"Then show me," he said again, like a challenge.
Yao Yao hesitated. For a breath she only stood there, uncertain what he wanted—but if this was a test, then maybe it was a chance. A chance to prove she wasn't useless. Maybe even worth a contract.
She lifted her hand slowly. Light bent between her fingers, warmth flickering beneath her skin—but every time she reached for it, it slipped away, like water she couldn't hold. A few sparks blinked across her palm before fading out.
Her shoulders tightened. She leaned forward, jaw set, as if sheer will could draw the magic back. Light gathered again—weak and unsteady—then broke apart with a faint hiss that vanished into the air.
Nothing.
She stayed there, staring at her hand. The silence pressed close, heavy enough that she could feel his gaze against her skin. Maybe he wasn't judging her—but from where he sat, looking down, it certainly felt that way.
Her thoughts turned restless. Did the fox do something to me? Spirits couldn't steal magic… could they? She wasn't sure anymore. All she knew was that he'd taken her blood—unless that ritual had changed something she still didn't understand.
"Maybe I'm just tired," she said, forcing a laugh. "I haven't really rested since… everything. I'm sure it'll come back once I've slept."
Their eyes met for a heartbeat before she looked down again. She tried once more, reaching for that faint flicker inside her, but it slipped away before it could take shape.
Nothing. Again.
Then a faint scrape broke the silence. Something brushed her ankle. She flinched, glancing down just as a vine slid across the floor. It moved quickly, curling around her leg, then her waist, before she could react.
"What—"
Her feet left the ground. The vine pulled her up in one smooth motion. She flailed on instinct, arms flapping once before she caught herself, clutching the coil tight. But it held steady, carrying her through the air towards him.
The Spirit King hadn't moved. He still leaned back in the chair, one arm resting over the side, watching her as if all of this were completely normal.
"Try again."
Yao Yao blinked but obeyed, lifting her hand. Her palm faced herself, a few faint sparks flickering before fading out once again.
Then he raised his hand, stopping a few inches above hers. They didn't touch, yet the warmth from him reached her skin. His hand was large enough to cover both of hers, but that thought slipped away when his eyes met hers.
"Like that," he said softly.
In the next instant, the dying spark flared back to life. Light gathered between them—thin at first, then rounding into a small orb that pulsed softly. Its glow brushed across her face and caught in his eyes, a reflection she couldn't look away from.
He leaned forward, studying the light for a beat longer. The magic was clean—no trace of corruption.
If the abyss had truly touched her, she wouldn't still be this weak. But he knew it hadn't vanished, only gone back inside her that night, buried deep, likely dormant.
He drew his hand back and the orb went out at once, fading into the air. The vine loosened under his control and set her gently on the floor.
She stood there, staring at her empty hand, the warmth fading slower than it should. When she finally looked up, he'd already turned slightly aside, fingers at his chin, gaze somewhere she couldn't follow.
Her eyes tracked the vine retreating into the roots near the wall. Only then did she realize how far she'd been standing before he pulled her over.
Wait.
Her brow furrowed. Did he seriously use a plant to drag her across the room because he couldn't be bothered to walk over?
The Spirit King pushed the chair back and stood. He didn't speak—only turned for the door, done with the conversation.
"Wait—" The word left before she could stop it. She stepped too fast, heel slipping, and the next second she hit the floor. The impact jarred up her arms, pain flashing through her elbows.
He stopped. A shadow crossed over her where she'd fallen.
He looked down once—expression unreadable—then stepped neatly around her.
Her mouth fell open. He didn't even—
For half a breath she only stared at his boots—then instinct took over. She twisted, scrambling on one arm while the other shot out, catching his leg with both hands. "I can prove it!"
He stopped. The silence that followed made her wish she could disappear—but she'd already grabbed a time bomb, and letting go now felt suicidal. If he was going to explode, she might as well speak first.
"Give me a trial or something," she blurted, still clutching him. "You'll see my magic, my potential—whatever you need! And if I do well, then maybe you can—"
"Contract you?" His voice was calm, faintly mocking. "No."
He crouched, prying her fingers off with one hand while the other caught her sleeve, lifting her back to her feet like it took no effort at all.
"Do you not understand rejection?" he asked, dryly. "How persistent can you be?"
She bit her lip. "Persistent enough," she muttered. Then, before he could turn again—"What if you test me properly? If I pass, you at least consider it. Just consider it."
"No."
"Please—just hear me out!"
He let out a quiet breath, like he'd already regretted listening. Still, she pressed on, words firing like a last-ditch machine gun. "Okay, how about if you do—if you at least let me try—I'll tell you what happened that night in the cave."
That stopped him.
Her heart jumped. Stopping's good, she told herself. In any negotiation, silence meant the other side was thinking—and thinking was one step from yes.
It wasn't a lie, just… selective. She did remember everything—up until she passed out. She just wasn't sure if that was what he wanted to know. Still, if it caught his attention, that was enough.
