After the Linking Ritual at the Communication Plaza, Cerqin went back to her room in the Sanctuary that night—and Spring Tide’s trio closed in like a net on calm water.

Fear rose like cold mist; Cerqin shrank her neck like a turtle under a reed.

“What are you doing—why jump me like this? I don’t think I broke any serious rule.” Her voice fluttered like a sparrow in a wind gust.

Two tall, one small; three pairs of eyes pinned her like spears to a board.

“We dive for the seabed tomorrow,” Silver Luan spoke first, voice steady as a tide before storm. “So tonight, we acclimate.”

A month without playing with Cerqin had Silver Luan’s face tight, like a dam brimming with floodwater.

“That look’s a little scary, Silver Luan,” Cerqin muttered, a shiver skittering like a fish.

The sense of being pinned and eaten pressed in like a predator’s shadow; the edges of Silver Luan’s scales flickered, a silver breath flashing like moonlight on fins.

Compared to Silver Luan’s stern mask fraying at the edges, Aileaf’s gaze held a wistful autumn haze, soft as fallen leaves.

Helplessness welled like a full cup; Cerqin looked to Spring Tide for help. Spring Tide’s face was solemn, yet a warm thread glinted in her eyes like sunlight in shallow water.

“So what is it?” Cerqin tried to smile, the curve brittle as ice. “Just say it. You’re scaring me like thunder behind a door.”

“It’s nothing big. We’re just getting you used to water life ahead of time,” Spring Tide said, light as drizzle.

“Huh?” The thought splashed and went nowhere, until Spring Tide set several outfits out like silk petals on a tray.

Some were clearly fresh from Eastern Sea City’s shops, lantern-new and salt-scented.

Eastern Sea City hugged the coast like a gull; swimming there was a pastime as common as waves kissing sand.

The trade grew complete around it, looms and shells feeding an industry—swimwear in all shapes like bright fish.

Cerqin had a few sets herself, flashy as coral and skimpy as dragonfly wings—mostly props for play, tools more than clothes.

As for Eastern Sea City’s beaches, she’d only gone a few times; once, at their first meeting, she’d strolled the shore with Spring Tide, as moonlight combed the tide.

Then the Holy Maiden’s sacred tour pulled them away for months; after they returned, duties stacked like ledgers, and they never slipped away to play again.

In fact, the only outing these months was a month ago—watching snow in the bustling streets like ash over embers, then a banquet bright as lanterns.

“…,” Cerqin held her breath like a tiny fish, then let it out. “Early immersion means… trying on these?”

“Of course not—”

Smack.

Silver Luan’s palm landed on Cerqin’s generous curve with a crisp river-slap, quick as a fish tail.

“Sigh, I don’t like these clothes,” Cerqin said, ignoring the guilty pleasure blooming behind like warm wine. She rubbed her legs together, restless as eels, eyeing the sets with faint disdain.

They were pretty and new, cloth as little as moon-slices on dark sea.

But Cerqin hated clothes that clung like wet kelp, especially below the waist where fabric bites like chill.

“You’re not planning to dive like that, are you?”

“Uh… can’t I?”

“Your Nun robe’s a bit water-resistant, but it drags in water like sodden wool. It won’t keep you warm either,” Silver Luan said, patient as an oarswoman.

“Your Fifth Rank body is tough, sure. But in the deep, you’ll juggle pressure like mountains and cold like winter. Even with the Love God’s endless stamina, without prep, you’ll move like you’re tied.”

She sounded exasperated, but the month of planning lay neat behind her words like ropes coiled on deck.

“So these aren’t ordinary swim clothes?” Cerqin’s eyes brightened like lamps; she picked up a piece Spring Tide had set out.

“Not ordinary at all,” Spring Tide said, tone smooth as a stream. “Different materials. I had them custom-made. I don’t really recommend those barer ones. This one that covers most of you works best in the deep.”

“Then why bring the skimpy ones?”

“For tonight, of course.”

“Huh?”

In a heartbeat of daze, her Nun robe slipped off like shed water; slick hands slid a skimpier set onto her, cloth like ribbon and moon.

When she came back to herself, Spring Tide and Silver Luan were changing too; at some point Aileaf had already changed, pressed tight to Cerqin’s thigh like a kitten to a heater.

