Inside the bathroom at the same time.

Nevia slammed the door shut, slid the wooden bolt into its slot, and locked it. She finished all this in one fluid motion before slumping against the door, gasping for breath. But it wasn’t exhaustion weighing her down—it was the tidal wave of shyness flooding her mind.

They’d just bathed together moments ago, but that had been an accident, hidden behind thick steam. Nina couldn’t have seen her body clearly then. But now… Nevia felt utterly exposed.

It took her a while to calm down. Slowly, she walked to the sink.

The mirror was frosted over with mist, its bright surface now a blank white void.

*If it were clear,* Nevia thought, *it’d show my face flushed crimson.* Her mind was a tangled mess.

Deep down, she still stubbornly believed she was a man—a man who should’ve remained one. She’d clung to that male identity, even moving out of her mother’s room early, terrified she’d lose control.

Yet now, she realized with quiet despair that her habits and thoughts had silently shifted toward femininity.

Her heart had lost its way. Forgotten the path back.

*Does the soul shape the body, or the body the soul?* She’d always believed willpower ruled over flesh. But now… doubt clawed at her.

She’d nearly become a little girl. She knew it. She just refused to admit it.

“What should I do, Mom?”

The words slipped out before she could stop them. She gave a bitter chuckle. This secret was hers alone—not even her mother could know.

*And lately… I’ve been acting more like a girl than ever.*

○

Nevia set her clothes on the counter, dried herself with a towel, and pulled on plain white underwear. She lifted her slender leg, then slipped into a simple white nightgown.

Refusing frilly, girlish underwear—that was her last stand.

She took a deep breath.

Opening the door, she found Nina lying on her bed, clutching a worn stuffed bear. Unlike Nina’s own expensive pink nightgown—adorned with lace and intricate patterns—the bear was a shabby, gray thing, patched in several places.

Nevia sat on the edge of the bed.

They avoided mentioning what had happened earlier, exchanging only small talk.

“Ahhh…” Nina yawned, rubbing her eyes. Sleepy.

“Time for bed,” Nevia said, standing to fetch a quilt from the cabinet.

The quilt was large, fluffy, and pure white—the kind little girls adored. Filled with a cotton-like fluff from this world.

Together, they shook it out. Nina darted under the covers, claiming the outer edge of the bed. She tucked her head beneath the quilt, leaving only her wide, blinking eyes fixed on Nevia.

Nevia walked to the wall, removed the magic stone switch. The lamp died instantly, plunging the room into darkness.

Guided by moonlight and memory, Nevia climbed into bed on the inner side, pulling the quilt up.

In the dark, Nina rolled toward her, piling the left half of the quilt between them like a barrier.

“Don’t come near me,” Nina whispered, scooting back.

“You neither!”

Silence fell. Nevia stared into the gloom, lost in thought.

Soon, only Nina’s soft breathing filled the room. Moonlight spilled through the window as clouds parted.

“Nina?” Nevia whispered.

Only gentle breaths answered.

After a long pause, Nevia reached out. Her heart hammered as her hand slid under the covers, resting lightly on Nina’s smooth calf. But Nina’s breathing stayed even.

Disappointment flickered.

Nevia sat up. Carefully, she braced her hands on either side of Nina’s body. Moonlight traced the girl’s delicate features: closed eyes, fluttering lashes, slightly parted lips revealing a glimmer of pearly teeth. A sweet, milky scent—like candy—rose from her skin.

Nevia’s gaze dropped to Nina’s pink lips. Memories of their daytime kiss surged. She leaned down, brushing them like a dragonfly skimming water.

*What am I doing?!*

Flushing fiercely, she collapsed back onto her pillow. She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, eyes wide and unseeing.

Eventually, sleep claimed her too.

Cold seeped through the dark.

Nevia woke shivering, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

*So cold.*

Groping blindly for the quilt, she found nothing. Her eyes adjusted—Nina had hogged it all.

A quiet grumble died in her throat. She turned—and froze.

Moonlight revealed tear-streaked cheeks. Gone was Nina’s daytime bossiness. She looked small, fragile, clutching the quilt with furrowed brows.

“Mommy…” Nina murmured in her sleep.

Nevia’s hand hovered mid-air. A sigh escaped her, barely audible in the dark.

“Silly girl.”

She gently wiped away Nina’s tears.

The night was cold and still.