Delicate, Yet Shamelessly Freeloading [Quick Transmigration] Chapter 79

Chapter 79: The Snobbish Black Moonlight (28)

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【……】

 

The Overseer was at a loss.

 

【Lick what?】

 

【Do you even know what that means before you said it?】

 

Shui Que answered slowly:

【That’s how those storybooks write it…】

 

The Overseer’s signal seemed to lag, as if sighing deeply.

 

【I told you not to be curious about those shady romance books sold by unscrupulous peddlers.】

 

【Lies can become reality, baby.】

 

【I’m really afraid that madman across from you will now test just how deep you can actually take it.】

 

Shui Que roughly understood what the Overseer meant. His face alternated between red and pale.

 

Then, he set his brows stubbornly, pushing Qi Chaojin’s head away from his shoulder.

 

His tone was no longer gentle. With his neck stiffened, he said, “I like it. I want him to treat me that way!”

 

The Overseer fell completely silent.

 

When Shui Que got nervous, he would blink more than usual. His neat eyelashes trembled slightly, and he began stammering out more hurtful words.

 

“You—what’s the use of you being the zhuangyuan? He was born into nobility! He eats exotic delicacies and wears silks and brocades!”

 

“I… I’d rather cry in the back courtyard of Marquis Anyuan’s residence than go back with you to eat plain tea and coarse meals!”

 

Qi Chaojin stayed silent, staring at him for a long time without saying a word.

 

He might now be the zhuangyuan wearing a black hat and a red robe, but here in this alley, facing Shui Que, he still looked like the poor scholar from a straw hut he once was.

 

His lips parted weakly as he pleaded, “You’re just saying that out of spite, aren’t you? It’s because I rose to success too late and made you suffer. I swear I’ll never let you eat coarse meals again, never let you fall ill again…”

 

“Shui Que, the affection we shared—can you really forget it so easily?”

 

Qi Chaojin’s face looked terrible—so pale it could be described as ghostly.

 

Shui Que felt that maybe he had gone too far with his words.

 

But better a short pain than a long one. The male lead still needed to cut off love and emotions and focus on leveling up his career in the bureaucratic world.

 

So he simply spilled everything like pouring beans from a bamboo tube. “When I said I liked you, I was lying. Who told you to be so easy to fool? Just a few sweet words and you were already willing to spend money on me.”

 

“If—if I hadn’t had nowhere else to go back then, I wouldn’t have followed you…”

 

He finished ruthlessly, then snuck a glance at Qi Chaojin’s expression.

 

Most likely, hearing such words from his once mutually devoted fiancé had completely crushed him—left him utterly numb.

 

His face was expressionless, fists clenched and hanging at his sides, and his tall figure seemed barely able to support the weight of that bright red ceremonial robe.

 

Shui Que looked at those clenched fists and felt a chill in his heart.

 

Was he… was he going to hit him?

 

But the other party had begged several times in vain, humiliated and unable to bear it any longer, he flicked his sleeve and mounted his horse, leaving in anger.


He must have been deeply hurt.


Shui Que pressed his lips together.

 

After speaking so much, his throat dry and parched, System 77 announced that the plot progress had increased by just one percent.


Shui Que: “…”


Why though?

 

By midday, when Wei Yan returned to Marquis Anyaun’s Residence, he was removing his armor while speaking to him, “Today we were training the navy at Jinming Pool. Across the lake, Qionglin Garden was hosting a banquet.”


“That distant cousin of yours is quite capable.”

 

Wei Yan clearly meant more than Qi Chaojin having just become the new zhuangyuan.


He said, “Word is, the Emperor himself arrived, and just as the Qionglin Banquet was about to begin, that Zhuangyuan Qi finally showed up—fashionably late.”

 

Seeing that Shui Que was drawn in by his words, looking over with interest,


Wei Yan noticed how much attention Shui Que was still paying to Qi Chaojin and couldn’t help feeling a little jealous. He shrugged, “The Emperor didn’t get angry though.”

 

Shui Que asked, “Did you see how… Zhuangyuan Qi was doing?”

 

He had changed how he referred to him—not as intimately as before when he used to call him Qi Lang.


He was still a little worried, wondering if what he’d said earlier had been too harsh. Maybe he should’ve chosen a different day. What if Qi Chaojin was so disheartened that even his mood at the emperor’s banquet was affected, potentially harming his official career?