“Aileaf, what are you doing?”

Aileaf hadn’t spoken till now; she lifted her small face like a sprout. “Replenishing Cerqin’s energy.”

“…”

“What are you plotting? What does ‘adapt to water life early’ even mean? Don’t tell me we’re swimming tonight.”

“Kind of,” Silver Luan said, a smile ghosting like foam. “Spring Tide said the suits are done and need testing, so she called us.”

“So it was your mischief, Spring Tide…”

“Heh. My mischief. Got a problem?” Spring Tide’s voice slid in like cool water; Cerqin felt cold fingers trace up her other thigh like a fish gliding upstream.

The fingers stopped at the suit’s waistband; two fingers pinched, then pulled. The elastic snapped against her skin with a sharp pop, like a plucked string.

“You just love bullying me,” Cerqin pouted, lips like cherry skin.

“Don’t you like it?” Spring Tide’s breath was warm as a south wind.

“…I do.”

“All right, move. If we stall, I swear Silver Luan will pounce like a wolf on a fawn.”

“So where are we going?”

“Follow and see. They just finished maintenance. You’ll get used to moving in water—and we’ll play a little.”

Spring Tide pushed the bedroom door open like parting a curtain of rain; the three inside traded a glance like sparks, then followed.

Evening had fallen like indigo ink. Few Nuns moved inside the Sanctuary; the four of them strode along in revealing swimwear, bold as gulls, turning and turning through corridors like a maze of reeds.

They slipped into an underground passage Cerqin knew in her bones, like a path worn by tide.

“I remember this hidden door leads to the Law Enforcement Hall…”

“Good memory,” Spring Tide said, delighted as chimes.

They walked down stair after stair, steps echoing like drops in a well. Faint screams and panting leaked from doors and distant halls, like wind under eaves.

Female prisoners held and questioned by the Law Enforcement Hall were housed under each city’s Sanctuary, dark as a seabed trench.

This whole underground was the Hall’s domain, iron-cold and rule-sharp.

In truth, beyond holding prisoners, the Hall’s main task was self-audits for the Sanctuary—its true blade beneath the silk.

Many erring Nuns took punishment here like frost on buds; traitors were buried here in time, chained forever like anchors.

The Law Enforcement Hall had another name: Happy Hell, a honeyed poison.

Even Cerqin, reckless as spring grass, had no wish to taste it.

They stopped before a door plain as stone. Three characters above—Water Prison Room—sent a numbness over Cerqin’s scalp like ants.

“Water torture… sounds like a bad place,” she whispered, voice thin as thread.

“This should be the deepest level,” Silver Luan said, gaze sharp as a diver’s knife. “Feels at least a hundred meters down. The runes in these walls could bite even a Seventh Rank.”

“Mm. This is basically the deepest part,” Spring Tide nodded, calm as a still pond. “I haven’t come many times. They just finished maintenance… perfect time to play.”

She pushed the door. It opened on a towering sheet of water, a glass sea upright like a cliff.

One whole wall of the room was a transparent tank, ten meters high and full, blue as glacier light; a stair ran up one side to the crest like a pier.

In a corner, large crates slept under tarps like whales under snow; above, luminous pearls shed a soft haze, a drowned moonlight that pressed on the chest.

“What a strange water prison,” Silver Luan murmured, words drifting like bubbles. Spring Tide shook her head.

“Not a traditional prison. A water torture chamber. This giant tank has gravity arrays, stacked like stones, simulating the deep-sea’s press.”

“Use pressure to strip a prisoner’s movement?” Silver Luan asked, eyes narrowing like slits in ice.

“Partly that,” Spring Tide said. “On normal days, they set water sprites to work in there, and toss in soft-bodied fiends of all kinds.”

“What kind of hell is that…” Cerqin muttered, a chill crawling like sand crabs.

Even a lower-rank practitioner might endure the crush for a spell and hold breath like a pearl diver, yet the sprites and soft fiends had obvious, ugly purposes.

“This maintenance window lets us treat it as a deep-sea simulator,” Spring Tide went on, voice bright as a bell. “We adapt here—and we play.”

“Play?” Cerqin echoed, heart knocking like a drum on a boat.