***
The girl in the dome refused to sleep.
Or maybe she just couldn't.
Yao Yao lay on her back, watching the moon glare through the glass. The light wouldn't leave her alone—it slid along the curved walls, spilled across the floor, and clung to her face no matter how many times she turned away. The whole place glowed too bright for night, as if darkness itself had been banned here.
The blanket had twisted tight around her legs again. She tugged at it half-heartedly, then sighed and gave up. Rui had told her to rest—easy enough for him to say. Clearly, he'd never tried sleeping inside a glass bowl.
Above, the moon hung low behind a drift of thin clouds. It looked the same as always—the same pale glow—but staring at it made her chest ache. The same moon… just farther from home.
Su Mi. Lily. Her brother.
What were they doing now?
She hadn't said goodbye properly. Lied to Lily, left her brother without an apology. She'd promised herself she'd make it up to them—when she returned, spirit at her side, proof that she hadn't failed.
Is he angry with me?
The thought pressed heavily in her chest. She rolled onto her side and pulled the blanket over her head. For a moment it helped—the dark, the quiet—but the air grew hot and thick within seconds. She tossed, turned, then kicked the blanket off entirely and it landed in a heap by her feet.
She sat up, hair sticking to her cheeks, breathing hard in the light. The moon glared down through the glass like it was mocking her.
"Seriously," she muttered, rubbing her eyes, "how does anyone sleep here?"
If she hadn't passed out before, she wouldn't have believed she'd managed to sleep here for three nights.
"Fine. Then I won't sleep—" She swung her legs down, glancing up at the moon. Her voice grew louder, sharp with irritation. "You hear that? I'm not sleeping. So go ahead—shine all you want."
She stood—restless now—and began to walk.
The path curved between uneven rows of plants, the air cool and faintly sweet against her skin. Pots and soil beds tangled together without pattern—flowers sprouting wherever they pleased, some rooted deep in earth, others half-tilted from pots.
A few had their petals drawn shut, as if mimicking sleep. Flowers weren't supposed to sleep, were they? Her fingers brushed a leaf as she passed. It trembled. She frowned, touched another, and it shivered again.
"…Weird."
Crouching, she found a cluster of green blossoms at her feet, yellow tips peeking out like gossiping heads. They were perfect—almost fake. She reached out and gave one a gentle poke, half expecting it to feel like wax.
"Don't touch me!"
Yao Yao yelped and jerked back.
The blossom turned away, voice small and cranky. "You're squishing me."
Her mouth fell open. "You can talk?"
"Yes. And hush," it grumbled. "We're trying to sleep."
She glanced up at the moonlight pouring through the glass. "With all this light? You must have amazing eyelids. Where are your eyes even?"
"…Humans," the flower muttered darkly.
She leaned closer, whispering, "You don't look very asleep."
"That's because someone won't stop talking."
"Oh." She blinked, then lowered her voice. "You mean me."
The petal gave a faint, unimpressed twitch.
Yao Yao crouched lower, grin tugging at her mouth. "If you really can't sleep, I could count for you. Maybe sheep? Or bugs? Do you sleep to bug-counting here?"
From the soil beside it, another flower stirred. "Who's making noise?"
"Some of us just closed our petals—"
"Can't she go talk to the moss—"
"I am the moss!" a sharp voice snapped from below. "And don't you dare come near me, you ridiculous child!"
Yao Yao's eyes widened. "Wait—you all talk?"
She turned toward a cluster of purple lilies in the corner, perfectly still compared to the rest. "What about you? Hello?"
"Shhh…"
Her jaw dropped. "Oh my god. You can! All of you!"
The lilies flinched, rustling in a collective groan. "Too loud…" "She's gonna wake the clovers…" "Make her stop…"
Somewhere deep in the realm, the Spirit King's eyes opened. His brow tightened, irritation flickering across his face. "…That girl."
But back in the dome, Yao Yao was already pacing between the flowerbeds, her earlier sulking long gone. Excitement sparked bright in her eyes as she pointed toward a nearby trunk. "What about you? You look old enough to talk."
The tree groaned, voice rumbling from deep within its bark. "If you know I'm old," it said slowly, "then you should also know I need rest."
Her hands flew together, delighted. "Wow! You sound ancient. Do you snore too?"
The branches rustled in mild offense. "Snore?!"
"Never mind." She laughed, waving it off too fast. Her heel caught on a root, and she stumbled forward, reaching for the nearest vine to steady herself.
The vine recoiled at once, jerking out of her grip. "Hands off!" it hissed, snapping back against the wall.
"Sorry! Sorry!" Yao Yao said quickly, still half laughing. "You didn't have to be so fierce."
But the vine was already rippling, the tremor running down the wall like a shiver. Above, the sleeping birds blinked awake one after another, their heads jerking in confusion.
One squawked. Then another.
A heartbeat later, the dome erupted into chaos.
Wings burst through the air, feathers scattering in flashes of light as the birds dove from their perches. They whirled above her, shrieking in outrage, beaks swooping close enough to brush her hair.
Yao Yao ducked, arms thrown over her head. "I said I'm sorry!"
