“How did you change back…?”

Little Dragoness had shed her mature form, reverting to the tiny dragon girl from their first meeting.

To be honest, this version was undeniably cute—especially those plump little cheeks. Morningstar almost wanted to scoop her up and cuddle her.

“Only like this can I please Master,” Little Dragoness said softly.

“Uh…” Morningstar faltered. She’d initially struggled to accept the tiny dragon girl, but that resistance had nearly vanished now.

“Hmph. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re scheming. Turning cute won’t make me hug you. Dream on.”

Though her words were sharp, Morningstar’s fingers betrayed her—she pinched Little Dragoness’s squishy cheeks. *So soft.*

“>_< Master, don’t pinch my face!”

“Naughty kids deserve punishment.”

“Mmmph… eee…” Little Dragoness let out a pained whimper, but her relaxed posture gave her away. Her voice had softened too after shrinking.

“Wait… can I change forms too?”

Morningstar closed her eyes, concentrating. Black viscous liquid surged from her clothes, swallowing her whole. Her body shrank visibly. As the liquid receded, the teenage girl was gone—replaced by a miniature version of herself.

“Whoa… I’m actually a little girl today?”

A childish voice escaped her lips. She wiggled her tiny fingers—delicate as a porcelain doll’s. No mirror needed; she *knew* she was adorable. A strange urge bubbled up: strike a cute pose! Maybe reshape the black goo into a frilly princess dress and twirl for someone…

“Wait—am I… regressing?”

She snapped back to her normal form. *Body size really messes with your head.* Her thoughts had turned childish.

Back to herself, curiosity flickered. *Shouldn’t kids be kinder? But if the Dark Sorceress were in a little girl’s body… would her heart stay this dark?*

“Can I become my original self now?”

She *could* shift into the form she’d lived with for over a decade. But the thought felt… off. Same soul, different shell. Changing back would make her feel like a guy with a… well. *You know.*

“Too creepy. Not happening.”

Morningstar shook her head, scooped up Little Dragoness, and settled onto the bed. Sensing rest was near, the little dragon simply nestled her head against Morningstar’s chest—quiet, still, like a plush doll.

Morningstar didn’t sleep. She meditated eyes-closed until dawn.

First thing upon waking: she glanced at the black cocoon. A flick of her wrist. The shell liquefied, floated up, and melted into her palm.

Freya’s long lashes fluttered. She opened her eyes slowly. Every wound was healed; her skin glowed pale and newborn-fresh. Dark magic’s side effects? She no longer cared.

“Th-thank you… Master…” Freya whispered, lightness blooming in her chest. Basic courtesy demanded gratitude.

“No problem~ You’re my toy. Broken toys get fixed.”

“What about *her*?” Freya pointed at Leticia—the only person she’d saved. She couldn’t bear to lose her.

“She’s not of the Dark. I can’t heal her with dark magic. Survival’s up to luck.”

Leticia lay unmoving, unconscious for over a day with no sign of waking.

“Master… could we take her to a doctor?” Freya’s hope clung to human medicine. *This town must have one… right?*

“We can try. But… are the doctors here even *sane*?”

“Hm?”

“Let’s go see.”

Last night, Morningstar had returned every soul to its body via dark magic. Using her Demon Eye, she confirmed most citizens had awakened—seemingly unharmed.

The moment they stepped outside the inn, chaos struck. True to Morningstar’s “elementary school detective” curse, a carriage barreled down the street. A mother and child—unaware—were hit. Wheels crushed them. The carriage sped off without slowing.

The child stirred weakly in the bloodstained road, likely shielded by his mother.

Then came the whispers:

“Why aren’t they dead yet?”

“That carriage was too slow.”

“Such a thrilling scene.”

“Her husband’s probably thrilled—time for a new wife~”

Even the Dark Sorceress froze. Bystanders weren’t helping—they were *mocking*.

*Did my magic do this?* Morningstar’s chest tightened. *Did I awaken the evil in them?*

“HEY! Have you no humanity?!” Freya finally snapped. She rushed to the victims while shouting at the crowd.

Instantly, all eyes turned on her.

“The hell are *you*?”

“Who died and made you hero?”

“Ugh, stop acting so righteous.”

Taunts rained down. Freya stood frozen, eyes wide. *These… are the humans I protected?*

Morningstar watched, cold. If untouched by her magic, these people might be the most vile she’d ever met. Even trolls from her old world had decency—they didn’t spit venom *to your face*.