"Innkeeper, send all of today's bills to the Northland Bank—put them on Childe's tab."
After meeting Tartaglia, both Barbatos and Ei had already put the arrogant La Signora out of their minds. After all, to them, a mere Harbinger was no different from an ordinary person. Not worth remembering. Especially after Zhongli explained the proper way to utilize Tartaglia, Barbatos and Ei became very interested. They called over the innkeeper and ordered the finest wine, the best tea, and the most exquisite sweet snacks.
Tartaglia's head ached. He deeply regretted bringing La Signora to this inn. Not only had they nearly provoked several gods, but now he was also burdened with a mountain of bills. He was numb. Still, when the gods put their expenses on his tab, he did not object. He simply offered a polite smile.
Just then, La Signora, swaying her elegant, alluring figure, slowly walked to Tartaglia's side. Seeming to have forgotten Ei's earlier strike, she bent her voluptuous form and sat down at the gods' table without hesitation.
But the moment she sat, Electro energy surged around Ei again. "Hmph, Morax, this one is not your friend, is she? What makes her think she belongs at this table?"
Zhongli replied indifferently, "I don't know her."
Hearing this, Ei's Electro power erupted. "Then it's simple."
In an instant, the surging energy struck La Signora precisely, lifting her from her chair and blasting her back several meters, nearly knocking her to the ground.
La Signora was furious. She had let the first lightning strike slide, but now Ei dared to strike again? Did they truly have no regard for Snezhnaya? No respect for the Tsaritsa?
She said coldly, "Raiden Shogun, Rex Lapis, remember what you have done today. I will report everything that happened here to the Tsaritsa."
Zhongli's expression remained indifferent. Ei shrugged. "Go ahead. Bring your master here to listen to these stories. Perhaps she will be the next one featured. That would be interesting."
La Signora snorted, turned, and walked away. "Just wait. Her Majesty will come."
After being publicly humiliated twice by Ei, her confidence and smile had vanished. Her face cold, she slunk away.
But just then, Li Mo, sitting on the stage, could no longer simply watch. He did not want to see these people who had once been close now at odds. He wanted everyone to sit peacefully in the inn and listen to the stories. That was the only way to complete his mission and reunite with them sooner.
Besides, the next story would be about La Signora. If she left now, how could he make her cry? It would only hinder his mission.
He spoke slowly. "Wait a moment, Lady Signora—or perhaps I should call you by your true name: Rosalyne‑Kruzchka Lohefalter."
The moment he said that name, La Signora, who had already begun to leave, froze in place, her body rigid.
Rosalyne‑Kruzchka Lohefalter. A name that had been abandoned for five hundred years. To hear it spoken again…
She slowly turned her head, staring at the storyteller with icy eyes. "Who are you? How do you know that name?"
That was her name from long ago. Ever since she joined the Fatui five hundred years prior, she had cast it aside, adopting the name La Signora. Apart from the Tsaritsa and a few other Harbingers, even Tartaglia did not know she had such a name. How could this storyteller know it?
Li Mo heard her accusation and replied calmly, "I am merely a storyteller who knows many stories and enjoys telling them. Miss Rosalyne, do you not wish to see Rostam again?"
At the name Rostam, La Signora could no longer control the power within her. Blazing flames erupted around her body. Her expression shifted from cold to stunned.
Why? Why did the storyteller know the name Rostam?
Gritting her teeth, she looked at Li Mo with complex eyes. "Who told you that name? Was it that worthless Barbatos? Does he even have the face to mention Rostam?"
As she spoke, she cast a cold glance at Barbatos, who was drinking nearby. There was no respect in her gaze—only resentment and contempt.
Li Mo sighed. "You do not need to know who told me. You only need to know one thing: the soul of Knight Rostam did not truly die. It did not enter the underworld. It entered the cycle of reincarnation."
Indeed, the next story would be about La Signora and Rostam.
Hearing that Rostam's soul was not dead—that it had not gone to the underworld but had entered reincarnation—La Signora was struck as if by lightning. She stood frozen.
Joy. Sorrow. Confusion.
But then, she burst into loud, unrestrained laughter.
Li Mo frowned slightly. "Rosalyne, what are you laughing at?"
Seeing her again after so long, even he, who had once been close to her, barely recognized her. In five hundred years, she had transformed from a gentle, lovesick maiden into the Crimson Witch of Flames that terrified the world.
Below the stage, La Signora heard his voice and laughed still louder.
"I laugh at how naive Barbatos is, how childish. After living for thousands of years, he is moved to tears by your fabricated stories. What a useless, pathetic excuse for an Anemo Archon. But you may fool Barbatos with your fabrications—you cannot fool me. Rostam is dead. I saw his body stained with the dragon's poison, corroded bit by bit until not even his bones remained. Storyteller, all you do is weave false tales. Hahaha—"
La Signora—or rather, the Crimson Witch of Flames. Even after five hundred years, she had not forgotten the name Rostam. But she knew he was dead. She was certain he was dead. When Li Mo spoke of Rostam's reincarnation, she was sure he was lying.
On stage, Li Mo looked at La Signora laughing uncontrollably below. He felt no anger toward her. Only guilt. Because he could hear in that unrestrained laughter a deep sorrow and helplessness and the blood and tears shed over all those years.
Her tears had dried. Her blood had burned. The lovesick maiden had been consumed by flames.