The night had settled over Mondstadt like a velvet shroud, its indigo depths pierced by the flicker of stars and the soft glow of lanterns swaying along the cobblestone streets. At Good Hunter, the air thrummed with the sizzle of grilling meat and the sweet tang of honeyed carrots, a warm counterpoint to the cool breeze rustling through the city's eaves. Sarah leaned against the counter, her apron streaked with flour, her hazel eyes glinting with a chef's anticipation as she recounted her golden egg fried rice woes to Lumine and Paimon. The wooden tables around them bore the scars of countless meals, their surfaces gleaming faintly under lantern light, while the murmur of late diners wove a cozy tapestry against the dusk's quiet hum.
Bennett sat at a nearby table, his blond hair tousled beneath green goggles perched atop his head, his adventurer's garb—leather vest, worn boots, a dagger sheathed at his hip—dusty from the wilds. His green eyes flickered with a mix of skepticism and intrigue as he listened, his fork poised over a half-eaten boar skewer, the charred meat cooling as Paimon's glowing tales snagged his attention. "Change my luck—something, anything," he thought, his heart a tangle of hope and resignation, his adventurer's soul battered by years of misfortune—overturned carts, sold-out stalls, quests crumbling to dust. Galehaven Comics, with its whispered wonders, loomed like a beacon in his mind, its promise of rewards a lifeline he couldn't ignore.
"Where's this shop? I need to see it," he asked, his voice tight with nervous energy as he leaned forward, his goggles slipping slightly. Paimon darted closer, her starry cape fluttering as she grinned, her tiny hands clutching her game console like a trophy. "Easy—down the alley past the blacksmith, tucked behind the florist. Can't miss it—Harlan's got the best stuff!" she chirped, her directions crisp and eager, her starry eyes glinting with pride at her role as guide. She'd hooked him, her Amway a spark that lit his path, and she savored the thrill of it, her earlier triumph over Wendy a warm ember in her chest.
"Thanks!" Bennett said, his voice bright with gratitude as he shoved his plate aside, the last skewer forgotten as he rose, his boots scuffing the cobblestones. He flashed a grin—lopsided, earnest—before darting off, his figure vanishing into the night, his meager stash of Mora a fragile hope against Galehaven's pull. Lumine watched him go, her red roller skates humming faintly as she shifted, her golden eyes warm with amusement. "Paimon, you're a menace—reeling him in like that," she teased, her wind dragon grin softening as she gave the sprite a thumbs-up, her admiration a quiet glow.
Paimon preened, her starry cape fluttering as she mimicked Wendy's breezy "Ehe!" her smugness a beacon in the dusk. "Told ya—I'm the best! Bossed Wendy, now Bennett—Harlan's gotta reward me!" she crowed, her voice a triumphant peal as she floated higher, her game console and camera a testament to her faith in Galehaven. Sarah chuckled, wiping her hands on her apron as she nodded. "Bring him tonight—rice'll be ready. Maybe Harlan too—chef or not, he's magic," she said, her hazel eyes bright with a believer's zeal, her own reward a spark that fueled her dreams.
Meanwhile, within the tucked-away walls of Galehaven Comics, the night deepened, its narrow confines bathed in the soft glow of a single lantern swaying from the ceiling. The air carried the earthy scent of aged paper, the faint floral steam of dandelion tea cooling on Harlan's stove, a quiet contrast to the vibrant chaos of the shelves—teetering stacks of comics, their colorful spines whispering of worlds unclaimed, posters curling at the edges with dragons and duels. Harlan leaned against the counter, his dark jacket slung over his chair, a half-empty teacup cradled in his hands as he watched his remaining customers weave their tales into the shop's fabric.
Wendy sprawled across a worn sofa, his green cape pooling around him like a wind-tossed leaf, Yu-Gi-Oh! open in his lap as he flipped pages with a lazy grin. He'd lingered over Paimon's game console antics, his bardic curiosity snagging on Mario's pixelated leaps, and now savored the slow burn of his duelists' drama—Blue-Eyes White Dragon roaring in his mind, a far cry from the Maine Coonmon still purring in Diluc's tavern. "Needs wine next time—reading's too dry without it," he muttered, his voice a soft hum as he stretched, his lyre resting beside him, its strings silent but expectant, his cat woes a distant ache.