"Everything," she repeated slower. "I'll tell you everything I remember."
But the look on her face didn't convince him. He saw through it easily, and for a moment, something like amusement flickered in his eyes—a faint trace of interest.
"You're actually using this to bargain with me."
"Maybe." She forced a smile, though it felt brittle on her lips. "But you want to know, don't you?"
If that was her only bargaining chip, she'd use it. Whatever worked.
Then, to her surprise, his mouth curved. "You want a trial? Fine."
He lifted a hand, pointing off toward the dark stretch beyond the dome. "Climb Mount Irra by dawn. Alone. If you survive, I'll contract you."
"…Mount what?"
"Mount Irra."
She stared at him blankly. "I've only heard of Everest."
He stared back, clearly lost. "What's Everest?"
"The point is," she said quickly, waving her hands for emphasis, "you can't seriously expect me to climb a mountain right now! Look at me!" She thrust out her bandaged arms. "I'm wrapped like a mummy, and you want me to scale cliffs before sunrise?!"
"You asked for a trial. I gave you one. What more do you want?"
"Yeah, but—an age-appropriate one!" she shot back. "Something that actually tests potential, not suicidal tendencies! I'm five! What kind of evaluation standard is that?!"
Her hands landed on her hips before she even realized it, words spilling faster. "If you're expecting me to actually survive, then maybe you could at least—I don't know—lower the bar a little?!"
He stared at her for a long second, then folded his arms. "You want to contract me—at my level—and you're asking for a trial adjusted to yours?" A pause, disbelief flickering across his face. "Are you joking with me?"
Yao Yao flinched, then rallied. "Not adjusted, exactly—more like, you know, something that brings out my true magic! The deep kind! It's just… not awake yet."
He gave her a look that said he'd heard every excuse in the book. Then his eyes narrowed slightly. "Is that your excuse for everything you can't do?"
"No! I mean—yes—but not like that!"
He sighed, rubbing his temple. "This is what I get for talking to children."
"I'm not a child!" she snapped, pointing at herself with both bandaged hands. "I entered the Spirit Realm by myself, didn't I? Humans can't even do that. That means potential, right? You said it yourself!"
"I didn't," he said flatly.
"Well, I'm sure it means something!"
That earned her a brief look—maybe even faintly amused—but he said nothing.
Encouraged, she pressed on. "If I start now and train, I'll be ahead of everyone by the time I'm ten! Isn't that something?"
He leaned back, unimpressed.
"And it's not just me," she added, softening her voice. "Spirits grow stronger with their contractors. One can't grow without the other." Her gaze lifted, hopeful again. "You want to grow too, don't you? Or maybe tell me—what kind of partner are you even looking for? Maybe I'm compatible, and you just don't see it yet."
He blinked once. "Someone who doesn't wake the entire dome in the middle of the night." He motioned lightly toward the plants, as if introducing honored guests. "And one my plants don't seem to hate."
She followed his gesture. The nearest flower had turned its petals sharply away, pretending to sleep.
"It was an accident," she said quickly, voice going small. "They'll like me once they get to know me."
He didn't answer, just gave her a look that made it clear he doubted that very much.
Trying to prove him wrong, she crouched beside the nearest blossom—a pale violet bloom with long glassy petals that shimmered faintly in the dome light. Her smile stretched too wide. "See? We just got off on the wrong foot."
She reached out quickly, fingertip hovering just inches from the petal—
The blossom jerked back so fast it smacked into the flower behind it. The second one let out a startled squeak.
A laugh slipped out of him—short, caught off guard. He turned away a second later, brushing his mouth with the back of his hand as if to hide it.
Yao Yao froze, still crouched. He laughed?
Of all things—that made him laugh.
She straightened a little too fast, clearing her throat. "Anyway, they're just plants. You're making excuses."
His gaze drifted past her to the bed of violet blossoms. The one she'd reached for had curled its petals inward, trembling faintly.
"Well, I suppose I should remind you," he said, "they're precious to me. Try not to hurt them."
The words came light, but the roots beneath their feet gave a quiet stir. Unnoticed by Yao Yao, the violet bloom slowly unfurled again, one petal stretching open as if peeking out—reassured by his voice.
"Wait—" she said quickly, leaning forward a little. "Then what if I can make them like me?"
It wasn't even a plan—just something she'd thrown out on instinct. At this point, not getting thrown out of the realm again already counted as progress. And years of working with impossible clients had taught her one thing: persistence sold better than pride.
He didn't answer.
She filled the silence anyway, voice quick and earnest. "If I can make them like me, then would you consider me? As a potential partner?"
Her hand drifted toward the same violet bloom—
It snapped.
Then, slapped her square across the face.
The sound cracked through the dome, clean and echoing. She froze, hair slightly out of place, blinking at the flower in stunned disbelief.
"...Seriously?"