The corridor glowed softly with the light of a single lantern beetle drifting ahead of her, its pale yellow hue swaying like a living fla.
Elara walked lightly, almost skipping. For the first ti in a long while, her heart felt unburdened. Confessing everything to Luciel — the truth about Astris City, the experints, the ghosts — had been like unclasping a chain she’d worn for years. The tightness in her chest had loosened.
It feels so much easier now, she thought, exhaling into the quiet corridor.
Of course, the weight wasn’t entirely gone. So things couldn’t be shed — the creeping infection still asleep inside her veins, the lingering need for revenge that pulsed whenever she thought of the city that made her a weapon. But for now, she could breathe.
Her mind turned to the small roll of parchnt she carried — the draft decree Luciel had given her, outlining the structure and privileges of the newly founded Ghost Special Forces.
"Will Alina join?" she murmured, fingering the rough edge of the parchnt.
Recruiting her pink-haired companion wouldn’t be easy. Joining such a departnt ant secrecy, discipline, and danger. Once you entered, you couldn’t simply walk away. But it also offered sothing Alina rarely refused — freedom, purpose, and perhaps a asure of redemption.
Besides, Luciel had said she could show Alina the docunt and let her decide. He had few chances to speak to the girl directly, after all. It was always Elara or Ariel who bridged that distance — and sotis, the strange empathy between them felt like an unspoken promise to bring each other ho.
"Well," Elara said to herself, rolling the parchnt shut. "No point overthinking. I’ll just ask her."
Her stomach gave a soft growl, and she smiled faintly. "And maybe bring food. That usually helps."
She turned toward the kitchen.
---
The sll of simring broth and fried oil filled the corridor long before she entered. Inside, two rabbit-eared girls and a small human maid worked busily under the lanternlight. Steam rose from a large iron pot, and the faint scent of tomatoes and herbs mingled with the woodsmoke.
Minuo, the taller of the rabbit-eared girls, turned at the sound of footsteps, her ears twitching. "Elara? What brings you here?"
"I’m just grabbing sothing to eat," Elara said, leaning against the doorfra. Her gaze drifted toward the pot. "What’s all this?"
"Luciel’s been too busy to eat properly," Minuo said, stirring the stew. "So I’m cooking sothing for him. Oh, and testing a few new recipes."
"New recipes?" Elara stepped closer, curious. "You’ve invented another dish already?"
Minuo laughed softly and shook her head. "No, Luciel gave this one." She pointed to a scrap of parchnt laid beside the cutting board, its surface covered in neat handwriting. "He’s planning ahead — for the Comrcial Street."
Elara blinked. "Comrcial Street?"
"You know," Minuo said cheerfully, "the trading district we’ll build near the square. Shops, food stalls, inns. Luciel says we’ll need proper dishes for travelers and rchants."
Elara smiled. "Of course he did." She admired the girl’s enthusiasm — the way everyone here worked tirelessly to make the city thrive. Black Tortoise was no longer just a fortress. It was beginning to breathe.
"What would you like?" Minuo asked, wiping her hands. "I’ll have Sophia prepare it."
"Sothing simple," Elara said. "Enough for three people."
"Three?" Minuo tilted her head but didn’t pry. "Sophia, let’s do the fried pork with cabbage and that tomato-braised at again."
"Yes, Lady Minuo," the maid said softly. Her movents were efficient and graceful — slicing at, washing cabbage, and stirring the pot with quiet precision. Elara found herself watching her for a while. There was sothing deeply serene about the way Sophia worked — the gentleness of soone who found aning in care itself.
Half an hour later, the two dishes were done, the air rich with warmth and spice. Sophia packed the food neatly into a lunch box and handed it to Elara.
"Thank you," Elara said, bowing her head slightly.
Sophia smiled — a small, humble smile — before turning back to help Minuo with her next experint.
Elara left the kitchen quietly, the lunch box warm in her hands. As she passed a side hall, she glanced through an open window. Inside, she caught sight of Mirean Moon sitting at a desk, pen scratching across parchnt. Next to her, Agni Moon had fallen asleep, her red hair spilling over folded arms.
Mirean felt the weight of a gaze and looked up, catching Elara’s eye. She smiled, then rose to drape a soft hide blanket over her daughter’s shoulders before returning to her work.
Luciel had assigned her to draft the regulations for the upcoming Comrcial Street — trade policies, order laws, basic governance. Even late at night, she was still at it, pen moving in quiet diligence.
Elara lingered a mont longer, then continued on her way, feeling a quiet warmth rise in her chest. Everyone in this city is building sothing, she thought. Even I am, now.
Her smile deepened. "Maybe that’s why I’m here," she murmured. "To find out who I’m ant to be."
---
The voices reached her before she opened the door.