The scolding didn't stop. The air rang with furious cries, sharp enough to make her ears ache. She turned to run, skirts flaring with the movement—but her foot slipped, and she went down hard. Pain shot through her palms as she caught herself, the bandages scraping against the floor.
Before she could even gasp, something else cried out first.
"Waaaahhh!"
A dozen tiny voices wailed beneath her palm.
Yao Yao froze. Her eyes darted down to a patch of clovers trembling underneath. "Oh no—sorry! I didn't mean to—" She lifted her hands at once, but the crying only grew louder, the little stems shaking like furious toddlers.
Suddenly, the door slammed open.
The sound sliced through the noise. Every leaf, petal, and feather froze mid-motion.
The Spirit King stood in the doorway, framed in cold light. His gaze swept across the chaos—birds caught mid-flight, petals trembling and the human girl crouched in the middle of it all.
For one long breath, no one moved.
Then everything erupted again.
"She woke everyone!"
"She stepped on the babies!"
"She pinched me!" A green blossom leaned forward, petals tilted like a face. "Look! Finger mark! Right here!"
The vine whipped against the wall, thrashing for effect. "She grabbed me! Tried to tear me apart!" It gave a quivering sob. "I almost broke in half!"
Yao Yao stared, speechless. "Oh, come on—"
Before anyone could answer, the clovers burst into louder cries, as if furious at being ignored. Their shrill wails overlapped in outrage—"Waaahhh! Waaahhh!"—until the sound drowned out every other voice in the room.
The Spirit King's brow twitched once. "Shut up."
The word cracked like a spell.
Silence fell. The vines sagged, the trees stilled, and the birds dropped back onto their perches, feathers puffed, eyes flicking nervously between him and the girl who'd started it all.
Yao Yao only straightened slowly, hands clasped, posture perfect with the naive hope that manners could save her.
Neither spoke. She risked a glance up, and the moment their eyes met, his mouth curved faintly. "You look energetic. I take it you've recovered, then?"
Yao Yao shrank a little. "Uhh… I just couldn't sleep. It's really bright in here." Her voice dropped. "I didn't mean to wake them."
The Spirit King's gaze lifted toward the ceiling. Bright? Perhaps. Brighter than he had noticed in a long time.
Strange—he had never thought about it before. This dome had once been his chamber. He'd slept beneath the same light without care, without wondering if it was too bright or too dim.
Light and dark had never mattered. Sleep was never his to choose. When the abyss pressed too heavily, when his body reached its limit, he fell—and when he fell, centuries slipped past before he woke again.
What use was there in thinking of light or dark, when either way his body would surrender?
His gaze returned to the girl. That faint memory stirred again—the black stain he had seen spreading from within her. A being so fragile, so easily disturbed by moonlight, and yet within her existed a darkness that should have destroyed her long ago.
"Since you can't sleep," he said, stepping inside, "then we'll talk."
Her eyes followed him. Even just walking, he carried that heavy kind of presence that made people tense—somehow even more daunting up close.
He sat down as if the chair were a throne, one arm draped lazily over the side. "Tell me what happened in the cave."
Yao Yao blinked, startled. "In the cave?"
"You were found there." His eyes flicked to the bandage on her head, then back to her face. "The ground was scorched with dark magic—half of it reduced to ash." His tone stayed calm, leaving her no room to dodge. "So. What happened?"
Yao Yao's gaze dropped. "…I don't want to talk about it."
The look on her face said enough. From what he'd seen, he could already guess—a ritual, blood spilled where it shouldn't have. That much was clear.
What wasn't clear was the abyssal power clinging to her. Had it entered her that night, or had it always been there?
His eyes narrowed slightly. "…Then how can I make you want to talk about it?"
"Must I talk about it?" she asked quietly, meeting his eyes. "It's over, isn't it?"
He studied her for a long moment, then said softly, "You have no idea what really happened, do you?"
Her breath caught.
She remembered the fox's talk of ancient blood, ritual and sacrifice. But after the blood spilled, there was nothing. Only fragments, and the faint image of a garden she couldn't place—like a dream her mind had invented to soften what came before.
"…I remember enough," she murmured.
"Do you?" His voice stayed even, though a faint edge crept through. "Because something else woke up that night."
"What?" Yao Yao frowned. What does that even mean?
He exhaled, gaze lifting briefly to the glass ceiling before returning to her. "If you won't talk," he said, "then show me your magic."
Her tone turned wary. "…Why?"
"You do know magic, don't you?" he asked, head tilting slightly. "When you kept demanding that contract, you said you were—"
He paused, looking away as if trying to recall her exact words. "What was it again…?"
Her eyes widened—she knew where this was going.
He looked back at her, expression flat. "Ah, right. 'A huge potential getter,' was it?"
"That's not what I said!"
He arched a brow, unbothered. "Then show me."
For a second she looked ready to argue—but her jaw set instead, the stubborn spark returning to her eyes. "Fine," she said, lifting her bandaged hands. "Watch closely. You'll regret doubting a potential magic genius who is a go-getter."
He stared at her for a long beat, then exhaled—a sound that might've been a laugh.
Yao Yao's face went red. "It's not supposed to be funny!"