Liam's fifth gacha pull flared purple, unveiling his first employee—Tier Harribel, third of Hueco Mundo's Ten Espada from Bleach, a lone woman among that brutal rank, her presence a jolt to his late-night cafe solitude.
Her Zanpakutō, Tiburón—meaning sacrifice—marked her essence, a blade she'd wielded as No. 3, her brown skin, green eyes, and statuesque form framed by golden braids that once bore her rank's tattoo beneath her right breast.
Post-return, she stood before him transformed—her mask's remnants clung to neck and chest, short hair replaced the braids, deep blue lightning streaks slashed her cheeks, and her attire shifted to a skirt-style swimsuit with armored accents, the "3" gone from her flesh.
She materialized dazed, her last memory a blur—battling Captain Hitsugaya in the living world, abandoned by Aizen, then ruling Hueco Mundo after his fall, only to be jailed resisting the Quincy's unseen empire, a saga cut short by this summoning.
A pulse of data flooded her mind—Teyvat, not her hollow realm, was her new stage, and the man before her, Liam, her boss, a shift she processed with the cool clarity of a predator sizing up a new den.
"Tia Tier Harribel, at your service, Master Liam," she intoned, dropping to one knee, her voice steady—gratitude for her rescue from Quincy chains mingled with submission to a power she gauged as eclipsing Aizen's own.
In Hueco Mundo, strength ruled—the weak knelt to the mighty—and a mysterious force bound her here, barring any strike against him, a leash she sensed as surely as her own reiatsu's flow.
Liam coughed, eyes darting—"Stand, please; I'm not one for kneeling," he urged, his gaze skittering over her form, her scant attire and proud curves a test for a young man's focus, a distraction he'd need to tame.
Her outfit screamed rework—fine for the cafe's quiet nights, but daylight and outsiders demanded modesty; he'd not have Liyue's streets gawking at his new hire's battle-honed physique.
Harribel rose, unperturbed—she grasped neither shame nor gender's subtleties, a hollow's mind alien to such norms—but Liam's order stood, and she'd swap to a standard torn robe when crowds milled, her spiritual power reshaping her garb as needed.
Night deepened, and Liam burned 2,000 emotional points to carve a bedroom for her upstairs—a feminine nook with soft hues and plush bedding, a space she entered with a faint frown, its warmth clashing with her austere past.
She lay down, staring at the ceiling—her three fracciónes lingered in her thoughts, their fates unknown after the Quincy-Death God clash, a war she'd left behind, its outcome a distant echo she'd never hear resolved.
Sleep eluded her—a Vasto Lorde needed no rest unless battered—but she closed her eyes, letting the night's stillness settle, her new life a puzzle she'd piece together under this strange roof.
Morning broke, and Liam stirred earlier than his norm, the cafe's pulse quickening with Harribel's presence—he spent half an hour briefing her: man the counter, manage the crowd, keep the machines humming, a crash course for a queen turned clerk.
Doors swung wide, and the melon-eaters flooded in—her arrival sparked gasps, a blonde, brown-skinned enigma with a chill aura, no Liyue local but a mystery they couldn't place, her regal air hinting at more than met the eye.
Beauty dazzled, but seats trumped stares—the 120 rigs filled in a blink, latecomers slumping in gloom, their mood souring further as Resident Evil's icon glowed new on the screens, a taunt to those sidelined.
Liam slipped out for breakfast, returning with buns and tea—"Try this; human food's a first for you, I bet," he offered, handing Harribel a share, curious to see a hollow taste the mortal world's fare.
She blinked, taking it—"Oh, thank you," she murmured, biting into a bun, her green eyes widening as the flavor hit—millennia since her human days blurred into oblivion, yet this sparked a ghost of memory, faint and fleeting.
Familiar, yet alien, it tugged at her—Harribel snapped back, devouring the rest in swift bites, then resumed her post, her queenly poise unshaken, though a flicker of wonder lingered beneath her icy mask.
Liam chuckled, clearing the plates—Hueco Mundo's ruler as his net-cafe aide felt oddly right, her stoic grace tinged with a cuteness he hadn't expected, a contrast that warmed his morning's start.
Noon rolled in, and Hu Tao breezed through the door—fresh from a morning burial gig, her spirits high, her exclusive VIP seat a throne she'd claim with relish, no rush dimming her bounce.
She froze at the sight of Harribel behind the counter—blonde, poised, unfamiliar—and glanced at the humming rigs, confirming this was Liam's den, not some stranger's haunt she'd stumbled into by mistake.
Curiosity tugged her forward—"Who're you? Liam's new hire? Where's he at?" she chirped, leaning in, her amber eyes scanning Harribel, a mischief brewing as she sniffed out the story.
Harribel met her gaze, noting the casual "Liam"—a friend, then—"I'm Tia Tier Harribel, subordinate to Lord Liam; he's stepped out on business, and I can't say more," she replied, her tone flat, loyal, a wall Hu Tao couldn't crack.
Hu Tao squinted, sizing her up—Lord Liam? Subordinate?—Liam's flair for drama shone through, a theatrical hire she'd tease him for later, though her grin hinted she'd let it slide for now, games calling louder.
She plopped into her VIP seat, firing up Resident Evil—its title dripped gloom, the interface shadowed and grim, a whiff of unease rising as she clicked in, her nose twitching at the scent of dread to come.
A horror game, maybe—Hu Tao, mistress of the macabre, braced for it, her pulse quickening—not from fear, but anticipation, ready to face whatever lurked in this new digital crypt.
***
Support me on Patreon to read 50+ advanced chapters: patreon.com/Nocturnal_Breeze