 

Wei Yan mumbled that Jinming Pool and Qionglin Garden were separated by a lake—he wasn’t clairvoyant or had ears like the wind; how could he possibly see anything?


Even what he knew, he had only heard from others.

 

He leaned in close to Shui Que, his brow furrowed with frustration, and asked, “You’re not still hung up on your lover, are you?”

 

Clearly, he was jealous.

 

In the past, he never referred to Qi Chaojin as Shui Que’s lover—only some delusional, distant cousin.


Shui Que shook his head and answered quietly, “No.”

Still uneasy, Wei Yan warned, “If he comes back to pester you again, you mustn’t respond. What if he resorts to some underhanded tricks?”


Shui Que hesitated, “He probably wouldn’t, right?”

 

On one hand, it was out of trust in Qi Chaojin’s character as the male lead. On the other, he had said such cruel things today—even if Qi Chaojin had a good temper, he had dignity. Surely he wouldn’t come bothering him again.

 

…

 

This time, Shui Que’s prediction was accurate. Since then, he hadn’t seen Qi Chaojin for a long time.


He only heard that, as per Darong’s tradition, the top scholar was appointed to the Hanlin Academy as an editor, while the second and third-ranked scholars became assistant editors.

 

The imperial residence bestowed by the emperor was far from Marquis Anyuan’ Residence—one in the north of the capital, the other in the south.


Nearly half a year passed—from late summer to early autumn.

 

In June, Cui Shixin came by on his day off and casually mentioned that he had been transferred to the Censorate, where he now spent his days investigating and impeaching colleagues.


Shui Que thought it suited him well.

 

After all, Cui San was sharp-tongued, though not toward Shui Que personally.


In any case, he had a real knack for nitpicking and speaking ill of others.

 

The Emperor truly had an eye for talent—if Shui Que were the ruler, he’d put Cui San in the Censorate too.

 

No, wait.


Shui Que thought, he couldn’t even handle his own tasks properly—what was he doing dreaming about managing an empire?

 

He blamed it on the recent historical drama about an emperor that System 77 had let him watch.

 

While sipping tea, Cui Shixin casually mentioned that Qi Chaojin had been promoted to Assistant Minister of the Court of Judicial Review.

 

In just a few short months, he had risen from a sixth-rank editor in the Hanlin Academy to a fourth-rank Assistant Minister—completely unprecedented in Darong.

 

Qi Chaojin had not disappointed the emperor’s favor. Just two months after his promotion, he had already closed several high-profile corruption cases that rocked the capital.

 

From what others described, Qi Chaojin now resembled a living Yama—carrying an air of cold severity. He showed no mercy during investigations. After interrogating suspects, his originally deep crimson robes were often stained a vivid blood-red.

 

If an official offered him gifts, he would appear to accept them graciously, giving no hint of suspicion—only to later launch a thorough investigation, digging until the very roots were exposed.

 

Nearly every court official was living in fear, especially those who had climbed to their positions through connections and abused their power for personal gain.

 

Somewhere along the way, a rumor began to spread among the common folk: the brilliant Assistant Minister of the Court of Judicial Review had lost his wife and turned cold-hearted and moody—making it hard for anyone to predict his temper.

 

Regardless, his work targeted corrupt officials, and he even overturned several wrongful convictions involving commoners, earning him great praise among the people.

 

Shui Que was finally at ease. The male lead’s political career arc had gotten back on track.


Although his own plot progress was still stagnant—that was mostly Wei Yan’s fault. At least he didn’t have to worry about the male lead anymore.

 

…

 

In early August, it was Wei Yan’s grandmother’s eightieth birthday.


As her son, Marquis Anyuan was still tied up with urgent matters in the northern frontier and couldn’t make it back in time to host the event—he wouldn’t arrive until mid-August even with express travel.

 

So Wei Yan went to the countryside estate to bring his grandmother back.

 

The banquet was grand in scale. They hired the capital’s finest tea-and-wine service, who sent out formal invitations on trays, arranged guest seating, and organized the entertainment.

 

Each courtyard of the Marquis’ residence was adorned with pearl curtains. The pearls and embroidered door plaques shimmered under the sunlight, casting dazzling shadows.

