The moon hung eternally overhead, fixed at the zenith of the sky, accompanied by the stars.
On the streets, pedestrians moved about under the pull of invisible threads, each performing their designated roles.
Everyone wore mechanical smiles, not a trace of sorrow among them.
Here, there was no oppression, no crime, no need for wealth or desire.
Those things simply weren’t allowed to exist here.
Duan Bingxia and Tong Shishan walked their way to school, exchanging only a gentle smile—saying nothing at all.
At the shops along the street, customers and shopkeepers repeated their exchanges in clockwork rhythm:
“One medium-rare steak.”
“Okay.”
A purple-haired girl, eyes closed, handed the prepared plate to the young server.
After he walked away, the girl flipped a long-outdated one-yuan coin into the air, caught it in her palm, and opened her hand to read the result.
“Heads.”
She spoke, and in the next moment, the coin ignited in flames and dissolved, leaving nothing behind.
“In Her Highness’s nation, money really is useless.”
She sighed with a touch of resignation.
Life without money was, in its own way, quite a torment.
“I still like those things that everyone scrambles after.”
“Because those things… they let you toy with people’s desires however you want.”
“But in this nation, it seems… those don’t exist.”
No, not seems—in this nation, even desire itself was forbidden.
With that thought, she lifted her head and looked toward the palace in the distance.
“But there’s one desire still permitted in this place… and that’s you, Your Highness, isn’t it?”
“Just like how no law can restrain the one who writes them—these rules could never be used against you.”
“This is your nation—this world is born from your heart.”
The girl understood: to the ruler, this was nothing but a dream.
And everyone inside the dream existed only because she imagined them to.
Besides, every rule is a lock—and wherever there is a lock, there is a key.
Rules depend on each individual’s recognition.
The moment someone stops believing in the system, the whole thing can collapse at any time.
But Her Highness’s method was simpler: remove all individual thought.
Strip away the ability to even comprehend what “rules” are.
“Well, I guess you didn’t need to go that far. Even without shackles, people would’ve put them on themselves.”
“Just like how ministers always find a way to justify the emperor’s existence—not with reason, but with what simply feels right inside.”
In the end, the whole thing was a farce.
The entire kingdom was her cocoon.
And when the day comes that she can no longer deceive herself, the whole thing is bound to crumble.
The girl glanced at the crowd around her—people tugged along by threads—like she was staring at a street full of corpses.
“So, this is your confession, huh?”
“Just letting all the invisible strings become visible for once.”
“In the end, these mortals… never really were that different to begin with.”
“Just like ants in an anthill, each one follows the queen’s scent-projected commands, carrying out its tasks without a single independent thought.”
“Sometimes, it really is hard to tell the line between life and death… like right now.”
“Ugh… ngh…”
Hui Mengyi pressed her right hand to her slightly aching left shoulder, then slowly sat up.
She opened her eyes and found herself surrounded by total darkness—except for one thing: a massive glass mirror standing right in front of her.
Reflected in the mirror wasn’t her own image, but that of a white-haired loli connected by strings—Ye Jinyi.
Ye Jinyi wasn’t lying on the large bed in the distance anymore, but on the floor close to the glass, peacefully asleep.
Hui Mengyi looked down and suddenly noticed that from each of her ten fingers extended a white thread—identical to the ones connected to Ye Jinyi’s body.
What was going on?
She tried to recall what had happened recently.
She remembered letting her sister bite her shoulder before she lost consciousness.
Looking at her left shoulder, she confirmed four scabbed-over bite marks.
So her memory hadn’t failed her.
Hui Mengyi kept digging through her memories, trying to find the exact moment when everything changed.
She vaguely recalled Ye Jinyi muttering two strange phrases—words she couldn’t understand.
And once those were spoken, everything went blank.
The last thing she remembered was an overwhelming cold… then nothing.
That must’ve been when she passed out.
Hui Mengyi tried walking around this pitch-black space.
She first attempted to move along either side of the glass, but whenever she reached the edges, she bumped into something invisible.
She then tried moving behind the glass—same result. After just a few steps, she hit something again.
That’s when she realized—the entire space was built around this mirror.
“Guess I’ll have to try that move.”
She transformed into her magical girl form, summoned her Bubble Bell, and rang it twice, activating Mirror Flower, Water Moon.
Then she walked toward the edges again—only to find nothing had changed. She still couldn’t pass through.
“What’s going on?”
Doubt crept in.
Theoretically, Mirror Flower, Water Moon shouldn’t be bound by space.
So why… why was this space restraining her ability?
“No choice, then.”
Hui Mengyi returned to the glass and started banging on it furiously, trying to wake Ye Jinyi up.
“Wake up, sis!”
“Let’s play a game together, okay?”
“Or… or maybe go on a trip or something?”
She said all sorts of things, but none of them worked.
“At this point… only one thing left to try.”
She took a deep breath—and shouted: “I bought a strawberry cake! Ye Jinyi, do you want some?!”
“YES!”
In a flash, Ye Jinyi jolted upright from the floor like a sit-up.
She looked around, head wobbling, scanning for the voice she’d just heard.
“Where’s the strawberry cake?”
Ye Jinyi scratched her head.
Wait a minute—where even was this place?
This bedroom was way too luxurious… clearly not something she could ever afford.
Clap clap clap!
“Sis! Over here!”
Hui Mengyi quickly shouted, trying to get Ye Jinyi to notice her.
“Big sis?”
Ye Jinyi stood up and turned to look at the mirror beside her.
The moment she laid eyes on her, Hui Mengyi’s body was suddenly twisted by an unseen force, forced to perfectly mirror Ye Jinyi’s every movement.
