The night had cloaked Mondstadt in a tapestry of indigo, its stars winking through wisps of cloud as a cool breeze swept down from the cliffs, rustling the lanterns that swayed along the cobblestone streets. The city thrummed with a quiet vitality—tavern laughter spilling from the Angel's Share, the clink of glasses a distant echo, the faint hum of a windmill creaking in the distance. Within Galehaven Comics, the shop glowed with a cozy warmth, its narrow confines bathed in the flicker of a single lantern hanging from the ceiling, its golden light dancing across the hardwood floor and spilling over the cluttered shelves. The air carried the earthy scent of aged paper, the faint floral steam of dandelion tea cooling on Harlan Flint's stove, and the lingering spice of Mapo Tofu—a numbing ghost that clung to the walls, a memory of Klee's feast that still teased the senses.
Harlan leaned against the counter, his dark jacket slung over his chair, a half-empty teacup cradled in his hands as he watched the scene unfold, his hazel eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and disbelief. The door creaked open, and three figures stepped into the glow—Jean, her blonde ponytail swaying, her blue eyes narrowing with knightly resolve; Eula, her silver hair catching the light like frost on steel, her Cryo Vision pulsing at her hip; Amber, her red bow bouncing, her green eyes wide with a scout's shock. They froze at the threshold, their capes a still banner of blue, silver, and red, their gazes locked on an impossible sight—an Abyss Mage, its blue robes shimmering with Hydro's gleam, its staff propped beside it, hunched over Little Master on a worn sofa, its bubble a faint hum as it muttered—"Golden rice—so tempting!"
Amber blinked, her rabbit ears twitching as she rubbed her eyes, her voice a rasp of disbelief—"That's… an Abyss Mage?!" Eula's blade hand twitched, her navy cape rustling as she tilted her head, her tone a cold murmur—"Reading comics? This can't be real." Jean's jaw tightened, a faint flush creeping up her cheeks as she glanced at Harlan, her voice a quiet thunder—"Boss… that's truly one of them?" Harlan's grin widened, his hazel eyes dancing with mischief as he set his tea down, his tone a warm tease—"Yup—my latest customer. Come in, ladies, don't just gawk."
The trio shuffled inside, their boots scuffing the hardwood as they greeted Harlan, their voices a chorus of habit—"Evening, Boss"—though Jean's was softer, her blush deepening as she avoided his gaze, her Anemo Vision dimming at her hip. Amber's green eyes darted back to the Mage, her bow clutched tight as she whispered—"No way—I've chased these creeps a dozen times. Arrogant, sneaky—never… this!" Her scout's mind spun—Twalin's puppeteers, Starfell's escapees, a menace now cooing over tofu?—its style a crooked smear against her memory.
Harlan chuckled, his grin softening as he leaned forward, his tone a shopkeeper's creed—"Doesn't matter who—friend, foe, monster—if they're here for comics, they're welcome. Equal treatment, no fuss." Jean nodded, her blue eyes flickering with understanding as she sank onto a sofa, her cape pooling around her like a storm's edge, her calm a knight's mask over her unease. Eula and Amber followed, their movements restless—Eula's silver hair glinting as she crossed her arms, Amber's rabbit ears twitching as she fidgeted, her bow tapping her knee. "He's got rules—we wait," Jean murmured, her voice a quiet command as she met their gazes, her mind tracing a plan—safety here, justice outside—a balance she'd wield with care.
Harlan's grin widened, his hazel eyes glinting with a silent elegy for the Mage—"Poor sap—safe 'til the door shuts." His shop was a sanctuary, its walls a shield for any soul lost in its pages, but Mondstadt's night awaited beyond, a reckoning he'd not impede. The Mage flipped a page, its bubble shimmering as it sighed—"This food… I'd forgotten the pull"—its voice a husky lament, its masked gaze lost in Little Master's glow. Five hundred years ago, Kanria's fall had cursed it—humanity stripped, reason preserved, a monster yearning for a past it couldn't reclaim. The tofu's scent had stirred that ghost, its hunger a thread to a life long gone, a bittersweet ache it savored in the comic's art.