 

The main banquet took place in the front courtyard. Outside the residence, ornately decorated carriages lined the streets—gold inlays, turquoise accents—every guest with an invitation was a court official or a royal relative. Inside, silk robes and elegant clothing filled the space. Streams of guests flowed like water. White marble tables and chairs surrounded the venue, and the music of flutes and strings played by palace musicians floated through the air.

 

The Emperor had even ordered a special imperial banquet in advance, sending chefs from the royal kitchen to prepare over a hundred auspicious dishes.

 

Even the most noble princes and aristocrats didn’t receive such treatment.

 

But then again, the Wei family had served the empire with loyalty for three generations. The late Imperial Consort—now posthumously honored as the Empress Dowager—had once been the daughter of a deputy general under Wei Yan’s grandfather. That deputy general had died on the battlefield protecting him.


So the old marquis and his wife had adopted the deputy general’s only daughter as their goddaughter.

 

Not long after, she entered the palace and bore the Ninth Prince.


Thus, in private, the Emperor had to call Marquis Anyuan “Uncle.”

 

And Wei Yan’s grandmother—was the Emperor’s maternal grandmother.

 

Wei Yan squatted next to Shui Que, looking at him eagerly, “You really don’t want to go out and eat?”

 

“I arranged the seating. You and I are supposed to sit beside Grandmother.”

 

What kind of situation would that be?

 

Shui Que’s eyes widened.

 

Sitting next to Wei Yan at a banquet like this—it would basically announce their relationship to everyone.

 

He’d worked so hard to avoid attention, and Wei Yan kept dragging him back into it.

 

Shui Que pressed his lips together and declined, “No. There are too many people out there. I’m shy.”

 

Wei Yan’s face immediately showed disappointment.

 

Wei Yan didn’t know if Shui Que had guessed his intentions. Originally, his plan was to have the emperor sit at the head, with him and Shui Que seated below, beside his grandmother—formally introducing Shui Que to her. He had already sounded out his grandmother’s attitude, and once the banquet reached the performance of Gao Chao, he would ask His Majesty for an imperial marriage decree.

 

But since Shui Que was hiding in the east wing and refused to come out, Wei Yan could only give up in disappointment and go outside to entertain the guests who had come to offer birthday congratulations.

 

As noon approached, the sun was high in the sky. Though it was autumn, the heat of summer hadn’t yet faded, and the air remained stiflingly hot.

 

Shui Que disliked the heat, so Wei Yan had ordered craftsmen to build a cool pavilion by the pond in the eastern courtyard. They even installed an artificial curtain of water cascading down from the eaves.

 

Inside the pavilion, a painted stone served as a couch, surrounded by ice basins. On normal days, a servant would stand behind the ice basins and fan Shui Que with a bamboo fan, sending cool breezes his way.

 

Qi Chaojin circled around to the outer courtyard. The place was crowded with guests, and he happened to catch sight of someone in red official robes. If Shui Que hadn’t glanced twice, he might not have recognized it was the male lead.

 

A middle-aged man in similar official attire was making small talk with Qi Chaojin.

 

The feared Assistant Minister of the Imperial Court of Judicial Review, who made corrupt officials tremble, stood tall and aloof. A chilling aura surrounded him, discouraging anyone from getting close—so very different from the gentle demeanor he used to show Shui Que.

 

Perhaps it was due to countless harsh interrogations, but there was a faint sharpness in his features, a cold glint of blood and blade in his eyes.

 

From the corner of his eye, he glanced toward the ornate flower gate of the eastern courtyard.

 

A glimpse of someone in a water-blue brocade robe flashed past.

 

Qi Chaojin’s gaze dimmed slightly, his expression freezing for a moment. The official talking with him—Lord Tang—thought he must’ve said something wrong.

 

Shui Que nearly got caught by the male lead again. He hurried back to the cool pavilion.

 

There was a bit of a manpower shortage at the residence; Qiaoshan had gone off to help and wouldn’t be back for a while.

 

The eastern courtyard had a small kitchen, tailored entirely to Shui Que’s tastes, since he refused to dine in the inner courtyard. Right now, his lunch was being prepared in full swing.

 

Bored, Shui Que sat by the pond, fanning himself and feeding the fish.

 

Suddenly, a sharp voice pierced the air from the front courtyard of the marquis’s residence—

 

“The Emperor arrives—!”

