The rest of the week until the birthday party passed swiftly.
Preparations were constant, chaotic, and—thanks to Rosie—occasionally adorable. The tiny strategist wielded her childlike innocence like the greatest tactical weapon to have ever existed, and her main target was none other than the reclusive Fox Auntie, Yoruha.
The ancient illusionist had no intention of helping with party preparations. None whatsoever. In fact, her plan was to sleep for an entire century and pretend the outside world didn't exist.
According to her, she'd barely survived the last three months during Quinlan's absence. With most of his lovers off hunting monsters for XP, there had only been one person left in the house who refused to be ignored. The green dryad girl. Rosie.
Yoruha's voice dropped an octave when she spoke the name. Her eye twitched. Her tails, usually pristine and flowing, now hung limp like bedraggled mops.
