Iyefut always had a perfectly valid reason for everything she did. With the New Order Celebration banquet fast approaching, she needed to commission a custom gown—and her dance partner’s tuxedo naturally had to match.
That was their excuse for a shopping trip.
Along the way, the duo of Iyefut Cape and Sang drew endless stares. It was unavoidable, really. Iyefut had thrown caution to the wind tonight, refusing to disguise herself as a man. She was simply too famous. Not everyone might recognize her by name, but her breathtaking beauty was impossible to ignore—it captivated anyone who laid eyes on her.
Even without the illustrious name of Iyefut Cape, that city-toppling allure alone marked her as the star of any scene.
Iyefut walked with refined elegance, while Sang’s steps were a touch restless. He balanced precariously on the edge between sidewalk and street, holding a ruler-straight line.
“Mad Rogue… I’ve always sort of sensed it, but the more time we spend together, the more childish you seem.”
“That’s just how I am.”
“Not a bad thing at all. Want me to try walking like you?”
“Huh…?”
Without giving the boy time to react, Iyefut strode ahead. She spread her arms wide, mimicking his posture with a wobbly, awkward sway that somehow retained an effortless grace.
Once again… her vibrancy bloomed like a summer flower.
Watching the girl in her red-and-white checkered sundress, her gradient long hair swaying as she led the way, Sang finally understood why he enjoyed being near Iyefut.
In the True Ancestor’s presence, he was nothing but a facade… no, merely Little Bug. Before Snow Hill, he was insignificant.
Only in front of someone like Iyefut did he feel truly himself.
Right then, as day gave way to dusk, an autumn gust swept through, sending Iyefut’s hair accessory tumbling toward him.
On pure instinct, the boy shot up his hand and caught it. The piece was red-and-white to match, carrying a faint scent of Other Shore flowers. Freed from its hold, her hair spilled loose—light pink fading to deep red and gold, dancing in the breeze like willow floss. Iyefut whirled around, one hand gathering the strands as she fixed her gaze on the boy.
She reached out to him, her smile warm and inviting.
Sang stared at Iyefut’s smile and drifted into a momentary daze. Lost in thought, he made a bold choice. Slowly, he raised his hand and removed his mask, revealing an utterly ordinary face. He’d have preferred black hair if he could help it, but the dye held too strong; this would have to do.
“Why’d you take off the mask?” Iyefut cocked her head, genuinely surprised.
“No reason. Just… being myself for a change.”
“Oh… hee hee hee. Having a good time with me, huh?”
“Uh… not hating it. And quit staring—though I am pretty handsome.”
Iyefut burst out laughing at the boy’s bashful display. After all, he’d been the one gawking at her outside the school gates. Now the tables had turned. “Mmm, you really are.”
“Ah… come on, why say that?” Back at the Orphanage or in 【Heavenly Key】, every time the boy bragged about his looks, someone shut him down. But Iyefut? She just validated it outright, leaving Sang completely thrown.
Why wasn’t she following the script!?
Sang wasn’t clueless. He had a realistic sense of himself—he had zero claim to “handsome.” Passably tolerable, maybe, and at fifteen, he stood just shy of five-foot-six.
Damn it!
This was patronizing praise, pure and simple!
“Pfft…”
Iyefut’s laughter set Sang off too, and soon they were both chuckling.
Amid the cheerful banter, they reached a high-end boutique in the city center. Iyefut was a true fashion vanguard—a fact—and she selected a stunning black-and-gold evening gown for herself, offering the designer a few precise suggestions for alterations.
Sang, standing nearby, didn’t follow a word of it. But the designer’s stunned awe said it all: Iyefut’s sense of style and taste were elite.
Once Iyefut finished choosing her gown, she asked the designer to show her a matching men’s tuxedo. “Do you have measurements for the gentleman?”
Iyefut glanced expectantly at Sang.
The designer peered around, facing Sang directly yet somehow overlooking him entirely. He clearly took Sang for an attendant, never dreaming he might be the date.
Sang got the picture immediately. Little Master not good enough, eh? Well, fair enough, maybe. He didn’t snap. He just meekly raised his hand.
“Uh… oh, sorry, sir.”
The designer’s flustered reaction had Iyefut stifling a “pfft” with all her might, barely holding back her laughter.
In that instant, Sang finally understood. With the mask on, he commanded presence. Take it off, and he faded into total everyman obscurity—no one even noticed him.
All this time, Little Master had slaved away hiding his identity… only to realize he might not be that special after all. No need for the theatrics.
What the hell!
Soon it was Sang’s turn to try on the tuxedo. Predictably, his average looks and build struggled to carry it off.
