Mind Palace

The land of thunder and lightning. An isolated archipelago located far east of Teyvat, known for its beautiful shrines, and striking sakura blossoms.

The Amurta Darshan had recently announced a research expedition, looking for capable scholars to send across the scattered islands of Inazuma to study the local flora. This was a big opportunity for you, as you've always wished to go traveling in a foreign land and try something different for once. Unlike sitting behind mountains of books, doing presentations, and tutoring students for some Mora. Life was getting pretty boring at the Akademiya.

"You think so?"

"Yes, of course! You have exceptional talent. You'll gain more experience in wider plant variants, and the knowledge you'll gather could make a great topic for your thesis. Adding to that, your cryo vision will definitely become useful for electro infused flora. Someone like you will be their first pick. "

"Hmm…ok, master Tighnari, thank you for your suggestion...I'll think about it."

"Take all the time you need. And please, don't call me master again. How many times have i told you already? Quit the formalities!" "Hahaha, ok ok, my apologies, sir."

Applying was easy. You were accepted immediately. After that, they gave you multiple choices of a nation of your choosing, just in case some students still had doubts about their safety in Inazuma. Most of them picked Mondstadt or Liyue since they weren't far from home. But you already had your heart set on Inazuma. You've dreamt of going there some day, and your dream kept screaming at you ever since the Sakoku Decree has ceased.

Adding to that, the new "friend" you had made piqued your interest in the nation even more. He was Inazuman. You didn't know whether he actually considered you a friend or just another annoying, random Akademiya student, but he had stuck around you a few times and listened to your rambles. He even agreed to go to Puspa Café with you, which was a big surprise.

You were also desperate to know why on Teyvat he went by 'Hat Guy'? Was it a tradition in Inazuma to nickname someone after the first thing you notice about them?

"So you chose Inazuma? Why didn't you just go for Mondstadt? You actually know people there."

"Like I said, I want to see Inazuma's culture with my own eyes. Besides, it’s a three-month long expedition, I must make the most of it! I want to see the infamous storms, the Grand Narukami Shrine, the pearls of Watatsumi Island!"

Your face beamed with enthusiasm, a stark contrast to Hat Guy's permanent poker face.

"There's just so much to see. It's beautiful! Albedo showed me his sketches from when he visited during the Irodori Festival."

He released a slow, sharp breath through his nose.

"I know my homeland. I know how dangerous it is there. Are you really choosing to risk yourself getting killed by some drunk Kairagi just to record veggies?"

"They're not veggies!" You flared your nostrils, but then your mouth quirked up into a teasing smile. "Are you worrying about me?"

He huffed and crossed his arms. "Don't get your hopes up. I gave you a warning, and that's it. Whether you choose to listen or not is none of my concern."

"Fine, whatever." you muttered, scrunching up your face.

You lifted your coffee to take a sip, and a sudden idea popped into your head. "Hey, Hat Guy… how long have you been here in Sumeru?"

He stared down at his coffee cup on the table, lost in thought. "Around a year or so…" His eyes peered up at you from beneath the wide brim of his hat. "Why do you ask?"

He's probably missing his homeland, you thought.

You took a moment before answering. "Well… I was wondering if you'd want to come with me to-"

"No."

You sheepishly scratched your head and chuckled. "Of course you were going to say that… but still, why won't you go visit your home again? Don't you miss your childhood home, or your friends?"

"I have no home, or any relationships there. Inazuma is just the place I come from. That's all it is to me."

"Ok then… is there anything you'd like me to bring for you?"

He furrowed his brows in annoyance and huffed. "No need for that. Just focus on your research, alright?"

"Ok, ok." you said, putting your hands up in defeat.

It seemed the more you asked about his past, the more irritated he became. You decided not to push. You just hoped that whatever he had gone through, he had already recovered from and moved on. Maybe he came to Sumeru to find a new purpose? Who knows.

"By the way. When's your departure from here?" He asked.

"Around three days from now. Why do you ask?"

"Just to keep in mind the exact date I might actually get some quality silence around here." He answered, crossing his arms.

You chuckled, taking a slow sip of your coffee. "Well, do not worry. I'll make sure to write you a detailed letter, every single week, about Inazuman soil composition, just so you don't suffer from too much quiet!"

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Don't waste your ink." He muttered, though he didn't explicitly tell you not to send them. "The Akademiya should have taught you not to waste resources on an unwilling audience."

Those three days flew by in a flash, and before you knew it, the floor of your room was a chaotic mess of sample vials, blank notebooks, and half-folded cloths. It was the morning of your departure. You were sitting on your knees trying to organize and pack your gear for the upcoming expedition, but a very dramatic distraction was currently pacing across your rug.

"An encyclopedia on soil composition, yes. A localized guide to Electro mutations, also yes. But leaving behind your heavy-duty traveling cloak!? Are you out of your mind!?" Kaveh threw his hands up in the air as he turned to glare at you. "Inazuma is a storming archipelago! If you happen to catch a cold across the sea because of poor architectural insulation or a lack of a proper coat. I will never forgive myself!"

You sighed, rubbing your temples, though a fond smile tugged at your lips. Arguing with Kaveh when he was in his full "protective older brother" mode, wasn't gonna do anything. Ever since your late adoptive father who had brought you home all those years ago, met his demise in the desert, Kaveh had taken his role as your guardian seriously. It is so apparent now that you were leaving Sumeru's borders for the first time.

"Ok, fine, just calm down, I'll take the cloak." You promised, shoving it into your bagpack just to appease him.

"Good." He huffed, crossing his arms and looking at your packed bag with a lingering worry in his eyes. "Just... stay safe out there, ok?" He pointed his pointer finger into the air before continuing. "And don't you dare let your partners make you do all the work!"

"If she catches a cold, it will be due to microorganisms, not a lack of wool. And if she fails the expedition, it will be because you overcrowded her bag with useless architectural blueprints."

A calm, monotonous voice cut through Kaveh’s frantic yelling. You turned to see Alhaitham leaning against the doorframe, his noise canceling headphones resting loosely around his neck. He was holding a book open in one hand, his piercing teal and orange eyes scanning the mess of your bedroom floor.

"Alhaitham!" Kaveh snapped, pointing his finger at him. "Those are not useless blueprints! They are structural layouts of Ritou's port infrastructure AND Inazuma's traditional houses! A scholar should always understand the spatial design of their environment!"

"She's an Amurta scholar." Alhaitham replied, not even looking up from his book as he turned a page. "Her team are going to study flora, not inspect bridges, and roofs. All you're doing is giving your dear sister chronic back pain before she even boards the ship."

Alhaitham finally closed his book with a soft thud and stepped into the room, avoiding a pile of your sample vials and clothes. He stopped in front of your overstuffed backpack, tapped it with the tip of his boot, then looked down at you.

"Your permits from the Akademiya are in order?" He asked calmly. As the Grand Scribe, he was the one in charge of processing the expedition's official paperwork.

"Yes, all signed and stamped." You nodded.

"Good. Then ignore him, take only what you actually need, and remember that the local ecology in Inazuma reacts heavily to elemental energy, especially cryo and pyro elements, so be careful." Alhaitham reached into his pocket and casually tossed a small, heavy pouch, that you caught in mid air. It clinked with the distinct sound of Mora.

"For emergency expenses. Try not to waste it."

"Alhaitham…did you just give her a travel allowance without consulting me?!" Kaveh gasped, hands on his hips.

"If I consulted you, we would be bankrupt from your aesthetic choices by sunset." Alhaitham countered, already turning back toward the hallway. "Have a safe trip. And please, bring back samples that won't explode in my living room."

Kaveh's eyes glared into his roommate's back as he left, he then sighed in defeat and turned to kneel down on the ground with you, and hugged you the tightest he's ever did.

"You're the only one that's left who i can truly call family…" He tightened his grip on you. "So please watch over yourself and don't make reckless decisions. I might be the oldest, but i still need you with me."

You say nothing. Instead, you hug him back just as tight as he did.

"I promise… I love you, big brother."

When he finally pulls away, he helps gather your things, his mind racing with thoughts. His usual dramatic complaints completely vanished into a heavy silence. Once everything was in order, he reached down to lift your overstuffed backpack and slung it over his shoulder to carry it for you.

You followed him out of your bedroom, walking down the familiar hallway together for what would be the last time in three months or more. Alhaitham was already gone, leaving the house completely still and quiet. Kaveh pushed open the front door and stepped out. The bright Sumeru sun hit the path outside, a reminder that the journey was officially beginning.

Setting your bag down at the foot of the house, Kaveh turned to look at you. He looked down at you, and put his hands on your shoulders.

"You sure you don't need me to accompany you to ports? I can postpone my work for you."

"No need for that, Kaveh. I can go there myself. You should head to the Akademiya."

He stared at you for a moment, his mouth opening as if to argue, but the stubborn determination in your eyes stopped him. With a reluctant sigh, he slowly let his hands drop from your shoulders.

"Alright…" He murmured, his voice sounding much softer than usual. "Alright."

You gave him one last reassuring smile, and one small, short tight hug, adjusted the heavy straps of your backpack, and finally turned around to take your first steps down the path.

He didn't move an inch as you walked further away, his eyes locked onto your figure.

"I'll send letters to update you about me! So don't worry and focus on yourself! Goodbye!" You yelled from down the path. before continuing ahead.

Suddenly, a cold, suffocating wave of panic came over him, making his breath hitch in his throat. The image of you walking down that path, heading out for an official Akademiya expedition... it was a horrific mirror of the past. It looked exactly like the day his father left with the same reassuring smile, and walked away to participate in the Interdarshan Championship in the desert.

The day his father left and never returned.

Kaveh’s heart pounded violently against his ribs as a cold sweat broke out. No. Not again, his mind screamed. An overwhelming urge to sprint down the path, grab you by the arm, and drag you back inside to the safety of the house nearly consumed him. The grief and guilt he had carried for years suffocated him, making it hard to breathe. He couldn't lose you too. He couldn't survive being the only one left.

He took a half-step forward, his hand desperately reaching out into the empty air toward you. "[Name]!wait!-"

The words died in his throat, his fingers curling into a tight fist, trembling at his sides. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from crying out. You weren't their father. You were going to Inazuma, not the desert. You were smart, you had a Cryo Vision, and you were going to be safe.

But as your figure finally disappeared around the far corner of the path, the terrifying parallel left him trembling, standing completely alone under the harsh sun.

Unlike the more scholarly and quiet Akademiya, Port Ormos was energetic, and chaotic. Everywhere you looked was packed with activity: taverns full of sailors, crowded marketplaces, public dancers, oud and darbuka performances, scholars escaping the Akademiya's pressures, and Eremite mercenaries watching closely from the sidelines. The entire harbor felt alive and constantly in motion.

