At noon, sunlight warmed the stone slabs outside Good Hunter, and the air was thick with the mouthwatering aromas of grilled meat, butter-fried fish, and freshly baked bread.
Yichen untied the dark apron speckled with oil and sauce, folded it neatly, and placed it at the corner of the counter.
He smoothed the last wrinkle from his shirt, then walked over to Sara, who was checking accounts behind the counter.
"Sister Sara,"
Yichen said with his trademark sunny smile, his voice clear and relaxed.
"That was the last 'Satisfying Salad' order—it's been delivered to Table Three. Also… could you please settle my wages for this month?"
Sara looked up from the thick ledger, her brow lifting slightly.
"You're really leaving? Not even going to think it over a bit more?"
She leaned against the counter, her gaze sweeping over the nearly full restaurant—where quite a few young female customers were subtly glancing this way.
"You know, once you're gone, my 'guaranteed foot traffic' is going to drop by at least half. And,"
she paused, her tone turning sincere,
"you're genuinely hardworking. Sharp eyes, quick hands, never complained once. Good help like you isn't easy to find."
Yichen's smile didn't change, but there was unmistakable ease—and relief—in his eyes.
"Yeah. You really took care of me during this time. But…"
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze seeming to pass straight through the restaurant walls toward a future called freedom.
"I've already made up my mind."
Sara studied him for a few seconds, then let out a soft sigh and said no more.
She turned to open the heavy Mora cash box. Coins clinked crisply as she counted out the full amount—then slipped in a few extra shining coins for good measure. She tied them up in a sturdy little pouch and slid it toward him.
"Take it. You earned it. And if things ever don't work out… come back anytime. I'll keep the spot for you."
"Thanks, Sister Sara."
Yichen accepted the weighty pouch, feeling the cool metal through the fabric. The dream of no longer working suddenly felt far more real.
He nodded seriously in farewell, then pushed open Good Hunter's jingling wooden door and stepped into Mondstadt's lazy yet bustling afternoon crowd.
The warm sunlight fell on his shoulders as he weighed the pouch in his hand, his steps light.
Even though the afternoon "task" was basically a formality, it was the hundredth confession—some sense of ceremony was still needed.
As he walked, Yichen mentally drafted his lines, trying to add something fresh within the framework of a "heartfelt confession."
"Hmm… 'I like you' is mandatory. 'With marriage as the goal' can't be dropped…"
He rubbed his chin and muttered,
"Maybe add something like… 'Thank you for your patience all this time'?"
A faint sense of guilt rose in his chest.
After all, being harassed by someone you don't like a hundred times in a row would annoy anyone.
For Miss Eula to endure this long without drawing her sword was already peak knightly restraint, wasn't it?
He shook his head inwardly.
This time, he'd be more sincere. More humble. Give her enough dignity—let her reject him gracefully…
Just as Yichen was deep in thought about how to elegantly complete the final act of harassment—
An arm clad in a black leather glove suddenly shot out from the side and wrapped firmly around his shoulder with practiced familiarity!
"Yo—! Would you look at this!"
A voice filled with exaggerated cheer rang out beside his ear, unmistakably belonging to Kaeya Alberich, Captain of the Knights of Favonius Cavalry—flippant, playful, and sharp beneath the surface.
"Isn't this Mondstadt's very own, world-famous 'Number One Devoted Lover'—Yichen?"
Kaeya leaned in closer, his single visible eye gleaming with gossip.
"Just heard some amazing news! The ninety-ninth confession—once again leaving a bold, glorious stroke in Captain Eula's 'Grudge Notebook'? My, my, such perseverance—it truly moves the heavens!"
Caught off guard by the sudden "headlock," Yichen stumbled. He turned irritably, only to meet Kaeya's I-live-for-drama grin.
His brow twitched, and he immediately shot back:
"Oh? I was wondering who it was. Isn't this Mondstadt's 'appears-and-disappears,' 'professional slacker' Cavalry Captain—Yuan Rang? What, did the Knights move patrol duty to sunbathing outside Good Hunter today? Or—"
He deliberately paused, scanning Kaeya's leisurely outfit.
"—are you here specifically to admire my legendary devotion?"
The words "Yuan Rang" landed like a perfectly aimed arrow.
Kaeya's smug expression froze instantly. His mouth twitched, as if he'd bitten into an unripe sour grape.
"Hey—hey—hey!"
He released Yichen and rubbed his forehead dramatically, his single eye full of helplessness.
"I've told you eight hundred times! My name is Kaeya! KAE-YA! Kaeya Alberich! Not 'Yuan Rang'! Can you please stop giving people random nicknames?"
"Got it, Yuan Rang. Understood, Yuan Rang."
Kaeya was utterly defeated.
He slumped exaggeratedly, letting out a long, theatrical sigh, shoulders drooping.
"…Forget it. Arguing with you is a complete waste of my precious slacking time."
He waved a hand in surrender.
But the next second, Kaeya leaned in again, nudging Yichen's waist with his elbow and lowering his voice conspiratorially. His eye sparkled with mischief.
"Jokes aside, Yichen,"
he waggled his brows,
"this afternoon… is it the legendary hundredth time?"
Yichen admitted it calmly, patting the bulging money pouch at his waist, feeling the edges of the extra Mora Sara had slipped in.
"Final run. Clock out and done."
"Hehehe…"
Kaeya let out a meaningful chuckle, unconsciously stroking his chin as his gaze drifted—clearly calculating something.
"So… tell me,"
he asked casually, a bit too casually,
"this time… think there's a chance? How confident are you?"
The tone sounded like idle chatter—but that forced nonchalance made it far too suspicious.
Yichen's eyes sharpened instantly, locking onto Kaeya's seemingly innocent face like a hawk.
"Captain. Kae. Ya."
He spoke slowly, deliberately, each syllable clear.
"You wouldn't happen to have…
opened another betting pool…"
He dragged out the words, watching Kaeya's expression like a microscope.
"…in your Knights' so-called 'recreation room,' would you?"