The "Ehe" was not effective.
In the grand tier list of conversational de-escalation tactics, winking while lying amidst the wreckage of a mahogany table apparently ranked somewhere below "insulting their mother" and "setting yourself on fire."
The elf woman, whose name I would later learn was Ryuu, did not blush. She did not smile. She simply stared at me with eyes that held the cool, detached judgment of a glacier watching a sinking ship.
"You," she said, her voice crisp enough to snap lettuce, "have destroyed Table Four."
"An artistic critique of furniture?" I offered, propping myself up on one elbow and dusting sawdust off my white stockings. "I felt it really tied the room down. Too oppressive. I liberated it."
"You are going to liberate your wallet," a new voice boomed.
The floorboards trembled. A shadow eclipsed the lantern light. I looked up. And up. And up.
Standing over me was a woman who could best be described as a topographical landmark. She was a dwarf, technically, but she had the presence of a siege tower. Her arms were crossed, biceps straining against her shirt like caged pythons. This was Mia Grand, the proprietress of the *Benevolent Mistress*, though at this moment, "Benevolent" seemed like false advertising.
She looked at the splinters. She looked at me. She grinned, and it was terrifying.
"That table cost four thousand Valis. The chairs, another two. The structural integrity of my floor? Priceless. Pay up, bard."
I scrambled to my feet, my green cape fluttering dramatically. "Ah, noble proprietress! Surely a song would suffice? A ballad of high adventure to pay for—"
"Cash," Mia said, holding out a hand the size of a shovel.
I patted my empty pockets. I patted the 4D pouch. I had a broken flashlight, a homicidal cape, a suicidal helicopter, and zero currency.
"Well," I laughed nervously, channeling my inner Anemo Archon. "About that. I seem to be temporarily embarrassed in the liquid asset department. But!" I raised a finger before she could crush my skull. "I can fix it!"
Mia raised an eyebrow. "You're a carpenter?"
"Better! I have... artifacts."
I dove into the pouch. *Time Cloth! Give me the Time Cloth!* I visualized the red and blue handkerchief that could reverse time on objects. If I could just wrap the table debris in it, it would revert to its pristine state. Easy. No debt. Free booze? Maybe free booze.
My hand closed around soft fabric. I pulled it out with a flourish.
It was indeed the Time Cloth. It looked authentic, patterned with clock gears.
"Behold!" I announced to the silent tavern. "The Chrono-Weave of the Ancients!"
I fell to my knees and began frantically gathering the splinters, table legs, and scattered wood chips into a pile. I threw the cloth over the heap, making sure the red side (for "Past") was facing down.
"Watch and be amazed!" I shouted.
I waited.
The cloth began to glow. A low hum filled the room, sounding like a choir of confused bees.
"Is it supposed to smoke?" a grey-haired cat-girl waitress (Anya, probably) asked from the bar.
"It's part of the process!" I lied, sweat beading on my forehead.
The humming grew louder. The cloth didn't just glow; it began to pulsate. The shape underneath it started to grow.
"See?" I beamed at Mia. "It's returning to its previous form!"
"It's getting... really big," Ryuu noted, stepping back.
"Just a very robust table!" I insisted.
The cloth suddenly shot upward.
It wasn't a table.
The gadget, in its infinite broken wisdom, had taken the command "return to previous form" a bit too literally. It didn't stop at "table." It didn't stop at "lumber." It went all the way back to the source.
With a sound like a thunderclap, a massive oak tree erupted from the floorboards.
Branches whipped out with explosive speed, shattering the ceiling lamps. Roots pulverized the stone foundation, cracking the floor like an eggshell. Leaves sprouted instantly, filling the dining area with a dense canopy of foliage.
I was hoisted into the air by a rapidly expanding branch, dangling by my cape.
"WHOA!"