 

He had been playing with the koi fish in the pond and was so startled by the sudden announcement that he shuddered. His foot slipped, and he was about to fall into the water.

 

A large hand, moving as swiftly as lightning, grabbed the back of his collar and pulled him back in.

 

Shui Que was still shaken.

 

He patted his chest and said, “Thank you.”

 

He turned around.

 

It was Qi Chaojin.

 

He said nothing, face cold and silent. He pulled back his hand and even brushed off his sleeve.

 

Though it was spotless, he acted as if something filthy had touched it.

 

Seeing his reaction, Shui Que actually felt relieved—he no longer worried about the male lead suddenly seeking him out again.

 

See? Once the male lead discovered his true identity, he hated him.

 

Who could endure having their sincere feelings trampled on?

 

He looked down and saw that the round fan he’d used to play with the fish had fallen into the pond.

 

Shui Que frowned and crouched down, reaching as far as he could to retrieve it.

 

Qi Chaojin’s eyelid twitched.

 

He yanked Shui Que upright.

 

Then he bent down himself, reached out, and pinched the fan handle, fishing it out of the water.

 

Unlike Shui Que’s narrow-sleeved round-collar robe, his official robes had wide sleeves. In his haste, he hadn’t rolled them up, and a large portion got soaked in the water. The koi, thinking he was feeding them, swam over curiously.

 

His large hand was empty, without a single bit of fish food. The koi had inherited Shui Que’s temperament—bad-tempered toward strangers. Immediately, they flicked their tails, sending up splashes of water.

 

Now, not only were Qi Chaojin’s sleeves wet, but his brow was dripping with water too.

 

In silence, he handed the soggy fan back to Shui Que.

 

After nearly half a year apart, the Xiao Langjun who had haunted his dreams still had the same delicate brows and red lips. His pretty brows furrowed slightly in hesitation, the kind of expression that made people want to help him without asking for anything in return.

 

Shui Que took the damp fan and glanced again at the bedraggled male lead. In a soft voice, he said, “…Thank you.”

 

The male lead was really a good person.

 

Not only did he not push him into the water, he even helped pick up his fan.

 

Qi Chaojin had no idea he had just been given the “nice guy” card.

 

He seemed determined not to speak to Shui Que, like a gourd with a sealed mouth.

 

He appeared to have just lost his way to the eastern courtyard, glanced at him once, and was about to leave without a word.

 

Shui Que grumbled in a small voice, “Why did you go around telling people I died?”

 

He had overheard snippets of the conversation between Lord Tang and Qi Chaojin just moments ago.

 

Qi Chaojin had claimed he once had a betrothed Xiao Langjun who had sadly passed away.

 

Lord Tang had even brought up visiting Qi Chaojin’s residence before.

 

That’s how Shui Que learned that Qi Chaojin’s study still had the “Nine-Nine Cold Dispelling Chart” hanging on the wall—the plum blossoms were ones Shui Que had painted red himself.

 

Even the chickens and rabbits he used to raise together with Qi Chaojin had been brought to the capital.

 

Being spoken of as the deceased Xiao Langjun, Shui Que couldn’t help feeling a little angry and wronged.

 

Qi Chaojin tensed and instinctively explained, “Lord Tang wanted to arrange a marriage for me, and I had no choice but to use that as an excuse to decline.”

 

He pursed his lips and fell silent.

 

The Overseer scoffed coldly: [He’s really putting on the act. So what, he’s pretending to be a grieving widower for you now?]

 

Shui Que’s eyelid twitched at 01’s comment.

 

What a weird way to put it…

 

The male lead must harbor resentment toward him and had completely cut ties. That excuse was just a subtle curse!

 

Unhappy, Shui Que grumbled, “You’re not allowed to use me as an excuse. If Wei Yan hears about it, he’ll think there’s still something between us.”

 

He was deliberately trying to anger the male lead.

 

Who told him to claim he’d died?

 

This fair-skinned, rosy-cheeked Xiao Langjun, who could sweet-talk a man into losing his head with just a few words, also had a sharp tongue that cut right to the heart when he wanted to.

 

When Qi Chaojin heard him mention Wei Yan, his expression instantly turned icy cold.

 

Emotions surged in his eyes as he said with a grim face, “I was speaking of my betrothed, not someone belonging to the Little Marquis Wei.”

