The contract mark on the back of her left hand was still faintly warm. Silver-white patterns traced along her knuckles, like tiny tattoos seared by starlight.
Ice dust was still gently falling from the air, brushing past her shoulders and settling on the ground by her feet, where it lingered without melting.
Snowrealm plunged the straight sword into the asphalt, her fingers still gripping the hilt.
She gasped for air; she wasn't even sure how she had managed that series of actions. The moment she transformed, a flood of knowledge that wasn't hers poured into her mind like a bursting dam.
Star-trail was perched on a low stone stool at the edge of the sidewalk, its two front paws pressed together, its tail hanging over the edge. From an observer's perspective, it looked as though it was simply waiting quietly for its contractor to recover from her first battle.
The person behind Star-trail was currently crouched behind a trash can deep in the alley, her face buried in her knees.
Qiluo Tian Gong had watched everything that just happened, from start to finish, through Star-trail's shared vision.
She hadn't missed a single moment.
And now, behind the trash can, her face buried in her knees, her entire consciousness felt numb.
In fact, she couldn't stand up anymore.
The moment the contract was established, the amount of mana drained from Star-trail far exceeded her estimation. When she designed Star-trail's clone, she had already implemented a buffer limit on its mana supply circuit, so theoretically, contracting a Star Seed aptitude user shouldn't consume too much mana.
The consumption was supposed to be only about twenty percent of her total reserves. It shouldn't affect her main body or the clone's stability.
But Yuki Kurokawa was different. The intensity of the Star Seed's response directly broke through the mana supply circuit's limits, drawing out mana from Star-trail's clone equivalent to more than half of Qiluo's main body's total reserves.
It didn't feel like mana was being drawn out; it felt like the entire supply circuit was violently tugged from the other end.
Qiluo almost deactivated Star-trail's mimetic form right there behind the trash can.
Star-trail's stable existence right now was entirely sustained by the remaining mana from Qiluo's main body.
Even the warming array might not last until morning.
“...That was reckless,” Qiluo mumbled from behind the trash can, her voice muffled by her knees and skirt.
She wasn't saying Yuki Kurokawa was reckless; the intensity of a Star Seed's response wasn't something a contractor could control.
She was saying she was reckless. In that situation, she could have simply used a barrier to block the Erosion Body, then had Star-trail take Yuki Kurokawa to a safe area before slowly discussing the contract. That would have been the normal procedure.
But the sight of Yuki Kurokawa closing her eyes and waiting for death made Qiluo's fingers move faster than her brain.
She pressed the contract mark on.
“...I need to go back.” Qiluo braced her hands against the edge of the trash can and slowly stood up. Her knees were trembling. She leaned against the wall for a few seconds, waiting for the dark filter over her vision to recede before she began to move deeper into the alley.
Meanwhile, Star-trail stood up from the low stone stool, shook its fur, and gracefully arced its tail behind it. It walked to Snowrealm's feet and looked up at her.
“Can you still walk?” Star-trail asked, its voice remarkably clear in the quiet night street.
Snowrealm pulled the straight sword from the road. The blade dissipated into Star-trail particles in her hand, and the chain also broke down into points of light, leaving only her empty, clenched fist.
“...Yes,” she rasped, and then her knees buckled, sending her stumbling forward. Fortunately, she had already partially adjusted her balance before the straight sword dissipated, allowing her to brace herself against the nearby wall.
Star-trail didn't try to help her; Qiluo's remaining mana wouldn't allow it to exert any effort in its clone form. But it took a step forward, its tail gently brushing Snowrealm's ankle, starlight particles clinging to her boots.
“The first transformation causes a mana surge,” Star-trail said. “Your body needs time to adapt. Sit down first.”
Snowrealm slid down the wall to sit. Her skirt fanned out on the asphalt, catching a few unmelted ice dust particles.
She leaned against the wall, resting the back of her head on the cool bricks, her breathing gradually slowing from rapid gasps to a steady rhythm.
She turned her head to look at Star-trail. The deep blue in her eyes had intensified after the transformation.
Those eyes were now staring unblinkingly at Star-trail, as if confirming that something wouldn't suddenly disappear.
“My name is Snowrealm?” she tentatively asked after a moment.
“That is your contract name.”
Snowrealm was silent for a moment. She raised her left hand, fingers slightly splayed, looking at the silver-white tattoo on the back of her hand that pulsed as if breathing. The streetlight filtered through her fingers, casting several thin shadows across her face.
