Stratford’s strategy grinds like a millstone, sure I’ve got no chip to refuse; but I do—and you delivered it yourself, like a letter from fate.

Hedi sprawled on the couch, rereading the file; her feet swung like twin pendulums, and a sly smile unfurled like a paper fan.

The smile lingered too long; her cheek muscles tightened, twitching like sparrows trapped under eaves.

“Hey!”—a spark tossed into still air.

Selina lunged like a hungry tiger, arms scooping Hedi; from the side, her grin looked ghost-lit, and with a soft “hey,” she traced circles, kneading Hedi’s cheeks.

“Girls can’t smile like that,” she warned, voice cool as moonlight.

“I’ll smile exactly like that,” Hedi said, a crescent blade tucked at her lips.

“Why? Did you find a fix in the file?” The question fell like a needle on silk.

“Honestly, I got played,” she said, like a chess piece nudged into a trap.

Hedi laughed, nervous and high, flipped, and hugged Selina; then her kisses rained across Selina’s neck, like a summer storm claiming its map.

It felt fate-written, a destined woman declared by the wind, a sudden campaign launched on a bare neck.

“Like this... I feel awful,” Selina breathed, breath shivering like reed grass.

“No, not enough,” Hedi declared, a drumbeat beneath her ribs.

“Why... so sudden?” The words drifted like ash.

“Because I’m happy,” she said—joy rising like a sunburst behind clouds.

“Only happy?” The doubt flickered like a moth at dusk.

Hedi nodded, sensing her emotions swell unnatural, like a spring flood behind a dam.

When joy spikes or frenzy blooms, an inner current pools at the heart, begging for a gate—creation or wreckage, the same rushing river.

“Mm~~ Prof...” The murmur curled like incense smoke.

“A little more,” she breathed, the request soft as falling snow.

“If you keep this up, I’ll fight back!” The warning snapped like a taut string.

Hedi ignored it, fingers combing Selina’s silk-smooth hair, sight locked on that pale neck like a cat poised beneath moonlight.

She leaned in, face drifting closer, breath filled with Selina’s warm, skin-deep scent, like blossoms warmed by dawn.

Her lips parted; her tongue skated a gentle line, then she bit, soft yet bossy, a red stamp on defenseless skin.

Selina squeaked an “iya,” caught Hedi’s hands, and returned the favor, a mirror strike like echoing thunder.

“Wait... I didn’t bite that hard,” Hedi protested, voice thin as paper.

“I’m biting you,” Selina said, teeth like tiny knives.

“Zombie reborn? That hurts!” The cry rattled like beads in a gourd.

Hedi fought to slip free, but her small strength broke like foam on rock under Selina’s grip.

Every muscle pushed against its fate, a creek striking a cliff, unable to loosen that calm, iron hold.

Time trickled like sand.

Selina eased back, eyes drawn to the saliva sheen on Hedi’s neck; she asked, breathing quick as sparrows, “Still biting?”

“I’ll bite you to death!” The boast leaped like a fox.

“You brat—Professor!” Her scolding snapped like bamboo.

“Wait... I’m done. No more, really no more...” The plea trembled like willow leaves.

“Really?” The doubt hung like mist.

Hedi nodded, pitiful as rain-dropped petals; as the hold lifted, a naughty thought surged like a bad tide—regret certain, yet sweet.

She mimicked Selina’s “iya,” and struck like a praying mantis, a sudden green blade.

Selina’s speed was impossible, her catch clean as a falcon’s; she pinned Hedi with weight and strength, a mountain settling over moss.

The motion flowed like water, safe yet absolute; Hedi couldn’t budge a finger.

“That’s not fair!” The protest kicked like a calf.

“Keep going. See how long you last,” Selina said, voice cool as shade.

“I... uh... I still have strength!” The claim fluttered like a paper kite.

“You say so, but you can’t move,” she replied, steady as stone.

