Impending Doom
The main wall of Limelight City stood as an indomitable fortress, its colossal structure reaching the height of a ten-story building. Crafted from layers of stone and reinforced metal, it was not merely a wall but a monument of sheer dominance, designed to repel even the most formidable sieges.
Perched atop this massive bulwark were seven colossal siege ballistae, their immense size allowing them to launch devastating projectiles well beyond the second wall, ensuring that no enemy could approach unscathed. Alongside them, countless stationary repeating crossbows lined the battlements, their deadly precision and rapid fire forming an impenetrable curtain of steel and death.
The defensive might of the wall did not end there. Four massive defensive guard towers, spaced at strategic intervals, stood like sentinels of war, each equipped with advanced siege weapons, signalling systems, and barracks for elite guards. These towers provided unparalleled visibility over the surrounding landscape, ensuring that any threat—no matter how distant—was spotted and dealt with long before it reached the cities heart.
Though the main wall had several access points, only one grand entrance remained open—the Great Bridge, a monumental structure that soared as high as the wall itself, stretching in a direct line from the main wall to the second wall. This bridge was the heart of Limelight Cities fortifications, positioned at the cities very centre, making it the most watched and controlled passage in the kingdom.
But the bridge was not merely a passageway—it was a trap set in plain sight, a calculated opening where enemies and spies could be easily spotted by the ever-watchful elite guards stationed along the battlements above. It was a lure and a warning, allowing access only to those who could withstand the merciless scrutiny of the cities finest defenders. The bridge was an illusion of openness, when in reality, it was a place where even the slightest misstep could mean swift and absolute judgment.
Beyond this singular passage, all other entrances to the main wall were deliberately small gates, each barely wide enough for two carriages to pass through at a time. This design was not due to lack of space, but a calculated strategy—limiting the flow of traffic ensured tighter security and absolute control over who entered the noble district. It was a mechanism of power, protection, and exclusivity, ensuring that only those deemed worthy could pass freely into the heart of Limelight City.
Between each wall lay vast expanses of a kilometre, forming layered rings of defence that separated the outer city from the inner sanctum of nobility. Within the main wall's domain, nestled against the mountain embrace, stood the Grand Citadel of Limelight—a majestic stronghold that merged seamlessly with the towering peaks. Below, the illustrious mansions of the royal nobility sprawled in opulent harmony, protected by the steadfast blades of the Sheen Noble Knights and the private forces of the most powerful houses.
From the highest balcony of the citadel, overlooking the vast estates of his people, stood a figure of undeniable majesty. His silver hair shimmered like woven starlight, his skin pale and unblemished, as though sculpted from the moon own glow. His golden robes, embroidered with patterns of celestial grandeur, bore the mark of a ruler whose very presence could command reverence and fear alike.
His gilded eyes burned with an ethereal brilliance, his gaze as hypnotic as it was absolute. He was the Lord of Sheen, the Protector of the Cursed Lands, and the Sovereign of Limelight City—a monarch whose dominion stretched beyond mere borders, reaching into the very hearts of those who served him.
With his hands resting upon the gilded railing, he surveyed his impenetrable kingdom with a sense of profound pride. A faint smile played upon his lips, for what lay before him was not merely a city, but a fortress of legends, a beacon of power, and a legacy that would stand eternal.
Yet, in that moment of quiet triumph, a presence disrupted his solitude.
He felt it—a gaze upon him, piercing and familiar. Without turning, he already knew who it was.
A woman stood at his side, clad in a flowing sapphire-blue dress, its fine embroidery doing little to hide the practicality of her attire. A sword hung at her hip, its scabbard polished yet worn from use, while thin plates of metal armour strapped across her bodice and forearms suggested she was not merely dressed for courtly matters—she was dressed for a fight.
His sister.
She crossed her arms, tilting her head as she regarded him with a look of unrestrained bearing.
The king let out a low, weary sigh, tilting his head back slightly before casting a sidelong glance at her. His patience, it seemed, was already wearing thin.