 

When he turned to leave, his wide sleeves were still dripping wet.

 

——

 

Another year, another Mid-Autumn Festival on the fifteenth of August.

 

The lantern festival in the capital was far more grand than anything in Changzhou County.

 

Colorful painted flags stood at shop entrances, their facades decked out with paper flowers and lanterns. On the imperial avenue, massive “mountains of light” were built, decorated with layers of ribbons and famous hand-painted stories of gods and demons.

 

Tens of thousands of lanterns and candles made the night as bright as day.

 

Along the two colonnades of the imperial avenue, entertainers performed songs, dances, and acrobatics. Stalls selling food and games lined both sides.

 

The streets were packed, shoulder to shoulder.

 

At a time like this, there was no distinction between commoners and officials—everyone was just a festival-goer.

 

Shui Que held a small bird-shaped lantern, walking close to the inner side of the street. Qiaoshan stayed on the outer side, afraid someone might bump into the delicate guest.

 

Maybe it was just bad luck, but he locked eyes with Qi Chaojin, who was on the opposite side of the imperial avenue.

 

Why did he run into the male lead no matter where he went?

 

But Shui Que couldn’t hide away in the rear courtyard of the marquis’s residence forever. It was just unfortunate timing this time.

 

Qiaoshan noticed he had stopped walking and asked, “Young Lord Shui?”

 

Shui Que shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

 

Luckily, Qi Chaojin only glanced over coldly, then looked away without coming closer.

 

They each followed the crowd, moving in opposite directions on either side of the street.

 

The air was dry. No one knew which restaurant had knocked over a lantern.

 

A loud voice rose from the crowd: “Fire! Fire—!”

 

The bird lantern fell to the ground. Qiaoshan was pushed away by the crowd and quickly disappeared from view, shouting, “Young Lord! Young Lord!”

 

Shui Que stumbled several times but didn’t fall.

 

Because soon after, someone pushed against the tide of the crowd and pulled him into a firm embrace.

 

In the flickering firelight, Qi Chaojin’s face was blurred, but his voice trembled with lingering fear.

 

He murmured, “Thank goodness… thank goodness I didn’t lose you this time.”

 

Like a saw-mouthed gourd, he didn’t seem to realize that he had unconsciously voiced the thoughts in his heart.

 

Shui Que blinked slowly, still not fully processing what had just happened.

 

Instinctively, he patted Qi Chaojin’s back, trying to soothe him.

 

On such a major holiday, there were always watchmen on duty at the Firewatch Tower, and military patrols were on standby to extinguish fires at any moment.

 

Soldiers from the Mounted Guards Division and the Mounted Guards Division of the imperial guard rushed to the scene with remarkable speed.

 

A loud, prolonged neigh pierced the air as a unit of soldiers from the Palace Guard arrived at the end of the Imperial Street. Leading them was the Deputy Commander, who drew his sword, its cold gleam blinding, and shouted orders for the panicked crowd to remain calm and wait in place. Anyone caught pushing or trampling would be thrown into prison.

 

Everyone gradually calmed down.

 

Next, soldiers from the Palace Guards began to guide the crowd in an orderly evacuation, creating more room for the military patrol units to carry out firefighting efforts.

 

All of them were highly trained, battle-hardened veterans. From the moment the fire broke out to when it was extinguished, the entire process took less than the time it takes to burn half an incense stick.

 

Wei Yan finally found Shui Que. He was on duty with the Palace Guards that night, which was why he couldn’t accompany Shui Que to the Lantern Festival.

 

When he heard about the fire breaking out here, his heart nearly leapt out of his throat. In a panic, he had rushed over with his soldiers to evacuate the crowd from Imperial Street.

 

He dismounted quickly, and the moment he caught sight of Qi Chaojin, his expression turned completely sour.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Wei Yan forcibly separated the two of them. “In broad daylight, in front of everyone—what kind of behavior is this, all this hugging and clinging?”

 

Qi Chaojin had no choice but to let go of Shui Que.

 

He coldly reprimanded, “Commander Wei tricked people into coming to the capital, and yet couldn’t even protect Shui Que.”

 

If it were just Shui Que standing there, Wei Yan would surely have looked deeply guilty. But with Qi Chaojin present, the moment he opened his mouth, it was like a spark hitting dry grass—Wei Yan’s temper ignited instantly.

