Volume 2, Chapter 36 ~White Lotus and Thread

“Elf goblin claws, seven crude goblin axe-blades—proof of the goblin nest’s extermination.” Dylin sat at the desk, feather pen in hand, giving a cursory glance to the spoils of war. These trophies recovered from Ruglian were more than sufficient proof of the mission’s completion.

Aside from physical evidence, the report also needed personal reflections and insights gained during the adventure.

That part was Dylin’s forte—perfectly suited to the task. Still, not all reports could be filled with high-sounding but hollow words. There had to be substance. And given the two near-death encounters they’d had, there was definitely plenty to say.

Their two ventures into Ruglian had yielded a lot. But it had been especially hard on Wenfu. Cats were naturally timid and easily frightened. Maybe their first expedition had left her traumatized, which led to an instinctive aversion toward demons and Ruglian itself.

Last night, before bed, Dylin had opened the door to let in some air—only to find a little pink-eared kitten standing there, hugging a pillow, hand raised to knock but visibly hesitating.

The moment the door opened, the two locked eyes. The kitten’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Her tiny white hands tangled awkwardly. She wanted to say something—it should’ve been easy—but no words came out. Head lowered, ears drooped, she just stood there in silence.

“Is something the matter, Wenfu?” Teresa asked gently, feigning ignorance. Of course she knew what this little kitten wanted. She’d brought a pillow, after all. What else could it mean?

Wenfu’s eyes flashed in surprise.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! She brought her pillow—wasn’t it obvious what she wanted??

Wasn’t Teresa supposed to see her hesitation and then kindly ask if she wanted to sleep together? Then she could naturally accept and enter the room to cuddle and sleep.

But Teresa just kept up her innocent smile.

Wenfu realized then—this sly golden-haired devil was back to her old tricks.

“If nothing’s wrong, I’ll go to sleep now. You must be tired too after all the traveling. Goodnight~” Teresa began closing the door.

Wenfu panicked and stammered out her request at last, glaring at Teresa as she did.

You meanie big sis.

Knowing you couldn’t tease a cat too hard without getting scratched, Teresa stopped playing dumb, opened the door, and let Wenfu in.

By morning, the little thing was wrapped around her like an octopus, clearly desperate for a sense of safety and comfort from someone familiar.

After filing the report, Dylin stood and stretched his stiff back.

They’d completed the Ruglian missions in less than a month—an impressive pace.

Next up was helping Felicia break her level shackle.

“You’ve worked hard all morning, Miss Dylin~”

“Felicia, if you don’t mind, could I have a lick of your popsicle?” Dylin asked without looking up. “It’s melting and about to drip.”

“Ah, you want me to let you suck on my popsicle, Captain? No problem~” Felicia leaned on the counter, took the mint popsicle into her mouth, and teasingly moved it in and out.

“You’re about to break your shackle, and yet you’re still so playful.” Dylin glanced at her suggestively.

This princess sure knew how to tease.

He wasn’t bothered by her calling him “Miss Dylin”—clearly poking fun at his background. He didn’t mind her slightly sadistic nature.

“Where’d you get that popsicle anyway? Didn’t think to bring some for your teammates? That’s poor planning.”

“No no, I think I planned quite well.” Felicia smirked, drawing out the popsicle from her lips with a sticky string trailing behind.

“Didn’t I bring one just for you?” She extended the already-licked popsicle to Dylin. “This one is especially for you~”

Dylin looked at the saliva-coated treat—not disgusted, but oddly tempted.

He averted his gaze. “No thanks. You enjoy it.”

“Aw, you sure? I brought it back just for you, you know.”

“You already ate it—how am I supposed to eat it now?”

“That’s exactly why it’s ‘especially for you,’” Felicia purred, her voice honeyed.

“You know, I’m really curious about something. Think you could indulge me?”

“…You’re not going into heat again, are you?”

“Hard to say. Could be impulse, could be instinct,” Felicia circled around the counter, came up to Dylin, and sat on the desk with a small hop.

“What now?” Dylin raised an eyebrow as her soft hand landed on his chest.

“The touch, the voice, the appearance—everything’s so convincingly male. Your transformation technique must be top-tier.”

“You’re interested in that?”

“No. I said I wouldn’t ask unless you volunteered. What I am curious about is…” Felicia leaned close, voice teasing and velvety against his ear.

“How perfect is your transformation? Can you fully simulate a male body?” She emphasized fully.

“What are you getting at?”

“Don’t play dumb—you know exactly what I mean.”

“No idea.” Dylin turned back to his report. “I can’t follow whatever’s going through the princess’s head.”

“Ah, right. No matter how perfect the transformation, there’s no way the sex organs are fully replicated, huh?” Felicia lost interest, pulling back.