"Oh, my dearest sister…" He drawled, his voice lilting with feigned sweetness. "Why, pray tell, must you go about spreading whispers of doom among the people? Have we not only just grasped the peace we so long fought for? And now…" he sighed, pausing dramatically before flicking his gaze toward her with narrowed golden eyes. "And now, they fear once more. A fear not of war, but of unseen calamity. Tell me, do you not see the harm in this?"
Her face darkened. "From the visions I have seen." Her voice carried no hesitation, no doubt. "And for that, I have taken measures to prepare for the Black Party."
She then lowered her gaze slightly and sighed. "Brother, forgive me..."
A flicker of annoyance crossed his face.
"Ah, yes… the dreams again." He exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose before fixing her with a hard stare. "Must I remind you, sister, that our people have long been prepared for calamity? This city has endured storm and siege alike, and yet you insist on playing the herald of despair."
She met his words with silence, her gaze unwavering.
Then, after a moment, she spoke. "I fear for the fall of Limelight Tower."
That, at last, gave him pause.
The king turned his gaze outward, past the towering walls, to where the great Limelight Tower stood. Its peak gleamed like a guiding star, illuminating bright even in day blue sky—a symbol of their kingdom resilient.
"Hmmm…" He tapped his fingers against the railing, lost in contemplation. Then, at last, he sighed. "Very well. If this will grant you peace, I shall order more guards to be stationed at the tower. Will that satisfy your restless mind?"
For a moment, she simply studied him, as if searching for deception in his words. But when she found none, she nodded once, curtly.
Without another word, she turned, her sapphire cloak billowing behind her as she strode back into the castle halls.
The king watched her go, exhaling through his nose.
"Troublesome woman," he muttered under his breath, though a smirk ghosted the corner of his lips.
In waking dark, the omens call, She stands prepared lest kingdoms fall.
The Past Fault
The hours dragged on in the shop, each minute stretching like taffy. Boredom clung to the two girls upstairs like a thick fog as they waited for the adults to finish their endless discussions and planning.
An hour and a half had passed since Kimmi and Leyla started playing. The floor was now a battlefield of fallen figurines—tiny wooden knights and damsels strewn about as if a great war had just ended.
Leyla, utterly exhausted from their imaginary adventure, sprawled across her bed, lazily knocking Lady Sofia and Sir Willow together.
Clack Clack
"…And they lived happily ever after," she muttered before letting the dolls drop to the floor.
Kimmi, on the other hand, had moved on. She now sat at the study table, flipping through a fives stack of short storybooks, all with release number and it belonging to Leyla. The table was littered with rough sketches—Leyla own proud creations.
But Kimmi was not even looking at the drawings.
She was reading one of Leyla books.
What she found inside was mind-blowing—almost stupidly unbelievable.
The stories spoke of gods and their dominions, not as mere myths or allegories but as literal beings that existed within the world. Kimmi found the idea absurd, but at the same time, she could not fully dismiss it.
The Land of Sheen was said to be under the watchful protection of two divine siblings, Lirion, the God of the Sun, and his fallen sister, Lioris, once the Moon Goddess. Even though Lioris had supposedly been destroyed by the Evil God Lazareth, people still believed that her divinity lingered, protecting Sheen from the encroaching forces of death during the night.
By day, Lirion was said to banish these forces back to where they belonged. Then there was moonstone—a sacred ore-like material believed to be fragments of Lioris remains, scattered across the land.
Moonstone had one unique property, it glowed under the light of the moon and was often used in rituals to ward off the shadows. However, aside from this mystical trait, it was an inferior material compared to common metals, making it unsuitable for practical use.
Kimmi frowned.
"…This is nonsense," she muttered.
'If gods truly existed—walking among people, shaping the world—then why was not the world in utter chaos?' she thought.
'If each god had dominion over different lands, what would happen when one desired another territory? Wouldn't wars between gods be inevitable?' Kimmi mind spun.
'The world should be in constant disorder if this were true. Shouldn't gods be fighting endlessly, claiming land, eradicating one another? Why does everything seem so… stable?' She wondered.
The contradictions frustrated her. She tried to rationalize it, but her own sense of logic and self-worth refused to let her fully accept the idea.