“Yi Ye, you should probably pick a different partner.” Sang wasn’t chickening out. He just didn’t want to drag down Iyefut’s standing among the nobility.
But.
As the designer plastered on a strained smile, Iyefut looked utterly unbothered. She approached with steady steps and affectionately straightened the boy’s collar. “Ahem. You know why I like spending time with you?”
“Why?”
Idiot, don’t use the word “like”—it’s weird…
For all his inner monologue, the boy simply voiced the question.
“Because everyone else wants to hang out with Cape, but you call me Yi Ye. Like you, I want to be myself sometimes too. So I’m dead serious about you being my partner. This isn’t a joke.”
Everyone adored Cape—not Iyefut.
Only the boy before her treated her as Yi Ye.
As she spoke, Iyefut stood right in front of the boy, meticulously adjusting his collar. He stared into those amber eyes, an inexplicable flush of heat rising within him for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint.
It felt just like his high school days in his past life.
…
Later.
The two left the boutique without rushing back to the Academy. They wandered Knight Academy City a while longer before pausing beneath the Eiffel Iron Tower. There, she flagged down a street painter and commissioned a portrait of herself with the tower in the background.
“Mad Rogue, you too~”
Sang felt a helpless twinge. What was this but a past-life photo op?
In his previous life, An Xiguang’s lack of confidence meant he never posed for pictures. Dragged into group shots with friends, he’d lurk in corners or skulk on the edges. Looking back now—even the cringeworthy ones held a certain charm.
“Uh… sure!”
As Iyefut had put it, she enjoyed Sang’s company because he saw past Cape to Yi Ye. And Sang realized why he liked being around Yi Ye: it let him be his true self, the real fusion of two lifetimes.
Painting wasn’t quite like snapping a photo, though. They had to hold their pose and expressions for a solid half hour.
Sang was already wiped out, but Iyefut radiated joy. If she’d been born in the modern world, she’d be that girl flooding Moments with daily updates.
No.
Actually, mere Moments posts would undersell her. She’d rule social platforms with a billion followers.
No matter the era, those who shone did so brilliantly.
People like me? Even after transmigrating, I couldn’t hack it—just a pawn on the board.
The True Ancestor kept dubbing him Little Bug, and over time, he’d started owning it.
As the boy’s mind wandered, three human kids popped up nearby. One sported a black mask vaguely like his own, brandishing a wooden sword. The other two: a werewolf hood on one, long fake fangs on the other—clearly cosplaying Blood Race.
Obviously, they were playing knights.
“I’m a Hero of the North! I’ll crush you all!”
“Hahaha! Foolish hero, die!”
The dialogue was peak middle-school edginess; Sang couldn’t stomach it. Worse, the kid was basically playing him—embarrassment dialed up to eleven, goosebumps prickling everywhere.
His toes curled so hard they could have burrowed a mansion.
Just then, Iyefut Cape spoke up from beside him. “Mad Rogue, you come off so arrogant, but deep down you’re actually pretty humble. I can tell. You’ve always lacked confidence, felt a bit lost… To a lot of humans, though, you’re a shining star—the light of their hope. You’ve got a long way to go, but your arrival has restored their dignity and sparked real optimism!”
Yeah.
Although it wasn’t intuitive for Sang himself, his appearance and deeds had indeed inspired many humans lost in the darkness, helping them reclaim a measure of their human dignity.
After listening to Iyefut Cape’s words, Sang froze for a moment before turning his head to look at her. Stars sparkled in Iyefut Cape’s eyes, her bright gaze fixed unblinkingly on him.
A long moment passed before Sang let out an awkward chuckle. “Then I might have to wear this mask for the rest of my life… never show my true face to the world…”
“Ah… how did you misunderstand me like that? I told you to have more confidence, but now you’re even more withdrawn?”
“No… that’s not it. I’m just worried my plain face and average build will shatter their confidence… hahaha… I mean, think about it—the outside world says I’m two meters tall, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested. What if their fantasies come crashing down?”
There had never been any hero. Just a little shorty, that’s all.
“Pfft… hee hee hee.” Iyefut burst out laughing at the young man’s words.
Seeing Iyefut laugh, the young man joined in with a grin.
But as they laughed, Iyefut seemed to remember something. She stopped, her face flushing red as she gazed at the young man’s face. Mustering her courage, she boldly declared, “Hey, Mad Rogue…”
“Hm?”
“I like you…”
Sang’s heart skipped a beat at her words. Then realization dawned, and he glanced at the painter before replying with mock seriousness, “Oh, yeah, we’ve been out shopping forever. You’re hungry and craving my blood, right? I’ll let you have some later, but don’t drink too much, okay!”
Iyefut: “…”
