By the time night fell, Đào's wedding had officially become a disaster.
Not the kind of disaster that could be salvaged with a few apologies, a heartfelt speech, and a second round of champagne. No, this was the kind that would be remembered for years, retold at family gatherings, and whispered about at parties by people who had absolutely no business discussing it.
The bride had discovered that her groom had been sleeping with the makeup artist. The makeup artist was pregnant. The groom had been thrown out, the guests had witnessed the entire spectacle, and the wedding cake had somehow survived the collapse of a marriage that had barely begun.
As for the question of how to explain the situation to everyone?
Nobody had a particularly good answer.
Fortunately, Đào was obscenely wealthy, and Madam Kamakiri had approximately zero interest in the cost of cleaning up the mess. Between the two of them, they could probably have bought the entire wedding venue, demolished it, and built something more tasteful in its place before breakfast.
Money, at least, wasn't the problem.
Everything else was.
And so, while the guests gradually dispersed and the staff worked desperately to restore some semblance of order, the night settled over the fox village with an uncomfortable quietness.
On the balcony of one of the village's most beautiful residences, Duyên sat beside Shana, watching the lights of the city glitter in the distance.
The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of flowers from the gardens below. Somewhere in the distance, music was still playing at a neighboring venue, blissfully unaware that a wedding had just turned into a public execution of someone's romantic prospects.
Shana sat with one leg crossed over the other, her long curvy hair falling over her shoulder like a curtain of flame. Even in the quiet of the evening, she looked every bit the goddess she was—a deity whose beauty could make entire rooms fall silent.
Duyên, on the other hand, wore the comfortable expression of someone who had spent most of the evening dealing with other people's nonsense and had finally found five minutes of peace.
"So," Shana began, turning toward her. "How's the bakery?"
Duyên blinked.
"That's what you want to talk about?"
"What? I can't ask about my girlfriend's business?"
"You could. It's just that we spent the afternoon watching a wedding collapse in front of several hundred people."
"Yes, and I have absolutely no intention of discussing David. That man has already received more attention than he deserves."
Duyên laughed.
"Fair enough."
She leaned back in her chair, thinking for a moment.
"The bakery's doing well. Better than I expected, actually. We've had more customers lately, and I'm considering expanding the menu. Maybe adding a few seasonal items. I've also been thinking about opening another branch, but I'm not sure I want to deal with the headache."
"Then don't."
"That's your business advice?"
"Of course. You're the owner. You get to decide whether you want to make more money or enjoy your life."
Duyên gave her a sidelong glance.
"You make it sound so simple."
"It is simple. You're the one who insists on making everything complicated."
"Excuse me? I'm a very simple person."
Shana raised an eyebrow.
Duyên lasted approximately two seconds before bursting into laughter.
"Okay, fine. Maybe not that simple."
Shana smiled, pleased with herself.
For a while, they talked about ordinary things. The bakery. The possibility of hiring another manager. Whether Duyên should finally take a proper vacation instead of spending every waking hour either working or getting dragged into other people's affairs.
It was comfortable.
Almost painfully so.
Shana had spent so much of her life surrounded by people who wanted something from her that moments like this felt strangely precious. Here, she didn't have to be the goddess, a homewrecker, or the beautiful woman whose presence could bend a room to her will.
She could simply be a woman sitting beside someone she loved.
And perhaps that was why the question escaped her before she could stop it.
"Duyên?"
"Hmm?"
"Is there something you're hiding from me?"
Duyên's smile faded slightly.
Shana noticed.
She always noticed.
"I'm talking about Nhi," Shana clarified. Her voice remained gentle, but the playfulness had disappeared from her expression. "I know she's only five, but even I can tell there's something unusual about her. She says things she shouldn't know. Sometimes she looks at people as though she can see right through them."
She paused.
"And what happened today wasn't exactly normal, either."
Duyên said nothing.
"Nhi knew about David and the makeup artist before anyone else did. She announced it as casually as if she'd just remembered what she wanted for dessert."
"She does like dessert."
"Duyên."
"Sorry."
Shana sighed, though the corners of her mouth twitched despite herself.
"I'm serious."
"I know."
Duyên lowered her gaze to her hands.
For a moment, Shana thought she might finally get an answer. She waited patiently, giving Duyên the time she needed.
But when Duyên finally spoke, it wasn't to reveal a secret.
"I'm sorry."
Shana's expression softened.
"I can't tell you yet," Duyên continued. "Not because I don't trust you. I do. More than you probably realize."
"Then why?"
"Because I'm not ready."
The words were quiet, but there was something in them that made Shana abandon any further attempt to pry.
Duyên looked up at her.
"I promise I'll tell you when I feel ready to talk about it. I just need a little more time."
She hesitated.
"And until then... I hope you can be patient with Nhi. She's a good kid, Shana. Whatever else she might be, she's still just a little girl who needs people to love her."
Shana studied her for a long moment.
There was a strange sadness in Duyên's eyes, one that hadn't been there when they'd first sat down. It wasn't the sadness of someone who was afraid of being discovered.
