Tossed and turned all night.

In just a few fleeting glances, Mei Yige confirmed it: someone was watching her with intense focus, and that someone possessed remarkable skill at hiding their presence.

“Surely it’s not… ha~ the one who took Hans?”

After weighing possibilities, only one answer made sense. After all, her commotion in Water Fungus Town had been significant—drawing the attention of an “old friend” wasn’t impossible. Or perhaps the attacker who’d targeted Hans now saw her as a challenge.

*Headache.*

She was just an ordinary mage who wanted a quiet life.

“Yo, awake? Uh… you look…”

“Good morning, Shiren-nee. Ha~”

Shiren, unusually up early, froze as Mei Yige shuffled out of her room with dark circles under her eyes.

*Do mages even get dark circles from staying up late these days?*

Worry pricked her heart.

*If this makes her too nervous to cook for me… that’d be a tragedy.*

“Rough night?”

She had to ask.

“Mm. Felt uneasy.”

Mei Yige forced a bright smile under Shiren’s concerned gaze.

*Thank goodness Shiren-nee cares. I should tone down the pranks…*

That strained smile and vague reply only cemented Shiren’s suspicion. She pressed her lips together.

*She’s still such a child. Untouched by the world’s cynicism. I already forgave her—yet she spent all night worrying I’d actually kick her out?*

Their thoughts synced perfectly in that moment:

*Was yesterday really that unforgivable?*

“What would you like for breakfast?”

“Shiren-nee?”

Apologies thickened the air between them.

The blood demon who delighted in devouring humans chose breakfast as peace offering—to soothe the girl fearing eviction.

Mei Yige, sensing the gesture, didn’t hesitate. “How about fried eggs? Let me cook for once. You haven’t tasted my cooking properly yet.”

Nothing said sorry like a home-cooked meal.

“Oh? I was thinking of taking you out… Alright. Use anything in the fridge. I’ll help.”

Shiren, no expert in emotions, knew better than to reject Mei Yige’s vulnerable overture. Humoring her *was* kindness.

“I’ll replace whatever I use. This meal is Mei Yige’s apology to Shiren-nee.”

True remorse required personal sacrifice—not borrowed ingredients.

“I told you, use whatever you want. Are you trying to make me break my promise as a landlord?”

…

They danced this silent tug-of-war, each convinced the other’s behavior confirmed their own guilt. Half an hour later, breakfast was finally served.

As they ate simple sausage sandwiches and fried eggs, exhaustion washed over them—but so did relief. Their feelings had been voiced.

“This is delicious.”

“I’m glad you like it!”

Drowsy yet clear-headed, they parted ways: one to ponder how to be human, the other to serve the town.

The streets weren’t as empty as before. A few early risers dotted the paths. Mei Yige breathed in the crisp morning air but didn’t spot Larin.

*Still sleeping off last night’s drinks, I suppose.*

She lingered near a shadowed alley—the exact spot where she’d felt watched the previous night.

*Hope today goes smoothly.*

To her surprise, work held no special headaches. Hans’s disappearance had been “explained”: everyone had simply forgotten Tata Town was divinely protected. Hans, who’d bullied an elder and disrespected the gods, had been taken to hell by the deity’s own chariot. The red-maned forest boar rampage? A divine warning. Be kind to neighbors—or get tossed sky-high by boars.

Rumor claimed an Association mage used divine-era magic to summon the god, who spoke through the Association’s horse: the disrespectful “kitten” had been dealt with. Clever townsfolk decoded the mage’s cryptic “Hans was eaten by a horse” and filled in the gaps.

From that day, Tata Town’s local mythology grew richer. The tale of “Great Mage Mei and the Horse” became legend. Disobedient children were warned: the Association’s Archmage would send divine ponies to snatch them away. “Archmage” and “pony” merged into a single bedtime bogeyman.

“How utterly absurd…”

Mei Yige closed the morning paper, legs crossed, sighing.

A week had passed since Hans vanished. No more creepy stares. Life was quiet. Her relationship with Shiren-nee had settled into a polite distance.

Haunted by past mistakes, Mei Yige kept her pranks buried. She stuck to simple routines: greetings, work shifts, rest. Small-town life rarely troubled her. This peace was something her past thirty years had never offered.

“Settling down makes you dwell on the past…”

She murmured into her teacup, a faint smile playing on her lips.

She’d joined the Hero’s quest for gold and fairy-tale friendship. She’d failed.

Even after defeating the Demon King, she’d failed utterly.

Forty years in this world—how many things had she truly succeeded at?

None, it seemed.

“Mei Yige… do you never get what you want?”

The self-mocking laugh felt lighter this time.

Perhaps she should be grateful. The Hero hadn’t exploited her weakness to finish her off. And she hadn’t rushed to retaliate when the Emperor needed the Hero most.

“Will this quiet life dull my thirst for revenge?”

The thought wasn’t new. But this time, it wasn’t rage or hatred that surfaced—it was a silhouette.

A golden-haired girl.

The answer needed no words.

No need to shatter hard-won peace over a few flies.

True, joy rarely transfers.

Mei Yige’s lips curled at the calm. Meanwhile, Shiren—the legendary Great Lord Blood Demon—writhed on her bed in agony:

“Shiren, you miss her pranks *this* much? Are you really that pathetic?!”