Little Pink Starfish

Lately, Yuan Yuanyuan had discovered something: if your heart was shameless enough, life inside the Masked Organization could actually be quite decent. Just treat everyone around you like they’re your coworkers and go about your business.

The people in the Masked Organization were surprisingly goofy—each had their own unique flavor of weird.

She now felt like she could continue laying low. Life in the organization wasn’t as difficult as she’d expected. Once she got close to the inner workings, she realized—everyone still had to eat and sleep, and their brains didn’t always operate on logic either.

Take this, for example: the others in the organization thought she was terrifying… She walked again through that enormous, enclosed dome she’d visited before, noting how the number of members had grown.

Most people now had masks tied around their necks; some wore them on their faces. Yuan Yuanyuan, who had entered maskless, was instantly recognized by everyone she passed. Every single person instinctively detoured around her.

She strutted through the crowd with her head high, looking cool and aloof—like Moses parting the Red Sea.

…After walking through, she even felt like turning around and walking through again, just for effect.

But anyway, she was here to get eye holes punched in her mask.

She handed the mask over, remembering how she’d once thought this was some kind of training exercise—like the organization wanted her to learn to fight blind. In hindsight, she’d really overthought it.

The old demon before her looked ancient—wrinkled and pale. He took the mask from her and began cutting the eye holes. Then he looked up and asked,
“Do you want anything drawn on your mask?”

…Wait, you could choose?

A million ideas flashed through Yuan Yuanyuan’s mind: butterflies, phoenixes, a back-spanning dragon tattoo… Then she settled on the two most classic words:
“Whatever.”

“Ah, whatever is the hardest kind,” the old man said, glancing at her and then back at the mask. Finally, he said, “Let me see your demon markings.”

Yuan Yuanyuan released her markings. The old man examined her for a moment, then picked up a white brush and began to draw on the mask’s white base.

She stood to the side, watching as lines stretched across the surface like threads of memory. Around them, the old man added folds and wrinkles, resembling scars.

By the end, Yuan Yuanyuan was holding a black mask with white blossoms.

She looked at the flowers, slightly puzzled. Why draw something like this? But the thought vanished as quickly as it came. She put on the mask and left. This time, no one avoided her.

She passed row after row of small houses. Last time she came, they were all empty—but now they were occupied. It looked… lively.

And oddly, Yuan Yuanyuan felt a bit proud—and speechless—realizing she’d helped build some of that liveliness.

She figured she must be on track for a promotion. The earlier distrust in her was whatever—now that they trusted her, they couldn’t just let her sit idle. She was thinking about what to say when she met with the boss. She had to maintain the character of Seventeen.

Seventeen probably hated bloodline supremacists, so she couldn’t act too enthusiastic. To outsiders, his shift in views was because he was dying—and only now did he start caring about lineage. As a general, if he suddenly flipped his stance, it had to be for a greater cause—for the good of demonkind.

She recalled what the man she’d killed said in the last issue of the comic.

She’d already realized then: the goal of the demon rebellion was likely to overthrow the post-war contract signed between humans and demons.

There were two main rules in that second war’s aftermath:

1. Demons must not appear in front of humans without cause.
2. Demons must not kill humans.

Those rules pinned demons down, unable to rise again.

These contracts couldn’t be broken casually—violating them would invite cosmic punishment. So the only way to break free… was to ignite war once more and redraw the rules.

Seventeen might have hated bloodline ideology, but under these circumstances, it was understandable for him to shift positions.

After all, he was a hardened general—using hardline tactics was in his nature. With the way demonkind had decayed, if someone didn’t act soon, it’d all be over.

Imagine a demon waking from decades of fake-death slumber, only to find the once proud warriors he led had become frightened shadows, too scared to even show their faces.

Such a demon would be furious. Changing things would make sense.

Once things were settled, Yuan Yuanyuan opened the door and stepped into the topmost room. Inside sat a figure wearing a mask.

He looked at her and chuckled,
“You’re here.”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Yuan Yuanyuan replied, her tone cold, though still polite.

…

Elsewhere on the pedestrian street, Gao Ling walked up and down a few times. Just as that online post had said—she couldn’t find any bar called “Qiu Ying.” But she could feel that she was in the right place.

She didn’t even need to see the sign—she just knew. But when she looked closely, she saw the sign on the bar.

In her dream, it had been a wooden sign, elegant and old-fashioned, etched with “Qiu Ying.” But now, it was a metal one, with a string of English words.