Across the room, Jean snapped Chuunibyou Demo Koi ga Shitai! shut, her blonde ponytail swaying as she set it on the table, her blue eyes soft with a rare warmth. "Beautifully done," she murmured, her voice a quiet reverie as she traced the cover—Rikka's eyepatch, Yuta's grin—a story that lingered like a melody in her chest. The tale had gripped her—Rikka's world shattered by her father's loss, her days a gray haze until Yuta's light pierced through, a window, a door, a new dawn. Their love, awkward and sweet beneath chuunibyou flair, struck a chord in Jean's guarded heart, its delicate threads a mirror to the romance novels she hoarded in her office, hidden behind duty's steel.
As Acting Grand Master, she was Mondstadt's rock—stern, meticulous, beloved—but beneath the cape and sword, she craved the fragile joys she read by candlelight, the whispered promises of starlit walks and tender glances. Chuunibyou fed that yearning, its quirks a shield for a love she envied, and she sighed, her Anemo Vision dimming at her hip as she let the story settle. "Barbara's Evil King's Eye—pure imagination," she thought, a wry smile tugging at her lips as she recalled her sister's fervor, the comic's truth a simpler magic than the deaconess believed.
The system pinged in Harlan's mind—[Customer Jean completed Chuunibyou Demo Koi ga Shitai!—Reward: Lovers' Ornament]. [Lovers' Ornament: A paired clover pendant set, marking its wearers as a couple, blessed with love's subtle favor.] Harlan's brows shot up, a grin tugging at his lips as he leaned forward, his tea forgotten. "Couple pendants—fits the vibe," he mused, the comic's chuunibyou chaos masking a core of romance, its reward a poetic echo of Rikka and Yuta's bond. A beam of light sliced through the ceiling, bathing Jean in a radiant glow that drew Wendy's lazy glance and Diluc's stern flicker from One Piece, the shop's quiet pierced by its shimmer.
The light faded, and a pair of four-leaf clover pendants materialized in Jean's hands—delicate silver chains, their green gems glinting like spring leaves, a faint hum of warmth pulsing within. "Boss—this is…?" she asked, her voice soft with doubt as she hefted them, their weight a quiet promise against her calloused palms. Harlan grinned, his hazel eyes twinkling as he leaned back. "Lovers' ornaments—give one to someone special, and you're marked as a pair. Comes with a little love luck," he said, his tone warm but teasing, a shopkeeper dangling chaos like a lure.
Jean's cheeks flushed, a rare crack in her knightly calm as she clutched the pendants, their clovers catching the lantern light. "Lovers…?" she echoed, her voice a whisper as her mind spun, her poised facade crumbling under a wave of embarrassment. Her last reward—Haki's might—had bolstered her blade against Stormterror, a tool of duty born from crisis. This, though—a token of romance, fragile and personal—felt like a mirror to her hidden dreams, a starlit wish she'd never voiced. "The crisis is past—did my heart choose this?" she wondered, her blue eyes darting to the window, Cape Oath's cliffs a distant call in her reverie.
A deeper thought stirred, her flush deepening as she stole a glance at Harlan, his easy grin a quiet enigma across the counter. "He runs this place—does he pick the rewards?" she mused, her pulse quickening as she pictured him crafting this gift, a subtle hint veiled in his hazel gaze. "Is he… suggesting something?" she thought, her fingers tightening on the pendants, their warmth a whisper against her skin as her knightly resolve wavered, a blush blooming beneath her cape. Harlan caught her look, his grin faltering into a puzzled tilt. "You alright, Jean? Looks like you've seen a ghost," he said, his voice light but curious, oblivious to the storm he'd sparked.
Jean jolted, her composure snapping back as she straightened, the pendants clinking softly. "F-Fine—just… unexpected," she stammered, her voice steadying as she tucked them into her pouch, her blue eyes avoiding his. "Thank you—it's… thoughtful," she added, her tone formal but warm, a knight masking a dreamer's fluster. Harlan nodded, his grin returning as he sipped his tea, the system ticking—[21/30 customers]—another thread in Galehaven's chaos. "Anytime—hope it finds a good match," he said, his words a casual toss that lingered in Jean's mind, a clover promise she'd carry into Mondstadt's starlit night.
***
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