An Chunhei was fretting and fussing over every little detail of the surprisingly spacious sitting room of her home. She made sure that the decorative curtains were set just right—blocking the glare of the setting sun, while still presenting a pleasing view of the colorful hues that it cast over the courtyard. She carefully arranged a tray of appetizers around a tea-set—all kept at the perfect temperature by expensive magical formations. She fussed over the placement of the cushions, the angle of the decorations—Chunhei even checked and double-checked the feng shui of the room to ensure everything was absolutely perfect.

Then she did it all over again. And again. Everything had to be absolutely perfect—she was sure that she and her husband would only have one chance at this. Chunhei had known from the beginning that there was something suspicious about their mysterious new benefactor. Some random ‘philanthropist’ had gone and purchased all their debts, arranged for them to move to Songdo, and even allowed them to stay in a rather luxurious residence—far too big for just the two of them—without charging so much as rent or interest.

Her husband, Minjun, had suggested that perhaps it was a fan of her work—remaining anonymous to save themselves from chastisement by those damnable Sun and Yeong families. Chunhei wasn’t so sure, however. Still, it was the luckiest break they’d had since—since...Eui. Clutching anxiously at her mouse-like tail, Chunhei tried to shake off the thoughts of her daughter—the last thing she needed now was another episode.

Since moving to the capital, the An family’s business had finally begun to look up again. Many of Chunhei’s former clients lived or had interests in the capital city, and Minjun had been quick to turn those connections into an entire network of new contacts and clients who were more than happy to purchase designer clothing at discount rates and brag to all of their friends about the quality of the work. Within the last year, their business had fully reestablished itself, and though it had been quite costly setting up new facilities in the capital city, they were finally out of the red for the first time in four years.

No doubt that was why they had suddenly received a letter from their mysterious landlords ‘asking’ for a private dinner that very night. It was horrifically short notice, but they couldn’t very well deny their creditors. The business might have been making profits again, but the An family was still deeply in debt.

Chunhei was just about to start checking over things again when a pair of strong arms wrapped around her torso from behind, drawing her into a warm embrace before her husband placed a gentle kiss on top of her head. Chunhei sighed and sank into his arms. Minjun always had a way of finding her when she was in need of comfort.

“You’re clutching your tail again, darling.”

Chunhei tutted once, letting go of her tail and turning around to return her husband’s embrace.

“Thank you, honey. What would I do without you?”

She stood up on her tip-toes to give her husband a quick kiss on the lips before letting herself snuggle up against him and just enjoy the feeling of warmth and safety in his arms for a moment. He was a little soft around the middle these days, as a result of his life as a merchant—he hadn’t practiced woodworking as anything more than a hobby in ages—but Chunhei loved him no less for it.

An Minjun was a full head taller than Chunhei, and though the only sign of his half-spirit ancestry while clothed was the hint of some large scale plates poking out along his neckline, Chunhei had seen the full array of scales along his shoulders and back—and she found them quite fetching. They were apparently pangolin scales, though Chunhei had never actually seen the animal.

Her own spiritual expressions were a bit more subtle—other than her prehensile tail, the only noticeable features were her prominent front teeth and an overbite that Chunhei had hated as a child. Minjun insisted that he found it cute, and over the years of their marriage, she had come to terms with her appearance. Besides, it was hard to hate the way she looked when her precious daughter took so strongly after—

Chunhei buried her face in her husband’s chest and squeezed him as tightly as she could. He ran a hand through her long dark hair—careful not to mess it up—and sighed.

“Thinking about Eui again?”

“Tsk, how do you always know?”

“Hmm...”

Minjun hummed thoughtfully, the corners of his lips quirking up in the way they always did before he was about to say something that he thought was clever.

“Well, I just thought we might see that nice young man from last time again—perhaps he’ll tell us more—ow!”

Chunhei cut off her husband by stomping on his foot, taking a step away from him.

“That’s not funny, Minjun! You know that I hated hearing that!”

Minjun hands up apologetically.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I was just trying to ease your nerves.”

Chunhei let out an irritable huff, but she couldn’t stay mad at her husband. He really was trying to help—he just had a rather dark sense of humor sometimes. The last time they’d met a representative of their mysterious creditors, it had been a young man by the name of Hyeong Daesung. It turned out that he had known an An Eui of his own, during his time in education. He had told them all sorts of fantastical tales about a girl with the same name and description as their daughter, doing impossible magical things—a world totally alien to mere mortals such as them.

It was a painful experience for Chunhei, because though she could bring herself to hope—to imagine that it was really her little girl who had earned the respect of that powerful mage—she knew that it was impossible. Young Magus Hyeong had been in error—a simple case of mistaken identity. It wasn’t like An was a particularly unique family name, and there was just no way that he could have met her Eui. After all...her daughter had been dead for years.

Eui felt ridiculous as she approached the house with Jia. She had to resist the urge to hold Jia’s hand or link arms with her for comfort—it would break their illusion. The two of them had disguised themselves as a pair of mortal businessmen—representatives of some anonymous noble who owned the house. Of course the truth was that they owned the house, but Lee Jung has suggested that Eui’s parents might be more comfortable with mortal guises at first.

The plan was simple. Jia and Eui would sit down with the An family for dinner while they pretended to discuss business or finances or something—Eui really hoped Jia would let her do the talking on that front. In the process, they’d gently probe about their past and see if they would open up about their daughter—in other words, her. It was stupid—ridiculous, really—but Eui had agreed to the idea. Insisted on it, in fact. She had to know what her parents thought of her after all these years. Whether they’d forgotten, or missed her, or resented her—unfiltered and free of the sudden revelation of her return. Perhaps it was unfair of Eui, but she had to know.