 

And it only burned fiercer.

 

After checking that Shui Que was unharmed, Wei Yan shot back with sarcasm, “Unlike Assistant Minister Qi, who’s even capable of laying hands on his own cousin. Shui Que wasn’t tricked by me—he came to the capital of his own free will. It was you, so-called cousin, who tried to force him into marriage. Were you trying to push him into an immoral situation?!”

 

Qi Chaojin frowned. “Shui Que and I aren’t even related by blood. Back then, our relationship was clean and proper—why couldn’t we marry?”

 

To this day, Wei Yan still believed Qi Chaojin and Shui Que were distant cousins.

 

At those words, his brow arched in surprise. “What’s this? Trying to deny it now? Don’t have the guts to own up to what you’ve done?”

 

Listening to their argument made Shui Que’s head spin. He looked left, looked right, completely lost on how to break up the fight.

 

…

 

This wide Imperial Street faced directly toward Xuande Tower.

 

The central seat on the upper floor was the Emperor’s throne.

 

Yellow silk fabric layered upon layers draped over the colorful pavilion.

 

Imperial guards from the Yulong Guard stood on either side, holding yellow parasols and ceremonial fans.

 

The Emperor observed how swiftly the capital’s patrol and military forces responded to the fire. He said nothing, but his expression clearly showed approval.

 

He signaled to the chief eunuch beside him to prepare a list of rewards to be issued later.

 

Then, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of two of his most trusted civil and military officials quarreling in the middle of Imperial Street—caught between them was a fair-skinned young man, so pale he practically glowed.

 

Though he couldn’t see the young man’s facial features clearly, Duan Zhang suddenly recalled a long-past memory. The boy must have been the same one he had seen at Jinming Pool—the one Wei Yan had carried back on his back.

 

He instructed the soldiers accompanying him, “Invite them up. I want to hear what they’re quarreling about.”

 

Xiao Langjun had never seen the Emperor in person before. Once he came up, he followed Qi Chaojin and Wei Yan’s lead in bowing, but was a beat too slow as he said, “Greetings, Your Majesty.”

 

On either side of Xuande Tower hung lantern globes more than ten feet in circumference. The central flame was enormous.

 

Under the glow that seemed as bright as daylight, Duan Zhang could see Shui Que’s appearance with perfect clarity.

 

A finely shaped head, jade-like cheeks, delicate brows, long eyelashes, lips the color of light rose.

 

His beauty seemed otherworldly, not something born of the mortal realm.

 

In the blink of an eye, the man in the black dragon robe appeared right before him. Shui Que instinctively leaned back, puzzled. “Your Majesty?”

 

The silver chain around his neck was lifted by cold, trembling fingers, revealing the longevity lock he wore.

 

Duan Zhang gently caressed the small bird pattern carved into it. Hanging from the bottom of the lock was a leaf of mutton-fat jade.

 

“Xiao Yao…”

Note: Xiao Yao could be referred to as the youngest child of the family too.

 

Duan Zhang’s voice was so soft, it sounded as if he was afraid of startling a bird.

 

Shui Que was still confused when the man pulled him tightly into his arms and murmured in a low voice, “Xiao Yao.”

 

Wei Yan’s eyelid twitched.

 

Suddenly, he remembered where he had heard about that particular design of longevity lock before.

 

It belonged to the deceased Empress Dowager’s third son.

 

His father had told him that his aunt, once a palace concubine, had given birth to the Ninth Prince. Her second child had been killed by the Empress at the time.

 

So when she gave birth to her third child, they faked a difficult labor and secretly sent the baby out of the palace to be raised by others.

 

This was a royal secret that involved the entire Wei family. His father, Marquis Anyuan, had only once mentioned it while drunk when Wei Yan was a child, and then never brought it up again, warning him to take it to the grave.

 

Wei Yan had kept that secret so well… he’d forgotten all about it.

 

The Empress Dowager had been his grandfather’s adopted daughter, so he called her “aunt.”

 

By that logic—wasn’t Shui Que actually his cousin?

 

Wei Yan’s throat tightened.

 

Then all the more reason Shui Que should give him a proper title!

 

This was family on top of family!

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Huge shoutout to @candycorns2 on Discord for commissioning this! The chapter will be posted regularly, show your support for Ciacia at Kofi.

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