Ayame and Lucille glanced at each other, then at Rosie.
They spoke in perfect sync.
"…What are you talking about?"
But Rosie didn't answer.
She just smiled.
A beaming, knowing Rosie smile—far too smug for someone her size, it was such a trademark smile of the Elysiar lineage that anyone who saw the girl would instantly know who her father was.
Then, her nose scrunched up adorably as she leaned forward…
…and pressed her forehead against Quinlan's.
The effect was immediate.
Rosie's form began to blur, as though light had trouble deciding where her edges ended. Her vibrant brown hair shimmered like a meadow under moonlight. Her dress, her fingers, even her limbs seemed to soften, their outlines becoming hazy, as if she were made of dreamstuff and magic rather than flesh and blood.
And then…
*Boom!*
Her forehead lit up as if an explosion had occurred inside.
