"Farmas? Farmas!"
Just as the four were ready to chat through the night, Venti noticed that Farmas' eyes were slowly closing in his arms.
Was he… sleepy?
Venti tapped the slime's squishy cheek. He wasn't sure whether Farmas was actually tired or just pretending so he could use it as an excuse to sleep at Amber's place.
"Don't fake sleep, Farmas."
He lifted the little slime up and shook him vigorously.
…No response.
…Not even a wiggle.
"Um, Venti, where do you two usually sleep?"
Amber asked, watching the bard shake Farmas like a maraca.
"Me? I usually go to Master Diluc's tavern. Order a strong drink, get drunk, and boom—when I wake up it's morning."
Venti scratched his cheek embarrassedly.
"That… certainly sounds like a place Venti would sleep,"
Jean sighed.
Fortunately, Angel's Share was the only tavern in Mondstadt that stayed open all night, quietly doubling as an unofficial shelter for drunkards. Otherwise, the Knights would have even more nighttime work.
"Well, it is a city famous for wine."
Venti nodded. "Farmas usually stays with Lumine and the others. But if it's him, camping in the wild is no problem at all, right?"
Jean and Amber exchanged a look—they both knew Venti meant Farmas' slime form.
"Ahh…"
Jean yawned. Exhaustion finally caught up to her after skipping her usual coffee routine.
She spread the blanket Amber handed her across the sofa, tucked the corner under her thighs, leaned back, and closed her eyes.
Seeing Jean nearly asleep, Amber lowered her voice.
"We should probably rest too. We've talked so much… and there's a lot to do tomorrow."
Venti stood, carrying Farmas.
"Thanks for the hospitality. We'll head back now."
"Mm! Venti, be careful out there. Come find me if you need anything!"
Amber waved enthusiastically.
Thud.
Since his hands were full, Venti nudged the door shut with his foot, leaving only Amber and Jean inside the quiet dormitory.
"So… is Acting Grand Master Jean staying here tonight?"
Amber nudged Jean—
and discovered her respected leader had already slipped into deep, exhausted sleep.
Amber glanced around the small room.
Two single sofas.
A table far too hard to sleep on.
Nothing suitable as an extra bed.
"…If you don't mind, then… let's just sleep together."
Amber whispered to the peacefully sleeping Jean.
"…If you don't answer, I'll take it as yes."
Jean, naturally, did not respond.
Amber gently lifted Jean—blanket and all—and carried her into the bedroom.
"Jean really has such a nice figure… How come she doesn't have a boyfriend?"
Amber muttered, lying down beside her.
In the dim light, she couldn't see Jean's sleeping face clearly—
but that soft, refreshing scent, like dandelions on a spring breeze, lingered around her.
"…Good night."
Amber closed her eyes.
Outside the Knights' Headquarters
"Wuhu! Up you go!"
The rain had stopped, though a fine drizzle still lingered.
Once outside, Venti found a secluded spot—
—and promptly YEETED Farmas into the sky with all his strength, then blasted him even higher with a gust of Anemo.
BOOM!
Just as Farmas shot into heights where he could no longer be seen, a burst of blazing Pyro erupted in the clouds.
A red lance cut through the night sky like a meteor, and a figure plummeted straight down toward Venti.
"Do you have a death wish, Barbatos?"
It was Farmas—very much awake.
He had felt himself being launched, then surrounded by an intense Anemo pressure.
When he opened his eyes and realized he was falling from an absurd height…
he panicked, shifted into human form midair, and dive-bombed downward.
"Eheh~ Wasn't it exciting? Fun? Thrilling?"
Venti spread his arms dramatically, eyes closed, head tilted back, trusting Farmas completely even as the man fell toward him like a flaming spear.
Just before the lance tip impaled the bard, Farmas twisted its momentum and stabbed the ground at Venti's feet instead.
"…Well? What do you want?"
Farmas asked, brushing wind-messy hair back and leaning lazily on his lance.
"Even though the Lyre is fixed, I'm still worried about Dvalin."
Venti lowered his arms and faced him.
A thousand years ago, Farmas often wore full armor—pauldrons, bracers, breastplate, greaves—while battling invading gods to protect Munata.
So the sight of him standing armed and armored again, a relic from the age of war, carried its own weight.
"I haven't governed Mondstadt for two thousand years,"
Venti said quietly.
"A god needs to guide their people to build divinity.
Right now… I may not even be stronger than you."
"If the Skyward Lyre fails to calm Dvalin…
he may rage.
Or flee."
Venti stepped closer.
"If he loses control completely… I need you to help protect everyone."
Farmas dismissed his armor, replacing it with casual clothes.
He towered half a head above Venti, making the bard seem even smaller as he stood before him.
"…Alright."
He reached out, ruffled Venti's hair—
then, for no reason except mischief, really scrubbed it.
"H-Hey—! I'm being serious…!"
Venti squeaked, dodging as Farmas continued patting his head with overly warm hands.
"If you've agreed, then… I'll go! You should get back too."
Venti backed away, fixing his tousled braids and hat, ensuring the Cecilia flower was perfectly placed.
Then, flustered, he waved goodbye and hurried off toward Angel's Share.
"See you tomorrow!"
The wind carried his voice away.
"…See you tomorrow,"
Farmas answered softly.
Back at the Inn
Farmas slipped silently through the window of Lumine's room.
There they were—
Lumine and Paimon, fast asleep.
Lumine's blanket had slid down to her legs, one bare foot peeking out.
Paimon lay sprawled on Lumine's chest like she'd been chatting and simply dozed off mid-sentence.
Farmas tiptoed over and gently pulled the blanket back up over Lumine.
Then his form shrank—slowly, quietly—until he returned to a small, round, warm Pyro slime.
"Goodnight."
He hopped into Lumine's arm, curled up…
…and fell peacefully asleep.
~---------------------------
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