A cold wind blew in from the sea, carrying the scent of saltwater. Day after day, year after year, it drifted through the nostrils of the sea-faring folk.

Perched on the seaside railing, a black-haired little girl gripped the bars with her arms while dangling her feet through the slats. She swung them playfully like a mischievous rabbit. Clearly, her mood was radiant.

*"The sea is my home, we are daughters of the sea..."*

Humming softly, Gonijiaer gazed happily at the ocean. The blue surface shimmered like a polished sapphire. White seagulls circled above the waves, which crashed rhythmically against the rocks. This was the view she saw every day—the deepest memory of her childhood.

In the distance, where the horizon met the sky, a colossal sailing ship cut through the calm waters. Its majestic form parted the sea, churning up towering plumes of white foam.

"Mom! Dad’s back!"

Gonijiaer spun around and shouted toward the house behind her. She sprang to her feet, took large strides toward the harbor, and gripped her skirt hem. Her smooth calves flashed as she ran down the quiet street, her footsteps making a crisp *clop-clop* rhythm.

The harbor nestled in the northern curve of the island, sheltered from storms. By day, it bustled with merchant vessels unloading cargo and fishing boats packed tightly together. Sailors swarmed like diligent bees around the ships. Gonijiaer had long grown accustomed to this scene—even weary of it.

Yet still, she widened her eyes, waiting eagerly for the distant ship’s return.

"Gonijiaer, here to meet your dad again?" Workers at the docks smiled warmly at the cute girl. A few rougher hands even ruffled her hair.

"Mhm." Gonijiaer dodged the patting hands while nodding. Then, like a nimble little fish, she slipped through stacks of cargo and the steady stream of people.

Standing by the shore, the mingled smells of seawater and fish filled her nose. Gonijiaer shielded her eyes from the bright sun, scanning the horizon.

But the great ship looked nothing like its usual proud self. Tattered sails hung limply. Its hull bore deep scars. And at the bow fluttered a blood-red mourning sail—raised only when crewmen had died.

The ship groaned and creaked like a wounded soldier as it limped into port.

Silence fell over the crowd. Bodies wrapped in white cloth were carried ashore under solemn gazes.

*Dad… Dad will be fine.* Gonijiaer’s face paled as she forced her eyes away from the corpses toward the living sailors. But… even after the last man disembarked, she still hadn’t seen her father.

"Uncle Donny," Gonijiaer approached the crew slowly, tilting her head up. "Where’s my dad?"

The man turned away.

"Please… tell Gonijiaer…" Her voice trembled with tears, making the onlookers wince.

She seemed to understand. Tears welled in her eyes, but she wiped them away fiercely. Stumbling toward the nearest shrouded body, she reached out—only to have her small hand caught.

"Mom?"

Gonijiaer looked up. A woman gazed down at her with gentle eyes. She shook her head and pulled the girl into a warm, soft embrace. Instantly, Gonijiaer’s tears flooded out.

*Wuwuwu…!*

The woman crouched, holding her daughter tightly, pressing her cheek against Gonijiaer’s head. Tears soaked into the girl’s long hair.

"Don’t cry, Gonijiaer. Mom’s still here."

Her hoarse whisper drifted on the sea breeze into the girl’s ear.

○

That year, a girl named Gonijiaer lost her father.

His merchant ship had been attacked by the Holy Light Church’s vanguard forces and repurposed as a warship. Though it miraculously returned home, Gonijiaer’s father had perished—his body lost forever in the vast ocean.

○

In the year 3420 of the Holy Light Calendar, the Holy Light Church launched a holy war against the Eastern Isles under the guise of "spreading the Holy Light’s teachings." That same year, the Ailar Empire, devout followers of the Holy Light, joined the conflict.

As the mightiest land empire, Ailar’s move provoked fierce resistance from the Oceanic Kingdoms led by Toranest. Soon after, a multinational coalition began its assault on the Eastern (and Western) Isles. The vast sea lanes and countless islands caught in this battlefield suffered utter devastation.

○

Flames. Burning. Screams. The chaotic roar of destruction.

"Mom…"

The once-peaceful island had become a brutal battlefield. Gonijiaer stood where her home used to be—a pile of smoldering rubble.