You let your eyes wander while making your way near the wharves, looking for where your ship was docked. The only luggage you were carrying was your backpack. Though "only" was an understatement.

Since you were heading into an Electro-heavy environment, the Darshan had provided all the tools and equipment necessary for your stay: Thunder Resist Potions, soil and water testing kits, waterproof logbooks, grounded shears, glass vials, small tins,....and a lot more.

​This is way too heavy… and it's so hot!

It was almost noon, so you used your Cryo powers to create a faint, chilly fog near your face, trying to ease the oppressive heat.

"You look like a mist flower melting in the sun." A familiar, deadpan voice called out from behind you.

You turned toward the voice and smiled when you see both Cyno and Tighnari walking toward you through the bustling crowd.

"Oh! It's you two. Hello!" you greeted them, instantly feeling a bit brighter.

"Tighnari told me that you're heading to Inazuma for an expedition sponsored by Amurta Darshan." Cyno placed both hands on his hips, staring at you sternly as if you had broken a major law. "Why didn't you tell me? We could have had a few rounds of Genius Invocation TCG before your departure."

"Well… about that…" You stammered, rubbing the back of your neck.

"Please, riddle me this." Tighnari interrupted, crossing his arms and looking utterly exhausted by his friend's shenanigans. "Do you really think someone who has an important expedition on the horizon, to a nation they've never even been to, has the time to play a children's card game?"

You laughed lightly. Their bickering was always entertaining to watch, though it will never top Alhaitham and Kaveh's dramatic arguments. "Sorry, Cyno. I've been so busy making sure I packed all the materials, and the documents I needed. I couldn't even get a chance to see Collei before I left..."

"Do not worry." Tighnari said softly, his expression warming. "We're here to say goodbye on her behalf as well. She wanted to come, but she's currently busy helping other forest rangers back in Gandharva Ville."

"Speaking of Inazuma…" Cyno chimed in, his face turning entirely serious. "When did Inazumans start to eat eggs?"

"Good lord, please." Tighnari whispered.

You blinked. "Uuuh? When?"

"A long tamago. You know, because tamago is the Inazuman word for egg, and it sounds like 'time ago'. Get it?"

Silence stretched between the three of you. Tighnari pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a heavy, exhausted sigh, while you just giggled awkwardly at how terrible Cyno's puns can be.

Tighnari's large ears suddenly twitched as he focused back on your massive backpack. His expression turned serious, sliding right into his strict Forest Watcher mode.

"In all seriousness, be careful out there." Tighnari warned, holding your shoulders firmly. "Remember, just because a plant looks like a Sumeru Rose, doesn't mean you can touch it with your bare hands. Electro-reactive flora can cause a nasty elemental discharge. Don't make me come bail you out of an Inazuman clinic via a formal letter to the Yashiro Commission."

"I promise I'll be careful." You chuckled, touched by his worrying.

After sharing a few more warm parting words, the two of them wished you a safe voyage and headed back to the city.

With a renewed sense of energy, you continued walking to the wharves.

Eventually, you recognized a few Akademiya students from your Darshan. There weren't many, only three. Counting you, that made four researchers in total, three women, and one man. They were waiting near a massive vessel built for transporting both goods and passengers. Beside them stood a group of people whose attire made it obvious they were Inazumans finally heading home. The ship was still being loaded, so it wasn't time to set sail just yet.

Further away from the group, someone was leaning casually against a lamppost. His face was hidden beneath a large, round hat, one so recognizable you could spot it from fifty meters away.

​"Hat Guy?"

He raised his head at the call and looked right at you. You found yourself caught in his deep, bluish-purple eyes. You had always thought they were mesmerizing; how the red eyeliner complemented them so well, and just how his indigo hair must feel so soft and flu-

"Are you done staring?"

​His voice snapped you right out of your train of thought. He was suddenly standing right in front of you, wearing a completely unimpressed look.

"O-oh! Hat Guy! It's so good to see you!" You stammered, a red hue rushing to your face you like you ran all the way to the docks. "What are you doing here?"

He glanced down at your backpack, noticing how it looked ready to burst at any minute, and the toll it was taking on your back made you slouch a bit under it's weight. Suddenly, a small wind current swirled beneath the bag. You felt it lift slightly, and the crushing weight instantly vanishing from your shoulders.

​"Oh, thanks. I really needed that." You chuckled. Despite his aloof attitude, he did care in his own discreet ways. "So, what are you doing here? Gasp! Did you finally decide to come with me?!"

He merely scoffed, folding one arm under the other while maintaining the small current beneath your bag. "In your dreams. Why are you so adamant on me coming with you, anyway?"

​You pouted, absentmindedly twirling a strand of your hair. "Well… I thought it'd be fun going adventuring with a friend. I've always wanted to go somewhere nice with you."

You averted your eyes, nervously tucking your hands behind you. Because you looked away, you didn't see the way Hat Guy's eyes softened just for a fraction of a second.

He quickly cleared his throat, his face shifting into its usual rigid expression before you could notice. With a sharp click of his tongue, the wind current beneath your bag vanished, and the heavy weight dropped back onto your shoulders, causing you to yelp and stumble back a little.

"Keep talking like that, and you'll make a fool of yourself one day." He said, pulling his hat down lower over his eyes. "And don't get any great ideas. I only came down to the ports because Buer sent me on an errand."

​"Oh, I seeeeee. And this errand happened to be rightttttt next to the ship I am supposed to be boa-"

Before you could tease him about how obvious his excuse was, he reached into his sleeve and shoved a small, folded piece of paper into your chest.

​"What's this?" You asked, blinking.

"A map of Tatarasuna." He said coldly, turning his head to the sea, clearly deep in thought.

"Tatarasuna?" You asked as you scanned the map. It was hand drawn. There were some specific areas aggressively crossed out in red ink, and one area in the middle was circled multiple times with an arrow pointing to it saying: 'If you go here, you die. Don't be stupid'.

"The soil there is toxic, and the lightning is unforgiving and persistent. If you value your life, stay on the beaches and avoid going anywhere near the furnace. I don't want to hear about an Akademiya researcher getting fried to death because they lacked basic survival skills."

A furnace?

"Huh…I see." You fold the map safely and put it in one of your hip pockets. "I'll keep that in mind, thank you."

Just then, the loud horn of the vessel echoed across Port Ormos causing you both to look at the source.

"Well, this is it then." You look at Hat Guy, a warm smile adorning your face. Then, a sweet idea came to your mind. "I think i know what to get you from your homeland…"

He raised an eyebrow at you, confused. "Didn't I say not to get me anything? Are you suffering from memory loss?"

"Haha, no, my memory is perfectly fine. What I want to get you is not something 'tangible'."

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "And what would that be?"

"A name."

He went quite for a moment before chuckling sarcastically, almost mockingly. "A name is the last thing i am looking for right now. People can call me whatever they find suitable, I couldn't care less. Heck, even Paimon can give me whatever ugly nickname she was promising me."

He turned his back to you, lowering his hat and preparing to leave. "If the name 'Hat Guy' is bothering you that much, then don't call me that."

"Well, since you don't mind, I want to give you a name of my own too!"

"Hey! We're boarding now! Hurry up!" One of your Darshan classmates shouted from the wooden bridge connecting the dock to the vessel, waving frantically at you.

"Go on, your little club is calling for you."

You forced yourself to step away towards the gangplank. "Take care of yourself, Hat Guy!"

"If you get struck by lightning because you were too busy looking at flowers, don't expect me to come save you."

You chuckle at that and turn away, finally boarding the ship. You give the ticket inspector your passenger ticket, and he directed you to your cabin.

After the ship pulled away from the docks, he didn't leave yet. Instead, he stood near the same wooden lamppost, watching the vessel sail until it was almost no longer in his field of vision.

Once he turned to head back to the city, he saw a short, child-like girl with elven ears, her hair fading from light gray to green walking towards him.

"There you are." She stopped beside him, smiling up at him. "I was looking for you, Hat Guy."

He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. "I told you to stop looking for me. Do you think I am your child?"

"The people from Vahumana said they haven't seen you since morning. What were you doing all the way out here?"

"Well maybe I needed some fresh air after being confined in lecture halls, with bothersome students I had to deal with."

She smiled at him, already used to his aggressively defensive behavior. "If you truly wanted to get some peace of mind, the bustle of Port Ormos wouldn't be the place you'd consider."

He huffs. Nahida's always so frustratingly perceptive...

"Why do you always feel the need to analyze me?"

"Hmm…" She put her hand under her chin, tilting her head thoughtfully. "I noticed you were watching that ship heading to Inazuma in the distance earlier."

"And?"

"Was there someone on board you know?"

"No."

"Ohhh!" Nahida beamed. "So you've made a new friend!"

"Agh. How many times do I have to tell you already. Stop reading my mind."

A soft giggle escaped her lips. "I didn't need to. It's written all over your face!"

"She's just someone I am familiar with…" He answered with slight irritation in his voice, facing the sea away from her.

She noticed how his expression shifted, looking almost bleak as he stared at the water. "Do not worry. I am sure she's experienced in her field. She'll come back unscathed."

"…Yeah."

"How about we head back." Nahida offered, turning back toward the city path. "We still need to finish working on that research paper on Sal Vindagnyr, right?"

"Haa…fine." He muttered, following a step behind her as they left the salty air of the port behind.

The journey at sea was long and tedious. Looking in any direction, and you were faced only with endless ocean surface. It had been almost six days since you left Port Ormos, and there was still no sign of reaching Ritou yet.

You spent most of your time inside your cabin, either drawing, revising what you learned about Electro fields and vegetation, or reading books about Inazuma's history, traditions, and geography.

You found a map inside one of the books that quite resembles what Hat Guy drew for you. Underneath it was the caption, it says:

Tatarasuna is a subarea located in Kannazuka, Inazuma. An island with a ring of mountainous crags. At its center sits a large blast furnace, the Mikage Furnace, a historic smelting facility that suffered a catastrophic incident around 400 years ago. The area was initially established as a smelting plant for Jade Steel, a material unique to Inazuma-made swords.

So that's the furnace's name…

Strangely enough, not much was mentioned about its history, or way of destruction. Only that the area was currently sealed and workers are no longer allowed to continue their work. As a result, the Jade Steel production was halted due to the war.

The unfortunate part about the books you brought is that they are quite outdated, written before the Sakoku Decree was even abolished. So who knows, maybe the furnace is in operation again and everything is back to normal. Hopefully you'll be able to get your hands on some Naku Weeds!

