“Miss Anya, Anran and I just met—no special ties, just passing boats under the same moon.”

“Mm, I know; I just tossed out excuses so I could bully Big Sister, like poking a cat with a twig.”

“...”

Cerqin sat on the sofa in the reception room beyond the auto-door, eyes flicking to the inner door like a wary bird, then back to Anya across from her.

The girl was shorter, yet about her age, like a sapling beside a same-year tree.

Two sentences in, a wash of déjà vu rose in Cerqin’s chest like fog from a pond.

She thought of a certain green-haired Holy Maiden, a willow blade wrapped in spring light.

A little scary, very reliable, soft as silk at the surface and cute as a kitten.

“Uh... let’s drop it and talk materials—here’s the list I want,” she said, like laying cards on a lacquered table.

Cerqin swept her wrist like parting water and pulled out a list, and Anya slid into work mode, face sharpening like a drawn blade.

Compared to Anran’s cute smile with a merchant’s gleam, Anya looked like a stern monarch, old-souled under a youthful mask.

After some back-and-forth, Cerqin got a batch at a bargain, like plucking fruit low on the branch, and scheduled later acquisitions.

The Holy Maiden’s allowance burned away by more than half, like sand through a sieve, and Cerqin sighed that Spring Tide gave too much to finish spending.

They chatted as dusk pooled like ink at the eaves, and Cerqin said she’d return in a few days before taking her leave.

Anya added the materials would be delivered to the Sanctuary soon, like a cart rumbling in before dawn.

She didn’t meet Anran, yet the errands were done, and for the next days Cerqin planned to study Arcanotechnology like tending a lamp through the night.

“I think you’re too idle,” a cool voice fell like a pebble in a still pond.

“Huh?” Her surprise sprang like a startled sparrow.

Back at the Sanctuary, before reaching her room, Cerqin spotted Spring Tide in the front hall like a green reed in a white hall.

The green-haired girl wore a “time to squeeze you” look, sharp as frost, and Cerqin’s scalp tingled before she deflated like a pricked drum.

“Idle? You three squeeze me in shifts, like a waterwheel turning; you make me train round the clock and won’t let me sleep.”

She wiped at tears that weren’t there, a mime’s gesture under lantern light.

Come to think of it, even this busy, she still squeezed time to study Arcanotechnology, like stealing fire from a shrine.

“I’ve decided to give you a job,” Spring Tide said, eyes narrowing like a crescent blade.

“You don’t need to fight daily, but you must guard yourself; it’s time to hone the spells you just grasped, like grinding a new knife.”

“Can I refuse?” The plea fluttered like a paper kite.

Face long as a rainy day, she glanced around; beyond the front hall lay the antechamber, a river of Nuns flowing past.

Rolling on the floor here would be bad form, like dancing at a funeral, better saved for her room later.

“Do you think you can?” Spring Tide’s smile was a closed fan.

“But I’ve got plans these days...” The reluctance pressed down like damp wool.

Study the basic Arcanotechnology texts from Anran, plus mechanism books, and make some prototypes, like weaving gears into a dream.

“Urgent?” Her voice was cool as well water.

“Not that urgent...” The admission fell like a loose leaf.

“So you’re refusing the job?” The question hung like a bell tone.

“...” Silence pooled like ink in a cup.

Temptation pricked her; if she refused, she might be confined to bed for days, like a cat sunning and doing nothing.

Nights aside, she still wanted daylight for other things, like sowing seeds before rain.

“So what’s the job, really...” Curiosity pawed the door like a strayed pup.

She rubbed her knees and reined in her galloping thoughts, deciding not to refuse; two days’ delay wouldn’t break Arcanotechnology, like clouds won’t stop the moon.

“You said hone new spells, so it’s live work, right? Don’t tell me you want me scouting the north?” Her joke flicked like a pebble.

“Got a death wish?” Spring Tide rolled her eyes, the look cold as sleet, making hidden Nuns gasp like reeds in a gust.

Cerqin ignored their disbelief; she was just talking, words tossed like petals.

The north was another world from the Empire, danger thick as brambles, beasts aplenty; even mid-tier practitioners had to tread like cats.