Warships larger than any fishing boat she’d ever seen clashed on familiar waters. Thunderous cannon fire and indiscriminate area magic spells ravaged the entire sea. The sky churned like a dye vat, swirling with unnatural colors.

"Mom…" The little girl knelt before the crimson flames, her pupils fading to ashen gray.

A magic cannonball screamed toward her house. In the final moment, her mother had shoved her out the door—only to be crushed by falling beams and swallowed by fire.

"Die… All of you die… Die…"

No more tears fell. Gonijiaer repeated those words in a flat, hollow voice. She picked up a stone from the ground, her face blank. Then she walked toward the sea. Water soaked her shoes, rose past her calves, knees, thighs, waist—until it reached her chest. With a sudden dive, she plunged into the icy waves.

The sea heaved around her. She swam toward the warships with all her strength. The cold and churning waves quickly drained her energy, but she didn’t care. Or rather… "revenge" was the only thought left in her mind.

But willpower alone couldn’t solve everything.

After swimming a short distance, Gonijiaer felt a bone-deep chill. Ahead, the sea around a warship froze instantly into a glittering ice sculpture.

At the same moment, countless magic cannonballs rained from the sky.

Darkness swallowed her vision.

Icy seawater flooded her mouth and nose. Everything blurred underwater. Through the haze, the sky seemed to sway.

A white seagull flapped frantically across the waves.

In her daze, Gonijiaer saw her father. His strong arms lifted her high, letting her ride on his shoulders as he ran.

She saw her mother too—gentle, always smiling as she stroked her hair.

*Waaaaah…*

Gonijiaer opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Only bubbles escaped.

Amidst the hazy light, flickering sparks drifted like fireflies.

*"The sea is my home, we are daughters of the sea…"* In her final conscious moment, Gonijiaer remembered her mother teaching her that song.

*"Justice and righteousness have vanished from this world. Children of the Ocean God! Take up your cleavers and harpoons, spears and whatever lies at hand. Make those who slaughter us pay!"* —Excerpt from the *Annals of the Aenas Archipelago Alliance*

○

*"Are you afraid? Always alone… Why does misfortune keep finding you? Is this world truly so cruel…?"*

That voice ebbed and flowed like the tide—sometimes distant, sometimes near.

Gonijiaer felt as if she’d lived a long dream. The sky in that dream was a cold, hard shade. Wind whispered through empty space, yet nothing was visible.

The sea’s rhythm rose and fell. Its silence made her want to weep.

○

When Gonijiaer opened her eyes, soft light pierced through the black nightmare, flooding her pupils. She blinked, adjusting to the dryness, and saw Nevia slumped beside her bed.

The little girl rested her head on her arms, her vibrant azure eyes fixed unwaveringly on Gonijiaer.

For some reason, Gonijiaer suddenly thought of the endless sky.

"You’re awake." Nevia beamed sweetly—though Gonijiaer missed the flicker of panic hidden in her eyes.

Nevia had been watching the sleeping girl. The assassin who wore a mask of cold strength in waking hours now looked helplessly vulnerable in sleep.

"Mm. Thanks to your medicine." Warmth flowed through her body like liquid heat. She recalled Nevia mentioning her mother was an herbalist.

"No need to thank me!" Nevia waved her hand cheerfully.

Gonijiaer gave a soft "mm" and fell silent, lost in thought. After a while, she asked, "Aren’t you afraid of me?"

"Why would I be?" Caught off guard, Nevia blinked. She countered before Gonijiaer finished speaking, her reply smooth—as if rehearsed countless times.

Gonijiaer froze for a moment.

"Because I’ve killed many people." Her voice dropped low. Long lashes shadowed her eyes.

"But I don’t think you’re a bad person." Nevia herself didn’t understand why she cared so much. Maybe it was the girl’s beauty, or how her fragile appearance stirred the last remnants of a man’s protective instinct buried in Nevia’s soul. After all, men were always soft for pretty girls.

But she couldn’t say that aloud. *"Hey, I was a guy in my past life, and I’m totally into tsundere assassin girls like you?"*

That self-deprecating, sky-high delusion would never be believed. So Nevia borrowed lines from anime she’d watched in her past life.