You closed your book with a soft thud and decided to wander around the deck. Maybe you would finally be able to see Ritou in the distance.

As soon as you left your cabin, a guy bumped into your shoulder running in the hallway, while covering his mouth. When you looked back at him in annoyance, you saw him wearing a Akademyia robe like you.

"Hey! watch where you're going!"

He didn't hear you as he went straight to his dorm, and slammed the door. Soon after, you begin hearing horrible, gurgling and burping noises.

Oh…

You continued walking furthur down the hallway without another thought.

Once you pulled open the heavy door leading to the deck, you were hit with a sudden gust of the ocean breez, you pushed the door behind you with a soft thud and looked out over the water, hoping you would finally be able to see Ritou in the distance. To your disappointment, the only visable thing was the boundless ocean.

You tried to start a conversation with one of your classmates, but one was busy flirting with the ship's staff, another was fast asleep in her cabin, as for the last one…well, the way he had just sprinted past you in the hallway made it obvious why he was not out on the deck.

You wanted to talk to some of the Inazuman passengers about their nation, what to avoid doing there, what restrictions have remained after the Sakoku decree, how troublesome Inazuma's Bureaucracy can be? But everyone seemed to be wrapped up in their own thoughts.

You already missed picking plants with collei, she treated you like an older sister, ever so willing to go venture with you to the Apam woods, helping you collect specimens, despite the heavy rain. Or how cyno, regardless of his stern and 'humorless' exterior, would still invite you to play rounds of Genius Invocation TCG.

Left with nothing else to do, you simply leaned against the guardrail, watching the sun rays reflect across the water.

Fire fades from the sun,

Low upon the horizon,

Bowing to the sea.

Rays of light shimmering gold...

You blinked, startled by the soft, melodic voice cutting through your notion and the rushing waves. You turned around to see a young man leaning casually against the wooden rail a few feet away. His plantium blond hair, held in a small side ponytail, swayed gently with the ocean breeze. His attire was unmistakably Inazuman, decorated with red maple patterns, and a sword resting elegantly on his hip.

"A beautiful sight, isn't it?" He said, turning his soft, ruby eyes towards you. He offered a polite smile with a gentle tilt of his head.

You cleared your throat, quickly smoothing down your Akademiya robes. "Oh-yes, it really is. Though I was just starting to think this ocean seems to be going on forever…"

He chuckled, a soft, airy sound that seemed to blend in with the wind. He left his spot and came to stand next to you at the guardrail, looking out the horizon. "The wind carries the scent of salt and distant maple leaves." He took a deep inhale before continuing. "Do not worry. The sea may feel endless, but the wind says Ritou is just beyond the next fog."

"I see, then this must not be your first voyage back home, right? It seems that you're already familiar with the sea."

"You hit the nail on the head." He replied. "I have traveled across these waves countless times, so it is only natural for me to recognize the scents carried by the breeze." He paused, his gaze drifting to your uniform, naturally guiding the conversation forward. "Judging from your garments, it is safe to guess that I am in the presence of a scholar of Sumeru."

You smiled. "Yes, you're correct. I am affiliated with the Amurta Darshan."

"Amurta…?" He tilted his head, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

"Oh, well, you see... there are six Darshans, which are the main schools within the Sumeru Akademiya." You explained, switching naturally into your academic persona. "Each one specializes in a different field. My Darshan, Amurta, focuses entirely on biology, ecology, and medicine."

"Ah, I understand now. I always knew the grand Akademiya was a place of immense knowledge, but I never had the chance to learn the details of its inner workings."

"You didn't stay in Sumeru for very long?" You inquired.

"Unfortunately, no." He answered, looking out at the passing waves. "I originally planned to set sail from Liyue Harbor with a friend's fleet. However, a spirited fireworks maker from Inazuma requested their help transporting a massive cargo of festival supplies, which delayed their departure. Since I needed to return to Ritou a bit sooner, she recommended I catch a passenger vessel out of Port Ormos instead."

"I see…" You said, nodding as you processed his story. "Well, I'm glad you managed to find a way back home anyway."

"As am I." He replied, a serene smile returning to his face.

You look away from him, and focus at the waves. His voice was so soft it could lull you to sleep in an instant. You smile and turn to him. "You should come again to Sumeru someday. I'd show around the Akademiya, and our forests!"

He offered a soft, amused smile. "An enticing offer. I will gladly accept your invitation when the time comes." He gave a polite, grateful bow of his head. "If the wind ever blows me back to the shores of Sumeru, I shall certainly hold you to that promise."

He straightened, his soft ruby eyes meeting yours with genuine warmth. "I am Kaedehara Kazuha, a wandering samurai. If I may ask, what is the name of my companion on this journey?"

"I am [Name], a pleasure to meet you, Mr Kaedehara."

He gave an airy chuckle."Please, just call me Kazuha. I am not used to such proper titles."

"Alright, Kazuha it is then." You nodded. "I loved your poem from earlier by the way!"

"You are far too kind regarding my verses. They are but fleeting thoughts, born from the whisper of the wind and the rhythm of waves. To hear that they brought you comfort on this brings a certain warmth to my heart."

He turned his eyes back to the horizon, where a thick blanket of fog was starting to vanish from waters. "Look ahead. The wind does not lie."

You squint your eyes through the mist, and your heart gave a little boot. Towering red maple trees and the distant, glowing silhouette of Ritou were finally coming into view.

You had finally arrived in Inazuma.

a/n: The Tanka kazuha recites was found in the website poetry soup. It is not a haiku. The two differ in terms of length, structure, and content. It was written by the American poet Lin Lane! On the same website, you can find her works!

As for the Cyno joke, it was not mine it belongs to "u/yoshi_in_black" on reddit. It was on the r/genshinmeme subreddit.

Keep in mind that the tatarasuna lore info where from genshin wiki, and Ashikai's: video The complete History of Scaramouch.

Days passed after you guy's hangout, despite feeling observed near the end of your shift, you still had fun with Yoimiya's friendgroup and really looked forward to it again.

Lumine and Aether would occasionally keep you company, more often than not, they still had work to do. You weren't upset, afterall you still had an unfinished project with Durin—that you wished could end faster because you couldn't stand going to his houde and seeing his idiot brother another time.

You already dreaded the moment, bag hanging low on your shoulders as you walked towards Durin's house, exasperated sighs leaving your mouth as you wished the indigo haired guy was not here today.

Though sadly, your dreams were quickly shattered as said boy opened the door for you. Eyes showing nothing but disinterest and annoyance.

"Hi." You coldly greeted, because as much as you disliked Wanderer, you still weren't a indisciplined teenager—like a certain someone standing infront of you right now.

"Durin left to get groceries. Just wait in the living room." He also responded coldly, matching your stare as he stepped side-ways to let you in.

You simply nodded, going in and already putting down notes and books. You clearly didn't expect him to also sit infront of you, on the other side.

What the fuck does he want now.

You asked yourself, distracting yourself of his stare by scrolling on your phone, a familiar notification quickly appearing as you smiled widely.

"What were you doing in my room the other day?" He lnterrogated out of nowhere, startling you in the process.

"What?"

"What were you doing in my room the other day."

You scoffed. "Dude, I didn't know it was yours. And I left it as soon as you told me to, just what is your problem?"

"Did you go through anything?" He glared at you, somehow convinced that you infact took something.

"Who do you take me for? A stealer? What, you have something to hide or somethin' ?" You teased, scoffing when his eyes narrowed even more.

"Hah? Don—"

"Sorry [Name], Wan! It took some time—...uhm..did I..miss something?"

Durin came home, grocery bags in hands, he just stood near the entry as he stared at the two of you glaring at each other intently—electricity probably going through you both's eyes.

After ending the project and leaving Durin's house, you directly left. You couldn't allow yourself to get another headache when you already had one pissing you off everytime you went somewhere.

You hoped someone was free because you really needed something to cool off. You pulled out your Phone to check your friends lists.

Sadly, today, Both Lumine and Aether weren't free from studying. So you just want to a cat cafe—afterall there is no better company than a little kitty accompanied by a milkshake.

You still tried Yoimiya, maybe she was free too.

Taglist: @justag00ber , @lalalaloveallmydays , @sramoonlight , @crimxeexistspeacefully , @kickingcat , @prettysweetprincess , @bananasquash , @scaraschai , @xmmilaeon , @yumi-rxiden , @karkilicious929 , @flos-lunae , @dyavorange , @skyoverkill1 , @kunimooch , @hilaryinumaki1 , @dihchromate , @ang3lfall , @yyuuuiii , @lohenbunnies , @jiaennie , @sincerelyruu

Suddenly, your blouse blocked his view, lab coat swishing along your knees. He turned his eyes up to yours.

“Say ‘ahh’?”

He closed his eyes, since looking at you was bad for his peace of mind, but he allowed his jaw to fall slack and for you to poke around with a flat silver tool. Resistance was futile when it came to you, the examiner responsible for elevating his existence beyond that of a puppet. It wasn’t as though he felt that he owed you anything, but rather that even he could respect you for that.

“You look good,” you said as you drew the metal stick out of his mouth. “One more thing.”

His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when your tongue thrust past his lips. Your hand gripped at his thigh as you kissed him, sliding dangerously close to the area between his legs with a playful ascension.

He rather roughly pushed you, putting distance between him and your probing hands. He glared at you as he wiped the saliva from his mouth with a swipe of his wrist.

“Good,” you said with a coy smirk. “Looks as though you’re still exhibiting your own sense of will. Let me help you with the after-effect, though.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

You chuckled. Your finger pointed down at his crotch, and his eyes followed.

Shit.

The Balladeer was your favorite experiment.

“Gh,” he hissed when you pressed yet another light kiss to his throbbing tip. “Stop teasing me already.”

“Ah,” you said inquisitively. He pushed your head downwards with force as you mused, “So you continue to exhibit your own set of needs and pleasures…”

“Shut up,” he snapped, his fingers balling into your hair. “Open your mouth.”

You laughed, which only served to make him more irritated. He pushed you down once more, and this time, you allowed your lips to open wide and envelop him entirely.

Scaramouche was awfully quiet whenever you did this for him, despite his penchant for being mouthy out in public. He seemed entirely focused on pushing you down and pulling you up at his own desired tempo, and if your mouth wasn’t so full, you would have been making fun of him for it right then and there.

You glanced up at him through your eyelashes. His face was as red as the brim of his hat, his lips pursed tightly. He only looked like that when he was trying not to cum.

You sucked harder.

His fingers went flinchingly tight in your hair. He pushed you down forcefully, yanked you up quickly, and repeated the motions rapidly. You flexed your fingers around his thighs and looked up at him once more.

