Inside Angel's Share.
Hans Archibald sat slumped on the floor.
He breathed deeply, like a man breaking the surface after nearly drowning. The weight on his soul had finally lifted.
He looked at Venti—the "bard."
Slowly, Hans climbed to his feet and bowed deeply.
"Lord Barbatos… I… thank you."
"Ehe." Venti instantly returned to his carefree smile. "I'm no 'lord.' Just a bard."
Paimon circled him in disbelief.
"Y-You're really the Anemo Archon?!"
Her tiny face was full of shock.
"Wait!" she suddenly perked up. "You helped so much… what about payment? You can't just work for free!"
Venti blinked innocently.
"Payment? Of course there is."
He turned toward the bar.
"Master Diluc!" Venti raised his hand high. "Hans left half a bottle of apple cider unfinished! I'll take that as compensation!"
Hans: "..."
Lumine: "..."
A vein twitched on Diluc's forehead.
[Chatroom – Kaeya]: "…(facepalm)… The Archon's 'payment' is truly modest."
[Chatroom – Zhongli]: "(sips tea)… By universal standards, quite fitting for him."
Venti happily claimed the half bottle and took a satisfied sip before sitting back down across from Lumine.
"You…" Lumine studied him. "Why do you use that form?"
She meant his appearance.
Venti lightly touched the false Vision at his chest and gazed past the tavern window toward the statue in the plaza—the Anemo Archon with arms outstretched.
"Because… a long, long time ago…"
His voice softened.
"Mondstadt wasn't the City of Freedom."
"It was imprisoned by the winds of Decarabian, the Lord of the Tower."
"Back then…" He chuckled faintly. "I wasn't a god. I was just… a tiny, insignificant wind spirit."
"Like a wind slime?" Paimon interrupted.
"...That's a vivid metaphor," Venti muttered.
"I had no form."
"Until… I met a boy."
His emerald eyes grew impossibly gentle.
"He played the lyre. He was the first 'wind' to dare defy the tyrant."
"We fought together."
His voice lowered.
"We won."
"But he didn't live to see the tower fall."
"He never saw the free sky."
Silence filled the tavern.
Venti softly hummed a melody—ancient, sorrowful, yet threaded with hope.
"So I borrowed his appearance."
"I wanted… to see the freedom he never could."
Lumine understood.
Without a word, she turned.
"Paimon."
"Huh?"
"I'm hungry," Lumine said calmly. "Could you get two Fisherman's Toasts from Good Hunter?"
"Eh?! Now?!" Paimon protested.
"…Two."
"F-Fine!" Paimon darted out instantly.
Now only Lumine, Venti, and Diluc remained.
"That song…" Lumine asked quietly. "Did he teach it to you?"
"Yes."
Venti plucked his lyre.
This time, he sang.
"Why do birds fly toward the sky…"
"Does the sky promise them a home…"
"O wind, carry me beyond these walls…"
"I shall play for you a song of the high heavens…"
The melody drifted through the tavern.
In it was the grief of an old world.
The longing of a new one.
And a boy's unyielding wish for freedom.
Thud.
A dusty wine bottle landed heavily on Venti's table.
Diluc.
"This is…" Venti looked up.
"A vintage from Dawn Winery," Diluc said coolly. "Same year as your song."
He turned away.
"Don't waste it."
Venti stared at the bottle.
Then smiled.
"Ehe."
The tavern doors opened again.
Jack entered.
He saw Hans sitting quietly in the corner.
"Mr. Hans?"
Hans lifted his head.
The boastful "Stanley" was gone. Only an ordinary man remained.
"Jack."
"I'm not Stanley."
He told him everything.
No embellishment. No lies.
Jack listened quietly.
To the story of a true hero.
After a long moment—
"Waaahhh!!"
"So that's how it was!!"
"Mr. Hans—you're amazing!!"
Hans blinked. "Amazing?"
"Yes!!" Jack waved the rusty sword enthusiastically. "You carried Stanley's will!"
"That's a thousand times cooler than just 'going' to the Mare Jivari!!"
Hans stared at the boy shining with admiration.
And for the first time—
He smiled.
A real smile.
That night, Angel's Share was unusually lively.
Citizens poured in.
They raised their glasses to Hans Archibald's new beginning.
To the true Stanley.
And to the bard who sang of freedom.
Venti accepted every toast.
He finished the vintage.
He finished the cider.
He drank and laughed.
And cried.
For a friend long gone.
And for the freedom he had guarded for a thousand years.
The next morning.
Sunlight streamed into Lumine's room at the Goth Grand Hotel.
She woke up with a splitting headache.
"…(Head hurts.)"
A pale blue screen shimmered to life before her.
[System]: "Act Two: 'I Shall Play for You the Song of the High Heavens' has concluded."
[System]: "Initiating new chapter."
[System]: "Act Three. Scene One."
[System]: "'Rite of Descension.'"
The screen shifted.
No more windmills.
No towering cathedral.
Instead—
A magnificent harbor.
Lofty mountains encircling bustling streets.
Ships filling a vast port.
Liyue Harbor.