Perhaps gods were nothing more than exceptionally powerful beings, mistaken for deities. Or maybe they did not actually need land—they simply exist. Maybe their influence was not territorial but something else entirely.
Still, the entire concept gnawed at her, stirring a deep sense of unease.
'Maybe… my mind just isn't built to grasp it.'
Maybe that was the real problem. Overthinking.
Kimmi laid the book back on the table. Even though it was just a children story, she was able to distinguish which parts held valuable information for her. She was able to think rationally and separate the story from the theories.
Now that the excitement of their role playing had settled, Kimmi felt a strange sense of discomfort. She had played for so long—so enthusiastically—and yet, she did not feel the usual gnawing desire that always crept up when she was idle. Normally, she'd be scrambling for something new to entertain her restless mind, yet now… nothing. No urge. No craving for the next distraction.
That worried her.
'Am I under some kind of spell?' she wondered, eyes narrowing.
She just could not picture herself enjoying something as childish as this, yet here she was—engaged in it, immersed even. She shuddered. Perhaps this was one a few signs of insanity finally emerge themselves.
Leyla peeked at her, too tired to care at first, pleased that Kimmi seemed to admire her collection. But then—wait.
Her eyes widened.
That was her book. The book—the one her father had given her as a birthday present.
'And knowing Kimmi…' Leyla feared for her book.
Leyla bolted forward and slapped Kimmi hand away.
SLAP!
"NO TOUCHING!" she cried.
Kimmi jerked back, startled, the book slipping from her fingers and landing on the table with a soft thud. She stared at Leyla, blinking in shock.
"Why?!" she demanded, utterly bewildered.
Leyla snatched the book and hugged it to her chest like a mother protecting her child. "Because you'll ruin it!"
Kimmi frowned. "I would not!"
Leyla narrowed her eyes. "That's what you always do!"
Kimmi crossed her arms. "That's slander."
Leyla turned on her heel and marched to the toy chest, rummaging through it until she found what she was looking for. With a victorious huff, she yanked it out and returned to Kimmi.
She slammed a book onto the table.
Baam!
"Look at what you did to poor Mrs. Corveta!"
Kimmi leaned in for closer inspection.
The title read Grand Duchess Corveta and the Flowery Magic. It was a children book, with colourful illustrations on every page—a pinnacle of what a proper storybook should be.
And yet…
Most of the pages that had illustration of dessert had bite marks. Actual bite marks.
Kimmi lips parted in disbelief. Someone had chewed on this book. She even spotted water damage, the paper stained in a way that suggested excessive saliva.
She muttered under her breath, "…Did you do this?"
A chuckle almost slipped from her lips. 'I knew it,' she thought, a strange warmth spreading in her chest. She is not lying about being my friend. She must had known me for a while—she must had known all the good and terrible thing she had done.
Leyla scowled. "I did not munch Mrs. Corveta for breakfast, Kimmi. That's what you do!"
Kimmi lips twitched.
She could not even argue.
She had once chewed on a copper coin for an entire hour without realizing it. The urges were that terrifying. Sometimes, she did not even notice when she was under their influence.
Avoiding Leyla gaze, Kimmi mumbled, "But I want to read it…"
Kimmi still had much to learn and absorb from the book—its culture, its fables, and the hidden truths woven between the lines. Yet, despite the miniscule amount of information, she found herself genuinely entertained. It was a rare feeling for her, one she truly appreciated.
Leyla heard Kimmi little mutter. She huffed, puffing out her chest. "Well, you can't read it!"
Kimmi blinked. 'Oh?' An idea sparked in her mind. She could trick Leyla into reading the book for her, knowing how prideful Leyla was, she would not let this opportunities pass.
A sly smirk crept onto her face. She let her eyes go wide, tilting her head ever so slightly. "Leeylaaa~" she cooed sweetly. "Can you read it for me?"
Leyla squinted at her.
Kimmi blinked innocently.
Leyla pursed her lips.
Then, with a dramatic sigh, she relented.
"Fiiiine. But I'm reading it." She puffed up with importance, as though she had just accepted a sacred duty.
Kimmi watched as Leyla began rearranging the books in a particular order.
