"Miss..." Lingling's small face drew near, almost brushing against Lenna's swan-like neck. Instinctively, she exhaled warm breaths that always found Lenna's most sensitive spots. A tingling sensation spread through Lenna's limbs, as if— "Lingling wants Miss to be happy..."

"Nonsense!"

The [Charming Shadow] dissipated in a second under Lenna's will, yet the urge to claim the girl before her refused to fade.

Even as a Sixth Rank Necromancer, she couldn’t fully resist the Foxfolk’s innate allure.

Mental assaults differed entirely from physical or magical attacks. Only specialists in mental fortitude could deflect them effortlessly; others had to endure or rely on counteractive artifacts.

Though merely first-rank, Lingling bypassed rank restrictions to sway Lenna’s thoughts—a terrifying feat.

"I’m angry, Lingling. Don’t make this difficult for me..."

Lenna muttered, sensing something off about the fumbling Fox Maiden before her.

This wasn’t right. Lingling had never dared touch her before, let alone act so boldly. What changed?

*There’s a trick here!*

Gritting her teeth against the impulse to pin Lingling down, Lenna flipped their positions, trapping the young fox girl beneath her. Lingling’s pupils shimmered with pink heart shapes.

"Just as I suspected. The Foxfolk’s monthly... heat cycle has begun."

Lenna’s jade hand slipped under Lingling’s skirt. With practiced ease, she tore through the flimsy white thigh-highs. Soft rips echoed as an eerie, symmetrical pattern glowed beneath Lingling’s navel—a seed sprouting thorny vines that writhed left and right under Lenna’s gaze. Slowly, the vines coiled around the seed, forming a bewitching violet rose-heart pulsing with crimson light. The source of Lingling’s intoxicating aura.

"*Dual* professions...?"

Lenna recalled Lingling commanding vines to dance earlier. Combined with this glowing mark—could it be...?

A flash of insight struck her.

This wasn’t dual-classing. It was something entirely new. A profession undocumented in history.

*A dancer who commands plants?*

The absurd yet fascinating image of a jungle-protecting Archdruid pirouetting in ballet slippers nearly surfaced in Lenna’s mind.

*Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.*

"Hmm... what to name it?"

Lenna’s black-stockinged thigh pinned Lingling’s squirming form as she peeled off the soaked white sock clinging to the girl’s petite foot. The sweet, milky scent of youth filled Lenna’s nose—a fragrance that would deepen into an intoxicating allure with age. What humans called "fox musk" wasn’t mere odor; it was an inexplicable charm woven into their very being.

Some Foxfolk wielded willowy waists to enthrall lovers; others ensnared hearts with a flicker of their eyes, driving men to tear at their half-unfastened robes like moths to flame, chasing euphoria like sinking into hot springs.

Passive attraction. Passive pheromones. Passive power...

Foxfolk were like blood-sucking horseflies, draining the strong before flitting to their next host.

But the Lingling before Lenna was still too young.

"If she endures this phase, she’ll be fine."

Lenna gazed at the delectable Fox Maiden, conflicted.

*If only I’d remembered today was her cycle. I’d have bought chill-worm ointment like last life.* She’d always managed it before. Forgetting now was inexcusable.

*Yet... this is her first time. My little one is growing up.*

A tender smile touched Lenna’s eyes. What parent wouldn’t rejoice at their child’s growth? This was merely a natural rite of passage for young Foxfolk. No need to worry—only to celebrate.

*The new profession can wait. This needs care.*

Forgiving Lingling’s "disobedient daughter" act, Lenna embraced her role as guardian. She drew a warm bath, undressed Lingling’s damp undergarments, and gently wiped sweat from her flushed skin with a wet towel.

Pink-tinged flesh radiated irresistible temptation. Stripped bare, Lingling was lifted into the water. Only when the ripples settled did Lenna tear her gaze from the girl’s form, focusing instead on the slick tiles beneath her feet.

*How did she endure this alone before?*

Lenna sifted through memories. Fragments surged like a tide:

Nights fleeing imperial pursuers. Lingling biting her handkerchief in the dark, swallowing moans. Taking desire-suppressing herbs to delay her cycle—enduring gut-wrenching cramps in silence, tears muffled by pillows so as not to disturb Lenna’s rest.

*She did all this... for me.*

Lenna’s nose stung. She couldn’t meet Lingling’s eyes. "You should’ve told me. I could’ve shared your burden..."

Lingling had placed Lenna above her own needs. To her, Lenna was fire in a frozen world. Asking for help would cost them precious rest and risk exposure. She’d buried the pain to protect her.

If only Lenna had noticed sooner...

But realization came too late.

Lingling lay in a pool of blood—Imperial blades having stolen her life. Her bright eyes, once brimming with spirit, stared blankly at nothing. Waiting? Hoping? Begging the one she loved to flee, to survive...

"Foolish girl..."

Lenna sighed, massaging Lingling’s small abdomen with feather-light circles.

"No. The fool is me. I failed you... Lingling."

She slipped into the bath and pulled the fragile body close. Her own undergarments soaked through as tears traced paths down her porcelain cheeks. Lenna had always scorned tears as weakness—a luxury for the powerless.

But this was Lingling.

For her, Lenna would weep. For her, she’d embrace vulnerability.

"Miss... why are you teary-eyed?"