An Li had been alone for so long she’d lost track of time.

She was never popular to begin with, and as her power grew, others kept even more distance.

In the Holy See’s hypocritical environment, she’d never had a single true friend. Especially these past few years, with factional strife intensifying inside the Holy See, she barely exchanged words with anyone.

To An Li, her bond with the Holy See felt like an unavoidable transaction: they needed her strength; she needed their unique substance to suppress whatever stirred within her.

A cool night breeze drifted through the window, dislodging the towel draped over the mirror by the living room door.

The angled glass caught her gaze—faint gray lines shimmered in the reflection. Her pupils tightened. She quickly looked down, retrieved the towel, and rehung it.

No real danger lurked in the mirror. She simply refused to see what lived inside it.

Over a decade ago, when Mother Maria shoved her before that mirror and forced her to look, her own reflection became An Li’s eternal nightmare.

*Plop. Drip. Drip. Drip.*

Window shut, AC humming, An Li sank back onto the sofa—but peace wouldn’t return.

The wind hadn’t just blown the towel away. It had stirred her heart too.

Truth was, she hadn’t taken this surveillance mission seriously. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been so lax. If she *had* been serious? Tie the girl up instantly. Hook her to a blood drip daily. Done.

Yet even An Li had to admit—she’d gotten along surprisingly well with this unexpectedly encountered little one.

For years, no one tolerated her temper. People only feared her, disliked her, recoiled from her.

To finally meet someone who stayed… who was even… well, undeniably cute *after* turning into a little girl.

No one else sat quietly through her outbursts like a scolded elementary student, then looked up with eyes whispering *“I know I was wrong,”* tinged with wounded innocence.

But today, she hadn’t seen that look. Because her words hadn’t just crossed a line—they’d shattered it.

She hadn’t meant to. She’d just… forgotten how to be with people.

“Why isn’t she out yet?”

She checked the clock. Ten minutes gone. Still no sound.

Her unease deepened.

*Fine, fine. Pretend Luo Xiaoxiao’s already adapted—mentally, she’s full-on little girl mode. I’m the adult. Rational. I should yield.*

Just as An Li rose to offer the first apology of her life—

*Whoosh—!*

The bathroom door flew open. A tiny silver blur shot out and latched onto her leg.

“An Li, I was wrong, okay? Don’t be mad, pleeease!”

An Li froze.

*Wait… wasn’t I the one who messed up?*

The little girl clung to her, tears streaming, face crumpled in utter remorse.

“Waaah! I *really* know I was wrong! I promise I won’t run! Implant a chip in me—like in movies! The explosive kind that controls people!”

An Li said flatly, “The Holy See runs on magic. We don’t have *Mission: Impossible* gadgets.”

*What even goes on in that head of hers?*

After a moment of wailing against her leg, An Li sighed and lifted the girl up.

“What I said earlier was too harsh. Don’t dwell on it. But listen: I won’t imprison you. Still—any future plans? Tell me first. Understood?”

Luo Xiaoxiao swiped tears from her cheeks and nodded hard. “Mm!”

“Wipe your face. Sleep now.”

“But—!” Luo Xiaoxiao blurted, “Important intel! Big discovery today!”

“Sleep first. I’ll listen tomorrow.” An Li paused. “I’m exhausted. Even if you handed me the evil spirit’s weakness *right now*, I couldn’t chase it tonight. Tomorrow morning. Rest now.”

“Oh.” The little girl nodded obediently. “Got it~”

*There it is again—that cute mispronunciation.* An Li’s lips twitched. She said nothing.

*Fine. You’re the little girl. Being cute is your job.*