"…Why are you doing that?" Kimmi asked, watching in confusion. "They're all short stories. It's not like they continue in order."
Leyla bristled. "Excuse you. This is a serious collection! It must be read properly!"
Kimmi raised an eyebrow. "It's a bunch of fairy tales."
Leyla gasped. "How dare you!"
To her, these stories were real. Kimmi remark was practically blasphemy.
Kimmi held up her hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Please, O Great Leliana of Frasier, bestow upon me the wisdom of your books." She waved her hands dramatically, as if worshiping a goddess.
Leyla, satisfied, nodded and sat beside her. She cleared her throat with the elegance of a noblewoman and cracked open the first book.
She squinted at the first page, mouthing the words to herself before reading aloud.
"Once… upon a… time… there was a c-c-co…mmoner who li…li…lived in a grand m-m-m…" She frowned. "…Mine?"
Kimmi blinked. Mansion.
She had already read the entire page in her head and had a rough understanding of the plot. It was about a young commoner who rose to become the Lord of Light, struggling against the empire and fighting off the shadow-hungry night demons.
Kimmi was particularly intrigued by the books Leyla had. Most of them contained small clues about Lioris, the Goddess of the Moon. It seemed that the Moon Goddess played a larger role in the cities culture and perhaps its religion.
But what about the demons, the shadows, and all things that consume. These words were repeated in almost every short story she had just read. Yet, it was never once stated that they were the work of the Evil God. The Evil God Lazareth, who had killed the Moon Goddess, did not even seem to have anything to do with the demons and shadows.
'Why did it take two gods to contain such evil creatures?' She wondered curiously.
Leyla still struggled through another sentence, grimacing at a particularly difficult word.
"The commoner was… int…im…impat…impa—"
Kimmi subtly whispered, "Impatient."
Leyla snapped her fingers. "Yes! That's what I said."
Kimmi smiled innocently.
She could read faster than Leyla could speak, but she didn't dare correct her too much.
'If she finds out I can read, she might distance herself… or worse, turn against me.'
Leyla continued her slow-paced storytelling, stumbling but never giving up.
Kimmi rested her head on her arms, listening.
The stumbles, the mispronunciations, the overly dramatic gasps—it was all oddly soothing.
Leyla voice, in its determined yet clumsy rhythm, was like a lullaby.
For once, Kimmi did not feel restless.
'Could this be what the urge had been waiting for? A boring lullaby?' She wondered.
Just as she was about to drift off… asleep.
Knock Knock Knock
The door swung open.
Emeline stood in the doorway, arms crossed. "What are you two up to?"
Leyla beamed. "I'm reading Kimmi a storybook!" She proudly held the book up for her mother to see.
Emeline raised an eyebrow before glancing at Catherine, who had just appeared behind her.
Catherine smiled approvingly. "Oh, Kimmi loves storybooks."
Leyla practically preened. "Well, of course! I'm amazing at reading, after all."
Kimmi lazily clapped her hands. "Oooh… Leyla is the best storyteller ever."
Leyla grinned smugly, puffing up with pride. "See? Even Kimmi thinks so!"
Emeline chuckled and shook her head. "Very well... But next time, perhaps ask permission before dragging your friend upstairs—or else, no more books from Daddy." Her tone was firm, carrying the air of elegant.
Leyla pouted. "That's not fair!"
Catherine turned to Kimmi. "Did you at least enjoy the story?" she asked softly.
Kimmi blinked. "It's one of those propaganda pieces. But at least the romance subplot is decent."
Leyla burst out laughing. "Pffft—ha ha ha ha! What does that even mean?!" She puffed out her chest. "No! This book is about the great hero who saved Limelight City from its curse!"
Kimmi sighed. "I doubt that… but never mind."
Emeline smiled at Catherine. "Cane, would you care to stay for dinner?" Her voice was smooth and graceful as if trying to lured a victim to make a terrible mistake.
Catherine gave a polite nod, bowing slightly. "If it is not an inconvenience, we would be honoured."
As the adults were about to leave the room, Kimmi poked Emeline from behind.
Emeline turned her head, puzzled. "What's wrong, little Kimmi?"