She tried to enter, but a few men in black politely escorted her out. At that point, she was pretty sure this was the place.

Yuan was probably inside. Gao Ling peeked through the doorway but quickly pulled back, afraid of being spotted snooping.

She hadn’t expected to get much this time—she just came to scout it out.

Then she wandered around and found a milk tea shop to sit down and send updates to her group chat.

[I’ve arrived. Got some intel.]

She looked around the shop’s décor. For some reason… it all felt strangely familiar. Had she seen this in Demon Memoirs before?

As she was scanning the store, someone suddenly walked in. Gao Ling turned to look—a girl rushed in wearing a light shirt and a strange outer coat.
“Do you have lemon water? Two cups.”

“With ice?”

“With ice.”

Gao Ling glanced over—and was speechless. The coat the girl wore had two embroidered characters on the hem:

Qiu Ying.

She watched the girl grab the drinks and head out again. Around her, no one seemed to notice the outfit—not that they ignored it, but more like they couldn’t see it at all.

It was quite a flashy coat—something no one would wear casually. With the shirt and jeans underneath, the whole look was bizarre. Anyone should have stared.

Gao Ling quietly followed the girl outside, tracking her to the mouth of an alley. She wanted to see how she entered the bar—but suddenly, the girl turned and asked,

“Why are you following me?”

…Huh? That sensitive?!

Gao Ling was stunned. Damn, demons are sharp. She was about to deny it, but the girl continued:

“Ah, you can see what I’m wearing? Then you’re really something. My bad—I shouldn’t have slacked off.”

Surprisingly, the demon girl was easygoing. Gao Ling gathered her courage and asked,
“Um… what are you wearing?”

The girl walked closer and looked down at her. Up close, Gao Ling realized—this girl was tall, towering over her.

Whoa, tall girl alert, she thought.

…

Yuan Yuanyuan looked at the girl and suddenly recognized her. Oh hey, it’s her again. They’d bumped into each other so many times—fate really liked to pair them up.

But what was she doing here…? Yuan Yuanyuan was just wondering that when she looked down at her outfit—and instantly understood.

She’d just come back from the Masked Organization. For once, she’d decided to help out at work. When the evening wind picked up, she hadn’t taken off her coat. With an illusion spell over it, she came out to grab lemon water.

This girl had probably seen through the spell. After all, seeing someone walk down the street in this outfit was… memorable. Naturally, anyone would follow to investigate.

Yuan Yuanyuan considered for three seconds… and then realized—uh oh. She didn’t know how to use memory-erasing spells. What now?

Oh—Li Zi Jie could! Last time someone accidentally wandered in, it was Li Zi Jie who took them to the back kitchen, wiped their memory, and tossed them out.

Yuan Yuanyuan plastered on a creepy uncle smile.
“Let me take you to our back kitchen for a bit~ It’s fate that we met again~”

“…” Gao Ling shook her head slowly.

“Come on, let’s go play~” Yuan Yuanyuan said shady things as she began ushering her toward the back. Gao Ling’s face slowly shifted to horror, like she’d just seen a predator.

Yuan Yuanyuan thought, Fine, if I have to drag her, I will. Once I wipe her memory, it’ll be like nothing happened.

Just as she was about to move, Gao Ling suddenly stopped resisting. She smoothed her hair and calmly said,
“Alright, let’s go.”

…Yuan Yuanyuan: Huh?

Gao Ling hadn’t given in because she was scared—she’d just had a strange feeling. The woman in front of her looked familiar… and something about her felt off.

It was like… they’d met before. She didn’t know where or when, but they’d definitely interacted.

And for some reason, this face—looked incredibly familiar.

At this point, fighting back was pointless. She figured: Might as well go in and see. Oddly calm, she even triggered a shortcut key on her phone to record audio and send it to her bestie.

Hope I don’t get affected by demon energy… If something happens to me, please call the cops.

Yuan Yuanyuan led Gao Ling into the back kitchen, utterly baffled. Am I… just not scary enough?

She stepped into the cramped little space and accidentally kicked someone. Looking down,
“Si Qun, where’s your sister?”

“Dunno.” Si Qun squatted on the floor, scrubbing glasses blankly.

“Oh… we’ll wait, then.” Yuan Yuanyuan sat on a tiny stool, helped wash some glasses, and pulled out another chair for Gao Ling, who was scanning the room.