The cold of the north didn't stand a chance against the inn.
Inside, the air was a thick, swampy mix of expensive spices, cheap grilled meat, and the kind of wine that tasted like it could peel paint off a wall. Lanterns hung from the rafters, casting a greasy golden glow over the patrons—mostly men who were far too loud and smelled far too much like sweat and desperation. It was a place of business, laughter, and the constant, rhythmic sound of a woman who didn't have time for your nonsense.
*Click.*
*Click.*
*Click.*
Madam Da-li's fingers danced over an abacus with the kind of terrifying precision usually reserved for surgeons or card sharks. She didn't need to look at the beads. She didn't even need to look at the room.
"Miss Da-li! More wine!"
"Where's my food? I've been waiting since the last century!"
The voices overlapped, grating and impatient. Da-li's fingers paused. She reached into a bowl of hard candies, picked out two, and flicked them without looking. They flew in perfect, mocking arcs across the room, landing squarely in the open mouths of the two loudest complainers.
The room went quiet. The two men stood there, gagging slightly on the sudden sugary intrusion.
Madam Da-li finally looked up. Her crimson robes were embroidered with gold that seemed to shift in the light, looking more like scales than thread. She smiled, but it was the kind of smile a shark might give a particularly slow seal.
"It's Madam," she said. Her voice was like silk over a razor blade. "To you, little men."
The temperature in the room didn't actually change, but the two men suddenly looked like they wished they'd worn heavier coats.
"My staff is busy actually working," she continued, resting her chin on her hand. "If the wait is too much for your delicate constitutions… the kitchen is right there. Go play chef. You can manage that, right?"
"Yes, Madam!" they stammered, nearly tripping over their own feet as they scrambled toward the back, promising to serve themselves and pay double for the privilege.
At a corner table, three regulars watched the display with a mix of awe and terror.
"I'm telling you," one whispered, hiding behind his mug. "If she told me to walk off a cliff, I'd just ask if she wanted me to do a flip on the way down."
"She's a mother of two," the second one muttered, though his eyes were glued to the counter. "Show some respect."
"I am respecting her," the third one replied, his face a deep shade of red. "She could be my mother too. I wouldn't mind the discipline."
His friends stared at him in horrified silence.
"You're going to get us killed," the first one hissed.
Da-li glanced their way. Just a glance. No magic, no threats—just the weight of her attention. Their backs straightened so fast you could almost hear their vertebrae pop. She gave them a small, elegant smile that hit like a physical blow to the chest, then went back to her abacus.
*Click.*
The door slid open, letting in a draft of actual fresh air. Yuna walked in. She didn't have her mother's theatrical flair, but she had a calm that made the chaotic inn feel suddenly small.
"Mother," she said, stopping at the counter.
"What is it, sweetie?" Da-li asked, her voice losing its edge for a moment.
"I came to help. It's crowded."
"Aw, my princess," Da-li cooed, her expression softening into something genuinely warm. "Don't bother. We've got the rabble under control. Sit."
Yuna sat. She watched her mother work for a moment before speaking. "I heard something on the mountain. Bandits. Near the villages."
The abacus slowed. Just for a fraction of a second. "Interesting," Da-li murmured. "Bandits usually go where the money is. There's nothing in those villages but dirt and stubborn old people. Maybe they aren't looking for profit."
They shared a look—a quiet, heavy understanding that had nothing to do with innkeeping.
"Mother," Yuna said softly. "You've been… busy lately."
Da-li leaned in, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Is my daughter feeling neglected? Does she want a hug?"
Yuna's face flushed pink. "Mother, people are watching—"
Too late. Da-li pulled her into a suffocatingly affectionate embrace. "A mother's love doesn't care about an audience," she whispered, stroking Yuna's hair. "Now, what's on your mind?"
"I want to learn the Air Slash," Yuna muttered into her mother's shoulder. "With a katana. I know I'm better with swords, but I want to master it."
Da-li pulled back, her eyes sharpening into those of a teacher. "Your skill isn't the problem, Yuna. It's the gear. That katana you were using? It was built for a Pyro-type. A fire-breather's weapon." She tapped Yuna's forehead. "And you are very clearly a Cryo-type. You're trying to channel ice through a furnace. It's unstable."
"So I need a new one?"
"You need the *right* one," Da-li said. "And I know exactly who has it."
Yuna hesitated. "Wait… a Pyro type? Aren't they… dangerous? Unstable? Everyone says they're difficult to be around."
The room seemed to grow very still for Da-li. Her eyes drifted, looking through the walls of the inn and across years of snow.
A boy. Wounded. Bloody. Golden eyes burning with a rage that could melt the tundra.
"That weapon," Da-li said, her voice dropping into a nostalgic, weary tone, "belongs to a genius. A total hothead, yes. But he's not the monster people think he is."
"A friend of yours?"
"More than a friend," Da-li said, a faint, private smile touching her lips. "His name is Raizen."
"Uncle Raizen," Yuna tested the name. "I'd like to meet him."
"I'm not sure he'd know how to handle being called 'Uncle,'" Da-li chuckled. "But maybe you're the only one who could teach him."
BANG
The front door didn't just open; it surrendered.
"I'M BACK!"
Eunha marched in, looking like she'd spent the day wrestling a chimney sweep. She was covered in soot and leaves, a manic grin plastered on her face and a sack slung over her shoulder. She launched herself at the counter. Da-li caught her without looking up from her ledger.
"I found treasure!" Eunha announced, dumping a pile of coins, a broken dagger, and a very suspicious-looking ring onto the counter.
"Define 'treasure,'" Yuna sighed. "And where did you get this?"
"From bad people!" Eunha chirped, puffing out her chest. "They were being mean to the villagers, so I scared them."
Yuna looked at the coins, then at her mother. "Scared them?"
"Very scared," Eunha insisted. For a split second, her eyes flickered—a dark, jagged red that didn't belong on a child's face. Then it was gone, replaced by innocent blinking.
Later, in the steaming quiet of the onsen, Yuna worked soap into Eunha's messy hair.
"Stay still," Yuna commanded.
"I'm a statue," Eunha lied, splashing water.
"So," Yuna said, her voice dangerously calm. "How exactly did you 'scare' those bandits? You used your powers, didn't you? After Mother specifically told you not to."
She reached out and pinched Eunha's ear.
"Ow! Aneki! It was just a tiny bit of terror!"
"You're going to be spanked tonight," Yuna said flatly.
Eunha froze. "You're joking. Tell me you're joking."
Yuna just stared at her. Unblinking.
"I won't do it again!" Eunha wailed, clasped her hands together. "Please don't tell her! I'll be good! Mostly!"
Yuna sighed, the sound echoing off the damp stones. She looked at her sister—a child who could stop a man's heart with a look—and saw only a brat who needed her hair washed.
"You're impossible," Yuna muttered.
"But you love me."
"...Unfortunately, yes."
Back at the counter, the inn was finally quiet. The last of the drunks had crawled home, and the fire was burning low. Madam Da-li finished her last row of calculations.
Click!
She closed the ledger with a satisfied thud.
"Jackpot"