Kimmi hesitated, glancing between Emeline and Catherine. Then she took a deep breath. "Aunt Emily, I have a confession to make…" She cast a guilty glance at Emeline, then at Leyla book on the table Grand Duchess Corveta and the Flowery Magic.
Emeline tilted her head. "A confession?" Emeline frowned slightly, exchanging a confused look with Catherine, who was just as clueless.
Kimmi swallowed her pride and held up the book. "I… I chewed Leyla favourite book… and I apologize."
Silence fell.
Emeline blinked. Catherine looked utterly baffled. Then Emeline took the book and read the title. A frown creased her brows as she passed it to Catherine, whose expression shifted from confusion to shock.
"My little Kimmi, that's your book…" Emeline said, puzzled. She furrowed her brows, deep in thought, trying to recall if she or her husband had ever bought a similar book for Leyla.
Kimmi mouth fell open. "Wait… what?"
Catherine flipped through the pages, her voice tinged with surprise. "I've been looking for this book for a long time. I had no idea Kimmi brought it here."
Kimmi mind reeled. 'That's mine?! What else is mine?!'
Then her eyes darted toward the stack of short storybooks Leyla held so tightly. "Do I own those too?" she asked, her voice small yet firm.
Emeline turned toward her daughter, her gaze sharp as she scanned the books in Leyla arms. Two of them stood out—ones neither she nor her husband had ever given to Leyla.
"Leyla," Emeline said, her voice now carrying authority. "Give Kimmi her books."
Leyla's eyes widened in panic. She clutched the books tighter, her hands trembling. "No!"
Before anyone could react, she bolted toward her bed, diving under the covers.
"I'm not giving them away!" she wailed, her muffled voice barely escaping from beneath the blankets.
Emeline groaned and rubbed her temples. "Oh, bother…" She turned to Catherine with an apologetic smile. "I'm terribly sorry about this. My daughter can be… quite stubborn."
Catherine chuckled awkwardly, though she was not sure how to respond.
Meanwhile, Kimmi had begun gathering the scattered wooden figurines from the floor, inspecting them carefully before carrying them over to the adults. She looked up at them expectantly.
"Which ones are mine?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.
Emeline and Catherine exchanged glances before Catherine began sorting through the figurines. She picked out a few and set them aside.
"These are Leyla," she said. They were the same wooden figurines Kimmi had carved in the park and a few others Leyla had claimed over time.
Then Catherine glanced at Emeline, who looked hesitant—almost guilty.
"And these," Emeline admitted, picking out a few more, "are the ones I bought from you, Cane."
Kimmi stared at the remaining figurines in her hands, her heart pounding. 'There are still so many left…' A terrible thought crossed her mind. 'Did Leyla… steal these from me?'
An unfamiliar heat flared within her chest. A sudden wave of anger surged through her, irrational and possessive. The urge. It whispered darkly in her mind.
'Everything is mine and mine alone!'
Her grip tightened around the wooden figurines.
But then—
'No! Calm yourself, Kimmi!' she fought against the creeping emotion. 'Do you really want to lose a friend over this?'
Kimmi did not know if she had any friends—she could not remember—but if she did, she needed them. Especially since she could not always trust herself with her own common sense. She needed someone to tell her when she was wrong or to warn her if she was about to do something inappropriate.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to think clearly. 'No… I don't believe Leyla stole them. That means we must have brought them here willingly, right?'
The anger dulled, but it didn't disappear entirely. It lingered at the edge of her mind.
And suddenly, everything clicked.
She finally understood why this place had always felt so familiar—why she had been so playful here, so at ease. She must have spent a lot of time in this room, bringing her books and toys along. Maybe she had even asked Leyla to read to her in the past.
'Could it be… this is why I feel like I belong here?'
Determined, Kimmi marched toward Leyla bed and lifted the sheets, peeking inside.
Leyla lay curled up, her face turned away. Her small shoulders trembled, but her sadness was not directed at Kimmi. No…
She was mad at her mother.
It was almost as if she could not bring herself to be angry at Kimmi, no matter how much she wanted to be.