"Co on, Little Lily, just try it — it’s not poisonous, I swear!"
"No way! The last one was poisonous!"
Elara stopped outside Ariel’s workshop, stifling a laugh.
"I promise this ti it’s fine," Ariel insisted. "I made it with Star Tea!"
Alina’s suspicious voice rose sharply. "You’re lying again!"
"Never! Here — one sip, you’ll see."
Elara peered through the open doorway just in ti to see Alina — pink hair ruffled, cheeks puffed — sigh in defeat and take the bowl. She swallowed, paused, then grimaced violently.
"Ugh! It’s bitter!"
Ariel blinked in confusion. "Bitter? That’s strange... it shouldn’t be."
"Shouldn’t—? Ariel, what did you make this ti?" Alina glared, hands on hips, as the blonde woman tilted her head, utterly baffled.
Watching from the doorway, Elara shook her head. Every ti, she thought with amused resignation. One fool, one soft-hearted victim — a balance that sohow never changed.
When she finally stepped inside, Alina turned, relief flashing in her eyes. "Elara! You saw that, right?"
"I did," Elara said evenly. "And I’d say it’s your fault for trusting her again."
Alina huffed, crossing her arms. "I swear, next ti I won’t fall for it!"
"You said that last ti," Elara replied dryly.
Ariel only grinned, clearly unrepentant, and began preparing another concoction.
Before the next experint could begin, Elara raised a hand. "Actually, I ca for sothing else." She held out the lunch box. "Dinner."
"Oh!" Alina brightened instantly. "You’re a lifesaver." She opened the lid and gasped in delight. "Fried pork with cabbage! And tomato stew!"
"I thought you’d like it," Elara said, taking a seat. "Ariel, co eat before it gets cold."
Ariel set down her bowl, wiped her hands on her apron, and hurried over. "Mmm, it slls amazing!"
They sat together around the small table, the glow of the lantern beetle on the wall casting soft gold over their faces.
The food disappeared quickly. Between laughter, teasing, and mock squabbles over the last pieces of at, the tension of the day lted away.
When the plates were nearly empty, Elara set her chopsticks down. "I told Luciel about Astris City," she said quietly.
Both girls froze.
Alina looked up, alard. "And? What did he say?"
Elara smiled faintly. "He wasn’t surprised. And he wasn’t angry. He just said not to underestimate Black Tortoise."
Alina blinked, the words sinking in. She thought of the massive creature sleeping beneath the city — the living fortress that carried their ho upon its shell — and felt a strange, grounding calm.
"Maybe he’s right," she murmured. "Maybe we don’t have to fear Astris anymore."
Elara nodded. "He’s building sothing different. Sothing stronger."
Ariel leaned forward curiously. "So what’s all this about a ’special departnt’ he ntioned earlier?"
"That’s why I ca," Elara said, straightening. "Luciel’s forming a new division — the Ghost Special Forces. It’ll handle intelligence, surveillance, covert missions. He asked to lead, and to invite those I trust."
Ariel blinked. "So... basically another assassination squad?"
Elara hesitated. "It sounds similar," she admitted, "but it isn’t the sa. This ti, it’s for us. For protecting what we choose, not what soone else commands."
She opened the parchnt and read the benefits aloud. "Four rest days each month. One drop of Angel’s Tears as a standard healing ration. A hundred grams of Star Tea leaves. Thirty kilograms of fresh vegetables from the greenhouses."
Alina’s pink eyes widened. "Wait... are you trying to bribe ?"
Elara smiled knowingly. "Maybe. Will it work?"
"I—" Alina paused, clearly torn.
"I know your dream," Elara said softly. "You don’t have to decide now."
Ariel tilted her head, curious. "Her dream? Isn’t she already living it?"
Alina’s cheeks flared pink. "What’s that supposed to an?"
"Your travel journals," Ariel said simply, grinning. "Wasn’t your dream to write about grand adventures? Well, we’re living in a moving city. Isn’t that the greatest adventure of all?"
Alina froze, fork halfway to her mouth. She thought of the city carried by a giant tortoise, of the endless landscapes gliding by beneath its massive feet, of the people they’d t and the dangers they’d survived. Slowly, her lips curved into a reluctant smile.
"You might be right," she admitted.
Elara leaned back, eyes glinting. "You should write it — The Chronicles of a Moving City."
The pink-haired girl looked thoughtful. "That’s... actually not a bad title."
Ariel giggled, raising her cup. "To Black Tortoise City — the grandest adventure any of us could have asked for."
Elara smiled, clinking her cup softly against theirs. The warmth of the stew, the laughter of her friends, the faint vibration of the city shifting on the tortoise’s back — all of it blended into a sin
gle, quiet mont of peace.
For the first ti in years, Elara no longer felt like a weapon.
She felt like part of a living story — one that was still being written.
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