It was the sadness of someone who already knew how a story would end and wished desperately that she could change it.
Shana didn't understand.
Not entirely.
But she trusted Duyên enough to accept that some answers had to wait.
"All right," she said at last.
Duyên's shoulders relaxed.
"Thank you."
"However..."
Duyên immediately stiffened.
"Oh, no."
"Oh, yes."
"Shana, please."
"I've decided that if I'm going to be patient, I deserve compensation."
Duyên stared at her.
"What kind of compensation?"
Shana leaned closer, her hair brushing against Duyên's cheek. Her eyes sparkled with the sort of mischief that usually meant someone was about to have a very expensive problem.
"A date."
Duyên blinked.
"We go on dates."
"Not the kind where Mina suddenly appears out of nowhere, claims she's been abandoned, and spends the entire evening making you feel guilty for enjoying yourself."
"That's... oddly specific."
"Because it happens every single time."
"She doesn't do it every time."
Shana gave her a look.
Duyên thought about it.
"Okay, she does it quite often."
"Exactly. So I want one entire day with you. Just the two of us. No interruptions. No surprise visits. No demonically possessive women appearing at restaurants to drag my girlfriend away."
"Are you sure you're talking about Mina?"
"Who else would I be talking about?"
"Well, I know a certain red hair who gets jealous when I spend too much time at the bakery."
Shana's smile vanished.
"That's completely different."
"How?"
"Because I'm adorable."
Duyên laughed so hard she nearly fell out of her chair.
Unfortunately, neither of them noticed the figure standing just beyond the balcony doors.
A figure who had heard every word.
"Excuse me?"
The voice was sweet.
Far too sweet.
Duyên's laughter stopped.
Shana closed her eyes.
Oh, for heaven's sake.
Mina stood in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest. Her expression was perfectly composed, but anyone who knew her well could recognize the danger in that particular stillness.
She looked at Shana.
Then at Duyên.
Then back at Shana.
"So," Mina said. "A private date."
Shana turned around with an innocent smile.
"That's right."
"Without me."
"Now you're getting it."
Mina's eyes narrowed.
"Interesting."
Duyên quietly began considering whether she could escape by jumping off the balcony.
It was several floors up, but she was beginning to think the landing might be less painful than what was coming.
Mina stepped onto the balcony.
"If Shana gets an entire day alone with you, then I deserve one, too."
"Naturally," Shana replied.
"And I don't want to hear any excuses about how you two already have more time together."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"Or how I'm being unreasonable."
"I would never say such a thing."
Mina stared at her.
Shana stared back, wearing the expression of someone who had never been more delighted in her life.
Duyên pressed a hand over her face.
"Can you two please stop?"
"No," they answered simultaneously.
She lowered her hand.
"Of course."
Mina moved to Duyên's other side and sat down, effectively trapping her between two extraordinarily beautiful women who were also, by all reasonable standards, a nightmare to date simultaneously.
Duyên glanced from one to the other.
"I love both of you, you know."
"We know," Shana said.
"Then why do I feel like I'm being held hostage?"
"Because you are," Mina replied.
Shana nodded thoughtfully.
"She's right. We should probably negotiate your release."
Duyên looked up at the night sky and wondered what terrible things she had done in a previous life to deserve this.
Then, quite unexpectedly, another thought occurred to her.
She looked at Shana.
Then at Mina.
"Can I ask you something?"
Mina's expression became suspicious.
"That depends."
"Do you two love each other?"
Silence.
Absolute, magnificent silence.
Shana slowly turned her head toward Mina.
Mina turned toward Shana.
For one extraordinary moment, they simply looked at each other.
Then Shana winked.
Mina recoiled as though she'd just witnessed something deeply offensive.
"Absolutely not."
"Oh, come on," Shana purred. "You don't have to be shy."
"I would rather swallow a live grenade."
"How romantic."
"I hate you."
"That's not what your eyes say."
"My eyes are telling you to shut up."
Duyên burst out laughing.
Not a polite laugh, either. She laughed until her eyes watered, leaning forward and clutching her stomach while two of the most powerful women in the world glared at each other over her head.
Eventually, she managed to catch her breath.
"You two really do care about each other."
"No," Mina said.
"Not even slightly," Shana agreed.
"Sure."
"We're serious," Mina insisted.
"Of course you are."
Duyên was still smiling when she leaned back in her chair.
And for a little while longer, the three of them remained on the balcony, bickering beneath the stars.
It was ridiculous.
It was exhausting.
It was, in its own peculiar way, happy.
But happiness, Duyên had learned, was often the most fragile thing in the world.
And she knew better than anyone how little time they might have left to enjoy it.
Eventually, her laughter faded.
She looked out over the city, where thousands of lights shimmered beneath the darkness. Beyond the village, the sprawling urban district stretched toward the horizon, filled with people who had no idea what was coming.
People going to work.
People falling in love.
People arguing over trivial things and worrying about tomorrow.
People building lives they assumed would still be there when they woke up.
Duyên watched them for a long time.
"I think I've done it," she said quietly.
Shana glanced at her.
"Done what?"
"My dream."
Neither woman spoke.