Or maybe—just maybe—she was not even mad. Maybe she was just… embarrassed.
Kimmi hesitated before crawling under the bedsheets, the wooden figurines still clutched in her hands.
"Leyla," Kimmi said firmly, "I want my book back."
"Nooo!" Leyla wailed, turning away and burying herself deeper under the covers.
Without hesitation, Kimmi climbed under the bedsheets with her, she pushed wooden figurines with her.
Leyla jerked up, eyes wide. "What are you doing here?!" She tried to push Kimmi away with feeble hands.
Kimmi did not budge. "Leyla… I want to share my stuffs with you." She said, trying to reason with her.
Kimmi pushed the remaining unclaims figurine toward Leyla. "Aren't we used to play together?" she question and continue added "We are friend right?" Kimmi guessed.
Leyla froze. She blinked in shock. That was the last thing she expected to hear.
Her breath hitched.
Her lips trembled as she tried to form words, but nothing came out.
She had spent so long feeling envious of Kimmi—jealous of all the things she had, secretly hoping Kimmi would just forget about them so she could keep them forever. And yet… here Kimmi was, willingly offering to share.
Leyla was shocked. She could not understand why Kimmi would willingly share her things with her. Almost everything in the toy chest—except for three children books—belonged to Kimmi. Even those three books had been difficult for Leyla to get, making her treasure them even more.
She had never truly understood Kimmi. They had never really spoken. Kimmi had always been a strange presence in her life—hiding under tables, crawling beneath beds, and sometimes even squeezing herself into toy chest.
Every so often, Kimmi would sneak into her house with armfuls of random things and quietly store them away in the chest, as if it were a secret stash.
At first, Leyla had thought Kimmi was stealing things and hoarding them in her room. Then, for a time, she assumed Kimmi was some distant cousin visiting the shop and being forced to stay in her room. But none of that was true. Kimmi was not related to her at all. Even her mother, Emeline, had no idea who the strange girl was. The only person who seemed to understand Kimmi was her father, and he never questioned her behaviour. He simply accepted it.
That made Leyla hate her. Kimmi, the strange, troublesome girl who acted like she owned everything. A girl so privileged that even her father would not lift a finger to discipline her. Surely, Kimmi had to be some noble child—that would explain why her odd behaviour was tolerated.
Leyla had once begged her mother to kick Kimmi out of their house. Emeline, already exasperated by Kimmi antics, had gone to Catherine, Kimmi mother, hoping she would put an end to her daughter troublemaking. But over time, Leyla hatred faded. She stopped asking Kimmi to leave and, instead, began to welcome her. Because, in the end, Kimmi was the only one who truly listened to her and listening is what Kimmi really good at.
Most of the time, Leyla was not even allowed outside. Her father had forced her into a strict regimen of studies, isolating her from other children. But Kimmi did not care about that. Kimmi came and went as she pleased, bringing with her an air of reckless freedom that Leyla envied.
When Leyla finally met Catherine, she was in awe. The woman was well-respected among society, admired by both her mother and others. In Leyla eyes, Catherine was an idol—someone who allowed her daughter to do whatever she pleased. It only fuelled Leyla jealousy. She longed for that kind of freedom.
But as more and more of Kimmi toys filled her room, Leyla began to realize something—Kimmi and her mother were not just carefree, they were kind. Kimmi, despite her wild nature, was someone who would play with her for hours without complaint. Someone who, despite all odds, made Leyla feel less alone.
Of course, there were still moments when Kimmi was uncontrollable, but that was only a small price to pay. The real problem was when Leyla father caught her slacking in her studies—punishment always followed.
Her family took great pride in their reputation. Proving herself superior to other children, excelling beyond them, was the only way to earn her parent approval. And who better to look down upon than Kimmi? A girl known only for causing trouble. A girl who never defended herself.
At least, that was what Leyla had always believed.
Kimmi reached out, gently placing a wooden figurine in Leyla chest. "I don't mind sharing," she continued. "Can you share your books too?"
Leyla swallowed hard, staring at the figurine in disbelief.
'Why? Why was Kimmi being so nice to her?' Leyla in disbelief. 'Was Kimmi always this nice?'
