flag fluttering.
No one needed to ask whose they were; the answer hung in the air like a name etched in frost.
"I... I didn’t mean to..." Her voice was thin as paper in winter light.
Whatever defense she offered felt pale and powerless, like a washed-out sunrise.
The instant she left the Archbishop’s room and her mind caught up, regret flooded her like cold seawater; she decided to confess before discovery, praying for a lighter fall.
The Holy Maiden’s face had been storm-dark, yet she hadn’t turned back, letting Cerqin breathe while planting a thorn of doubt.
"You didn’t actually think Sister Ming Xi didn’t notice you, did you?"
"Huh?"
Cerqin flinched and started to lift her head; Spring Tide’s bare foot pressed down on her nape like a firm seal.
The white cloth slipped off and fell aside like a petal shaken loose.
"By the laws of the Holy Dragon Empire, what happens to thieves once they’re caught—do you know?" Her words rang like cold metal.
"They... they get sent to a church contracted by the Empire for ‘education’..." Cerqin’s breath came like fog in a cellar.
The Radiant Sanctuary, as a church power, held no civic authority outside its Holy City, chained by the Covenant of Divine War; even Eastern Sea City, home of the regional Archbishop, was on paper the Empire’s land, bound to imperial law.
Across the continent, many nations, to save coin and for other reasons, sign contracts with churches in their cities to punish and “educate” criminals, ink drying like black blood.
In Eastern Sea City, that role fell to the Law Enforcement Hall of the Radiant Sanctuary, a cold kiln for broken vows.
"And repeat offenders?" Her question dropped like a pebble into a well.
Spring Tide’s tone stayed cool as ice, but her smooth foot ground lightly on Cerqin’s pink-haired nape; those silky strands rose like a soft tide under skin.
Feeling Cerqin tremble underfoot, a warm thread of satisfaction curled up like smoke; her lips tipped, and her voice finally rippled with amusement.
"Relax. I won’t send you to the Law Enforcement Hall. But just because Sister Ming Xi let it slide doesn’t mean this is over."
Cerqin swallowed, relief cooling her like shade; not being dragged to that Hall set a thin thread of anticipation humming in her chest.
"The answer," Spring Tide said, voice striking like a bell.
"For repeat offenders: get caught twice, the sentence doubles. In severe cases, they strip your Imperial citizenship..." Her words peeled bark from a trunk.
"So tell me—stealing the Archbishop’s personal clothing, does that count as especially severe?" The question sat on a knife-edge.
"Uh..." A stone lodged in her throat.
Serious? A common thief couldn’t even pull that off; whether it was grave hinged on the Archbishop’s mood, a scale tilting under a hidden thumb.
Since Ming Xi had let it happen... didn’t that mean it wasn’t that serious, a gate left open and green light given?
A flicker of insight lit Cerqin’s mind like a paper lantern: that languid, regal older sister—had she set up a handle on purpose, so Spring Tide could bully her with a smile?
She’d only met the Archbishop once, yet the odds felt loaded, like dice tipped with lead.
If so, then even after the inspection ended, the way she hugged Cerqin to talk... those arms were vines tightening—wasn’t that...
After a brief hush, the leftover panic slid off like a wet cloak; a feral excitement began pawing at her ribs.
"Holy Maiden, I was wrong~" Her tone came sweet as syrup.
Cerqin arched back, pitiful as a willow bowed by rain, then tested it, lifting her forehead from the floor in a slow tide.
As expected, the foot didn’t press hard; her gaze climbed, and a flash of white darted in like a gull.
She reached out and snatched, hand quick as a dart, speaking before Spring Tide could breathe.
"Holy Maiden, I really didn’t mean it~" Her voice melted like sugar on the tongue.
Cerqin’s move made Spring Tide’s eye twitch; with that soft little tone, it screamed: yes, it was on purpose, yes, it was wrong, and yes, she’d dare again, a mischief banner snapping in wind.
Spring Tide’s pent-up feelings, once unlatched, swelled invisibly with each touch underfoot, a tide rising in the dark; Cerqin didn’t see the undertow.
