Inside Angel's Share Tavern, warm candlelight lazily licked the oak bar counter.
The rich aroma of dandelion wine and roasted pinewood should have filled the air—
—but at this moment, all of it was completely overwhelmed by an even stronger, more intoxicating scent:
Winning money.
Behind the bar, Master Diluc calmly polished a crystal goblet.
In front of the bar, Kaeya lay sprawled without the slightest shred of dignity atop a small mountain of Mora. The glittering coins reflected off his dark face as they jumped, spun, and collided between his fingers.
Clink—clang—clink—clang—
"Thirty-eight… thirty-nine… forty…"
"Hehehe…
Drinks!
My drinks for the next three months are secured!"
In the corner of the tavern, a group of Knights of Favonius—dragged here by Kaeya under the excuse of 'big win, universal celebration'—were in full boil.
Tankards collided with bold, ringing clacks.
Loud laughter threatened to lift the roof.
And at the center of every conversation—
was naturally the tragic-comic spectacle that had just unfolded at the city gate.
"Tsk tsk, that final turn of his—sunset stretching his shadow long and thin—damn, it was stylish. Really stylish. Think about it!"
"Stylish? That was the last gasp of a dying flame! One hundred times, brothers! Even praying to the Anemo Archon a hundred times should get some kind of response!"
"Shh—lower your voice! The person involved is right there!"
All gazes—three parts gossip, seven parts awe—swiveled toward the shadowed corner by the window.
Eula Lawrence sat there quietly.
A glass of dandelion wine rested untouched before her.
Her hair fell forward, hiding half her face—but the tightly pressed line of her lips and the frigid pressure radiating from her made one thing unmistakably clear:
Do. Not. Approach.
Beside her, Amber fidgeted like an anxious rabbit, hesitating again and again before finally whispering:
"Eula…"
Her voice was barely audible.
"Do you think…
Yichen will come again… tomorrow?"
Eula turned her head slightly. Her expression was unreadable.
"I… don't know."
She didn't know if he would come tomorrow.
But next time—
Next time we meet… in a place with only the two of us…
Then it will be my turn.
I, Eula Lawrence, will speak first.
That thought burned stubbornly in her frozen heart—
a tiny spark in a winter night.
And then—
Creaaaak.
The heavy oak door of Angel's Share swung open.
Night air rushed in, carrying Mondstadt's cool breeze and making the candle flames flicker.
A figure—painfully familiar—strode in.
In his arms:
not Cecilias, not daffodils—
—but a massive bouquet of fiery red roses, blazing like flame, symbols of adoration.
Eula's heart shot straight up into her throat.
Her fingers dug hard into her palm.
This idiot—
don't tell me—
NOW?!
HERE?!
IN FRONT OF EVERYONE FROM THE KNIGHTS?!
No. Absolutely not.
Her entire body tensed.
Amber grabbed her arm instinctively.
But what happened next left everyone—
especially Eula—
completely stunned.
Yichen didn't slow down.
Not even for a fraction of a second.
His gaze didn't linger on Eula's high-presence corner for even a heartbeat.
Clutching the blazing red roses, carrying a sense of absolute resolve, he marched straight toward the back of the tavern.
There—
Acting Grand Master Jean Gunnhildr stood with a slight frown, quietly discussing something with Lisa, a document still in her hand.
The tavern's noise died instantly.
As if someone had pressed pause on the world.
Every gaze locked onto the roses—
and the man holding them.
Yichen stopped in front of Jean.
He ignored Lisa's instantly playful—yet dangerous—look.
Ignored the massive confusion and rising vigilance in Jean's eyes.
"Grand Master Jean!"
He extended the bouquet forward with both hands—
his posture as formal as if presenting state documents.
"I like you!"
"Please—
with marriage as the goal—
go out with me!"
Absolute silence crushed Angel's Share.
Even the air itself seemed frozen solid.
Jean's eyes flew wide open.
The documents slipped silently from her hands, scattering across the floor.
Crack.
Lisa's wine glass made a soft sound—
a fine fracture spreading along the stem where her fingers had unconsciously tightened.
And at the bar—
Kaeya's single eye, which seconds ago had been drunk on Mora, suddenly lit up like a powered searchlight.
Every trace of alcohol evaporated instantly.
He sprang off the Mora pile, moving so fast it kicked up a gust of wind.
"OPEN THE POOL—!
OPEN THE POOL—!
OPEN IT NOW!!!"
His voice cracked with excitement. Both arms flailed like windmills as he shouted at the stunned knights, at the entire tavern, at anyone not yet petrified:
"YICHEN VS ACTING GRAND MASTER JEAN!
BRAND-NEW BETTING POOL!
ODDS LIVE! PLACE YOUR BETS NOW!!!"
"Bet how many confessions he lasts!"
"Bet when Jean draws her sword!"
"Bet when Lisa finally electrocutes him!"
"Bet how many pieces he gets chopped into!!!"
"COME ON! BET! BET!!!
TONIGHT'S DRINKS—TEN TIMES RETURNS!!!"
The tavern's silence was obliterated by Kaeya's earth-shattering cry of 'Open the pool!'—
replaced by an even greater storm of chaos, disbelief, absurdity…
…and a faint, dangerous excitement.
All except for one person.
At the window—
Eula Lawrence stared unblinkingly at the figure holding red roses before Jean—
at that unbearably bright smile on his face.
Beneath the table, in the unnoticed shadows—
A perfectly clear shard of ice formed in her gloved hand.
And without a sound—
It was crushed.
Reduced to glittering, frost-cold powder.