Drool had started to run down the corners of his mouth as electro energy sparkled in his eyes. He didn’t blink, and it felt as if he was seeing through you. When his lips parted, he let out a hot pant.

You smiled. Knowing Scaramouche, it wouldn’t be long before he was sent past his limits.

Knock, knock.

“Are you in there, Examiner?”

Your eyes went wide when Scaramouche slammed you down into his pelvis. He pulsated in your throat a good two or three times before saying, “You should have mentioned he was coming.”

Scaramouche shoved you off of him and swiftly pulled his clothes back into order. You wiped the cum off your chin and gave him a pleased smile.

“I guess it slipped my mind,” you said. “But you should stick around, Scara. Dottore will be jealous of how much progress I’ve made with you.”

You adoringly looped your arms around him from behind, your hands liberally roaming over his torso. Scaramouche sucked his teeth.

“Don’t call me that,” he said in an irritated tone.

“Stay,” you purred. You pressed a kiss to his neck before murmuring, “Show Dottore what a great examiner I am.”

Your teeth teased at his earlobe, which is when he appeared to decide that he had enough. Shrugging you off of him, Scaramouche rolled his eyes.

“Show him yourself, science freak. I’m leaving.”

“I’ll do whatever you want for a day,” you offered sweetly.

He paused. Turning back around to face you, an incredibly coy smirk took over his expression. He tilted his head and widened his eyes mockingly.

“Whatever I want?” he asked innocently. “Really?”

You giggled.

“Would I lie to you?”

There were very few people with the ability to wipe that stupid smile off of your face. Scaramouche took delight in being one of them.

“Yeah, that’s nice,” he murmured as he tilted your chin up. “I like it when you’re quiet.”

Your head drooped slightly as spit dribbled from your wet cloth gag. You corrected yourself quickly, but not as quickly as Scaramouche’s electro-touch zapped your bare thighs. Your body jerked off the headboard as you let out a strangled cry.

“Pay attention when I’m talking to you,” he said sternly, roughly redirecting your face towards his, even though he knew you were blindfolded and barely conscious. “Don’t tell me you can’t even do something as simple as that.”

You let out an incomprehensible mumbling sound, your legs shifting across the length of the bed. Your purple underwear was soaked a dark color in between.

“Stupid woman,” he murmured, grabbing your thigh. “You’re in no position to beg.”

You were incredibly receptive to his touch. You opened your legs and leaned your head on him, rubbing against him with fervor. Scaramouche stripped your wet undergarments aside and thrust his fingers in.

You let out a loud, muffled cry. Sweat broke out on your skin as you rocked your hips forward, once.

“Cum,” he whispered, “and I’ll make you regret it.”

You didn’t listen—much to Scaramouche’s delight.

“Ngh!” you sputtered suddenly.

“You’re such an idiot!” he said with a pleased laugh, drawing his hand back to slap you once more. “Can’t you follow simple instructions?!”

Your head was sent flying in the opposite direction of his impact. The streak it left behind was so satisfying, Scaramouche hit you again for the hell of it. The way your body flinched and your lips whined was too addicting, so he did it again—but this time with an electro infusion.

You jerked around with the characteristic signs of electro application, moaning in pain. Scaramouche recovered from his laughing fit slowly, wiping pleasured tears from his eyes. He curled his finger under the collar on your neck and pulled.

“Now I’m super hard,” he purred. “Punishing you is such a turn-on.”

More spit dribbled down your chin. Your eyebrows tilted up at the innermost corners, and your chest heaved desperately. You parted your legs for him again.

He grabbed you by your ankles, pulling you into a laying position. Your legs trembled when he lifted them into the air.

“Ha,” he said when he pressed his tip to your dripping heat. “The only good thing about you,” he whispered, “is that you’re so fucking tight, Examiner.”

And with a satisfying, muffled moan, his hips slammed into yours.

“Hm?” you mumbled when your tired eyes parted open. “Where am I…?”

It took you a while to recognize the purple-haired lump in your sheets. When you finally did, the acute level of soreness in every one of your muscles made complete sense.

You wiggled closer to him, ignoring your aching body. When your cheek touched his back, you smiled and sleepily crooned, “Scara…”

“Get off me,” he muttered. But he didn’t push you away.

Giggling, you curled up against him, and even though he hated anything that implied him being weak or vulnerable, he let you spoon him anyways.

.𖥔 ݁ KAZUHA

Kazuha would smile softly the moment you asked, inviting you to sit beneath the shade of a tree while the breeze drifted lazily around the two of you. He’d begin by slowly brushing your hair free of every tangle, his movements calm and unhurried, almost meditative.

Every so often he’d pause simply to admire how the sunlight caught the strands between his fingers before continuing, occasionally weaving in a tiny flower he’d picked along the path if he thought it suited you. Rather than aiming for something elaborate, he’d create a loose, elegant style that would still move naturally with the wind, making small adjustments until he was satisfied. “Tell me if it comes undone later, I’ll help you braid it again.”

.𖥔 ݁ LYNEY

Lyney would accept with theatrical confidence, insisting you were about to receive the finest hairstyle in all of Fontaine before dramatically rolling up his sleeves as though preparing for a grand performance. “Trust me, I’ve had plenty of practice! Lynette’s much pickier than you are.” Despite all the playful boasting, the moment his fingers reached your hair, his movements would become unexpectedly practiced and gentle.

He’d keep you distracted with lighthearted conversation the entire time, occasionally asking you to tilt your head this way or that while quietly making tiny adjustments until everything looked just right. Every few minutes he’d teasingly hold up a mirror only to lower it again before you could get a proper look, insisting that every good performance deserved a dramatic reveal. By the time he finished, your hairstyle would be far more elegant than you’d expected, complete with a ribbon or little accessory he’d somehow produced from nowhere, and he’d proudly turn you toward the mirror with the satisfied smile of someone whose trick had gone exactly as planned.

.𖥔 ݁ ALBEDO

Albedo would quietly set aside whatever sketch or experiment he had been working on, gesturing for you to sit in front of him without questioning why you’d chosen him for the task. Before touching your hair, he’d study its texture for a moment with genuine curiosity, almost as though committing it to memory, before carefully brushing through it with slow, precise movements.

He’d approach styling it much like one of his illustrations, patiently adjusting every strand until the shape looked balanced from every angle. If a braid came slightly loose, he’d calmly undo it and start again without the slightest hint of frustration, completely absorbed in perfecting the details. By the time he finished, he’d gently turn you toward a mirror before smoothing one final stray strand behind your ear with quiet satisfaction. “I’d like to sketch you later if you don’t mind, the hairstyle suits you rather well.”

He had to learn everything at square one. He had to learn that not everyone praising him, and obeying his orders are to be trusted and on his side.

He learned that one time when one of his trusted servants attempted to poison him. Note: trusted servant.

The servant who took care of him ever since he was a newborn baby. The servant who first witnessed his first walk and heard his first words. The servant who he treated as a father figure. The servant who became both his guardian and teacher after the Queen’s passing.

He was so hurt and betrayed when that happened to the point that he closed his heart and stopped giving his trust.

You felt that deeply. Not the betrayed part, no. The story is so good you had to close the book and stare at the wall for ten minutes because heck, that's some tragic backstory.

But wait, there's more. More tragic? Yes.

Scaramouche, the lonely prince, is going to die. Not where he will grow old, or because of illness.

You thought that the poisoning was the last assassination attempt, but it turns out that there would be more than that.

Ugh… just thinking about them is making you feel nauseous!

Despite the tragic story, you keep reading it— hoping to see the part where Scaramouche will finally get his happy ending. But sadly, that part isn’t, and will never come.

See, this is the kind of book that deserves to be in the spotlight. Not the ones where the protagonist always needs saving and help like they cannot walk on their own two feet and do anything by themselves. No shade, by the way.

Anyway, back to the boring party…

Seeing that everyone’s done greeting you and that your parents are now busy entertaining the visitors, you took that chance to slip away and return to your room. After closing the door and locking it, you didn’t waste any time as you removed your heels and flopped down on your bed.

Yes, this kind of peace is just what I wanted.

You sit up and start removing the jewelry you’re wearing. You're never comfortable wearing them, along with the heels.

You were just about to put them back on the drawer, but you stopped when you noticed something on the top.

You blink once. Twice.

Oh my god.

Screaming, you grab the book and throw yourself back on the bed. There was a small note at the bottom:

Happy Birthday.

That’s it. No sender, no name— not even yours. Just those two words. It's like the heavens had heard your wishes and decided to give you the thing that you wanted the most on your birthday.

You hold up the novel and examine the cover. Just like the other volumes, the cover featured Scaramouche, sitting on his throne that's covered in thorns. That looks awfully painful. The only thing that's different from the first two was that his crown is now covered in blood and is dripping down his face.

The poor prince…

Changing to your pajamas, you flop back down on the bed and hug the novel as if comforting the protagonist that everything will be okay. You read the back cover again— but it was blank.

“Why is it blank?” you whisper to yourself and examine the book. The back cover is a total blank, without any designs, words, not even the bar code and ISBN.

Weird..

Yawning, you felt the exhaustion coming back to your body as you hugged the book to your chest and closed your eyes.

The book started glowing, but it was ignored as you started drifting to the dreamland.

—

Feeling the shivering cold in your body, you slowly open your eyes. The first thing that you noticed was the golden chandelier hanging in the ceiling. The second thing was the smell of a candle and incense wafting to your nose. And the third thing is a voice, a sharp and cold one that could rival the temperature of the floor you’re currently lying in.

“I’m giving you three seconds to tell me who you are and how you end up in my room.”

You sat up so fast you felt your vision blurring. You blinked through it and found the owner of the voice standing on your left, arms folded and looking down at you with a deadly glare.

But wait— he looks awfully familiar.

Dark indigo hair with a weird haircut, sharp eyes, and that red eyeliner…

You know that face.

You stared at the cover and even searched him up on the internet because holy— man got good-damn looks.

"Scaramouche!?" you said out loud before you could stop yourself.

His eyes narrowed. "Two seconds.”

He didn't even ask you how you know his name. He's just standing there, almost towering over you as he counts down and waits for your answer.

You slowly sit up and look around. “...How… where am I? I was just in my room right now.”

Funny you have the same questions as him running in your mind now.

Why are you here? With Scaramouche standing two feet away from you, you’re sure now that you're in his room. So now the real question is—

How did you end up inside the novel?!

“One—”

“I promise I'm not gonna hurt you!” you suddenly blurts out as you scramble to your feet in panic. Silence followed and you bit your lip in embarrassment.