Duyên smiled faintly.
"I wanted a bakery. A little place where people could come in, buy something sweet, complain about their day, and leave feeling a little better than they did when they arrived. Nothing grand. Nothing complicated."
She looked down at her hands.
"And now I have it."
Her smile grew, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"I think I'm happy with what I've accomplished."
Mina watched her carefully.
There was something about Duyên's tone that made the words sound less like a celebration and more like a farewell.
"So what are you saying?" Shana asked.
Duyên drew a slow breath.
"That sooner or later, I'll probably disappear for a while."
The words hung in the air.
She tried to make them sound casual, almost playful, but neither Shana nor Mina was fooled.
"Retire from the world, maybe," Duyên continued. "Live somewhere quiet. Bake bread. Grow vegetables. Complain about the weather. Maybe get old enough to yell at children for playing too loudly outside my house."
"You're already good at complaining," Mina said softly.
Duyên smiled at her.
"See? I'll be perfectly qualified."
Normally, Shana would have teased her. Mina would have made a sarcastic remark. One of them would have found some way to turn the conversation into an argument, and Duyên would have laughed until the tension disappeared.
This time, neither woman said anything.
Because they knew.
They knew that Duyên wasn't simply talking about taking a vacation or stepping away from her business.
She was talking about withdrawing from a world that was about to become something else entirely.
A new world order was coming.
The old arrangements, the alliances, the quiet agreements that had kept certain powers in check—all of them were approaching their breaking point. The forces gathering beyond the horizon would not be satisfied with small concessions or peaceful negotiations.
And when the time came, Shana and Mina would have to make a choice.
Not because they lacked the strength to intervene.
But because their strength was precisely what they could no longer afford to use.
If they entered the coming conflict too early, the consequences could be catastrophic. Their involvement could tip the balance before the new order had even revealed its true shape. It could turn a political struggle into something far worse, something no one would be able to control.
For now, they would have to stand aside.
Watch.
Wait.
Let the world move toward its uncertain future without their hands on the scales.
At least for now.
Because of Nhi.
The little girl was the reason Duyên had gone to such extraordinary lengths to keep her secrets. The reason certain memories had been erased. The reason powerful beings who would ordinarily have demanded answers had instead chosen to remain silent.
Whatever Nhi was, whatever role she would play in the future, her existence had already changed the course of events.
And the three women sitting on that balcony were among the very few who understood that the child might be far more important than the world could bear to know.
Shana reached for Duyên's hand.
Mina said nothing, but she moved a little closer, her shoulder brushing Duyên's.
Neither of them asked her to stay.
Neither of them demanded an explanation.
For once, they understood that love did not always mean holding on.
Sometimes, it meant allowing someone to walk toward a future you couldn't follow them into.
Even if you hated every second of it.
Duyên squeezed Shana's hand and leaned against Mina.
"Don't look so miserable," she murmured. "I'm not leaving tomorrow."
"Good," Mina replied. "Because I haven't finished making you a salad."
Shana smiled faintly.
"And I haven't had my private date yet."
Duyên closed her eyes.
"There it is. I was wondering how long the peace would last."
"Peace is overrated," Mina said.
"Especially when she's involved," Shana added.
Duyên laughed again.
And beneath the cold, distant stars, they allowed themselves one more ordinary moment.
One more night in which the world had not yet changed.
One more night in which they could pretend that tomorrow would be much like today.
Neither of them knew what the future would demand.
But both of them knew that, when it came, Duyên would not be the only one who had to make a sacrifice.
And somewhere far beyond their reach, another woman was about to remember why.
Across the world, in France, a woman woke with a gasp.
Cai Ying shot upright in the middle of a king-sized bed, her hands clutching the sheets as though she were trying to keep herself from falling into an endless abyss.
For several seconds, she couldn't breathe properly.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. Sweat clung to her skin, and her long hair had fallen messily across her face. The luxurious bedroom around her was dark, illuminated only by the pale moonlight filtering through the curtains.
Everything was quiet.
Too quiet.
She stared into the darkness, struggling to understand what had happened.
A dream.
It had to be a dream.
But the sensation lingered with such terrible clarity that she couldn't convince herself of it.
She remembered a voice.
A place she had never seen.
Cai Ying pressed a trembling hand against her chest.
"What...?"
Her voice sounded unfamiliar.
She swallowed and forced herself to take a slow breath.
Then another.
Gradually, the panic began to subside, leaving behind something far more unsettling.
Recognition.
Not complete. Not yet.
But enough to make her blood run cold.
Cai Ying stared at her reflection in the darkened window.
Something had changed.
She could feel it.
A memory had surfaced from somewhere deep inside her mind, breaking through whatever had kept it buried. She couldn't yet see the whole picture, but fragments were already returning—images, voices, and a truth that had been waiting for her to remember.
Her fingers tightened around the sheets. She shook her head, as though denying it might force the memory back into the darkness.
But it was too late.
The thought had already taken root.
Cai Ying slowly lowered her hand.
Then, in a voice barely louder than a whisper, she spoke the words that terrified her most.
"I remember..."