The Human Village seemed to hold its breath, as if the cobblestones themselves feared the two approaching figures. Joon Yorigami’s twin-tails bounced with every exaggerated step, her white dress gleaming like a lightning strike of extravagance in the dull afternoon light. Behind her, Shion’s dark-blue hair hung like a quiet river, and her tattered skirt whispered of poverty and misfortune with every tentative step.

The sisters had spent weeks reconciling after the last incident. Joon remained sharp and teasing, her laughter a blade of charm and danger, yet she lingered just long enough to make sure Shion wasn’t left entirely alone. Shion, for her part, was learning—slowly—to step out of her shadow, clutching her patched cat doll like a talisman of courage.

They spotted you at the edge of the market square. Joon lunged forward, striking a dramatic pose, while Shion melted further into her sister’s shadow.

“Shion, you can stop clinging to me now,” Joon said, voice sharp, “before you weigh me down like an unpaid debt.”

Shion peered out, sheepishly brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Oh… umm… sorry,” she murmured, eyes downcast.

Joon’s grin widened, a small fang glinting. “I’m Joon Yorigami, pestilence goddess of excess and ruin. I’ll swindle even crying children without remorse. But why… why do I have to meet someone who looks so… unfortunate? Ugh. I’d rather meet some slimy politician—then at least the destruction would be enjoyable.”

She threw a quick glance at Shion. “Too harsh?”

Shion’s nod was barely perceptible.

“Tch,” Joon muttered, flipping her fan open with a snap that made coins in nearby stalls jingle nervously. “Fine. Only because I don’t want Byakuren to lecture me again… Though, Shion does seem happier with that celestial goddess, Tenshi. Can’t imagine them walking around without some… unintended catastrophe.”

Shion’s ears twitched, a faint ghost of a blush on her cheeks. Joon noticed, letting out a short laugh that was more indulgent than cruel. “Don’t worry. I’ll try not to ruin your day too much… for now.”

From her pocket, Joon tossed a single shiny coin toward Shion, who caught it awkwardly. “Keep it… as a reminder,” Joon said, her eyes gleaming with mischief, “that fortune favors the bold—or at least, the reckless.”