Way to go, y/n.

“Hurt me?” his gaze turns sharper and he slowly walks towards you. You took a step back, but every time you do, the man in front of you keeps stepping closer.

Your back met the cold wall and you were looking everywhere but him. If looks could kill, you’d be lying dead by now.

“U-um…”

His aura is intimidating you so much you want to dig the ground and bury yourself six feet under.

You can feel his gaze lingering on you and you bite your lip to ease your nervousness. You can literally hear your own heartbeat.

Remind me why is he my favorite character again?

“Turn around.”

“Huh?”

Finally, you got the courage to look at him. WHAT'S HE GONNA DO?!

“I said turn around.”

“Uh… w–why?”

“I have to make sure you’re not hiding something inside that…” he eyes you up and down. “..sleepwear of yours.”

Your gaze immediately went down to your clothes. You're still wearing your pajamas, what's wrong with it?

“Um… what's wrong with my clothes?”

“Turn around.”

“I’m not hiding anythi—”

“Don't make me repeat myself, woman.”

Woma—?!

Feeling like crashing out, you took a deep breath to calm yourself.

Think carefully, y/n. This guy had every right to be cautious because he's surrounded by people wanting to take his life and throne. Calm down. Understand him. Be considerate. Take a deep breath. Inhale…… exhale.

“Look, Sir—” you stopped. Wait, what should I call him..? “Do I look like someone who’d take your life, Your Highness?”

You pointed to your pajamas. “Do assassins wear pajamas when trying to assassinate someone?”

You point at your face. “Do assassins not bother covering their faces when trying to assassinate someone?”

“No,” he narrowed his eyes once again. “But you might be the first so I’m telling you for the last time, turn around. That's an order.”

Those last three words made it clear that you’re not winning this. So with a resigned sigh, you reluctantly turn around to face the wall.

You wait for him to do something, but minutes have passed, Scaramouche hasn't moved to do a body check on you.

So taking this as a chance to prove your innocence, you start talking again in a low and soft voice.

"I'm not here to hurt you," you said. "I don't even know how I got here. All I remember was, I was asleep in my room, hugging my favorite book. Now I woke up on your floor without any clue how it happened.”

Please believe me. Please believe me. Please believe me. Please believe me.

Suddenly, you remembered some scenes from the book. The crown prince was famous for throwing "suspicious people" into the dungeons for trial— and execution.

And you? Who had just appeared in his private room out of thin air wearing pajamas?

Yup, you’re definitely doomed.

“Who sent you?” he asked.

“I... I don't know.”

“How did you get here?”

“I don’t know.”

“What is your name?”

“I don't know—huh?”

You turned around to face him. He was still staring, arms crossed, waiting for an answer. His deep purple eyes seemed to glow, and you nervously bit your lip.

“I didn't give you permission to look at me.”

Your patience is running thin. Between the stress and the exhaustion of standing all day at your birthday party, you were done. You closed your eyes, took a long breath, and gave him a tired look.

“Please pardon my behavior, Sir. But I promise I'm not a threat. Like I've said, I have no idea how I ended up here. I was sleeping in my own bed because I was exhausted— it was my birthday yesterday, you know.”

You weren't sure why you added that last part, but at this point, you’d say anything to make him believe you. The Crown Prince didn’t respond, he just kept watching you, waiting for you to keep talking.

And because you're desperate to prove your innocence, you continue.

“You can... I don't know, tie me up in the corner over there, if you want? If I don't do anything all night and you wake up safe tomorrow, that proves I'm not an enemy.”

Silence. Then—

“You speak as if you know me and my situation quite well, woman.”

Oh, Your Highness, guess what?

You nervously scratched the back of your head and looked away.

“Actually...” you hesitated. Was it even safe to tell him you weren't from this world? “It's a long story. But I can assure you, all your secrets are safe with me!”

“My secrets?”

“Ah—”

You could only offer a weak smile and a peace sign. For some reason, the tension in your body started to fade. The room didn’t feel as cold, and Scaramouche didn't seem quite as scary anymore. Were you really getting used to this place already?

“Ajax,” the prince called out.

The door swung open and a knight stepped inside. The moment you saw his ginger hair and the mask resting on his head, your hand flew to your mouth. You actually gasped out loud.

Oh my god!

“Childe!?”

The words were out before you could stop them. You immediately regretted it as two pairs of eyes locked onto you.

Holy shit.

—

“Um… I know I said that you can tie me up, but that was just me trying to lighten up the mood! Come on, is this really necessary? I'm not an enemy! I can't even kill a mosquito!” you wriggle on the chair and look at the person behind you. “Mr. Childe, Sir, I don't mean to say your name out loud– ouch, don't make it too tight!— but please believe me, it was only a slip of tongue.”

“‘Slip of tongue’, so you really do know his name?” Scaramouche asked, his arms crossed while he stared at you down.

“Don't you think we should hear her out first? I don't really mind her calling and knowing my name, you know. Plus, she's pretty.” Childe, who just finished tying you up on a chair, said. He stands up and gives you a pitiful smile.

You feel your face flushing at the sudden compliment, but you have bigger problems right now so you look back at Scaramouche and nod your head aggressively as if agreeing to his knight’s suggestion of hearing you out first.

But sadly, this prince is also stubborn as hell. Sometimes, once he's made up his mind, everything else is just nothing to him.

“You should never let down your guard around her, Ajax. You know damn well that the people wanting to take my life are getting creative. Look at her hideous clothes.”

Back to my pajamas again?

“They're not hideous! They're cozy—”

“The patterns are adorable.” Childe deadpan.

“See, he gets me!” you're screaming now because you never thought that Scaramouche would actually take your words seriously!

“This or dungeon. Choose.”

That shuts you up instantly.

Taking a deep breath, you lower your gaze and bite your lower lip. So much for getting my favorite novel on my birthday…

When silence erupted in the cold room, your eyes started to feel heavy. All that exhaustion from standing all day is coming back to you again. It looks like the Crown Prince isn't going to give you a chance to speak, but at least he’s keeping you alive.

But this is still too much!

Think, y/n! Say something to get out of these ropes!

You look up at them again. “I have something very important to tell you, Your Highness.”

“Keep an eye on her, Ajax. Make sure she doesn't do anything.” the crown prince ignored you. He turns on his heel and heads to his desk. His aura literally said that he’s not in the mood to talk to you.

You're running out of options to prove your innocence, so you muster all your courage and sit up properly, looking at him.

“Someone is attempting to poison you tomorrow,” you said. “If I'm wrong, you can throw me into the dungeon and do whatever you want. But if I'm right—”

"Poison?" he stops in his tracks, cutting you off. “Sorry to disappoint you but that kind of information is nothing new to me.”

Well, that's... sad?

“But I'm telling the truth! Your maid, the new one with a mole under her left eye? That’s her. She’s actually a spy sent by Duke Pantalone.”

“Oh, you even know about Duke Pantalone?” Childe raised his eyebrow.

“I actually know everyone here…”

Scaramouche slowly turns back around, his eyes narrowing. The room feels ten degrees colder.

"You know everyone?" he repeats, his voice low and dangerous. “The more you talk, the more you earn yourself a ticket to the dungeon.”

Childe leans against the wall, looking genuinely impressed. “Just curious, where are you from, princess?”

“It’s y/n.”

He blinks. “Never heard of it.”

“No, I mean, my name. It’s y/n. As for where I’m from…” you purse your lips. “It's actually far from here. But I still don't know how I ended up in Your Highness’ room.”

“Why are you telling us this?”

“Telling you what?”

“About this certain maid attempting to kill me.”

“Anything to get me out of these ropes and make you trust me, I guess…?” you sighed. “I'm just a commoner. I'm not a threat. I'm not an enemy.”

It feels like you’ve been telling him this for the nth time now. They're so tough to crack, is this what interrogation in a police station is like?

“She looks sincere to me.” YES, CHILDE, TELL HIM!! “And… tired.”

“Take her to the room on the west wing, then.”

Your ears perked. “I’m free?”

Scaramouche didn't give you an answer. Childe removed the ropes around you and you left the prince’s room to take you to your ‘new room’. That's what you want right now, to be honest.

To have a good sleep and rest. Your mind is too tired to think about what's happened, happening, and will happen. Thankfully, Childe didn't ask you anything as he led you to your room. He only bid you goodnight and closed the door, leaving you alone.

You didn't bother looking around as you dive right into the fluffy queen-sized bed and close your eyes.

I hope I'll wake up in my room tomorrow…

—

Two weeks after you transmigrated in your favorite novel, you realized that keeping the Crown Prince’s safety is not an easy task because keeping him away from his enemies means exposing yourself in danger, too.

You already give up hoping to wake up back in your room in the real world after a week. You did try finding clues on how you’ll do it, but you were left blank. So instead of moping, you decided to focus on surviving and save the crown prince from losing his head and his throne.

You already prevented three. The first one is the poisoning that you mentioned on your first day, the second one is an ambush attempt on his way from a grand ball, and the last one is another ambush attempt by an unknown baron that apparently hates the Crown Prince.

You almost wonder what kind of life Scaramouche had in his past life to have people going after his head in this life. Was he a famous mercenary? A tyrant king? A very notorious bandit?

“So this is why the hallways are quiet.” you jump when you hear Scaramouche’s voice behind you.

Speak of the devil.

You're currently in the garden, admiring the flowers and… thinking about your situation and the events that will unfold in the next few days— plans, or whatever to keep Scaramouche from death. You could say that this is one of your peaceful and free time because you’ve been working nonstop monitoring this stubborn prince.

You grinned at him and gave him a curtsy. “Good morning, Your Highness.”

“What were you thinking?”

Getting straight to the point, are we?

“Uh… the flowers?” Okay, that was a dumb answer. But how are you going to answer a question as straight as that?

“I’m thinking about the upcoming chapters where more nobles will attempt to kill you, sir.”

Yeah, right y/n. You are not going to tell him that.

Scaramouche already thinks you're some kind of "foreseer" because you know way too much. You tried telling him the truth once— that you aren't from this world and that his entire life is just a story to you— but he just looked at you like you’d completely lost your mind.

“Are you… okay?” he asked.

You ignored him for two days after that.

“What's going to happen next?” he sits on the bench beside you.

He's asking about the next unfortunate event that will happen to him.

He’s long given up asking where you came from, and why you have the “ability to predict the future”. Instead, he told you to tell him everything that you know.

His enemies, spies, traitors, and anyone who’s after his life and their ways of ending it.

And because you don't want anything to happen to your beloved favorite character, you told him you’d protect him— not by jumping in front of a bullet (let's be real), but by staying one step ahead of the plot. You're the only one who truly gets him and the only one who can keep him away from those greedy councils and backstabbing servants.