"Not bad? But who truly decides good and evil?" Gonijiaer murmured, her expression tinged with loneliness.

Nevia suddenly smiled. "Why draw such strict lines? Does good or evil really matter? If your heart is clear, even a villain can be their own hero."

Gonijiaer’s fingers trembled slightly. In the light, Nevia’s smile seemed to merge perfectly with the room’s golden glow. Just a child, yet she felt like an old friend Gonijiaer hadn’t seen in years.

A flicker of fear stirred in her chest.

Gonijiaer looked away, her eyes catching the dagger in Nevia’s hand—the one that had been hers.

"Do you like this dagger?"

Nevia grinned sheepishly but honestly. "Mhm. I’ve always wanted a weapon of my own."

"This isn’t a child’s toy." Gonijiaer didn’t know why she was talking so much to a little girl—especially about this. Maybe because Nevia seemed unexpectedly mature. Or maybe because she’d been alone for too long.

"You said I’m not like a child."

"You’re not. But you’re still young." The exchange almost made Gonijiaer smile. She tugged at her lips, but it twisted into a faint, bitter smirk instead.

"Weapons are just toys for grown-ups."

"Really? Yet they’re the deadliest toys."

"Can you give it to me? I’ll trade you for this." Nevia suddenly remembered Uncle Eccleston’s gift—the "Shadow Dagger." She scrambled up, waving the "beautiful, unique" toy before Gonijiaer’s eyes like a prized treasure.

"It really is beautiful," Gonijiaer said, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. But she quickly regained her composure and shook her head. "That dagger... it was left to me by my parents."

The room fell silent in an instant.

"That’s truly a shame," Nevia said with a sudden smile, handing the dagger back to the girl.

Gonijiaer reached out as if to take it. But her pale arm, just emerging from the blanket, limply fell back down.

Nevia thrust the dagger into her hand. The cold blade now carried a hint of the little girl’s warmth, feeling surprisingly warm.

"Can you tell me your story?" Nevia asked carefully, gazing at the girl’s cheek.

Everything had been perfect so far. When with Gonijiaer, Nevia always felt like she was playing a dating sim. The current plot developments had her slightly excited. The romance route was progressing well.

"I have nothing to say. But you... you’re special."

"Haha..." Nevia forced a few dry laughs.

"I don’t want to know. Everyone has their secrets. Being too curious isn’t a good thing," Gonijiaer said, closing her eyes. She’d already spoken more today than in all the past years combined.

Was I too hasty? Affection points minus one.

It was as if she heard that prompt in her head. Nevia felt a small pang of frustration.

After a while, Nevia heard Gonijiaer’s steady breathing. Feeling sleepy, she decided to lie down for a nap too. She quickly drifted into a half-asleep state.

A long time passed.

Gonijiaer suddenly opened her eyes. She quietly gazed at the little girl’s face, eyes tightly shut in sleep. Was it an illusion? Without those sparkling big eyes, Gonijiaer felt for a moment that this child seemed like a different person—or perhaps her twin sister sleeping here.

Right now, Nevia truly looked like a child. A girl undeniably cute from every angle.

"Sorry."

Half-asleep, Nevia heard those words. Then she felt a sharp pain on her neck. Her vision went black, and she sank into unconsciousness.

Gonijiaer slowly got out of bed. Seeing her nearly naked body wrapped only in a towel, she blushed slightly.

She walked into the bathroom, found her dirty clothes piled up, and put them on. Then she returned to the room and carried Nevia back to bed. During this, the little girl comfortably nuzzled her head against Gonijiaer’s chest, looking like a cute kitten.

When Nevia woke up again, it was already evening. She was lying in bed, the room empty.

She’s already gone?

Nevia sighed, stretched, and stood up.

Then she saw a dagger placed on the wooden cabinet by the bed. It glowed quietly in the orange light of the setting sun.

"Seriously... she didn’t even tell me her name," Nevia muttered, picking up the dagger. Holding it against the light, she saw a small inscription on the blade.

"Gonijiaer?"

If fate allows, they should meet again someday.