In the quiet hours of the early morning, before the sun had started to rise, Jia lay on her girlfriend’s lap, staring up at the ceiling as Eui idly played with her hair. It had been a day since the raid, and it was only after a busy, almost frantic day of putting out metaphorical fires as a result of her selfish and reckless actions that she’d finally found a quiet moment to process everything that had happened over the previous couple of days.

Hayakawa had been furious, but not for the reasons that Jia expected. She had been insulted—hurt, even—that Jia and Eui had felt the need to go over her head for something like the protection of Jia’s family. Hayakawa had insisted that if Jia had just come to her to discuss the problem, they could have settled it more diplomatically, instead of threatening not only their diplomatic mission, but also their broader mission to recover the legacy of Jianmo’s master.

Rika had taken the entire event in stride, laughing that it was just like Yoshika to run off and overthrow an entire criminal organization overnight. She’d been excited to meet Lee Jung and little Narae, and gladly offered to help with Narae’s training.

Lee Jung herself had been shocked to silence at the news of the Lee Gang’s destruction, while Narae had taken to staring all starry-eyed at Jia, as if she expected her to produce a new miracle out from under her sleeves every hour. Introducing her to Heian had done little to dissuade the little girl, unfortunately, but it did keep her entertained long enough to buy Jia another day of peace.

There were still a lot of difficult conversations in her future, Jia knew, but for the moment she had time to focus inward and consider her own feelings. After dismantling Seung’s gang and turning him over to Dae, Jia had felt—empty, hollow. It was a weight off her shoulders, yet at the same time it felt like she had killed a part of herself that she’d never realized had been so ingrained into her identity.

In a gross sort of way, Seung had been the closest thing she’d ever had to a father—not that she ever considered him as such. For the first fifteen years of her life, her every move had been defined by the looming threat of that man, the danger he and his followers posed to her, and her efforts to avoid them at all costs. As Eui had pointed out back in Nayeong, even after becoming a cultivator utterly untouchable by him and his ilk, Jia still felt unsafe in the places where his memory lingered.

Now, that part of her was gone. Seung was no more, and never would be again—she’d seen to it personally. In his wake, there was a gaping void of emptiness in the pits of Jia’s soul that she didn’t know how to deal with. She had cried her eyes out on Eui’s shoulder in the first moments after dealing with Seung, but now she just felt lost. She had defeated the avatar of her childhood trauma, taken back her name—literally, somehow, thanks to Dae’s bureaucratic sorcery—and in the process had lost one of the things that drove her.

What was she supposed to do now? What could she work towards? She had other vows, of course. Vengeance against Bai Lin for torturing Eui and other half spirits, reuniting with her friends, recovering and safehousing the artifact that sustained their world from the predatory gods that had descended to steal it away—Jia sighed. Her life had truly become a complicated tangle of motivations and obligations, but none of it fit the void in her soul. None of it defined her the way her childhood struggles had.

Jia looked up and met Eui’s crimson eyes. They had originally been brown, but had changed since the development of her demonic core—apparently a manifestation of her bodily affinity for destruction. Eui smiled gently and stroked Jia’s hair, just behind her ears. It was a nice feeling, and Eui was shameless about using their linked senses to zero in on exactly the right spots. The girl Jia loved was a confusing paradox, at times. Cruel and violent one moment, yet sweet and loving the next. Depressed and full of self-loathing, yet self-assured and confident in her convictions. Eui was an emotional pillar that Jia could lean on for support, and Jia filled the same role for her. Eui was a part of Jia, yet simultaneously more important than herself. Jia’s relationship with Eui was one of the things that defined her, to be certain, but it couldn’t be the only thing. As if reading her mind—which she was, a little bit—Eui leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on Jia’s forehead. She didn’t say anything—she knew that Jia needed to work through things on her own—but her presence was comforting nonetheless.

Finally, Jia’s thoughts turned to Lee Jung and Narae—her estranged adopted sisters, now reunited after more than seven years apart. Jia had missed Narae’s childhood, she hadn’t been there to support Jung through her sickness, and she had abandoned both of them when they needed her the most. Now, she swept into their lives, rescued Narae from guards, healed Jung’s body, and dismantled Seung’s gang for them—but what right did she have? Was her devotion to her family just another form of self-satisfaction? No, Jia refused to believe that. Her sisters meant the world to her, and she would do anything to protect them now that they had been reunited.

Something about the idea of living to protect her family resonated deeply within her. Her love for Eui, her love for her sisters, her love for her friends—all of it defined her on a level that went beyond just her motivations. Unity was the core of her domain, her cultivation, her most ultimate form of self-expression. For a moment, it felt as if that love had taken form and fit into the void in her soul like a perfect puzzle piece. As long as she had people to live for—Eui, her sisters, her friends, Jia knew that she could go on. For them she would—

Yoshika gasped as she felt a sudden pain in Jia and Eui’s chests. Her cores had begun to resonate strangely, and a tiny mote of destruction wormed its way out of Eui’s demonic core and flew out towards Jia’s. For a moment, Yoshika panicked, thinking that she had somehow triggered some kind of rejection, but Jia’s core absorbed the mote of essence without incident, and the pain faded away.

With a frown, Yoshika closed her eyes in meditation to make sense of what had just happened. Jia’s selfless devotion had triggered something in her core, and Eui’s had resonated in response, cancelling out the reaction. Had she been on the verge of submitting herself to the core? Becoming a Tennin like the lady they’d met back in Yamato? Then, like Jia’s core had been a balance against Eui succumbing to her core and becoming a demon, Eui’s had protected Jia the same way.