You cannot tell him everything that you know, but with this, at least he’ll be safe.

“I believe I asked you a question,” you snap back to reality when you hear his voice.

“Sorry, what was that again?”

“Duke Pantalone,” his voice is low and quiet, but enough for you to hear. “Is he really after the throne?”

You purse your lips and slowly nod your head.

“He's going to send you an invitation. It's best if you just ignore it.”

“Why?” you can feel his gaze on you but you remain staring at your feet. “If I accept it, what is going to happen?”

You remember the scene where the Duke invited the crown prince for a dinner in his mansion. It was supposed to be a normal dinner given that the Duke was a close friend of the late Queen Ei— Scaramouche’s mother.

But…

“Ugh…” just thinking about it is making you feel sick. That damn duke and his stupid schemes!

“It's not going to end well.” he said, almost whispering.

It’s not a question. But the way he said it, it sounds like he's really used to this.

“Don't worry, as long as I'm here, none of those rascals will lay their dirty hands on you!” you tried to give him your bestest and cheerful smile as you looked at him.

“With that small and fragile body of yours?” he snickered.

“Mind you, this small and fragile body of mine has already saved your life thrice, Your Highness.”

“Hmph.” Scaramouche stands up. “I'm going to accept the invitation.”

Hah?

“Um.. did you miss the part where I said just ignore it?” Seriously, what is he thinking?!

“What, you’re going to be there with me anyway.”

He didn't wait for you to say anything. You can only watch his back until he disappears in the shadows.

You close your eyes and take a deep, deep breath to calm yourself.

I want to go home.

—

Meeting the final villain is not, and will never be, on your to-do list while you're on vacation inside your favorite novel.

Well, the Crown Prince Scaramouche and Duke Pantalone are bound to meet someday because the latter used to be the former’s mother’s close friend, but this? Knowing that what's happening right now is a trap? What in the world is the Crown Prince thinking?!

“It's been three days since I sent the invitation, I thought I would never receive a response, Your Highness." the man in front of you said with a smile.

Duke Pantalone. One of Her Majesty the Queen’s trusted friends. But unfortunately, Scaramouche is not his mother, so that one doesn't count.

You can't even look at him straight because his face is pissing you off. Especially that smile— that smile that looks gentle but it’s actually full of malice when you look at it carefully.

“I was too busy so I don't have time to write you back,” Scaramouche’s hand made its way to your waist and he pulled you closer to him.

You were surprised at the sudden gesture, but you quickly composed yourself and gave the Duke your fakest smile. He briefly glanced at Scaramouche's hand on your waist before looking at you.

“Pardon me for asking, but who might this beautiful woman be?”

You tried your best to prevent yourself from rolling your eyes in disgust.

Just bear with it for an hour or two, y/n….

You moved away from Scaramouche and gave the Duke a curtsy. “Good evening, Your Grace The Dude—”

Dude?

DUDE?

You wanted to laugh at the mispronunciation but you forgot that you’re in front of a high ranking noble so you composed yourself. Imagine calling a Duke, “dude” like you’ve been friends since you were three? Oh boy you wanted to roll on the ground and laugh your ass off.

But since that’s impossible, you maintain your poker face because you might get punished or killed for the disrespect you just did. But who cares? You hate this man anyway.

You cleared your throat and gave him a bow. “...Your Grace The Duke.”

After a few greetings and embarrassment, you made your way to the dining hall. You sat beside Scaramouche while the Duke is on the farthest left of the long table.

The dinner is going well— smooth, even, because servants keep coming and putting whatever dishes the Duke had told them to serve. Mind you, there were only three of you and yet the big and long table is already full of plates.

You actually know what all of these are, and thankfully, they're not poisoned.

So the only thing that you need to watch out for the most is…..

“You. Bring the wine.” Duke Pantalone ordered the maid in-waiting. She immediately bowed her head and left in a hurry.

There it is. The famous wine.

“I didn't know you're such a drinker, Duke Pantalone.” Scaramouche said.

“It's like a routine every time I eat, Your Highness.” he answered with a laugh. The maid arrived with a bottle of wine and three wine glasses. She puts each in front of you and opens the bottle before pouring them. “Actually, this is why I invited you here. I wanted you to try this new wine I got from Fontaine. I heard this is limited so I didn't waste any chance to grab and try one myself.”

Liar. That wine is actually harvested from a poisonous fruit.

You stole a glance at the person sitting comfortably beside you. He's just watching the red liquid from the glass with an unreadable expression on his face.

You can feel Duke Pantalone's eyes watching him through the wineglass on his mouth, waiting for Scaramouche to drink it.

He’s so obvious it's so funny. Surely, the Crown Prince knew what he was planning, right??

“It doesn't look like it was made from grapes,” he said, earning a smile from you. “What's in it?”

Yes, keep asking him! And don't even try touching that glass and drink it!

However, the Duke wasn't even fazed at the sudden question.

“Oh, the usual, Your Highness,” Duke Pantalone said. “Fermented berries.”

Berries? Is that even possible?

“I see…” Scaramouche raised his hand to grab the wineglass and your mind started panicking.

No, no, no, don't just say, “I see” and take the glass! Put that down, sir! I said, put the glass down!!!

Not knowing what to do next, you quickly grab the glass from his hand and drink the wine in one go.

The two men inside the hall just watched you, both eyes wide open. Duke Pantalone was looking at you like you’d lost your mind, while Scaramouche… Well, he looks… upset.

You’ll ponder about that one later. For now, your priority is to keep Scaramouche safe and stop the evil Duke from his evil plans.

Ugh… Gross… Berries, my ass. It tastes like rotten mango!

You slammed the glass back at the table. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and give them a small smile. “That was… uh… a good wine.. Very flavorful..."

And then it hits you.

You put your hand on your chest and start gasping for air. It feels like your lungs are being squeezed and you closed your eyes, grabbing Scaramouche’s arm.

“You idiot, what the fuck were you doing?!” he grabs your arm and pulls you to him. His other hand made its way to your cheek and started checking you. “Don't you even dare close your eyes, y/n.”

You tried speaking but you can't even move your mouth. Your body’s starting to get numb too, but despite all of this, you still tried to speak and give him a smile.

“You’re… safe…”

And then you passed out.

—

When your eyes fluttered open, the first thing you noticed wasn't the ceiling of your old bedroom, nor the ceiling of your bedroom in the palace. The second thing is the familiar chandelier hanging, and lastly, the sweet and overwhelming scent of glaze lilies and incense filling the dark room.

You're in Scaramouche's room.

What happened…?

“Finally awake?”

You heard a sharp voice coming from beside you, so you weakly turned your head to find Scaramouche standing near the edge of the bed. He looked like an absolute wreck. His royal coat was tossed carelessly over a chair, his collar was unbuttoned, and his dark indigo hair was messy— as if he’d spent the last several hours violently running his fingers through it.

“Your Highness…?” you coughed at the dryness of your throat. “What happened? Did we… Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” he repeated with a scoff. “You were the one barely hanging between life and death and you're really asking me if I'm okay?”

You pulled the blanket up to your nose to shield yourself from his glare. Geez… this is kind of weird but it felt nice seeing his usual grumpy side…

“What about you? Are you okay? Why the hell did you drink that goddamn wine knowing that it was poisoned?” he asked, voice still cold. You couldn't bring yourself to say something because it looks like you're in for a grand scolding so you continue looking at him, blanket still covering half of your face. “I knew exactly what was in that glass, you know? I just had to make sure that's why I confirmed what was in it. I was going to fake a seizure, draw out his hidden guards, and execute him for high treason on the spot.”

Oh.

“And what did you do? You stole the glass and drank the wine so now you were unconscious for almost a week because of your stupidity. You completely ruined my plan.” He took a deep breath to calm himself.

“...You should've at least told me about that plan…” you mumbled. I was actually losing my mind there, you know?! I thought you were really about to drink it!

“You said something?”

You shake your head. “So… uh.. I messed up the— your plan?”

“Miserably.”

“Well.. I’m sor—”

Scaramouche slammed his hand onto the mattress next to your head, making you flinch.

He leaned in, close enough you can feel his breath.

"What were you doing? What do you gain from throwing your life away for me? Is this some elaborate play to make me indebted to you? To make me trust you?” he asked.

You blinked when you heard his voice shaking, so you slowly looked down at his hand. He's gripping the sheets so tight his knuckles are turning white. Despite the harsh words and questions he’s throwing at you, you could see that his hands were also trembling.

Is he… scared?

You let out a sigh before looking up at him.

“I told you before, right? As long as I'm here, none of those rascals will lay their dirty hands on you.” You gave him a tired smile and lowered the blanket. “I don't know if I already told you this, but I made it my mission to keep you from whatever danger that's lurking around you. I wanted to keep you safe, but I guess I failed at doing it quietly.”

He scoffed, shifting his position so he’s now sitting beside you. “Yeah right you did. Idiot.”

You rolled your eyes, but you’re still smiling. You put your hand on your chest. “Anything for you, Your Highness.”

He stared at you. “But seriously, how are you feeling?”

“Weak…?” you tried raising your arms but you failed. “Limp like a vegetable, as you can see. What happened, by the way?”

“The wine was infused with wolfsbane, that's why you immediately passed out after drinking it.” he said. “It's a deadly poison, and with the amount you ingested, it's a miracle you're still alive.”

Scaramouche reaches out and removes the strands of hair from your cheek. His hand is cold, but his touch is gentle.

“From now on, you are not allowed to leave my sight. If you plan to be this stupid again, make sure it’s where I can see you so I can keep an eye on you. I can't have you jumping into death again before I could even stop you. No more protecting me, I can handle myself. Am I understood?”

“Loud and clear…” you reluctantly answered.

He smiled. This might be the first time that you've seen him smile genuinely. It looks.. nice. “Good.”

He retracted his hand and stood up.

“Wait, are you perhaps worried about me?” you grinned at him, wiggling your eyebrows.

Scaramouche drops his smile at your stupid question.

“The Duke is currently rotting in the deepest cell of the dungeons, if you're wondering.” he dodged your question that earned a chuckle from you. He grabs his coat and looks down at you again. “Don't do stupid things again, do you hear me?”

“So you're worried!”

He ignores you again. “All you have to do is focus on recovering. You're not allowed to leave this room until you're fully-recovered, and until I tell you so. Just call a maid, or Ajax if you need anything."

“But I can't—”

“That's an order.”

Just like before, he didn't give you a chance to speak and left the room. You continue staring at the huge door before grinning like a kid. You turn your gaze at the dark ceiling and start gathering your thoughts.