"I don't want to give them back…" she whispered. Her voice was barely audible.
Kimmi tilted her head. "Why?"
"Because…" Leyla sniffled, rubbing at her eyes. "It was my favourite books."
Kimmi blinked, taken aback. 'My god this girl is stubborn…'
After a long pause, Kimmi sighed and flopped onto her back. "Leyla… I'm not going to take the books home..."
Leyla blinked.
Kimmi turned her head and smiled. "Even if I take my books back… you can always ask it back, we basically neighbour."
Leyla breath hitched again. She looked down at the book in her hands, tracing the cover with her fingers.
A single tear slid down her cheek.
Then, hesitantly, she held out the book.
"…You'll still let me read with you?" she asked in a small voice.
Kimmi grinned and took the book. "Of course, I can't read it by myself."
Leyla sniffled again. Then, without warning, she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Kimmi in a tight, almost desperate hug.
Kimmi blinked in surprise, then slowly, she hugged her back.
Outside the bedsheets, Emeline and Catherine stood silently, watching the small lump under the blankets. Emeline let out a soft chuckle and shook her head.
"Kids," she murmured.
Catherine smiled , a hint of amusement in her eyes. "It seems, after all, that Leliana is truly my daughter dearest friend..."
She had always wondered why her daughter was so drawn to the Frasier families store—now, at last, she understood. However, a quiet concern lingered in her mind. Kimmi had caused her fair share of trouble for the family in the past, and Catherine could not help but wonder if any lingering resentment still remained.
Just then, Kimmi peeked out from beneath the bedsheets, a wide grin spreading across her face. Clutching a bundle of books—the very ones Leyla had clung to so desperately—she clambered out of bed and trotted over to Catherine.
"Hehehe, Leyla lent them to me!" she declared triumphantly, flashing a V-sign in victory.
Catherine arched a brow. "Is that so?" She glanced toward Emeline, who had been silently observing the exchange.
Emeline eyes flickered between the books in Kimmi hands and the still-sulking lump beneath the blankets. A moment later, Leyla hesitantly poked her head out, her gaze never leaving the books. Then, as if pulled by an invisible thread, she hurried to her mother side and latched onto Emeline waist.
Emeline chuckled softly. "You alright, sweetheart?" she asked, gently smoothing down Leyla tousled hair. "Did you really lend your book to Kimmi?"
Leyla grip on her mother tightened. "She promised to give it back," she mumbled, the reluctance thick in her voice. Even as she spoke, her eyes darted to the books in Kimmi arms, as if afraid they might disappear forever.
Catherine let out an amused hum. "How generous of you, dear," she mused. "And yet, you don't seem particularly happy about it."
Leyla puffed her cheeks, shooting a half-hearted glare at Kimmi.
Kimmi, oblivious to the tension, hugged the books closer to her chest. "You're acting like I stole them!" she huffed. "I said I'd give them back! It's not like I'm going to eat them!"
Leyla sniffled dramatically. "You might as well, with how you treat your things…"
Catherine barely suppressed a chuckle, while Emeline let out a soft sigh.
Emeline sighed softly, watching the turmoil play out in her daughter expression. 'Perhaps I should buy her another copy…' she thought.
The book Leyla had just lent to Kimmi was a cherished birthday gift, one she had adored for so long. It did not sit right with her to part with it, even temporarily, especially since Kimmi had a reputation for breaking things. But then again, Leyla had kept Kimmi book for so long that Kimmi herself had forgotten about it. Perhaps it was only fair for Kimmi to borrow her book in return.
Emeline knelt slightly, levelling her gaze with Leyla. "Are you sure about this?" she asked gently.
Leyla bit her lip, staring at the books in Kimmi hands as if they were her very soul. After a long pause, she finally sighed and nodded, though it was clear she was not completely at peace with her decision.
Kimmi, completely missing the emotional weight of the moment, grinned. "See? No problem at all!"
Leyla let out another dramatic sniffle, burying her face into her mother dress. "If she ruins it, I'm never forgiving her," She muttered.
"A curious past, a bond now true, Once acquaintances in doubt, now friends anew."