The house was impressive, to say the least. Exactly the kind of wide, single-floor estate that Eui would expect out of some noble or obscenely wealthy merchant. The fact that they had such a place in the middle of the capital spoke measures. Whatever Eui’s misgivings about Seong Eunae, it was clear that she had pulled out all the stops within her limited sphere of influence to provide for her friends from the academy. For that, Eui was grateful.

As they passed the gateway onto the threshold of the property, Eui sensed a formation pulse with mana. Technically, it was a minor alarm formation, but this one was designed to alert the user to visitors, rather than intruders—though it could serve either purpose in a pinch. By the time Eui and Jia arrived at the door, Eui’s mother was already waiting for them.

Eui’s heart clenched in her chest—and she nearly blew her cover right then and there. There was her mother, the same face she recalled from her youth, now pinched with worry even as she forced a strained smile onto her face. With the help of her illusions, and a bit of mental encouragement from Jia, Eui managed to keep herself composed as her mother greeted them.

“Welcome! We’ve been expecting you! Please come in and have a seat.”

Eui nodded awkwardly as her mother ushered the pair of them into the house and into a perfectly arranged sitting room. Knowing her mother, Eui could imagine her spending hours fretting over every detail. She recognized the trays of snacks on the table—her father had clearly done the cooking. Speaking of her father, the man stood and bowed respectfully as they entered, and Eui recognized the smooth, businesslike demeanor he always used when dealing with clients.

Her parents. Exactly as she remembered them. Eui fought to keep herself from bursting into tears. They were safe and well, they were here—right in front of her. She was so overwhelmed by feelings of nostalgia that she nearly missed her father’s introduction.

“Welcome to our home! My name is An Minjun, and this is my beloved wife Chunhei. May I have the pleasure of your acquaintance?”

Eui and Jia returned the bow and Jia spoke first to introduce them.

“I am Lee Joon, and this is my si—brother, Lee So.”

Her parents froze as Jia introduced them, and Eui could sense a rising panic from each of them. Not a minute in and they were already fucking everything up. Eui desperately tried not to slap her own face as she realized the problem.

“Uh, n-no relation to the gang that troubled you in the past. Just an unfortunate coincidence.”

She coughed awkwardly as her father raised his eyebrow.

“As you say, Mister Lee. Well, I suppose then you—or perhaps whoever you represent—are the ones we have to thank for ridding us of those horrible loan sharks. I can’t say I’m unhappy about that—nor the opportunities afforded to us by the capital. Please, have a seat and we can discuss why you’ve come here today.”

Eui’s parents stood and waited until Jia and Eui had taken their seats before sitting together opposite them. Eui cleared her throat—she was used to letting Jia do most of the talking, and it felt weird to be the one taking the initiative.

“We are here representing the owners of this house, as stated in the letter we sent ahead. We’re just here to check in and make sure things are going well. Our uh—employer, is very interested in your well-being.”

Minjun’s perfect merchant’s smile didn’t budge, but Eui saw her mother cock her head and frown.

“Why? Please forgive me for asking, but who is your employer, and why are they so interested in us?”

Eui swallowed nervously. This was already falling apart. Every word out of her mouth was making her parents more suspicious and less comfortable. How the fuck was she supposed to get them to open up to her about their past like this? This whole plan was completely absurd. Thankfully, Jia stepped in to fill in the gaps while Eui mentally berated herself.

“Unfortunately, we’re not at liberty to disclose the identity of our employer, but they are very interested in your family business. We understand that you’ve been doing quite well recently, despite the hard times you’ve fallen on over the past few years.”

Chunhei’s face darkened, and even Eui’s father let his smile slip just ever so slightly. Eui wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Of course they didn’t want to talk about their fuckup daughter. The one who’d brought them ruin. This entire thing had been an awful idea. They should never have come here. Eui didn’t want to be here anymore, but when her father spoke, she forced herself to keep listening.

“Indeed we have—in no small part thanks to your employer’s generosity. Freezing our interest payments and allowing us to live in such luxury in the heart of the country has allowed us to focus our effort on recovering our business. The last few months have been especially lucrative, as even some of our more reluctant clients have embraced us wholeheartedly.”

Jia nodded along, smiling.

“I see. Are you aware of the fact that the Sun clan has formally dropped the charges against your daughter?”

Eui’s head whipped around to her lover in abject disbelief. She practically screamed at her through their mental communication.

“Jia! You can’t just—”

“Sir, what in the ancestors’ names are you talking about? Why would they do that? Our daughter died in exile over four years ago.”

Minjun’s tone was hard and unimpressed, and Eui could see her mother struggling not to burst into tears. This was all going wrong. This wasn’t what they had planned at all! The illusory smile on Jia’s face belied the mixed emotions that Eui could sense emanating from her. Guilt, anticipation, and a tiny hint of playful mischief.

“Well that’s quite simple, Mister An. Because your daughter isn’t dead.”

Eui felt the essence moving within Jia and immediately began to panic. She wouldn’t dare!

“Jia, what are you doing? This isn’t what we—”

Before Eui could finish her protest, Jia pulled the metaphorical rug out from under her, dispelling the illusion on both of them. Eui froze like a startled deer as she met the shocked stares of her parents—her true form revealed to both of them. Her mother’s chin quivered, and tears began to fall freely down her cheeks, while her father just stared—utterly dumbfounded. It was her mother who spoke first, clutching her tail in front of her and wringing it fiercely.

“E-Eui?! How—?”

In a mirror of her mother, Eui found herself wringing her own tail anxiously.

“Um...h-hi mom.”