Half an hour ticked by, the shop's hum a quiet pulse—Harlan sipping tea, Jean poised in thought, Eula and Amber shifting with growing impatience. "No comics—boring," Amber muttered, her green eyes darting to the shelves, her scout's energy caged by duty. Eula's lips quirked, her tone a dry grumble—"Golden egg fried rice at Good Hunter tonight—miss it, and I'll curse this delay." Her Cryo soul chilled at the thought—Sarah's glowing dish, a prize slipping away—her grudge against the Mage sharpening with each tick of the clock. They glared at it, their malice a silent storm brewing on the sofa's edge.
The Mage finished, its staff clattering as it set Little Master down, its voice a complex rasp—"Missed this—humanity's taste." It rose, its bubble shimmering as it drifted toward Harlan, its excitement a flicker—"Boss—my reward!"—until its gaze caught the Knights, its staff trembling as it yelped—"You—here?!" Panic flared, its Hydro runes pulsing as it spun, its bubble a shield it longed to bolt behind. But reason snapped back—Jean's calm, Eula's smirk, Amber's glare—no moves made, no blades drawn. "The boss—too strong? They won't strike?" it thought, its intelligence a flicker against its dread, its arrogance a gamble as it swaggered past, its masked gaze glinting with contempt—"Fools—can't touch me here."
"Smug bastard," Amber growled, her bow creaking as she gripped it, her green eyes blazing with a scout's fury—"Still the same stink!" Eula's blade hand twitched, her silver hair glinting as she leaned back, her tone a cold vow—"Made us wait—vengeance is mine." Jean's lips quirked, a rare smile breaking her stern facade as she murmured—"Patience—it'll regret this soon enough." Her blue eyes glinted with a knight's promise—Harlan's rules held here, but Mondstadt's justice loomed beyond, a storm she'd unleash with precision.
Harlan watched, his grin widening as he shook his head—"Cocky now, crying later"—his hazel eyes glinting with amusement as he glanced at the system—[Customer Abyss Mage completed Little Master—Reward: Shao'an's Mapo Tofu]. [Shao'an's Mapo Tofu: Elastic tofu, rich meat—top-tier taste, a rival's craft.] "Shao'an's, huh?" he mused, his grin softening as he pictured Klee's Liu Maoxing version—spicier, radiant—against this subtler take, a dish folded with skill, not genius. "How's it eat with no face?" he wondered, his curiosity a spark as a beam of light sliced through the ceiling, its radiance bathing the counter in a golden glow.
The light faded, a plate of Mapo Tofu materializing—red and glistening, its steam a dance of spice and warmth, its aroma a siren call that curled through the shop. "Shao'an's Mapo—enjoy," Harlan said, his tone a gentle nudge as the Mage darted forward, its bubble shimmering with glee—"His stuff—good enough!" It knew Shao'an—Little Master's early foe, a chef humbled by Liu Maoxing—yet its hunger cared little, its masked gaze locked on the dish as it floated back, pausing to taunt the Knights with a swaggering hover—"Look, losers—mine!"
"Damn it—I'll roast you!" Amber snarled, her Pyro Vision flaring as she half-rose, her bow trembling with rage. Eula's eyes narrowed, her Cryo chill a whisper as she hissed—"Another grudge—counted." Jean's hand stilled them, her voice a quiet thunder—"Wait—outside's ours." The Mage settled on the sofa, its bubble a shield as it pondered—how to taste? Its mask hid no mouth, its form a curse of Kanria's fall, yet the tofu's pull was a human echo it couldn't resist. Harlan watched, his grin a silent wager—"Let's see this trick"—the shop a crucible of tension and tofu, Mondstadt's night poised for chaos.
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