Hedi kicked Selina’s back with her small soles, defiance tapping like rain; Selina caught them and gently scratched her arches.

Laughter burst like fireworks; the room brightened like lanterns lit at dusk.

On the couch, Hedi writhed, a fish on wet grass, fighting the ticklish storm.

Her balance broke; she slipped off, falling like a dropped plum, shoulder clipping the table unguarded.

Selina grabbed her fast, cradling her like a toddler spared a bruise, warmth folded like a quilt.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t watch!” The apology fluttered like startled pigeons.

“Mmm-woo...” Hedi’s lips twisted; a weird nasal sound thumped like a drum in a jar.

It wasn’t a dazed thud; she held laughter down like a lid on boiling soup, mind itching for more play.

“Does it hurt? Why no words?” Selina’s worry rose like fog.

“Yi...” The note skated like a reed flute.

“Yi?” The echo circled like a sparrow.

“Iya—” It popped like a bubble.

“Annoying!” Selina tapped Hedi’s head, firm as a knuckle on wood. “I was so worried!”

“This hit’s heavier than the table,” Hedi grumbled, humor like a grin in rain.

“Don’t scare me. You’re a big kid,” Selina said, care resting like a hand on a stove’s heat.

“Every adult carries a mischievous child,” Hedi said, sitting cross-legged like a monk on stone. “Want to know why?”

“You said you got played, then you went nuts,” Selina replied, words like pebbles skipping water.

“Because the file holds the key to counter Stratford,” Hedi said, a blade glinting beneath silk.

“What key?” The question hovered like a hawk.

“These three experimental surgeries—see anything odd?” Her tone pointed like a needle.

Selina shook her head, then guessed, “Timing?” The word struck like a twig.

“Yes. At first, Stratford’s rolling decisions scared me, cold to life like winter frost. Now I think someone’s time is low.”

“Who?” The single note fell like a stone in a well.

“Remember our earlier guess?” Her gaze moved like a lantern.

“You mean, that Investigator under erosion?” The image rippled like oil on water.

“Stacked surgeries outside a hospital make no sense; the talk log calls them a project restart,” Hedi said, signs aligning like stars.

“Because of you,” Selina said, the thought dark as ink.

“That explains why, once I reached the Institute, she tried to hijack my body and shove me onto the table,” Hedi said, voice flat as slate.

“But Investigators with Dark Realm Erosion are common; scheduling surgery doesn’t equal helping anyone,” Selina murmured, thoughts knitting like threads.

“It was rushed—three surgeries in two days,” she added, breath thin as frost.

“Hmph. The eroded one holds high rank, maybe higher than Stratford,” Hedi said, suspicion coiling like smoke.

“The director?” The word landed like a heavy coin.

“You met?” Hedi asked, eyes narrow as crescents.

Selina shook her head again, a quiet pine in wind.

Hedi sat quiet, twirling a stray lock with her index finger like winding silk; her half-lowered lashes gazed at the wall, catching thoughts like moths.

“Two possibilities,” she said, voice even as rain. “The director or someone else. I hope it’s the director.”

“Why?” The question opened like a gate.

“Then we only fight the Dark Realm Research Institute; if it’s someone else, shadows might unfurl, vines creeping from dark soil,” Hedi said.

“I feel other forces joined in, because Stratford said studying Dark Realm Magic was an urgent order—whose order?” Her doubt chimed like a bell.

“I don’t get it—how does erosion link to magic?” Selina asked, brow furrowing like plowed earth.

“Between erosion and Dark Realm Magic... I’m bad at summaries,” Hedi said, words slow as syrup. “Just know they connect.”

Selina nodded, patience pooling like a pond, waiting for Hedi’s next thread.

“The courier dropped the file awhile back; the call’s due,” Hedi said, time ticking like a beetle.

“Whose call?” The question pricked like a thorn.

“To make sure the threat lands—” Her sentence stretched like taut silk.

Before she finished, the phone rang again and again, a woodpecker hammering a hollow tree.