Nevertheless, Yoshika still felt the feeling resonating within her soul—a new aspect to her domain. Or perhaps simply a new insight into the concept of unity. More than simply cooperation and mutually beneficial bonds—more than the ties of blood or circumstance. An unconditional love that transcended all other bonds now existed within Yoshika’s heart. She only had a few such bonds—the one between Jia and Eui, of course, her connection with Heian, as well as Eui’s love for her parents and Jia’s love for her sisters. Perhaps there was room for others, in time, but Yoshika sensed that such bonds could not be formed—or broken—very easily.

Balancing that out was her hunger. Her drive to improve herself, not just for the sake of others, but for her own gratification. Yoshika could not live only for others, nor could she live only for herself. She would seek power for herself, but she would use that power to help and protect those that she cared about. It was that balance, beyond anything else, that truly defined her.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Jia opened her eyes again and met Eui’s crimson gaze staring back down at her. Eui leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips.

“Feeling a bit better now?”

Jia blushed and nodded.

“I think so, yes. Um, thanks for the help.”

Eui giggled, shaking her head ruefully.

“Leave it to you to reach some kind of grand epiphany about our domain during an emotional crisis.”

“W-well, I don’t know if there’s really any other way to do it when our emotions are so strong that they affect the reality around us.”

“True. Cultivation is weird sometimes.”

The pair laughed at that and Jia sat up to stretch, feeling more clear-headed than she had in months. With her personal crisis resolved, Jia realized that she’d created quite a few messes that still needed to be cleaned up, and she knew just where to start.

Lee Jung still spent most of her time in bed. Though she no longer felt sick, her body was weak and regaining her strength had been a slow process. She felt a bit ridiculous thinking that—her recovery had actually been remarkably fast over the last few days. Normally, she would have expected the weakness caused by her wasting body to have been a mortal threat on its own, yet her needs were more than provided for. Every day, little Narae would come into the room with a dizzying array of healthy, expensive food, provided to them by their miraculous new benefactor. Lee Jia herself visited once a day with that frightening red-eyed partner of hers to check on Jung’s health. She didn’t fully understand it, but apparently she was still sick—though she felt fine now—and An Eui was keeping it at bay with daily treatments.

Some dark, cynical part of Lee Jung’s mind wondered if that was just some kind of ruse, to keep her dependent on them. What could a powerful mage like Lee Jia want with her or her daughter? She had said she sensed some kind of power or potential in Narae, but what did that even mean? Jung knew that her fears were irrational, but after a lifetime of exploitation, she couldn’t help but be wary.

Besides, Lee Jia frightened her. One day she vanishes without a word, then seven years later, out of nowhere, she appears again as a mage so powerful that she could apparently dismantle the entire Lee gang overnight. It was unfathomable. Though, with power like that, Jung supposed they hardly needed a ruse to keep her under their thumb. She and Narae were already entirely at their mercy.

As if she’d overheard Jung’s thoughts somehow—and for all Jung knew, she might have—Lee Jia politely knocked to announce her presence before entering the room and bowing in greeting. It felt so strange to be treated with deference by someone so much higher above her in power and station, and Jung could only offer her own awkward bow in response.

“Hello Jung, how are you feeling?”

It was the same question Jia always asked, and Jung gave the same response each time.

“Much better now, thanks to you and your partner. Speaking of which—is An Eui not joining you today?”

Jia shook her head and smiled.

“She’s trying to show Narae how to cook—that kid just wants to eat everything raw! I thought maybe we could chat for a bit, just you and I.”

Jung nodded nervously. Somehow being alone with Jia made her feel trapped, but she tried to put her worries out of her mind by recalling the child she’d once known. Jia promptly ruined her efforts with the next words out of her mouth.

“You don’t have to be nervous with me, you know. I’m still the same girl you once knew—well, I’ve changed a bit, but I’m mostly the same.”

Jung’s eyes widened in terror. Could she actually read minds?

“H-how—you knew what I was thinking?”

Jia shook her head, smiling sadly.

“Not quite—sorry, I didn’t mean to spook you. My cultivation makes me sensitive to other people’s emotions, and mortals—er, regular people tend to be extremely unguarded compared to the cultivators of Qin.”

How easily she mentions ‘the cultivators of Qin.’ As if it’s perfectly normal for a girl who grew up in the slums to be intimately familiar with foreign sorcerers. Jung was forced once more to acknowledge that she was currently in the consulate, hosting a diplomatic envoy from Yamato. Her little Jia was an ambassador between Goryeo and Yamato, and was on a first name basis with at least one foreign sorcerer. It was a world so far beyond Jung’s horizons that she still struggled to comprehend it.

“Big sis...”

The intimate form of address and cautious tone of voice shattered Jung’s concerns in an instant.

“Yes Jia?”

“Could we catch up on those seven years? It’s been so long, and I’ve missed you so much. I don’t want to feel like we’re strangers anymore. I’ll tell you my story, from my years running from the gang to my time in the academy and afterwards, and I want to hear yours. All about Narae growing up, and your time in the brothel. Even the—the hard parts. I want to know you again.”

Jia’s face was downcast, and for just a moment, she seemed so vulnerable. In that moment, Jung knew that she was still the same bright young girl with a talent for getting into trouble, and Jung was her respected big sister. Her motherly instincts kicked in and without even thinking, she had reached out and taken Jia’s hand in her own.

“Of course, sweetheart. I’d love to hear all about it. Do you want to go first, or shall I?”