The growth spurt lasted three seconds. When the dust settled, the center of the *Benevolent Mistress* was no longer a dining area. It was a forest. A full-grown, ancient oak tree now dominated the room, its branches sticking out through the smashed windows and its roots overturning three other tables.
A single acorn dropped from the canopy and plinked into Mia's beer mug.
Silence. Again.
I hung from the branch, swinging gently, looking down at the devastation. The damage had gone from "expensive" to "catastrophic remodel."
"So," I called down, my voice trembling slightly. "I think the rustic aesthetic really opens up the space. Very... druidic chic?"
Mia slowly crushed the beer mug in her hand. Glass dust sparkled as it fell.
"Syr," Mia said, her voice dangerously calm.
A girl with silver hair and eyes the color of a stormy sea stepped forward. She was smiling. Actually smiling. As if this was the most entertaining thing she'd seen all year.
"Yes, Mama?" Syr asked.
"Total the damage. Include the roof. And the structural foundation."
"Of course."
Mia looked up at me. I tried to look small and harmless, like a wind spirit who meant well.
"Boy," Mia growled. "You have two options. One: I sell your organs to the dark guilds. Two: You work here until that tree rots."
"I love the service industry!" I yelled immediately, unhooking my cape and dropping to the floor. I landed in a crouch, struck a pose, and flashed a peace sign. "Venti, at your service! I can sing, I can dance, and I can... uh... prune?"
Ryuu sighed, a sound of deep, spiritual exhaustion. She walked over, pulled a leaf out of her hair, and looked me up and down.
"We don't need a bard," Ryuu said. "We need a server."
She looked at my outfit—the corset, the stockings, the braids.
"And," she added, a spark of something almost sadistic in her eyes, "you already fit the uniform requirements."
I looked at the waitresses in their green dresses and white aprons. I looked down at my own green and white ensemble.
"Wait," I said. "You don't mean..."
Syr clapped her hands together, beaming. "Oh, he'll be adorable! We just need to get him a apron!"
"Now hold on!" I protested, backing up until I hit the trunk of the tree I had just summoned. "I am a chaotic neutral entity of wind and freedom! I do not wear frills!"
---
**Ten Minutes Later.**
"I feel a draft," I complained.
I was standing in the kitchen of the *Benevolent Mistress*. My cape was gone. My corset was gone. I was now wearing the standard-issue green waitress uniform of the Hostess of Fertility.
It fit disturbingly well.
"Stop squirming," Ryuu said, tightening the bow of my apron with military precision. "You have a debt of approximately eight million Valis. By my calculations, if you work double shifts for the next forty years, you might die free."
"Forty years?!" I wailed. "I have places to be! Dungeons to explore! broken gadgets to inflict upon the world!"
"Table Seven needs two ales and a pasta set," Ryuu said, shoving a tray into my hands. "Go. And if you summon a forest in the kitchen, I will feed you to it."
I grumbled, adjusting the skirt. "Fine. But I'm keeping the braids. They're my brand."
I kicked open the kitchen door, stepping out into the pub. The giant oak tree was still there, now decorated with lanterns that Syr had hung up to make the best of a bad situation. The patrons were actually loving it, drinking under the branches.
I took a deep breath, pasted on a dazzling, cheeky smile, and sashayed toward Table Seven.
"Greetings, weary travelers!" I chirped, slamming the ales down with a little too much force. "Who wants to hear a poem about a tree that didn't know when to stop growing? Tips are mandatory, criticism is ignored, and if you touch the skirt, I will vaporize you with a toaster!"
I patted the 4D pocket hidden under my apron.
*Okay, world,* I thought. *You want a femboy waitress bard? You got one. But the next time someone orders a steak, I'm using the 'Gourmet Tablecloth' and god help us all.*
"Hey, waitress!" a drunken adventurer shouted, waving at me. "You're a cute one! What's your name?"
I spun around, winking, and stuck out my tongue.
"Name's Venti! And I accept payment in apple cider and validation!"
This was going to be a long forty years.