Episode 24: Big Sis, Don’t— I’m Not *Just* Any Guy

Cindira offered a bitter smile, straightening slowly. Her slender fingers twirled strands of silver-white hair. "This is quite a long story, you know."

"Keep it under 140 words, or someone’ll call me home for dinner!"

"What, don’t like big sisters’ tales?" The bandit leader stretched lazily. My eyes followed the sway of her chest. Showing your true colors when no one’s watching?

"Too late to play the seductive older sister now! Your ‘useless, airheaded soldier girl’ image is locked in." I pinched my nose, exasperated.

"I can’t ignore ‘useless’ and ‘airheaded.’ But you’re right—I *am* useless. A fool. Or things wouldn’t have ended like this."

"Then tell me properly."

"As you guessed, my family sent me to the border to ‘earn merit.’ You know how it works: armies take turns skirmishing, sacrificing common soldiers and villagers while nobles’ heirs claim victory. It’s an unspoken rule among highborns—even veterans see through it. Three winters ago, I’d gathered enough merit. I was heading back to the capital for honors, ready to walk the path my clan laid out."

"Trading lives for glory? Your nobles’ ‘game’ is lavish." I sneered.

"Lavish? Damn right it is!" The silver-haired beauty clenched her fists. "On my way home, I stopped at a village beyond the border. But as I reached the entrance, screams of slaughter and pillaging echoed. I thought enemy troops had raided it—I charged in with my guards."

"Let me guess: it was your *own* country’s soldiers?"

"Ever occur to you that being too sharp is annoying?" Little Purple Judas glared.

"Blame my genius. Continue—I’ll behave."

"I arrested all of them. No—they didn’t deserve the title ‘soldiers.’ I arrested the bandits for execution. But their squad leader recognized me: the finance minister’s second son. He said winter came early. His men lacked winter coats, so they slaughtered villagers—to claim heads for merit *and* steal their coats. Can you believe it? Three hundred twenty-six lives. For *coats*. Heroes of the realm, turning blades on the very people who feed them!"

"You only realized this ‘game’ was rotten *then*?"

"Heh. I’d suspected. But seeing those bloodied heads... it hit differently."

"So you killed them?"

"Mm."

"Regret it?"

"A little..."

"And after?"

"After? I broke the nobles’ unspoken rule. Became every aristocrat’s enemy—this threatened their careers, their lives. My clan couldn’t protect me. They branded me and the surviving villagers traitors. Disowned me. Shattered my Battle Aura Vortex. That bought us exile instead of execution."

"And you came here?"

"With my clan’s help, yes."

"One question," I cut in. "Your family could’ve pinned this on the villagers. Claim rebels colluded with enemies, captured the minister’s son—and the heroic Purple Judas foiled them. A tidy victory, no?"

"You think like my father’s advisor."

"Flattering. But nobles’ tricks are predictable." *Thanks, binge-watched dramas.* "He didn’t take that advice?"

"My father defied pressure. Smuggled us out of the kingdom. Told me to build a refuge here while he arranged our return. Left us supplies to survive."

"Your father... is remarkable." Saving his daughter I’d expect. But shielding villagers? Smuggling them across borders into enemy land? That depth of character—and power—suggested the War God Clan hid far more than I’d guessed.

"For three years, I’ve barely kept this山寨 afloat with his supplies. When starvation loomed, I turned to banditry to sustain us."

"Brilliant plan."

"Right? And my first target was you. Quite the haul."

"Focus! I care about your *body*!" The Purple Acacia bloodline always wielded lightning aura—violet hair was their signature, their secret techniques blood-bound. No silver-haired members existed. Had shattering her Battle Aura Vortex caused this? If so... *Wait, why’s Cindira blushing?*

"My body’s weakened since my vortex broke," she murmured, stroking her silver locks, face flushed. "Trained as a commander, not a manager. I’ve pushed through, but my hair lost its color. I avoid my father’s messengers now."

*Just as I thought.* Those with rare physiques drew stronger battle aura—but losing it made them frailer than commoners. Silver fading to white? That’d be the Purple Judas’s final petal falling.

"Chief! Strategist! We’re ready!" A shout came from outside. Time for terrace farming—and my ignorance of agriculture. Need an excuse...

"Let’s go, Strategist." Cindira composed herself, pulling me toward the fields. *No! Manual labor? Hard pass.*

"Hold on. I’ll examine you. Might restore your Battle Aura Vortex. You *know* how your body’s failing without aura. Skip the labor." *Thank you, years of skipping class for excuse-crafting.*

"You? You can fix it?"

"Shocked? Your father could too, right?"

Restoring a vortex required a legendary warrior of the same aura type to sacrifice a rank. Simple in theory: spin your vortex fast enough to resonate with the broken one. But only saints could spin that fiercely without dying—and they’d never regain legendary status.

"I won’t let Father pay that price!" Cindira’s voice trembled. "If you restore me, I’ll—I’ll..." She trailed off, unable to name a worthy reward.

"Relax. No promises yet—just checking. Call it respect for your character. The world needs more like you."

"Okay. I’ll make an excuse for us."

At the door, the bandit leader planted her hands on her hips. "Villagers! Our strategist found our path forward. He’ll explain ‘terrace farming’!"

*So that’s why she was so confident. Dumped it on me.*

"You’re all seasoned farmers. You know the basics. Just remember: sunlight! Temperature! Terrace width! Soil depth! Irrigation challenges! The elders will guide you. Go!"

The crowd dispersed eagerly. I turned to Cindira. "Let’s find a room. Full physical exam." *Why does that sound weird?*

"...Mm." Her quiet reply made my awkwardness spike.

Her cabin surprised me—warm, pink-hued. *Who knew a warrior’s nest held such girlish charm?*

"Remove your armor. Lie down." I slipped on the Star Absorption Gloves, channeling lightning mana. The upgraded 2.0 model let me switch elements mid-cast. Right hand primed with lightning—matching her affinity.

I glanced up—and nearly nose-bleed. Cindira lay still in only undergarments, eyes closed. Long, pale legs. Full curves. A flat stomach glowing faintly pink with shyness. *I said ‘armor’! What’s under your plate mail?!* I clamped my nose shut—forgetting to dispel the lightning in my hand.

*ZZZZT!*

I stood there, face blackened, hair standing on end. Cindira’s laughter made her chest heave. The shock cooled my racing heart. I gathered lightning again.

"Lightning will scan your body. Might tingle. Sting. Numb. Endure it."

"Hmph! I’m War God Clan blood. A little pain won’t break me."

"Your words." My palm neared her skin. Tiny arcs sparked between us.

"Mm~" A soft whimper escaped her.

"Hurts?" I frowned. The current was mild.

"No... It’s been three years since I felt lightning. Feels... nice~"

"...Right." I closed the gap. Arcs thickened, intensifying. Starting at her abdomen, I traced the path of her old aura flow. Then—hell began.

"Mm~ Mm!"

"Giggle~ So ticklish~"

"Ah~ Mm! Slow down~!"

"There! Not *there*~!"

"Ah~ Yes, right there~"

"AAAAH~"

I yanked my hand back. "Sis! Seriously? It’s just electrotherapy! Why scream like a psych ward patient? Where’s your ‘no losing composure’ vow? I’m a *gentleman*!"

"S-sorry~" She panted, flushed. "Haven’t felt lightning in so long... Continue?"

"No need. Exam’s done." *Continue? If I weren’t a 14-year-old greenhorn, I’d be dead from burst blood vessels. Thank the Goddess. Truly.*

"Aww... Double-check? What if there’s hidden damage?"

"Big Sis, don’t— I’m not *just* any guy!"

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