Liyue's Internet cafe thrummed past dawn—its 300 rigs a glowing testament to the night service's pull, Tartaglia's Resident Evil triumph still echoing through the speakers—and the lottery's promise hung heavy, a blue orb in his palm sparking whispers of powers beyond Teyvat's gods.
Liam unveiled the draw—"Abilities, weapons, props—straight to you," his voice a spark over the mic, Tartaglia's brow arching, "Outrageous—even Morax can't gift that!"—and yet, this otherworldly cafe bent rules, its master a enigma whose grin hinted at secrets deeper than the Abyss.
He gestured—"Pick one," a box of orbs gleaming under the counter's lantern glow—and Tartaglia plunged in, his Harbinger's nerve unshaken, fingers brushing spheres uniform in size, "No tells—pure chance," his choice a blue flicker, "三星—Blue rarity," Liam nodding, "Solid luck."
The orb pulsed—"Beautiful Girl Warrior Transformation Bracelet," its text a shimmer—and Tartaglia crushed it, blue light flaring, an orange-red bracelet materializing, its girlish curve a stark clash with his Fatui edge, "Liam—what's this?!" his voice a mix of dread and disbelief.
Liam smirked—"Exactly what it says: transform into a Beautiful Girl Warrior—boosted strength included," his explanation a bombshell—and Tartaglia froze, "A girl? Me?!" his Harbinger's pride reeling, the melon-eaters erupting, "Change! Show us!" their glee a tidal wave in the cafe's haze.
Gossip blazed—"A man to a woman? Magic!" one crowed, another urging, "Try it—let's see!"—and Hu Tao's eyes gleamed, "Hall-master demands a peek!" her cackle a spark, 300 voices chanting, "Transform! Transform!" Tartaglia's forehead beading, his thick skin thinning under their roar.
He balked—"In front of you lot? No way!" his refusal a wall, his dignity a frayed thread—and Liam waved, "Scatter—find him later if he changes," his command a breeze, the crowd groaning, "Boo—spoilsport!" as they slumped back, rigs flickering, their curiosity a smoldering coal.
Hu Tao lingered—her pyro gaze locked, "Come on—just once!" her plea a flame—and Tartaglia snapped, "Never, Hall-master—dream on!" his retreat a sprint to his rig, "Queen's orders only," his mutter a vow, the bracelet a weight he'd hide from Liyue's prying eyes.
She pouted—"Tch, stingy—who cares?" her hands behind her back as she sauntered off, her bravado a mask—and yet, her mind whirred, "Zhongli'd convince him—geo pressure, maybe?" her scheming a ember, Tartaglia's transformation a prize she'd chase in secret.
Seven a.m. tolled—the night package faded, dark circles framing weary faces—and most shuffled out, "Sleep—need sleep," their yawns a chorus, rigs dimming as morning's light crept through Liyue's streets, the cafe's pulse slowing, a brief lull in its endless dance.
Some lingered—energy unshaken, "Breakfast, then back!" they chirped, mora clinking for noodles and buns—and seats refilled, morning players flooding in, 300 rigs alive again, the cafe's glow unbroken, a haven where Teyvat's bold swapped night for day without pause.
Liam soaked—second-floor bath steaming, his skin pruning as he mused, "Mondstadt's next—a branch,"—and Teyvat sprawled in his mind, "Game's ten minutes; here, weeks on foot," his journey a trek, horse or cart a days-long haul, his plans a web spun in warm water's embrace.
The cafe hummed below—Tier Harribel's vigil a rock, "She's tireless—still, another's due," his pity a thread—and emotional points stacked, "Time to spend—400 rigs, new blood," his vision a blaze, Liyue's den a seed to bloom before his road to Mondstadt's winds.
Expansion flared—100 rigs sprouted, the cafe stretching, "Bigger again!" melon-eaters gasped, rows gleaming under lantern haze—and seats filled fast, "Quick—claim one!" their rush a tide, Liam's craft a marvel, Teyvat's tech bending to his will, a mystery they'd never pierce.
Games beckoned—"CS rules—strategy's next," his choice a spark, StarCraft designated, a random draw beside it—and the cafe shifted, Terran bunkers and Zerg hives looming, "Real-time wars—build, fight!" melon-eaters crowed, a new frontier in Liyue's glowing sprawl.
A subplot twisted—Tartaglia's bracelet burned in his pocket, "Use it? Never—unless…" his Fatui mind plotting, "Ambush power—Snezhnaya'd laugh,"—and Hu Tao schemed, "Zhongli'll crack him," her hall-master's guile a thread, their clash a ripple in the cafe's tide.
Action flared—outside, Tartaglia slipped, "Test it—once," his whisper a dare, the bracelet clicking—and light erupted, his form shifting, a lithe warrior in orange-red, "Stronger—faster!" his hydro blade slashing, a crate splintering, "This… works?!" his shock a tide in Liyue's dawn.
Melon-eaters gaped—"He changed—look!" their shouts a storm as he reverted, "Enough—secret's mine!"—and Hu Tao pounced, "I saw—gorgeous! Again!" her glee a blaze, Tartaglia bolting, "No—stay back!" his dignity a frayed rope, her chase a game in the streets.
Zhongli watched—"A warrior's shift—curious," his geo calm a rock amid the chaos—and he mused, "She'll wear him down; I'll nudge," his retirement a veil over a god's intrigue, Tartaglia's prize a spark he'd fan, the cafe's gifts a mystery even he couldn't fathom.
Emotion surged—Tartaglia's pride wrestled shame, a Harbinger's edge honed by whimsy; Hu Tao's fire craved chaos, her bond with Zhongli a lever; Liam's calm hid ambition, his den a forge for Teyvat's souls—and Liyue's morning trembled, their saga a blaze in the cafe's glow.
Liam emerged—towel-draped, "Mondstadt calls—two girls, 400 rigs, new wars," his plan a vow—and Tier Harribel nodded, "I'll hold—bring kin," her teal gaze steady, the cafe a crucible, Tartaglia's bracelet a ripple, Liyue's LAN a tapestry of grit and wonder.
Tartaglia sulked—"Girl power—ugh, mine now," his hydro pulse a secret he'd wield, Hu Tao plotting, "Next time—Zhongli'll force it!"—their rivalry a flame, the cafe's dawn a forge, Liam's vision a tide rolling toward Mondstadt, Teyvat's next chapter in his hands.
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