“I’ve been testing you in small ways, but you’ve never reacted—not how a real boy would.”

“If I did, wouldn’t that make me a pervert?” Dylin’s brow twitched at her jab.

“Nope. A ‘reaction’ means a physical response, which is biological—not something you can control.”

“Like if a beautiful woman paraded in front of a sheltered young man, no matter how restrained, he’d sneak a peek out of curiosity, then awkwardly look away. That’s voluntary. But the initial reaction isn’t.”

“Captain, your simulation is good, but it’s not the real thing,” Felicia said—unaware that her words brought Dylin an odd sense of peace.

She had worried that Dylin might be the original while Teresa was the false form—or worse, that the male form was too realistic and could pose risks.

Only one man among three stunning women—it was a recipe for disaster. But now, she was relieved. Dylin’s reaction—or lack thereof—made it clear: the simulated body lacked certain… functions.

“…” Dylin wanted to retort but held his tongue.

She hadn’t meant it as an insult, but still—it stung. Being told you weren’t a real man… and not being able to deny it.

Dylin sighed. “The report’s done. Go downstairs, Felicia. Astrid and the others are waiting.”

“Okay~ See you.” Felicia sauntered off, popsicle in her mouth.

Dylin prepared himself as well.

After cleaning up the documents, he went upstairs, donned his hair ornament, and closed his eyes.

A moment later, a golden butterfly-winged Elf Girl descended the stairs.

In the courtyard, Wenfu had already laid out the items needed for Felicia’s shackle-breaking ritual. A small painted porcelain vessel shaped like a teapot sat on the table, etched with a soaring dragon.

“Felicia, what’s this pot for? Was it listed as one of the materials?” Wenfu asked.

“It’s not a material—it’s a container.”

“A container?”

“Yes. My draconic bloodline is far too dense and turbulent. Unlike most people, I can’t just absorb the materials directly. We need an intermediary.”

“The explanation’s a bit complicated. That’s the simplified version.”

“So… is it valuable?” Wenfu drew her paw back, hesitant to touch the pot.

“Pfft, no—it’s not that special. Any pot can do, as long as it’s enchanted with [Sturdy].”

“Really? But when I broke my shackle, all I had to do was absorb stuff directly.”

Teresa stepped into the courtyard. She wasn’t needed for the ritual, but came anyway—just in case. Plus, there was something she hadn’t told Astrid.

“Astrid, I’ll leave the rest to you.”

“Mm. Got it.” Astrid nodded, biting a strand of silver hair, holding a small blade to her forearm, just above the pot.

She took a deep breath. Shackle-breaking wasn’t a trivial matter.

If it failed, the consequences were huge. But the odds of failure were vanishingly small.

Astrid focused completely.

“Astrid~”

“Hmm?” That silky voice broke her focus. Then she felt a warm breath on her shoulder and the brush of hair on her cheek.

“What is it?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention—body fluids don’t have to be blood. They could also be…” Teresa stood on tiptoe, chin resting on Astrid’s shoulder, whispering two words into her ear.

Astrid’s cool expression instantly flushed crimson.

“I just think cutting your arm might be unnecessary. It’s up to you, though~” Teresa said cheerfully, stepping away.

“…” Astrid froze for a moment but didn’t put down the knife.

As Teresa expected. The stiff, rule-abiding elf princess would never choose the “other method.”

“Let’s begin.”

Felicia knelt before the table, like a knight receiving a ceremonial honor.

She released her Divine Domain, closed her eyes to inspect her body, and once everything was ready, opened them again.

The Demon Heart and five claws levitated above the table, glowing and merging into the pot in shimmering waves.

Astrid watched attentively as the mixture inside turned a reddish hue—just right. She sliced her arm, letting her blood flow into the vessel.

That should be enough. Blood was far more effective than other fluids.

Now it was up to Felicia to absorb it.

But then, something unexpected happened.

The reddish tint rapidly faded—replaced by a murky black-grey.

Astrid’s pupils contracted. She knew what that meant.

Failure.

She’d only read about failed shackle-breakings—never witnessed one in reality.

What had gone wrong?

Felicia’s expression was also changing.

Her spiritual energy and soul were already bound to the materials. If anything went wrong now…

The mixture would destabilize. Her mind and soul would shatter.

Sweat formed on her brow. She couldn’t figure out the error. The materials were correct… unless…

Could it be that the ancient royal blood was invalid?

Was the Moon Elf royal line no longer recognized?

As the grey swirled and spread, Astrid reached to cut herself again—to add more blood—but Teresa stopped her.

Watching from the sidelines, she had a good idea of what was happening.

As both Astrid and Felicia looked at her—one anxious, one in pain—Teresa stepped forward.

She brushed aside her bangs, placed one foot behind her, and let a thread of white lotus silk fall into the frantically swirling vessel…

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