Even if this was a staged dance, the one being “indulged” rarely left the feast unscathed, the table turning to bite.
Next morning, Cerqin woke on Spring Tide’s bed, mummified in bands, only her head free, her limbs locked like a chrysalis that refused to split.
Beside her, the Holy Maiden still slept, emerald hair catching sunlight like new leaves, a delicate face wearing a satisfied smile like dawn’s curve.
But Cerqin had no mood for that painting of grace; worry gnawed like mice under the floorboards.
She hadn’t eaten with her mouth last night, yet strange things had been poured into her all the same, liquids whispering like shadows.
Waking from the faint, her stomach ached, a knot pulled tight and hot.
She couldn’t move, and her mouth was stuffed with that pure white thing from the Archbishop’s room, a gag cold as snow.
Maybe the bands had some special function; besides her head, no part obeyed, threads binding like soft-spoken spells.
If she waited any longer, bad weather would break, a storm rolling in her gut.
Cerqin let out urgent muffled sounds, a trapped dove cooing against cloth.
Thankfully, the odd noise roused Spring Tide; her lashes fluttered, and her eyes opened slow as petals at morn.
In those slightly hazy green pupils, a flushed little face shone back, red as a ripe fruit about to burst.
"..."
Spring Tide sat up, cat-slow and sleek; she glanced at the mummified Cerqin, then lifted the quilt to check her own body, like a general counting bruises.
She looked around at the room, wrecked like a deck after a night storm, sheets in whitecaps.
"Looks like we went a bit overboard last night..." Her sigh came warm, like embers losing glow.
Emotion and desire had slipped the leash, a dog bolt breaking—she hadn’t expected it; she shot Cerqin a glance with a thin thread of apology stitched in.
Then she jolted like a bell struck and quickly unwound the cloth coiled around Cerqin, knots loosening like rain.
The slightly messy morning drifted past like fog lifting off water.
When a Nun came to say the Holy Maiden’s sacred tour convoy was ready, she saw the wreckage; her face barely rippled, but surprise flickered in her eyes like fish, and Spring Tide felt a pinch of embarrassment.
Sixteen years of a porcelain mask of poise looked cracked and done.
But she let it fall; it felt lighter, like shedding old armor under a warm wind.
Cerqin sat on the bed’s edge, ignoring the Nun’s glance, changing quietly; inside, urgency for strength burned like a forge.
Being a close-in novice Nun was exhausting... hard... painful... and strangely pleasant, a braid of whip and velvet.
Mm.
Third Rank was too weak; she couldn’t withstand the Holy Maiden’s onslaught, a bamboo fence before a typhoon. Even with her nearly awakened ability giving her abnormal recovery, it only bought a breath more time.
And those sensations during blackout were lost, strings snapped mid-song—unacceptable.
How could she let the sky steal her moon like that?!
She knew the gap between her and Spring Tide; Third Rank to Sixth Rank wasn’t three steps but a gorge between cliffs.
The path here drew mana into the body to strengthen every facet; aside from pure spellwork, each Rank jumped bodily might by mountains.
Besides the legendary Tenth Rank, practitioners split into high, middle, and base tiers, three Ranks per tier, stairs cut into stone.
The leaps from Third to Fourth, and Sixth to Seventh were qualitative, cloud to clay, heaven to mud.
Reaching Third Rank at sixteen was already gifted; as a commoner, she lacked the greenhouse of resources someone like the Holy Maiden breathed.
Still, if she hit Fourth Rank, her body might weather the Holy Maiden’s assaults without fainting, a tree bending yet not breaking.
"I wonder if, once my ability fully awakens, I can control it. Otherwise, even if my physique closes the gap..." Her worry swirled like a river bridged but still flood-strong.
Cerqin stole a subtle glance at Spring Tide, speaking with the Nun at the door; that green figure, even after such a long duel, stood like a pine on a cliff, unbowed.
"We won’t be this exhausted every night, right? This damned ability will drown me..." Her thought tugged like a rope pulling her toward the tide.
