Open wide—ah.

Spring Tide sliced off a piece of meat; steam curled like morning mist as she lifted it on a fork and offered it.

Cerqin opened her mouth, helpless, and caught it; the scent flooded her mouth like a warm tide, and threads of magic seeped in, toughening her body like bark.

It was delicious, yet its potency held fast, like sweetness wrapped around steel.

So strong… shock flickered like lightning behind her eyes.

She knew some beast meats could harden one’s body and aid training, like iron mixed into clay.

But those were costly and rare, treasures a low-rank adventurer could hardly touch, like stars beyond a rooftop.

For a clear boost to a Third Rank, this cut had to come from a mid-tier beast, like muscle carved from a mountain cat.

And the price hung over her like a billowing cloud.

Rest easy; I said this one’s on me. She waved it off like dust.

But I sent the invite first, like tossing the first stone into a pond.

Cerqin’s face knotted; her lead had been taken like a kite yanked by a sudden gust, a first for her.

This Holy Maiden was dangerous; setting sights on her clothes might’ve been a mistake, like poking a tiger’s robe.

Before any scheme, she’d be the one eaten, like prey stepping into a lion’s shade.

After that, her true face would show, and she’d be handed to the Law Enforcement Hall, like a mask ripped in public.

Cerqin shivered, like reeds in a cold wind.

She’d toured it before—heaven and hell under one roof, white halls paired with iron shadows.

She liked a firm hand, yes, but total loss of dignity wasn’t her wish; surrender felt safer, like lowering a sail before a storm.

As Cerqin wavered, Spring Tide felt an odd gaze settle; her hair rose like frost on grass, and the world’s aim pressed like a weight.

She sensed the world’s repair, a subtle current stitching torn time.

It wasn’t strong; it didn’t toss her back to her original point, like a tide that hesitated at the shore.

The sudden tug made Spring Tide pause; her earlier moves had seemed clean, so the snag lay with Cerqin, like a knot in shared rope.

With a brief thought, she caught the key, like a glint in river water.

Cerqin had flinched, like a bird folding its wings mid-flight.

That retreat bent the future where they stayed together, like a branch pressed by wind.

It showed as a faint note, not a reset, because the path hadn’t wholly changed, like chalk instead of chisel.

But once a resolve hardened, the world’s repair would flick her from this time, like a spring snapping.

Cerqin, how’s your thinking? Her voice fell like a pebble into a still pond.

Huh—her blink fluttered like a startled sparrow.

I’m a bit impatient, but this can go slow, like tea steeping.

She meant becoming her property; even with Cerqin’s dazed look, understanding pooled like ink.

Little Cerqin, you’re an adventurer now, right—boots still dusty from the road?

Y-yeah, her voice thin as silk.

Then come serve as a Nun at the Sanctuary; I can introduce you. You won’t refuse me, right? The offer lay like a bridge over morning mist.

Eh—her breath caught like a fish in a net.

Cerqin wanted to refuse, but no reason rose; her mind was a blank sky.

The Sanctuary’s strong; even the Empire’s royals don’t provoke it, like ships that skirt a black reef.

It’s one of the world’s strongest powers; a regional Holy Maiden’s recommendation is a chance most wouldn’t dare dream, like thunder blessing a sapling.

With a Holy Maiden’s word, even here in Eastern Sea City, at the strict East District Sanctuary HQ, you can skip steps, like gates swinging open.

The Sanctuary pays high; even a simple Nun earns dozens of times more than you do, like rain filling a dry cistern.

Spring Tide’s lips lifted; for Cerqin, this was a windfall, like a meat pie dropping from the sky.

When that watching weight eased, Spring Tide knew they were steady; Cerqin would agree, like a boat settling after a swell.

Cerqin’s face showed hesitation; even being eaten, this trade felt worth it, like a moth drawn to a lamp.

To become the Holy Maiden’s possession—others would leap without a second thought, like fish leaping at bright bait.

More than being a Nun, being the woman the Holy Maiden likes could drive one mad, like wine that burns sweet.

Why choose me? The question slid out like a whisper through reeds.

Because I really like you, she said, simple as moonlight on water.

Spring Tide hadn’t believed in love at first sight. The Phantom God had thinned her feelings to mist.

But the memory of this day, that sudden heartbeat, struck like a drum under her ribs.

For Spring Tide, it was a kind of salvation; so even after learning Cerqin’s true face, even after she teased other women, she could barely accept it, like swallowing a bitter pill for warmth.

As she learned more—of Cerqin and of her own quirks—Spring Tide now stood far from her past self, like a river after rain.

