For over a week, Auston had treated Liang Lin with cold indifference. Meanwhile, Prince Gar frequently visited the noble academy, lingering near her and occasionally praising Liang Di.

“Miss Liang Di’s intellect is truly impressive. In under half a month, she turned House Langwendi’s tailoring shop into the Sotran Empire’s most profitable—and earned commoners’ praise. From what I know, it had been losing money for years.”

Liang Lin stayed silent, heart brimming with disdain. *What good is a sharp mind if she can’t even stand?*

Inside the House Langwendi residence…

Liang Lin spotted Auston hurrying down the hall, Head Maid Belica trailing closely. Upon seeing Liang Lin, Belica deliberately stepped between them and offered a measured greeting.

“Miss Liang Lin, you’re back from school.”

Uneasy, Liang Lin craned her neck and stood on tiptoe, watching Auston vanish into Miranda’s room.

*What are they discussing again?*

“Mm, I’ll head to my room,” she murmured.

Later, circling back and confirming no maids were nearby, she tiptoed to Miranda’s door, pressed her ear flat against the wood, and listened intently.

“Liang Di is House Langwendi’s true daughter. The headship belongs to her.”

“And what of our son, Edwin?” Miranda’s voice tightened with resentment.

“But her business talent is undeniable—she could revive House Langwendi!”

“Look at her state…! She’s clearly a witch! A magic-wielding witch! How can *she* lead?”

A heated argument followed.

Auston sighed deeply. “Enough. I won’t step down yet. We’ll revisit this when Edwin matures. For now—stay cautious, you and Edwin.”

“What happened?”

“A magician has infiltrated. No worry—I’ll see the Queen tomorrow. She has a potion against them.”

Miranda gasped. “They’re *here*?”

“Yes. They’ve always been.”

Liang Lin straightened slowly and retreated.

Not once had they mentioned her. She knew: without Langwen Di bloodline, the headship would never be hers.

So… only if Liang Di died first could she grasp a sliver of hope.

*A potion against magicians?*

Inside Miranda’s room:

“She’s gone, Your Grace.”

“Hm. She heard everything?”

“Every word. I saw her pressed to the door—her expression was chilling.”

“Hahahaha…”

Next day, at the academy:

“Miss Liang Lin, spacing out?”

Liang Lin turned slowly. “Prince Gar… do you know about magicians?”

A faint smirk touched Gar’s lips. “Magicians? My mother mentioned it. Gave me a vial—told me to stay alert.”

*Potion?*

Her eyes lit with undisguised urgency.

“Well…”

“Are *you* afraid too, Miss Liang Lin?” Gar leaned closer.

She stepped back, forcing down revulsion. For his help, she nodded stiffly. “Mm… People fear the unknown.”

“Then take this. I don’t believe in it.” He paused. “Share some with Miss Liang Di. Let her stay safe too.”

*He cares so much for her…* Gar watched eagerly. Sure enough, Liang Lin’s face went ashen—but truly, it was because his fingertips had brushed her palm when she took the vial.

*Nauseating. Why didn’t I wear gloves?* She loathed the contact.

Watching her leave, Gar sank onto the grass with a sigh. “Seems our next meeting… will be inside the empire’s prison.”

That night, the moon hung full and bright. Liang Lin sat on her plush sofa, the vial warm in her grip. She stared at the moon, then poured part of the potion into freshly warmed milk.

*Knock, knock, knock.*

She tapped Liang Di’s door.

“No storm tonight. Still need me to sleep with you?” Liang Di opened it.

Damp snow-white hair draped her shoulders. A silky satin nightgown clung to her frame, gardenia scent drifting softly.

Liang Lin held up the milk, gaze flickering away. “I… brought you milk.”

“Come in. I have something for you.”

Liang Di set the glass on the table. “Drink while it’s warm.”

She repeated her old question: “This milk… is it from *you*?”

“…Yes.”

“Not from Auston?”

“…Mm.”

Liang Di nodded faintly, pulled a wine-red gemstone necklace from her drawer, and held it against Liang Lin’s neck. After a long moment, she smiled—a faint, detached curve. “It suits you.”

“For you.”

Liang Lin accepted it numbly.

Liang Di lifted the milk. Warm. Moonlight haloed her frail form. She looked up, that same hollow smile—so cold, so distant.

*That smile…*

*Sister… Siralili…!*

Siralili once sat by the twilight window, tears glistening, sorrow swirling in her eyes. Sunset gilded her pale face and golden hair. In her hands: a fairy-tale book, a gift from her vanished lover.

*Am I really killing Liang Di like this?* Liang Lin stared at the necklace. The last gift she’d received was from Siralili, when she was still well.

A daze washed over her (later, Liang Di would choke her, demanding who she saw through her—but that was another story).

*Wait—!*

Her body moved before her mind caught up. She seized Liang Di’s wrist, snatched the glass, flung the window open, and hurled it out.

*I swear—impulse only. Not softening. Absolutely not because of her lonely face, not Siralili’s memory, not the tiny warmth of a gift, not that night she held me—!*

“Drinking milk at night… isn’t good. I’ll bring fresh tomorrow,” Liang Lin stammered a flimsy excuse.

“So this is your choice, Liang Lin.”