The assassination attempts failed. The villain is in the dungeon and currently facing trials before his execution. You almost died but at least you managed to keep the Crown Prince safe until the end.

Scaramouche wasn't poisoned. His body wasn't burned.

Yes, that was the tragic fate that awaits him. The Duke plans to poison him first to make him lose consciousness, and after that, he plans to burn his body to leave no traces of evidence, and to erase the Crown Prince’s existence entirely. That's how cruel he is— the Smiling Villain who’s been eyeing the throne ever since Her Majesty The Queen is still alive.

But now… everything has changed. His plan is ruined. And he’s now facing charges for attempting to overthrow the monarchy to ascend the throne.

The plot of the novel was officially broken. You changed the ending.

No more protecting the Crown Prince. No more saving your favorite character. Although he hinted that it's his turn to protect you from now on…

You forced yourself to sit up and look at the huge window. When a ray of sunlight hits your face, you smile.

Oh well. All is well.

Mission failed successfully... I guess?

Even flies find beauty in trash. Your admirer must be a maggot, by the looks of things.

But again: idiots attract more idiots. It's no wonder that you, the greatest idiot of them all, have wound up on the receiving end of some maggot's affections.

He stares at the disgustingly bright envelope—now on the floor—with your name addressed as the recipient. How pathetic, he thinks. (How audacious, the sender, for daring to write your name so clumsily, with all those stupid swirls and all! Are they even literate? This handwriting looks to be atrocious! Does the Akademiya just let anyone in?! Even scum that don't know how to use a pen?!)

Wanderer walks away. Ever so coincidentally, the envelope gets caught in between the heel of his shoe and the ground, and, even more coincidentally, his heel turns, left to right, grinding the paper into the wooden planks of the classroom's floor.

If it wasn't unreadable before, it certainly is unreadable now.

"Excuse me!"

The doors slam open, revealing a haggard figure, clad in scholarly robes, chest heaving up and down as their head turns frantically.

"Has anyone seen a letter? It has a neon yellow envelope, and it's—"

For good measure, the heel of Wanderer's shoes dig deeper into the ground, the envelope still caught in between, crumpled. Wanderer has never once seen such an ugly letter (Neon yellow? he thinks, disturbed. What a tasteless imbecile.) His shoe might have, though.

A couple seconds pass, and the tasteless imbecile's eyes grow wide, vaguely resembling that of a bug's, before approaching Wanderer with a determined look.

"Hat Guy!" the tasteless imbecile exclaims. "Hat Guy, you're stepping on my letter!"

Wanderer looks down, the envelope still caught in between his heel and the ground. What a coincidence. Even more coincidentally, his weight shifts wholly onto that foot, the heel sinking, the paper ripping from the amalgamation of abuse.

"Oh, no!" The maggot gasps. "No, no, no! That's my letter! I wrote it for [Name]!"

Even more coincidentally (there are just so many coincidences in this world, it seems), Wanderer's foot slides forward, and the paper is dragged across the planks, and, out of nowhere, a gust of wind rampages through the classroom. How odd, considering the windows are closed.

"Hat Guy! You did that on purpose!"

"Hah?" Wanderer replies, humorless. "Do you think I have so much free time as to tamper with such a measly thing?"

"You just used your Vision on my letter! And you were stepping on it!"

Wanderer smirks, the expression not reaching his eyes, the cornflower irises devoid of any mirth as an incomplete laugh escapes his lips. What a perfect use, he thinks, using the sickening power of an Archon to destroy that ugly thing. He's really outdone himself this time.

"Why would you do that, huh?! What have I ever done to you?" the imbecile continues, damn near having a conversation with themself.

"How ridiculous," Wanderer remarks plainly, voice devoid of any remorse. "You left it on my desk."

"We don't even have assigned seats!"

"Well," another scholar chimes in, "it's practically assigned. Nobody ever moves from the seat they chose."

Wanderer huffs. Misplaced or not, how could this imbecile even think to leave such an insinuating letter out in the open? Especially with your name scribed onto its front, with such ugly penmanship? If this imbecile really liked you, they would never—Whatever, he thinks, arms crossed, head cocked to the side. This is none of his business.

Idiots attract idiots. Whoever wants you can have you: the most idiotic of them all.

"Oh, [Name]!" the imbecile has the audacity to exclaim, their frustrated expression shifting instantly, as if the feeling of your name on their lips is enough to melt the anger, shaping it into adoration. They turn towards the door, lips enraptured by a smile, racing towards you with their hand held up, waving.

A gust of wind rampages through the classroom. How odd, considering the windows are closed.

Wanderer passes (read: shoves by) the imbecile, his face unreadable, its tell given only by the slight crinkle of his eyes, the way your figure is beheld so tenderly within the pupil of a puppet whose body is incapable of a flush. Wanderer's artificial skin lacks warmth, for there is no heart to pump blood towards his limbs, to give his cheeks the blossom of red.

But he looks at you, the beheld, and that is enough.

"About time," he says, arrogant. "I didn't think you could even find your way here."

You just laugh. Wanderer's artificial skin lacks warmth, he knows this, but you laugh and you look at him and the beholder is beheld, and, and the wind subsides, and—

"I'm surprised you even showed up to class at all, Wanderer!"

He scoffs. "I'm not like you."

"That's not true," you reply, pointing at him accusingly, other hand resting on your hip, "your attendance record is just like mine!"

But it's true; Wanderer could never be anything like you.

Because you're lovely.

It's not often that the Chief Justice gets a break.

In this nation full of legislation, it's only natural that its most supreme judge is at work most days, whether it be overseeing trials or sifting through paperwork, there is always a job must be done, and a creature to serve in its place.

Neuvillette has long gotten used to his role, the duty which has been entrusted to him. But, every once in a while, there is a moment of respite, where he is able to look up from the stacks of papers, to turn around, thistle eyes piercing past the panes of the window, the clouds parting to reveal the enormity of the sun, its warmth palpable despite the distance.

The beauty of such light is best appreciated from indoors.

But, he thinks, eyeing the clock, a brief walk would not hurt.

He rises from his seat, gloved hands readjusting the fabric of his cravat, fingers trailing lightly over the desk once he's done, passing by the wooden walls of his office with a steady pace.

At the reception desk, he exchanges pleasantries with Sedene; just as he's ready to depart, however, she jolts up, returning behind the desk before revealing a frilly envelope, its paper adorned by hearts and roses.

"Monsieur Neuvillette," she says, waving the letter. "I wanted to show this to you."

He raises a brow. "What is this, Miss Sedene?"

She points towards the name such romance is addressed to. You.

Neuvillette just blinks, mildly confused. "I do not believe that [Name] works here, nor are they in any position to receive such a letter. They are abroad at the moment, are they not?"

"That's right, Monsieur. I believe the sender made a mistake, but I was unable to catch a glimpse of their face before they left..." she mutters, ears drooping slightly, cradling the letter close.

Neuvillette shakes his head. "Do not worry about it, Miss Sedene. When [Name] returns, you can deliver it to them, then."

Despite telling Sedene not to worry, the letter's existence plagues Neuvillette's mind like some haunting phantom, an itch that can never be scratched.

You have always been driven by wanderlust; no land could ever contain you, and Neuvillette has long made peace with this fact. All that he can do is serve as your landing ground, to greet you at Fontaine's borders when you do—and you always—return.

And when you do return, he will lend you an ear. He will serve you your favorite desserts, he will accompany you on your long walks which you so adore, whether it be in rain or in shattering light.

And when you depart once more, he will see you off at the border, just as when you arrived, and when you arrive again, whenever they may be.

Neuvillette is satisfied with the guarantee of reunion. He does not want you to compromise your wanderlust, to shackle yourself to a single place, for your presence to be near his in any capacity that is not founded off of your own desire.

Be free to do whatever it is that you want to do, to go wherever you want to go—and when you return, he will be there. As he's always been.

Every so often, you send him letters from the nations you visit, accompanied by various trinkets which you've collected. Sometimes, you send him rocks, or swabs of sand, or entire shells that must be delivered separately.

Neuvillette gets mildly disturbed whenever you send him something that looks to be made from the cooling of molten lava, as it has happened far too often, and it makes him wonder what in the world it is you're up to.

But that's a story which you will tell him yourself, when the two of you meet again.

Neuvillette is satisfied with the guarantee of reunion. Restraint is familiar to him; being in a position such as his does not give much flexibility for anything else. But he thinks of that frilly letter, addressed to you, adorned by romance.

How straightforward, he muses, remembering the lace roses which trailed all over the envelope, the way your name was its most extravagant aspect.

Neuvillette has made peace with the stutter of his heart, the way rain falls after your departure, the way the sun reveals itself, its radiance forcing his mind to return to the fantastical image of you.

Restraint. Neuvillette has made peace with your absence, and he always thought that reunion was enough. But he thinks of you, and there it is again: the ferocity of desire, the selfishness of his blood, the way dragons hoard treasure, the way gold glimmers.

It's raining.

Neuvillette looks up, bewildered. It was so sunny a second ago. But he looks around, and his fellow pedestrians seek shelter in nearby cafes, or huddle under umbrellas, murmuring about how unexpected this is.

How unexpected indeed.

Neuvillette continues forward, the coolness on his skin, suppressing the bloom of his ears, the way he stares at the last light of the sun before it disappears behind a grey cloud.

He wonders what you're up to right now. The last letter you sent was from Inazuma. You must be far, he thinks.

(Too far.)

But then, a voice.

"Long time no see, Neuvillette!"

His head snaps around, thistle eyes meeting yours, his mouth hanging slightly agape, a droplet of rain racing down from the duct of his eye.

"[Name]," he breathes, walking towards you with as much composure as a creature so hopelessly in love could ever afford to muster. "[Name], it has been so long."

"Right!" you say, wiping a swab of rain from your face. "You look even more miserable than when I last saw you!"

The subtlest of smiles tug at his lips.

You truly make him the most miserable thing.

"Anyway, I stopped by the Court to see you, but instead, Sedene handed me a love letter! Isn't that hilarious? I haven't gotten one of these in like, what, a couple hundred years?"

Neuvillette feels something stir within the confines of his ribs.

"Did you read it?"

"I did! It was great!"

Restraint. Neuvillette wants to ask more—he wants to know what you thought of such forwardness, what you thought of such a declaration of love. If he were to do the same, would you receive it with such mirth? Would you accept him, with all his rain, with all his misery?

"I found the sender just before seeing you here, Neuvillette!" you say, patting his shoulder, the reunion palpable. "I had to thank them for such flattery! Oh, but I did have to turn them down. I'm not really one for the immortal-mortal grief, you know? Parting with you is already a lot."

