Yuki hummed as she walked, lightly tapping her fingers against her hip in a cheerful off-tempo rhythm. The tune had been stuck in her head since the bard at the port had played it while she was helping load the last crates of confiscated treasure.

  It was bouncy, full of little trills, and she was pretty sure it was about a fox outsmarting sailors. Well, she was a historian, so when she exchanged siren for a fox, nobody would know. Although the lyrics got drowned out when someone accidentally dropped a crate and everybody screamed.

  Still. Nice melody. Good walking music.

  She hopped over a cracked bit of cobblestone, skirt swishing around her knees. The southern district of Altandai smelled faintly of rose dust, warm stone, old paper, and sugar pastries; the last one was a dangerous temptation.

  The bakery she had found yesterday was probably closed, and she was on a mission.

  A very important, super-duper official mission. Fox-girl! Actual fox! She had told Charlie that she would go straight to the library, and she was absolutely doing that.

  …even though she’d stopped twice on the way to look at carved murals. But that still counted as being on the way.

  The Altandai Library appeared ahead of her, tucked between two narrow streets like someone trying to hide an enormous book on a too-small bookshelf.

  Compared to the grandmaster temples, where corridors spiraled upward like magical beanstalks and books whispered when you passed them, this one was humbler. Not small exactly, just… serious. Built from the city’s signature rose-tinted stone, its outer walls glowed in the late-afternoon light, like the entire building had been lightly dusted with sunset.

  Yuki squinted at the stonework.

  Right. The rosy stone came from the Nilaine Quarries. And right next to the quarries there had once been—oh!—the haunted barrens. People said wandering spirits used to mimic miners’ voices and call them deeper underground. She’d read about it in an old folklore compendium. Super interesting. Definitely not helpful right now.

  She shook her head vigorously enough that her bangs flopped. “Focus, Yuki,” she whispered to herself. “Maps. Old ones. Not ghosts.”

  With a decisive nod, she pushed the library doors open and stepped inside.

  Warm air embraced her like a friendly book hug. The scent hit her immediately with dried paper and something softly herbal that reminded her of old reading halls in the academy back on Earth. Tall shelves lined the walls, running in parallel rows like wooden soldiers, each one stuffed past proper capacity with scrolls, ledgers, catalogs, and fat tomes swelling at the spine.

  It wasn’t grand, but it was alive. Lived-in. Half-organized chaos.

  Yuki loved it instantly.

  She hummed again, just softly, out of habit, while drifting between shelves.

  The library wasn’t empty, but the few scholars inside were too absorbed in their work to notice the young girl navigating the aisles like a dazzled pixie. A clerk at the front desk lifted his head, blinked at her, then returned to his parchment without comment.

  Yuki had been here earlier, so she didn’t bother pretending she knew where everything was. She absolutely did not. The indexing system made sense only if you were, in her words, “a bored historian who likes puzzles more than people.”

  She headed left anyway. That felt right. Maybe because she remembered seeing a dusty shelf labeled Civic Topographies somewhere in that direction. Or maybe because the sunlight slanting through the tall arched window looked really pretty on that side.

  She paused beneath the archway, letting the light catch the edges of her hair. Light always made her feel braver. More focused. Like the world was full of tiny refracting hints waiting to be found.

  “Okay,” she murmured. “Maps. Cross-reference. Easy.”

  Then she spotted the table where she’d worked earlier and hurried toward it. Three old atlases were still stacked neatly where she’d left them, open to pages of faded coastlines and sketched landmarks.

  Yuki slid into the seat with a quiet squeak of wood.

  Her heart buzzed.

  This was it. The first proper step on her Sun Fox quest.

  She reached eagerly toward the nearest atlas… and froze halfway through the motion. “Wait… oh! Actually! I remember a story about this region—just real quick—”

  Her thoughts tripped over themselves, bouncing between folklore, maps, quarries, and haunted barrens.

  But she shook herself again.

  Later.

  She could ramble to Phèdre or Lisa later.

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  Right now… she had work to do.

  With a breath of determination, she opened the next atlas and leaned forward, eyes bright, ready to dive into forgotten geography and hidden paths.

  “Oh!”

  Her voice cracked slightly after some time.

  There. The lines overlapped. And not vaguely, not “in the same forest-ish place,” but exactly. A barren strip of woodland north of Altandai, the shape of it identical to an old sketch in the atlas, just blurred, just faded, but unmistakable.

  Her interface blinked.

  Yuki tried to grap the floating window as if it might run away.

  She squeaked.

  In excitement first, because she found it, she actually found the entrance to a legendary spirit trial, something—

  But then the words hit her.

  Minimum of three.

  “Three,” Yuki whispered. “Th-three?? No-no-no-no that’s— that’s an entire party!”

  Her heartbeat tripled.

  Her thoughts pinwheeled.

  Three people meant coordination, and coordination meant leadership, and leadership meant decisions, and decisions meant responsibility, and responsibility meant people could get angry, and then Charlie would come back and look at her with that disappointed queen face and—

  “Wait,” she gasped. “Wait, wait, wait—oh!”

  She slapped both cheeks lightly.

  “Three people means me plus two! That’s… that’s just two! Two friends! Two! I can find two!”

  Relief flooded her body like cool water after a sprint.

