Mondstadt's streets at night were quiet and cold.
Eula walked aimlessly, her steps unsteady, the moonlight stretching her lonely shadow longer and longer along the stone road.
If only…
If only back then—
The very first time, at the city gate, when he held out those Cecilia flowers and said those words—
She should have…
She should have accepted.
That belated realization was like a dull blade, sawing back and forth through her already aching heart.
Why did she only understand her own feelings after he finally turned away?
Why did it take the appearance of that blinding bouquet of red roses for her to realize how precious his clumsy persistence had been?
Why was she always one step too late?
Just then—
"Eula—!!!"
The shout split the still night like thunder, striking straight into her foggy consciousness!
That voice—
Yichen?!
Her entire body stiffened.
Her footsteps froze in place.
With the dazed disbelief of someone convinced they were hearing things, she slowly—rigidly—turned her head.
Moonlight poured down like liquid silver.
At the far end of the street, that familiar figure stood there.
Yichen was slightly out of breath, his chest rising and falling from his frantic run, his hair ruffled by the night wind.
Moonlight reflected in his deep eyes, as if filled with scattered stars—
locked tightly onto her, burning with unmistakable intensity.
He… really chased after her?
Eula felt as if an invisible hand clenched her heart, swelling it with pain and longing until it nearly burst from her chest.
A rush of grievance and humiliation surged up her throat, her eyes stinging with heat.
She lowered her head abruptly, using the motion to roughly wipe at her eyes, ruthlessly brushing away the warmth she refused to show.
When she looked up again, the icy mask was back in place—
though her voice betrayed a faint tremor beneath the forced coldness.
"Hmph. So you even bothered to chase after me… just to watch me make a fool of myself?"
"Yichen… I'll remember this grudge."
"Don't say something so stupid."
His reply came immediately.
He stepped forward without hesitation.
The distance between them vanished in an instant.
Eula could smell the faint tavern scent clinging to him, mixed with his own clean, familiar freshness.
She instinctively wanted to step back—
But her body refused to move.
The next moment, something soft and clean, carrying a faint scent of sun-dried soap, gently touched her cheek.
Eula shuddered, as if struck by a weak electric current.
It was a handkerchief.
Yichen's movements were slow and careful.
Through the thin fabric, his fingertips lightly wiped away the traces of moisture she hadn't fully erased.
"I'm sorry, Eula."
"Truly… I'm sorry."
Her breathing caught.
"These past days…"
He continued, his hand never stopping.
"I was arrogant. Thick-skinned. I barged into your life without asking, blocked your patrol routes every day, said things that troubled you…"
"Being pursued by someone like me—someone so persistent, who never considered your feelings—
you must have been annoyed… irritated… the whole time, right?"
Not at all!!!
Her heart screamed the words, a tidal wave crashing against her chest, desperate to break free!
Not annoyed!
Not irritated!
Yes, she hated that he always chose the city gate.
Yes, she hated being watched by guards.
Yes, she hated having to keep a straight face and talk about "vengeance" every time—
But—
Eula stared at the face so close to hers, at the sincerity written plainly in his eyes, at the genuine remorse he didn't even try to hide.
A surge of bitterness and sorrow flooded her chest, choking her throat.
This idiot.
This universe-class blockhead.
He chased after her.
He wiped her tears.
And he still thought she hated him?
Had he truly felt none of her hesitation behind those hundred refusals?
None of her awkward, indirect hints?
Even now…
He still hadn't realized—
Her lips trembled, the icy façade cracking under his gentle touch and earnest apology.
She wanted to shout back.
To grab his collar and yell, "I was never annoyed!"
To pour out all the grievance and feelings she'd bottled up over a hundred times.
But when she opened her mouth—
Only deeper bitterness and an almost desperate sense of helplessness remained.
Eula bit down hard on her lower lip and turned her face away, avoiding his focused gaze—
and avoiding the emotions threatening to spill completely out of control.