Neuvillette's breath hitches. What about the guarantee of an immortal-immortal match? What about the guarantee of reunion?

"You dislike parting with me?"

You laugh. "Nope, I absolutely love seeing your anguished face whenever I leave, and traveling alone, tasting water from nations, trying to act like I know something when really, there's no difference at all!"

The subtlest of smiles tug at his lips.

"There is a difference. Mondstadt's waters are crisp and pure, while Liyue's waters have an aftertaste, and Inazuma's water possesses a flavor unlike any other."

You elbow him roughly. He doesn't budge from the movement.

"And Fontaine's courts have the best macarons. Onwards, Neuvillette!"

The sun returns.

Neuvillette looks at you and, truly, the radiance is sublime.

There is nothing in this world that comes for free.

"So, name your price," the client says, head tilted to the side, smirking. "I'm confident I can fulfill whatever you demand, Kinich."

"I cannot take this request," Kinich states, readjusting the various bags which dangle from his shoulder, full of fruits from his most recent harvest.

"What?!" the client exclaims, their pompous expression contorting into that of utter disbelief. "It should be simple! I'm only requesting you because I know you can complete it quickly! I'll pay you double your rate, and—"

"Find someone else," Kinich interrupts. "I won't do it."

"What?!" Ajaw exclaims, floating over to the client's side, his shades of green shifting to reds and oranges, his pixelated body spasming up and down as he pouts vehemently. "Come on, man! This is such a good deal! Since when could beggars be choosers, huh, huh?!"

Kinich ignores how Ajaw just likened him to a beggar.

"Why are you rejecting this request?!" the client shouts, hand outstretched, revealing an intricate envelope, adorned by shades of reds and pinks, its romance addressed towards a single recipient. You.

"My reason doesn't matter," Kinich replies.

There are some things in this world that cannot be done, regardless of the cost.

"Don't tell me it's because you have a crush on—" Ajaw starts, but is quickly slapped away by Kinich. The Almighty Dragonlord's figure goes flying out of the atmosphere, plummeting towards the sky, the last of his silhouette dissipating with the twinkle of what looks to be a star.

"Find someone else," Kinich says, again. "I won't do it."

"You'll regret this, Kinich!" the client-no-longer exclaims, sparing one last glare at him before trudging away, love letter still in hand. Kinich returns to his hut without a single thought, hauling his harvest, the weight amounting to nothing, as he mulls over the request.

He's not the type to live with regrets.

But, maybe there is one.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Someone bursts through the door, sauntering through his hut made-for-one, forcing it to shift and fit two. Kinich, unfazed, doesn't even look up from his spot in the corner, rearranging the fruits he had harvested, organizing them with the various containers of jam and breads which he bought the day before.

Silence. Kinich continues sorting through his items, feigning ignorance to the shadow which slowly creeps up on him, the shape shifting to reveal two hands, outstretched, vaguely resembling a pitiful wolf.

Your hands jump onto his shoulders, and Kinich remains as he is: completely unmoved.

"What?!" you say, absolutely flabbergasted. "Why didn't that scare you?"

Kinich looks over his shoulder, taken aback for just a second, your nose almost meeting his, your face so close he can make out each wisp of your lashes, the way you smile, teeth and all. He swallows thickly. He blinks and then he turns back around, breathing slowly, hands fiddling mindlessly with the jars of jam.

That scared him more than your futile attempt at a surprise attack.

"You're loud," is all he says.

"That can't be!"

But it is, Kinich thinks. You're loud. And you talk a lot, and you wear your expressions so evidently on your face. Kinich turns to you, your figure matching his, crouched, hunching over various trinkets and eyeing the jams as if you were some sort of connoisseur.

"And while I was out today, I was at the market, and—"

You're loud.

"There was this guy," you say, eyes scrunched shut, brows furrowing, mind seemingly in deep thought (How uncharacteristic, is all Kinich thinks). "He was like, so awkward with me! And he was like flailing everywhere, and he asked me to dinner, but I told him I already had plans with you, but then he got so nervous, and I was so confused, like, does he want me?"

You're always sharp when it's inconvenient, he thinks.

"It must be my aura, huh?"

Nevermind, Kinich annexes that previous thought.

"Anyway, that was pretty random!" you exclaim, clapping your hands together. "But I guess it's to be expected! I'm a catch! But, you know, that's the first confession I've received in a while. I feel like my aura wards people away, or something."

Ajaw returns from purgatory.

"It's not your aura! It's because of Kinich—"

Ajaw is sent hurling into space.

"Oh," you say, watching Ajaw get launched out of the open window. "I was wondering why it was so quiet!"

It wasn't, though, Kinich thinks. How could it be, when you're so loud?

"But anyway," you continue, "I'm looking forward to the meal today, Kinich! I'm your favorite freeloader, I bet!"

There are some things in this world that should be done, regardless of the cost.

Like your loudness, like your slurred words, your random interjections, your sidetracked stories. Some things in this world should be relistened to, should last forever, should happen, again and again. Like your weekly freeloading meals, like your anecdotes, like, like you.

You're loud.

Kinich would listen to you forever if he could.

And, just like that, there'd be no room for regrets.

They say that if you're scared of thunder, it's because you've got something to hide.

Boom!

Wriothesley's hands interlace with one another, his back hunching slightly as he leans forward, lips drawn into a pursed smile, pale eyes devoid of any mirth.

"So..." he starts, your figure submerged within the center of his pupils, head craned downwards, fingers tracing over the intricacies of a misplaced letter, its subjects addressed to you despite landing on his desk.

"Are you moved?" he then asks, not-so discreetly.

Boom!

Wriothesley, in this moment, considers himself to be quite scared of thunder. He's got quite a few things to hide; a handful of those many things involve you.

"Woah," you say, almost amazed, free hand raised to your mouth, eyes wide as you trace over each word. Wriothesley wonders what you're thinking right now—do frilly niceties like this charm you? Perhaps a bouquet of roses will make their way to your door tomorrow. Let's throw in a letter, and a shared cup of tea, too.

"This is pretty impressive," you remark, glancing up, meeting his gaze. Wriothesley never once tears his gaze from yours, the scenery of the city outside paling in comparison to the well-loved features of your face. From the bridge of your nose, the curve of your lips, the ridge of your brows—your existence makes a lover of him.

That fact, though not particulary hidden, is a secret that he carries with him, revealed only with each strike of lightning, the thunder that follows thereafter.

"Impressive?" Wriothesley echoes, the hints of a smile finding his face, the expression not quite reaching his eyes, organ still beholding you. "How so, if I may ask?"

"The sender knows I'm a big fan of theater plays," you state, "and also, that I like tea."

Wriothesley snorts. "Those are not things that are well-kept secrets."

You laugh. "I suppose that's true. Still, it's quite cute."

Wriothesley has watched quite a couple theater productions with you. His favorite part is when you debrief him on the plot afterwards, as if he weren't there to witness it himself (he supposes that's half true, though, since half of his experience is witnessing the play through your own reactions).

Also, in case you didn't know, he also likes tea. It seems the two of you have lots in common. How very compatible, if he does say so himself.

Boom!

The sound vaguely mimics the beat of his heart, its enormity enough to shatter his ribs, its vigor pumping blood to the tips of his ears, the apples of his cheeks. It's pouring outside. He wonders how many more secrets he must keep, how long they must stay hidden for, how cruel it is for each strike of thunder to be felt in front of the person who it all belongs to.

His most sacred oath. You.

Boom!

"I think I'll have to decline on this, though," you say, folding the letter back into its quaint envelope, hand now reaching for the teacup, glass raised to your lips.

He stares for a long while.

"I'm surprised," he remarks. "I thought you'd enjoy that sort of thing. Don't most of your plays involve a wondrous love letter?"

You laugh.

"They also involve a mysterious Duke of the North."

Boom!

"Will the Duke of an Underground Prison work?"

"More than that, actually," you say, head tilting to the side, eyes crinkled, your smile incomparable. "It's perfect."

Looks like he has nothing to hide now.

"Care for some dinner tomorrow?" he asks, finger raised to tap on the surface of the wooden table, the action soothing.

"At the Coupon Cafeteria?"

"Your pick. I'll be at your door tomorrow, as the Duke of an Underground Prison."

"I want roses," you say, "and a wondrous love letter."

Wriothesley smiles, its shape vaguely covered by the back of his gloved hand, his devotion revealed only by the ferocious red of his ears.

"Consider it done."

“Let go of me,” you whispered. “If I don’t go now, someone might see me.”

Lohen, the lightest sleeper you knew, let out an exaggerated snore. Your brows furrowed as an irritated smile rose to your lips. “I have to go, Lohen.”

He let out another fake snore, curling his knees further into the backs of yours. Thoroughly entangled by him, you had no chance of escape. Your eyes flicked over to the clock, reading the time as just barely four in the morning.

The knights in the barracks started getting up around four thirty at the earliest. You gave yourself a half hour head start every night you spent with Lohen, all because you knew he liked to make you struggle for it. Nothing gave him more amusement than watching you fight against his grip, only to fail tremendously every time. He always let you go when he wanted to, not when the clock mandated it to be so.

You sighed. Stroking his arm, you blinked your tired eyes in the dark room. You felt his lips press to your head, then your eyes falling closed. If anyone knew early risings and routines, it was certainly your knight of a boyfriend. Lohen would wake you up when you needed to go, so surely you could afford to sleep in a while longer.

“Just don’t let me oversleep,” you mumbled quietly.

“Mm,” he answered, his breath warm against your scalp. “I won’t.”

Lohen let you oversleep.

“Fuck,” you hissed under your breath, throwing off the massive layer of blankets that Lohen must have swaddled you in before leaving. “I’m going to kill him.”

A quick glance at his clock told you it was nine in the morning. Not only had you slept for a criminally long time, but now you were late for work as well. Perhaps the worst part of all this was that you had lost your opportunity to be covert. If anyone were to spot you sneaking out of Lohen’s room in the barracks, you’d have no chance of explaining yourself.

It wasn’t that you needed to keep your relationship a secret, but rather that a “civilian” like yourself had no authorization to enter the knights’ barracks. You’d probably get in trouble if anyone decided to report you, and if your parents somehow caught wind of it, you’d be in for another sermon about chastity and the word of Barbatos.

Groggy from oversleeping, you stumbled out of Lohen’s bed. You collected your dress from the floor before fumbling your way back into it. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you ambled towards the door.

Slowly, cautiously, you pushed it open. A quick check down the hall revealed nary a knight to be seen. You let out a relieved sigh before continuing on your way.