  Okay. Okay. She could do two. Two was manageable. Two did not require her to suddenly become an adultier adult.

  She stood up so fast her chair squealed against the floor.

  With renewed determination, Yuki gathered her maps, shoved them into her satchel, in a way a future Yuki would definitely scold herself for, and hurried out of the Altandai Library into the pink-stone streets.

  Altandai’s streets were buzzing as evening crept in, markets winding down, musicians warming up, people pretending they weren’t tired yet. Yuki moved quickly through the noise, half-humming the bard’s tune from earlier. The Twilight Paw sat in her inventory she couldn’t hear but somehow still felt.

  Her destination appeared: Altandai Second Best Tea Room.

  Yuki stopped, squinting. “…Why would you name yourself that?”

  No answer came, so she pushed inside.

  Warmth rolled over her, spiced tea, smoke, soft cushions, golden lamplight. People lounged everywhere in various states of “I’ll get up eventually.” A light enchantment hummed beneath it all, tugging tension from her shoulders in a way that felt suspiciously like seduction-by-furniture.

  And at the center, raised a nest of pillows, sat Phèdre.

  She wasn’t lounging; she was staging the concept of lounging. One leg draped out, hair spilling over one shoulder, shirt casually undone just enough to invite curiosity without surrendering mystery. Jewels from the heist glittered across her table like the world’s prettiest bribe.

  Her voice carried lazily across the room.

  “So there I am,” she drawled, twirling a ring between two fingers, “three guards ahead, four behind, and none of them with the fashion sense to make dying for treasure feel worth it.”

  A couple of listeners laughed. One frowned. “You said thirty earlier.”

  Phèdre didn’t miss a beat. “Chéri, when men shout at you with that much bad breath and insecurity, it feels like thirty.”

  More laughter.

  Yuki, unable to stop herself, blurted, “Technically it was eighteen total, plus two that rotated, Grandmaster-era treasury defenses were designed to—”

  Heads turned. Yuki froze.

  Phèdre’s smile sharpened. “Yuki,” she said, lifting a hand. “Viens. Come here before you lecture them into a coma.”

  Yuki stumbled forward.

  “She was with me,” Phèdre announced, sweeping an elegant arm toward her. “Without her, this would still be sitting in a vault guarded by men with the collective intuition of wet bread.”

  Yuki flushed. “I just carried things.”

  “Mhm. And calculated timing. And saved us one awkward talk to Charlie when Luna bailed on us. Très valuable.” She flicked her fingers at the lingering audience. “Allez, go drink your tea. If you want the extended edition, I charge extra.”

  People laughed and drifted away. The stage was instantly theirs.

  Phèdre took a slow sip of tea, shoulders relaxing now that she wasn’t performing. She patted the cushion beside her. “Sit before you faint, mon c?ur.”

  Yuki sank down. The enchantment under her tried to melt her spine.

  Phèdre watched her for a beat too long. “You have a look.”

  “What look?”

  “The ‘Phèdre, I need help with something I absolutely should not be doing’ look.”

  Yuki swallowed and then opened her interface. The quest window bloomed between them. Phèdre read it without interrupting, her expression shifting into that unimpressed patience she saved for bureaucracy and obviously bad ideas she would absolutely still do.

  When she finished, she arched a brow. “A legendary labyrinth.” She nodded once, slowly. “évidemment. You finish one charming quest and immediately audition for a death maze.”

  “It’s perfect for me,” Yuki said quickly. “Light magic. Illusions. Trials. And I found the entrance, but I need—I need at least two more people.”

  “Mhm.” Phèdre sipped her tea. “And somehow I am on the shortlist.”

  Yuki nodded fast. “You, me, and maybe Tramar? He’s good with destructi—”

  “Yuki.” Phèdre held up a finger. “Let me see if I understand. You want me to walk into a legendary trial before sunrise… full of illusions, traps, and whatever ancient nonsense the Sun Fox considers whimsical. After I have spent all day outrunning guards, charming half this city, and stealing jewelry that could fund a small revolution?”

  “…yes,” Yuki whispered.

  Phèdre stared at her in silence.

  Then she exhaled, long and soft. “Mon dieu. You are trouble.” A pause. “Interesting trouble… but still trouble. Charlie said this isn’t a game.”

  Yuki leaned in. “Is that—? Are you saying yes?”

  “I will help you,” Phèdre said.

  Yuki nearly burst into sparkles, until Phèdre added, tone shifting warmly dangerous, “But you will owe me.”

  Yuki blinked. “Owe… what?”

  Phèdre’s smile curled. “One night. On Earth. A real club. Real music. Real dancing. And you will not bring a notebook. Not one.”

  Yuki looked horrified. “That’s—that’s terrifying.”

  Phèdre lifted a shoulder in a graceful shrug. “So is a labyrinth, ma chérie. And you walked straight into that one.”

  Yuki made a wounded noise.

  “Do you want my healing magic at your back or not?” Phèdre asked gently. “Because Tramar is adorable, but if the walls start flashing his fire all around, I’m the friend you want.”

  “…fine,” Yuki groaned. “Deal.”

  Phèdre took her hand, warm and sure. “Très bien. Then we prepare properly. And drink tea. Beaucoup de tea.”

  The system blinked:

  Yuki sagged.

  One labyrinth.

  One Sun Fox.

  One night in an Earth club she was already regretting.