"Strange… who's thinking about me?"
Idris rubbed the bridge of his nose. A prickling sixth sense told him someone, somewhere, was talking about him.
Floating lazily through the office, Nahida chirped, "Probably the Fatui Doctor. After how you humiliated him, he won't let it go." A beat, then a sly giggle. "Or Nilu. Honestly, blockhead, she looked your way more than thirty times during that dance. You could've at least smiled back!"
"I did not… And, Your Little Lucky Grass Majesty—are you trying out a ring-spirit old master routine?"
Ever since she'd promised to "learn seriously," Nahida's consciousness had become his permanent shadow—everywhere except the bath and at night, when she slipped under his covers to warm the bed and then phased away before he could "properly scold" her. At this point, sparring with a child-god's impishness was a losing game.
He set the teasing aside and paged through the contracts he'd signed with Ningguang's delegation. Another reform milestone; time to ping the system.
System:Without releasing the god or triggering upheaval, you have altered Sumeru's diplomatic standing and advanced its storyline. Liyue has re-opened formal ties ahead of schedule. Reward granted: Draconic Tempering Bloodline.
Upon absorption, your physique greatly strengthens—alone rivaling Vision-bearers. Longevity increases accordingly.
"Not bad." With this, Idris figured he could beat Cyno without Sacred Shield or Frostmourne. If he went all out, even the false 'God of the Machine' wouldn't be a problem.
A bottle's worth of dark, lustrous blood coalesced in his palm. Plenty to work with. But first—
He crumpled a note and flicked it at the open window:
"Want research funds? Get a job—or enroll as a beginner in the future Alchemy Faculty. Stop riding Anemo drafts to my windowsill. I won't approve your budget—don't try again."
Thwack.
"—Ow!"
"F-Faruzan, are you all right?"
"It hurts, it hurts—who weaponizes paper? Don't tell me the new Grand Sage is a martial artist too—run!"
Footsteps scattered down the corridor.
Propping his cheek on one hand, Idris smiled toward the window. Grow up fast, you rascals. For now, only Alhaitham and Cyno were truly dependable. The rest would have to be trained—or replaced.
He lifted the bottle and began absorbing the draconic blood.
—
That night, in Nilu's room at the Bazaar.
The flowers and applause still hadn't lifted her mood. Somewhere along the way, the person she'd started watching—really watching—hadn't looked her way even once.
Sleep took her. In the dream's soft green, a small, familiar silhouette appeared.
"Little Lucky Grass King? Is that you?"
"It's me, Nilu," Nahida said, voice like wind through leaves. "You seem… troubled."
"Do I? I—maybe…"
Nahida smiled, then quoted something she'd heard on the breeze, something that felt right to say here:
"Love is a kind of freedom, too. So chase your freedom, girl."
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