She lowered her hand, turned her head, and her gaze fell on the star-shaped mark on Star-trail's forehead. The mark emitted a soft, silver-white glow, and star charts slowly rotated in the depths of its pupils.
Star-trail crouched by Snowrealm's feet, starlight particles from its tail drifting onto her knees and slowly extinguishing.
About ten minutes later, Snowrealm opened her eyes. The aftershocks of the mana surge seemed to have passed; her breathing was completely steady, and the focus in her deep blue eyes had returned to clarity.
“I'm going home.” Then, looking down at Star-trail, her lips moved, and she crouched down, bringing her gaze to the same level as Star-trail's.
“Will you come with me?”
Her voice was so soft that Qiluo had to rely on Star-trail's senses to hear it clearly.
But Qiluo also heard another voice in her own ears—the unspoken latter half of Yuki Kurokawa's sentence. Through the resonance of the contract mark, Star-trail received it: Don't leave me.
Star-trail's tail paused.
“...Okay.”
Snowrealm held out her hand, palm open and facing upwards, waiting for it to make its own decision.
Star-trail took a step forward, jumped onto her palm, then walked along her arm to her shoulder, curling into a small silver-white ball by her neck. Its tail wrapped around her neck, the tip resting gently beside the contract emblem on her left shoulder.
Snowrealm stood up, her movements slow, as if a bird that might fly away at any moment was perched on her shoulder.
Then she deactivated her transformation.
The moment the transformation was deactivated, the elaborate skirt dissolved into points of light. Yuki Kurokawa stood once again under the streetlight, dressed in the casual clothes she had worn earlier that day: a dark long dress, a white shirt, and a light gray knit cardigan over it.
The silver-white tattoo on the back of her left hand didn't disappear after the transformation was deactivated; instead, it shrank into a small star-shaped mark.
She looked down at the mark on the back of her hand, gently touching it with her finger. Then she started walking quietly down the street. Star-trail was curled into a small silver-white ball on her shoulder, starlight particles gently flickering with her steps.
Qiluo climbed the apartment stairs to the third floor—literally crawled. She used her last bit of strength to push open her apartment door.
The warming array's hum was much fainter than usual; mana supply was insufficient, and the temperature had already begun to drop.
She kicked off her shoes, threw her schoolbag in the entryway, walked a few steps, and then collapsed onto her bedding, burying her face in the pillow. It was cold, colder than outside. The warming array was about to stop, but she had no spare mana to replenish it tonight.
“...That was reckless,” she repeated into the pillow. Then she fumbled for the bedding, pulled it over herself, and closed her eyes.
Star-trail's senses were still active. She felt Star-trail gently swaying with Yuki Kurokawa's steps, felt the warmth and pulse of Yuki Kurokawa's neck, and smelled a faint scent.
A girl with an air of books, just as she was at their first meeting. Yuki Kurokawa walked steadily, but her heartbeat was a little faster than it should be at a normal pace.
Qiluo rolled over in her apartment bedding, pressing the pillow tighter.
At the same time, she heard Yuki Kurokawa's soft breathing as she stopped at an intersection to wait for the traffic light, and felt Star-trail's tail lift slightly in the night breeze.
“...Never mind,” she murmured to the ceiling.
Then she closed her eyes, temporarily returning all her attention to Star-trail's world.
Yuki Kurokawa's home was in a tower near the city center, with dark gray stone exterior walls, a security system at the entrance, and a permanent building manager. The lobby floor was marble, the lighting warm yellow, and the air carried a faint, elusive lemon scent of disinfectant.
The building manager poked his head out from the duty room window, saw her, nodded, and then withdrew. Yuki Kurokawa gave a slight bow in return, then headed to the elevator bank. After the elevator doors closed, the mirrored wall reflected her solitary figure.
Star-trail was perched on her left shoulder, its silver-white body curled into a ball of fur, its tail wrapped around the back of her neck, the tip resting on the knit texture of her right shoulder.
The elevator stopped. The hallway was carpeted in dark gray, and the walls were matte ivory. Yuki Kurokawa walked to the innermost door and pressed the fingerprint lock. The lock emitted a brief confirmation sound and clicked open. The entryway's motion-sensor light automatically turned on, illuminating a hallway larger than Qiluo's entire apartment.
“I'm home,” Yuki Kurokawa said to the empty hallway.
No one replied. She placed her shoes in the shoe cabinet, then took out a pair of guest slippers from the cabinet, hesitated, and put them back. Star-trail didn't need slippers.
