That evening, in Mylora’s room, both she and the system fell into silence.
“…………”
[…………]
Skincare, new outfits, and—mixed right in—lingerie clearly picked by Torina’s mischievous taste. Enough to change twice a day for a week without repeating.
[…She bought you a lot, didn’t she?]
“…Yeah.”
[…And you accepted them all, didn’t you?]
“…She’s too pushy.”
[…Ever think she’s piling on favors now just to frame you later?]
“…I know it’s off, but… I can’t give them back.”
[If she’s setting a trap, she’s nearly succeeded. Stop letting her interfere. You must—]
“I don’t need you to tell me! I’ve got this!”
Mylora slammed the table.
“Tomorrow, I’ll rip off her fake mask! My resolve is solid—I won’t bow to cheap bribes!”
And so, the next day—
“Tasty? Then eat up!”
“Gulp gulp gulp… Not at all… Slurp slurp slurp… Not good… Crunch crunch crunch… Just okay… Chew chew chew… No flavor…”
“Haha, no rush. Plenty more. Take your time.”
Torina watched Mylora wolfing down delicacies, words lost in bites, with a warm, maternal smile—the kind a loving mom gives a child eating heartily.
[She might’ve poisoned the food!!]
(But it’s so good!!)
[And why are you so casually wearing her clothes?!]
(Not wearing them would be a waste!!)
[Are you ignoring me?! I’m the perfect strategic system—every suggestion is rational and correct!]
(I’m not ignoring you! I’m… testing her—)
“Full of rich food? Try shaved ice. There’s a shop run by an ice elementalist at town’s edge.”
“Yes!!—Wait, no!—Ugh, fine, YES!!!”
“Hehehe~”
And so, day two vanished in a blur of feasting.
……
……
That evening, in Mylora’s room, silence again.
“…………”
[…………]
Mylora’s belly swelled slightly—almost like she was expecting. For someone who loved food but lived on a tight budget, this was the first time her cravings were fully satisfied.
[…She fed you a lot, didn’t she?]
“…Yeah.”
[…And you ate every bite, didn’t you?]
“…She’s too pushy.”
[…What if it *was* poisoned? Or she’s trying to fatten you up?]
“…I know it’s weird, but… I can’t un-eat it.”
[If she’s wrecking your health, she’s almost there. Stop accepting her food. You must—]
“I don’t need you to tell me! I’ve got this!”
Mylora slammed the table again.
“Tomorrow, I’ll expose her fake kindness! My will is firm—I won’t fall for cheap tricks again!”
And so, day three—
“How about a haircut? You’ve always had straight shoulder-length hair. Try something new?”
“This is fine! I don’t want to waste time styling!”
“You say that… yet here you are.”
“Ugh…”
Under Torina’s direction (whom some might call the “evil lesbian”), the stylist cycled through styles: single ponytail, twin tails, spiral drills, hime cut, maid bun, braids, dreadlocks… Finally settling on a wolf tail cut—layered, softly wavy front; the back gathered into a single flowing strand. Cool yet cute, refreshing, perfectly suited to her. After just two days, Mylora barely recognized herself.
“Your gear’s from a secondhand shop, right?”
“How’d you know…”
“Get new gear. I’ll give it to you.”
“No need…”
“Sharp tools make skilled work. It’s for the team.”
“NO! NEED! NOT!”
Minutes later—
“S-So… beautiful…”
“Pretty, right? Pretty, right~?”
Mylora traced the Rune Shortsword Torina gave her, studying its sleek lines, the light-yet-solid weight—utterly captivating.
“And armor too~”
“No! I don’t—!”
Minutes later—
“So light… Feels like cloth, but so tough…”
“Comfy, right~?”
Torina had swapped Mylora’s ragged armor for elegant new gear: rune-engraved aqua-blue quartz gauntlets and chest piece; pure white rune-woven fabric elsewhere; thigh-high boots. Between the short skirt and boots—a strip of absolute territory.
“It’s comfy… but… isn’t it a bit revealing?”
“Never doubt House Dewell’s anti-exposure tech. Under the skirt? Only darkness. Flip a somersault in public—nothing shows.”
(*Only my rune eyes see right through it*)—Torina left that part unsaid.
“So you’re really giving this… even though I don’t need it…”
“It’s compensation. Take it~”
“No! I can’t accept more free stuff!! You’ve got a scheme!!”
……
……
That evening, silence once more.
“…………”
[…………]
The new gear lay on the bed—stunning, a world away from her old rags.
[…She gave you a full set, didn’t she?]
“…Yeah.”
[…And you took it all, didn’t you?]
“…She’s too pushy.”
[…What if it’s cursed? Wearing it could weaken you… or worse?]
“…I feel the risk, but… she won’t take it back.”
[PLEASE—don’t accept another single thing! Listen to me, you should—]
“I don’t need you to tell me, I’ve got—”
[Do you *really* have it??]
And so, day four—
The moment Torina opened the door, Mylora stood ready, voice firm:
“Stop giving me things! It’s not right! Take back the clothes and gear! As for the meals—”
“How about sword practice instead? I’ve probably messed up your routine. Come on, come on~”
“Eh…?”
Minutes later, Torina dragged the changed Mylora to an open field outside Garden Town. Someone waited there.
“…Ji Xue?”
“Ah, Mylora!”
Wenren Jixue waved warmly.
“I invited her,” Torina said. “Best swordsman on the team. You two get along, right? Train together—learn from each other~”
“But I don’t want to learn other styles—”
“More skills, more paths, Mylora-chan~”
As they tugged and argued, Ji Xue stood awkwardly, offering a wry smile.
The system stayed silent.
It was just seething inwardly.
……
……
……
([Torina Dewell… What *are* you? Why can’t I analyze you? Why are you so fixated on Mylora? WHY?!?!])