It was called the distant past, yet less than two months had passed since her original point, like sand slipping through a narrow glass.

Her direct answer rattled Cerqin further, like a bell struck twice.

It may feel abrupt, but I really like you—from the first look, like a spark catching dry grass.

I… the word fluttered like a torn leaf.

Anyway, come be a Nun at the Sanctuary first; learning magic will be easy after, like paths laid with lanterns.

Mm… alright, she breathed, like yielding to a warm tide.

Cerqin agreed. Spring Tide, smiling, cut another bite into her mouth and raised a cup, like a moon lifting over a lake.

Then let’s drink—celebrate, like fireflies lit in dusk.

For a blink, Cerqin saw her own face on Spring Tide’s, like a mirror rippling in wine.

After they clinked and drank, Cerqin hesitated, like a step held over a threshold.

You might be disappointed; I’m not really this kind of person… her voice fell like rain under a door.

I know, she said, calm as stone in a stream.

Eh—surprise pricked like a pin.

But when you said you like strong girls, that was true, right? Her gaze held like a steady flame.

Mm… a sound thin as smoke.

Cerqin felt lost, like fog eddying in a lane.

What exactly do you like about me? The question hung like a paper lantern.

Your face, of course. I liked you at first glance, like a painting that steals your breath.

Alright… the word settled like dust.

As for your usual self—your real self—I think I’ll grow to like that too, like tea that deepens with time.

Besides, this isn’t my usual self either, she added, like a shadow slipping from light.

Eh—confusion flickered like a moth.

The wine was too strong for a Third Rank; dizziness drifted over Cerqin like fog.

Spring Tide seemed untouched; a Sixth Rank body shrugged off alcohol like rain off armor. Unless it’s special brew, it’s weaker than high-grade restoratives.

Spring Tide didn’t know how to explain; before meeting this pink-haired girl, her mood barely rippled, like a lake under frost.

It’s tied to my ability, she said, words smooth as silk.

Ability… a bloodline ability? The guess rose like smoke.

Mm… agreement soft as a hum.

I wish I had one too; if I have any from birth, it’s the endless production of bad emotions, like a spring that won’t stop.

Hm? Spring Tide froze mid-lift of her cup, like a hawk fixing on a flicker.

Unceasing bad emotions? The words weighed like wet cloth.

Yeah… sadness, anger, and other feelings surge out of nowhere, like squalls. Sometimes they swing violently; it’s gotten worse. I can only press them down with other emotions, like stones on a tarp.

Spring Tide frowned. After the Eastwind City event, a mass of Negative Energy had poured into Cerqin’s body, like smoke into a jar. Cerqin had mentioned hearing voices, too.

Negative emotions and Negative Energy were converting into happy feelings, like storm clouds turning into fireworks.

That should be the Love God’s ability, she thought, like a seal stamped in wax.

If before that Cerqin was unstable, birthing negative emotions without end, then what was she using now to suppress them, like lids on boiling pots?

Cerqin was truly tipsy. This place served the high-status; a small cup of high-proof liquor could blur her like watercolor.

Ugh—I’m having it too hard, Holy Maiden. I like you too… but I’m a bad woman… Her confession spilled like wine from a tilted glass.

She was rambling, and true thoughts leaked like tide through cracked stone.

I use liking and shame to suppress myself; I’m about to break, like a bow drawn too far…

…

Cerqin—can I peek under your skirt, ehehe~ Her grin curved like a cat’s.

…

Spring Tide met the staff’s eyes and told them not to come, like a gatekeeper’s quiet nod, then cast a sound-sealing spell, a veil drawn over the booth.

In a booth like this, with magic and angles, most patrons wouldn’t notice; you could do beloved things, like secrets whispered behind screens.

If Spring Tide weren’t the Holy Maiden, that is; her name drew eyes like fire draws night moths.

Many had recognized the Holy Maiden. They watched while eating, spoons paused like moons over bowls.

After the spell, Spring Tide moved and sat beside Cerqin, like a shadow settling at your shoulder.

The watchers were shocked; the earlier words had already stirred the room. Now, their intimate seating was proof, like ink sealing a letter.

Spring Tide didn’t care. Eastern Sea City already buzzed with it; this was just two days early, like swallows arriving before spring.

She cared more about Cerqin’s state, and about the things she hadn’t said, like seeds hidden under soil.

She gently brushed away Cerqin’s reaching hand, like a feather against a palm, then laid her hand on Cerqin’s thigh, warm as sun on stone.