“Before we entered the city, we ran into that small caravan chased by bandits, remember?” Memory rose like dust on a road.

“Bandit suppression?” Her eyes lit like flint.

“Right. Recent incidents let many prisoners escape; Northfort’s short on hands, so go help,” Spring Tide said, voice steady as stone.

“Do they really need me...” Her doubt drifted like smoke.

“The Guard and Silver Luan will go too; we need it done fast, like dousing a flare.” The order rang like iron.

“Alright...” Her agreement fell soft as a feather.

The escapees had some mid-tier muscle, but sending Fifth and Sixth Rank practitioners felt like cannons on mosquitoes, thunder for a gnat.

“Escape adds crime to crime; once caught, they’re stripped of freedom entirely—those who dare flee are usually heavy offenders,” Spring Tide noted, cool as frost.

She thought it needless to say, yet still reminded Cerqin, like tying a second knot.

“Don’t kill if you can help it; captives become property. You know what the Sanctuary prefers, right?” Her glance flicked like a blade.

“Pretty big sisters or little sisters, right? I know, I know—relax,” Cerqin chirped, grin bright as lacquer.

“I’m not making you lead; I should tell Silver Luan or Baili, shouldn’t I?” The quip hopped like a sparrow.

“I’m reminding you to hand captives to the Sanctuary—no extra ‘activities’ during capture,” Spring Tide said, tone flat as slate.

“...” Her silence was a bitten tongue, like snow on bamboo.

Bullying was fun, but it didn’t bring her body much pleasure, like chewing on air.

Especially when the other party stirred no spark, like wet tinder that won’t catch.

If she could bully Spring Tide, Silver Luan, or Aileaf, she’d be keen, like a fox sighting hens.

After business, she and Spring Tide ate in the Sanctuary canteen, steam rising like ghosts, and met Silver Luan coming out for food.

They told Silver Luan about the mission, and she had no objections, her nod crisp as a snapped twig.

She was even excited; a stretch-your-limbs job was nectar to a battle-lover, sweet as spring rain.

“I’m going to check on Aileaf; you coming?” Silver Luan’s eyes shone like stars.

“Isn’t she in the final stage of brewing? We shouldn’t bother her now,” Spring Tide said, calm as still water.

“I think it’s not a good time to play either—another day?” Cerqin added, voice light as windbells.

“What are you thinking... No, Cerqin, what are you implying? I’m not you!” Spring Tide shot her a look, a black line of exasperation like ink on snow.

Silver Luan wasn’t wrong; Aileaf said the potion was at its final phase, and disturbing her now was like shaking a kiln mid-firing.

“By the way... Aileaf’s new drug is that one, right?” Curiosity gleamed like mica.

“Mm, that one... I’m looking forward to it,” Spring Tide said, eyes like crescent moons.

“It won’t be weak; I donated a drop of essence blood,” Silver Luan said, voice proud as a banner.

“Do we need to go that far for a potion?” Cerqin blinked, surprise like a pebble in tea.

The original concentrate was already fierce, top of its class; Spring Tide even preordered a batch for the Law Enforcement Hall, like stocking thunder.

The new formula built on that, boosted by Silver Luan and Cerqin’s abilities, a storm layered over rain, hard to imagine the final brew.

Maybe you wouldn’t even need to drink it; a dab could drop someone, like night snuffing a candle.

“And ordinary folks won’t need a thing like this, right...” The thought drifted like mist.

“True,” Spring Tide said, nodding like a swaying reed.

“Diluting it to sell kills the point; as an instrument of punishment, it might shine,” she added, voice cool as steel.

“Speaking of instruments...” The word hooked Cerqin’s ear like a fish.

Hearing it, Cerqin jumped in and pitched Arcanotechnology on instruments, sparks in her eyes like flint on stone.

“Combine them with simple lasers and you boost their bite; big instruments could even be fully automated!” Her excitement rang like bells.

“That’s a good idea... and there’s a market in it,” Spring Tide said, vision spreading like dawn.

“Then minor offenders might skip manual labor—just ‘education’ by instruments would be enough!” Cerqin grinned, a fox in a henhouse.

If the instruments could move on their own... the thought purred like a clockwork cat.