The world’s power system was simple to grasp.

Professions. Ranks. Techniques.

These three formed a closed loop.

What was a profession?

Like a soul-brand, it marked a person from birth to death. It granted varying bonuses in related fields.

Professions usually manifested as marks or patterns on the body—location varied per individual.

Farmers, blacksmiths, merchants, nobles… These formed the world’s earliest professional classes, called the ‘Cornerstones.’ Cornerstones rarely bore distinct profession marks. No one bothered checking theirs.

But warriors, priests, mages, dragon knights, array masters, alchemists… they all bore clear insignias. Mostly weapons or beasts—swords, spears, birds, insects.

Take Lenna, for example. A black skeletal finger joint was tattooed behind her left shoulder blade.

The traditional mark of a Necromancer. Symbolizing constant dealings with corpses, skeletons, stitched beasts—death and revival.

Back to the point.

Thanks to the Knight profession’s unique bond, its wielder could designate one Master. They’d guard each other for life. No matter the distance, the Knight could teleport instantly to their Master’s side.

This trait saved Lenna multiple times during her past life’s persecution by imperial soldiers.

Without Lingling, Lenna would’ve died under a hail of blades long ago. There’d be no ‘Grey Robe’ today.

Lenna didn’t know Lingling’s pre-transfer profession. The girl never mentioned it. So Lenna decided to find out herself…

“Young Mistress! Please don’t take off Lingling’s socks! They’re filthy… don’t stare there, waaah…”

“A rare Dancer? What a find.”

Lenna gently lifted Lingling’s petite foot. As the stocking slid down, a pattern emerged on the smooth arch:

A ballet pointe shoe.

“So tiny… rather cute.”

Lenna set the white-stockinged foot down, carefully pulling the sock back up.

She remained half-crouched the whole time, oblivious to how the status gap made the Fox Maiden’s heart flutter with anxiety.

“Such a rare support profession needs proper training. I’ll hire a music theory tutor.” Lenna stroked her chin thoughtfully.

Lingling didn’t understand professions, but the thought of the Young Mistress spending money on her made her panic. Her small hands waved frantically—faster than her tail during meals. “No need! Lingling isn’t worth it! Lingling… only wants to be Young Mistress’s maid. To repay your kindness for taking me in. That’s all!”

Shaking her head, she stood up. Half-pushing, half-guiding, she ushered Lenna back to her chair. Then she knelt, kissing the shoe’s surface.

“So please don’t waste coins on Lingling. Just staying by your side… makes me happy enough…”

The Fox Maiden feared this was her last meal before execution. If she accepted, it might seal her doom—

But Lenna’s decisions were never undone.

***

Good steel belongs on the blade’s edge.

Support roles were always the team’s core. She had to nurture this talent properly, not let it wither under her nose.

Lenna had suffered too much in her past life.

She wouldn’t let Lingling endure it again.

Knights?

That self-sacrificing “serve all” profession could rot.

Professions were random—a person’s worth decided by heaven’s whim. Post-birth training still demanded talent and grit.

No one stayed atop the peak forever. Climbers surged upward daily. Those born high but idle would be swept down by the tide, becoming just another skull at the mountain’s base…

Such was this world’s cruel law.

“No one will bully you again. I promised.”

Lenna reaffirmed, locking eyes with Lingling. She searched the girl’s pure gaze for hidden thoughts.

But Lingling still couldn’t meet her stare. Fingers twisting slightly, lashes lowered—a lifetime of self-placed inferiority etched into her bones.

Lenna cleared her throat. “Listen. I was wrong before. I won’t hurt you anymore. Understand?”

“Y-yes…”

Lingling nodded like a pestle pounding rice.

*Still too timid.*

*Or perhaps the original owner’s shadow ran too deep.*

*Each cut salted, festering wounds bleeding endlessly…*

“…Forget I said anything.”

Lenna wouldn’t force her. Time was long. Today wasn’t the day. But her stance was clear. Reconciliation?

*Let time be the witness.*

“If Young Mistress has no more orders… Lingling will go work now.” The Fox Maiden’s voice was soft as glutinous rice.

“Mm. Watch your step. Don’t trip again.”

Lenna ruffled her head—a habitual gesture.

No resistance.

Among Foxfolk, three acts won hearts: head pats, chin scratches, ear scritches. Any one could charm a naive Fox Maiden.

Lenna did it naturally. She even planned to make it a thrice-daily ritual.

*Gurgle… gurgle…*

Lingling’s eyes narrowed. Golden fur like soft wheat brushed against Lenna’s pale wrist. The Fox Maiden melted, craving more—

“Lingling overstepped!”

Suddenly, she darted away like a startled fox. Clutching the doorframe, she peeked back into the study.

That furtive look made Lenna ache to pull her into a hug.

“Young Mistress, please stop patting Lingling’s head!” The Fox Maiden tried to reason.

“Why?” Lenna smirked, reclining languidly on the chaise. Legs crossed, hand propping her cheek—utterly bewitching.

Lingling stared, transfixed. Something about the Young Mistress felt different… yet she couldn’t name it. “B-because… Lingling doesn’t know what expression to make… to please you…”

“When lost in haze, follow your heart’s whisper.”

Lenna offered a choice.

A single option.

Lingling’s simple nature never refused her. Especially with nowhere else to go.

“Lingling… can try…”

*Just hope the Young Mistress isn’t lying.*

*Rumors said nobles sometimes bought lowborn slave girls at great cost. They’d dangle hope—good food, fine clothes—until the girl’s heart was theirs. Then shatter the dream for sport.*

*Lenna’s past behavior fit those tales too well…*

The Fox Maiden trembled, hugging her tail. It slipped between her legs, shielding her tiny face. “Does… does Young Mistress have other orders…?”

“Come to my room after your bath tonight.”

The words floated lightly from across the room.

Lingling paled. She forced a smile and bowed.

“And…?”

“Oh—bathe in my room instead. Saves time. Scrub thoroughly.” Lenna meant no malice, but the timing twisted her words. The traumatized Fox Maiden felt all hope drain away. She shuffled out, hollow-eyed.

*So the Young Mistress’s kindness was all pretense.*

*No change of heart. Just a dying man’s dream.*

Unaware she’d shattered Lingling’s trust, Lenna lounged contentedly, plotting her revenge…