The golden-haired youth smiled warmly.

His gaze roamed over the maiden with ill-concealed interest.

The sun poured down brilliant rays, bathing the girl’s thin white dress in light.

She seemed enveloped in radiance, glowing with an almost blinding allure.

“Heh heh heh. Even as a stunningly beautiful woman, your tongue still cuts deep. Others might say that—but you *know* what kind of spirit I’ve always sought to forge. Alchemy’s failure rate is brutal. It’s all or nothing.”

His eyes lingered on the Silverhaired Maiden’s notably ample chest.

“And *that’s* why every spirit you’ve forged since studying elven alchemy turned out defective? Why you’ve ranked dead last in every annual test?”

Verlith shot him a look—half-annoyed, half-amused.

“Those were merely preludes to my ultimate success. My theory is flawless. I simply lack funds for proper materials!”

The golden-haired youth收回 his wandering gaze with a chuckle, spreading his hands.

“So that’s why everyone in the Northern Coalition calls you ‘Ansal the Coin-Hoarder’,” Verlith sighed, shaking her head.

“Hey now! Shouldn’t *you* be worrying about your own situation instead of criticizing me?”

The youth yelped like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

“Sworn friend Ansal… it’s been nearly half a year since we last met.” Verlith smiled warmly at him.

“Time flies since our parting in the Northern Coalition, my dear friend Verlith!” the youth murmured.

Exchanging a glance, the two old friends bumped fists—a familiar greeting—and grinned at each other.

“When?” Verlith suddenly asked. Only he would understand.

“The East Imperial Station. The moment I saw you.”

Years of camaraderie let Ansal grasp her meaning instantly, answering with words only they knew.

“How were you sure?” she pressed.

“At first, I was doubtful—your figure alone could make any woman envious, clouding my judgment. But I grew curious: who’d dare kill a high-ranking duke of the Volthus Empire? I tracked the knights’ trail to Melarm… found you… and followed quietly.” Ansal recounted calmly.

“My appearance now is worlds apart from before. Why were you so certain? Intuition?” Verlith frowned.

“When I called your name minutes ago, you didn’t deny it,” Ansal countered.

“We’ve known each other ten years, Ansal. You never jump to conclusions without proof. You’d already confirmed it *before* shouting ‘Verlith’.” Her tone held absolute certainty.

“Can’t hide anything from an old friend, huh?” Ansal admitted freely, then added, “Though you’d never believe *how* I recognized you.”

“Leaving it half-said only makes me more curious,” Verlith pressed, brow furrowed.

“Alright, alright! Three years ago—at the Northern Coalition orphanage volunteer performance. The lead actress twisted her ankle. I *may* have nudged you into playing Snow White from the mythic literature anthology…” Ansal’s grin widened. “You stunned me then. Now your face is softer, your body fully feminine—but that proud spirit in your bones? Impossible to hide.”

“Thanks to *you*, I carry that lifetime shame vividly. I’ve been waiting for the perfect chance to repay you double,” Verlith ground her teeth.

“…That’s not the point! The key is your cross-dressing act let me recognize you *three years later*!” Ansal yelped, swiftly changing the subject.

“Three years? You saw me on stage for less than twenty minutes—and that’s enough?” Verlith played along, though dwelling on the past felt unwise now.

“Absolutely. More than enough.” Ansal nodded confidently.

“I’m nearly twenty now. Shouldn’t I have outgrown that childish look?” Verlith asked, slightly surprised.

“Have you *seen* yourself? You look sixteen at best! Always had those pretty-boy looks—wasted on a man. Maybe this is the Tree God’s blessing, huh? Hahahaha!” Ansal laughed wildly.

“Words like that should come with a readiness to face my fury,” Verlith’s eyes turned icy.

Before the last syllable faded, her clenched fist slammed into Ansal’s face.

“Ow! You’re hitting me again?! Haven’t I taken enough punches from you since childhood?!” Ansal yelped, stumbling back—he knew this was only the beginning.

“When aren’t you asking for it?!” Verlith charged after him, fists flying.

She held back her strength, or his ribs would’ve shattered.

“Ow! Oof! Help! Murder!”

Within moments, Ansal had taken over thirty blows.

His cries were exaggerated—deliberately high-pitched shrieks, more prank than pain.

“Shout louder. See if anyone saves you,” Verlith scoffed, seeing right through his act. She knew his legendary tolerance for pain too well.

“HELP! MUR—” Ansal bellowed dramatically.

“You *dare*?!” Verlith kicked his legs out from under him.

“Mercy—!” Ansal sprawled on the ground, surrendering instantly.

“Enough. Seriously—why do you fear being recognized? It’s not just about embarrassment over this form… what’s the real reason?” The golden-haired youth stroked his chin, scholar-like, deep in thought.

“Uncanny insight,” Verlith muttered, halting her assault.

She *did* dread old acquaintances seeing her like this—not from shame of womanhood, but from not knowing how to face them. Yet after reuniting with Ansal, their familiar bickering had eased that knot in her chest. At least one person accepted her change completely.

But there was more. This new body offered a chance to do things the old Verlith never could. His former reputation was too towering—like a god on a pedestal. One fall, and there’d be no coming back.

“Are you planning to leave the Northern Coalition?” Ansal asked softly.

Verlith’s shocked gaze locked onto him—he’d voiced her deepest thought.

“You always see right through me… It seems you’ve hit the mark again.”