The living room was much larger than Qiluo had imagined. The open-plan kitchen island was marble, and a solitary glass vase with a few dried flowers stood on the dining table. The sofa was light gray leather, looking almost untouched.
All the furniture adhered strictly to a kind of detached order.
Yuki Kurokawa walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There was little inside: a few convenience store salads, a row of yogurts, an unopened bag of whole wheat bread.
The light from the refrigerator compartment shone on her face, its cold glow making her expression somewhat pale.
“...What would you like to eat?” she asked Star-trail, turning her head, like an elementary school student inviting a classmate over for the first time, unsure what would be appropriate to offer.
“Anything is fine,” Star-trail said, jumping from her shoulder onto the kitchen island, its four paws lightly tapping the marble surface.
Yuki Kurokawa took out a box of salad and a bag of bread, then an apple. She rinsed the apple under the faucet, the sound of the water echoing in the empty living room. After washing it, she cut the apple into four wedges, removed the core, and placed them on a small plate, pushing it toward Star-trail.
“Apple. Can you eat it?”
Star-trail lowered its head, touching the cut surface of the apple with its nose. It carefully took a small bite, chewed, and its ears twitched.
Yuki Kurokawa's expression softened slightly. She pushed the remaining bread and salad aside, then took out orange juice from the refrigerator, poured a glass, and held it in her hand. She hadn't eaten dinner; she just stood leaning against the island, swirling the orange juice in her palm.
After Star-trail finished the entire apple wedge, it looked up and wiped the apple juice from its mouth with its tail. It noticed that Yuki Kurokawa had only taken a few sips of orange juice since coming home.
She didn't seem to want to eat anything.
“Aren't you hungry?” Star-trail asked.
“...Not really,” Yuki Kurokawa said, holding the cup. “There was a break during the lecture, so I ate something. Are you full?”
“Very full. Thank you for the meal,” Star-trail said, nodding elegantly.
Lying. Qiluo rolled over in her apartment bedding, the hunger signal from the other end of her consciousness still persistent.
She hadn't had time to buy dinner. The apple Star-trail ate wouldn't fill her main body's stomach, but at least she shared a little of the fruit's sweetness.
Yuki Kurokawa cleaned the kitchen. After all that, she stood in the middle of the living room, suddenly unsure what to do. Usually, by this time, she would be at her desk reviewing tomorrow's lessons or staring blankly out the window.
But her homework for the day was spread out on her desk, and she didn't want to take a single step toward it.
“...Do you want to take a bath?” she turned to ask Star-trail.
“No need,” Star-trail said. “Contract Spirits don't need baths.”
“Oh,” Yuki Kurokawa replied, then walked into the bathroom. The sound of water running could be heard for about fifteen minutes.
Star-trail perched on the living room sofa armrest, looking around. The living room bookshelf was filled with medical journals and economics magazines, interspersed with a few practical manuals on fitness and organization.
The sound of water in the bathroom stopped, replaced by the whirring of a hairdryer.
Yuki Kurokawa emerged wearing dark blue pajamas, wiping the ends of her hair with a towel, her bare feet padding on the wooden floor of the hallway.
Star-trail jumped from the sofa armrest and followed her into the bedroom. The bedroom was smaller than the living room, but equally tidy, as if no one lived there.
Textbooks and notebooks were neatly arranged on the desk; there were no posters or any decorations on the walls.
Yuki Kurokawa sat down on the bed, folded the hair-drying towel, and placed it on the nightstand. Then she looked at Star-trail.
Star-trail crouched at the foot of the bed, its two front paws together, its tail neatly wrapped around to cover its paw tips. This posture was Qiluo's temporary decision: the position of a night watch beast, neither too high nor too low, exactly where one's gaze would naturally fall.
Yuki Kurokawa reached out and turned off the bedside lamp. In the darkness, only the city's night glow seeping through the curtain gap remained, along with the faint, flickering starlight particles on Star-trail's tail.
Qiluo thought Yuki Kurokawa had fallen asleep, and Star-trail was about to adjust its posture from crouching to lying down.
Then a hand reached out from under the covers and pulled Star-trail in.
The movement was extremely swift, yet the force was gentle. It wasn't a rough tug, but an action long premeditated, yet only now mustered with courage.
Fingers ran through the soft fur on Star-trail's belly, scooping it up entirely and tucking it under the covers, pressing it against her chest. The dark blue pajama fabric was soft and slightly cool, but the body temperature beneath the fabric was warm.
Qiluo's eyes snapped open in her apartment bedding.
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