Diluc and the others walked through the streets of Mondstadt, heading toward the mysterious woman's house. Their footsteps echoed softly against the stone pavement, but none of them spoke—until Kaeya finally broke the silence.
"Diluc," he began, glancing sideways at his brother, "I appreciate you calling us after finding a lead about Etoma. But you still haven't told us what kind of lead it is."
Diluc didn't slow his pace. "Just follow me. You'll find out soon enough," he replied flatly. "If it concerns her, I wouldn't joke about it."
That was enough to shut the conversation down again.
"Traveler… what do you think happened to Etoma?" Paimon whispered, hovering beside Lumine. Her face was tight with worry. "Paimon's really worried…"
Lumine shook her head. "All we know is that she's missing. I don't have any answers."
She paused, her expression darkening.
"…And I hope nothing terrible has happened."
"Kgh… that Hug Bandit," Paimon muttered, puffing her cheeks. "When we find her, Paimon's definitely going to scold her for making everyone worry!" She stomped her tiny foot midair.
Lumine let out a quiet chuckle at Paimon's antics. But beneath that faint smile, her chest felt heavy with unease.
'Etoma… please be safe…'
.
Before long, they arrived at the mysterious woman's residence. Diluc stepped forward and knocked.
The door creaked open, revealing a woman with long black hair. Her bangs covered her eyes, and a faint grin curved her lips.
"Welcome, everyone," she said smoothly. "Do come in~"
She stepped aside, inviting them in.
The moment they crossed the threshold, several of them paused in surprise.
From the outside, the house had looked ordinary—almost small. But inside, the space stretched far beyond what should have been possible. The room was vast, its ceiling high, its walls distant.
"Fufu~ surprised?" the woman giggled. "Don't worry. It'll return to normal tomorrow. I only expanded it today to accommodate Master Diluc's… rather large group. As for how?" She placed a finger to her lips. "That's a secret~"
"We're here to learn about Etoma's situation," Diluc said, unfazed. There was a trace of urgency—of something heavier—in his voice. "Please. Make it quick. She's still out there."
"In a hurry, aren't we?" the woman mused.
She snapped her fingers. Instantly, chairs appeared beside each of them.
"Have a seat," she continued, snapping her fingers again. This time, a white, glass-like sphere materialized on the table before her, floating slightly above its surface. "This will take some time."
She rested her hand lightly against the sphere.
"Before I begin, let me confirm something. You want to know about that girl's condition… and her current whereabouts. Correct?"
Diluc nodded.
"Alright~" she said brightly. "But first, Master Diluc… the price. As I mentioned before—let's say, one hundred million mora—"
Before she could finish, Diluc placed a black card in her hand.
"That's one billion. Keep the change."
Silence fell. The woman blinked, momentarily stunned. Paimon's jaw dropped. Even Venti raised an eyebrow.
"…You rich people are something else," the woman sighed. Then she straightened. "Very well. Let me explain how this works."
She placed her palm fully against the glowing sphere.
"My ability cannot pinpoint the exact moment of her disappearance," she said. "It can only begin at the start, which is... her past. Don't worry, most parts will be skipped, so it won't take too long."
Her gaze swept across the group.
"However… I can't control what is shown in detail. You may see things you'd rather not. Does anyone object?"
"If that's the only way," Diluc said, crossing his arms, "then proceed."
The woman nodded and focused on the sphere.
"Etoma's past, huh…" Paimon murmured, glancing at Diluc. "Hey, Master Diluc, do you know anything about it?"
Diluc shook his head. "She only told me she was an orphan. Nothing more. I respected her decision not to share."
His eyes shifted to the glowing sphere.
"But it seems we won't have that luxury now."
"Etoma's past…" Jean said softly. "I wonder what kind of life she lived."
"Well," Lisa added gently, "judging by how cheerful and playful she is, it couldn't have been that bad… right?"
"Mm, mm! Etoma's past should be wonderful since she could smile like that!" Amber chimed in.
No one answered.
The sphere suddenly flared with brilliant light. The woman remained silent, completely focused.
Then—
A massive projection appeared before them. For a moment, they were all struck with awe.
The image slowly came into focus: a small child, no older than four, with soft white hair.
"Is that Etoma?" Paimon gasped. "She's so cute! Little Etoma is so cute!"
The image shifted, and began to move.
.
A dim, dust-filled room appeared. In it, a small white-haired child struggled with a broom, pushing it clumsily across a dirty wooden floor.
She was only about four years old. Her clothes were little more than rags—patched over and over, worn thin with time.
The door suddenly opened. A woman stepped inside.
"Have you finished cleaning?" she asked coldly.
Her eyes swept the room—still messy. She clicked her tongue.
"You'd better hurry," she said sharply. "Or you'll miss today's meal."
With that, she turned and slammed the door behind her.
The loud bang made Etoma flinch.
But she didn't cry.
She simply gripped the broom tighter—and worked faster. Sweat began to bead on her forehead.
.
"W-What?! Who is that?!" Paimon burst out, furious. "How dare she treat little Etoma like that?!"
No one responded. They simply watched. Even Diluc.
The scene skipped forward.
Etoma finished cleaning and made her way toward the dining room. She looked around, searching for the woman—but couldn't find her. So she kept searching.
Eventually, she found her in the living room, standing by the window. Etoma tugged gently at her skirt.
"Hm?" The woman looked down. "What?"
"A... a..." Etoma said as she rubbing her stomach and gestured weakly toward her opening mouth.
"You're hungry?" the woman guessed. "Did you finish cleaning?"
Etoma nodded.
"Hm…"
The woman glanced at the clock.
"Look," she said, pointing. "You're late. There's no food for you today."
Etoma's eyes widened.
"If you want to eat," the woman continued coldly, "then don't be late next time. There's no food for slackers in this house." She turned and walked away.
Leaving the child alone. Etoma stood there for a moment. Then, slowly, she turned and walked upstairs.
Her room was small. Bare.
She lay down on what could barely be called a bed—just a bundle of rags. Clutching her rumbling stomach, she forced her eyes shut.
Trying to sleep through the hunger.
.
"No… no…" Eula's voice trembled, barely above a whisper. Her hands covering her mouth as tears welled up and spilled freely down her cheeks.
"That's… that's just wrong…!" Paimon cried in, her voice cracking. "She's just a kid…! How could anyone treat her like that?!" Her usual energy was gone—replaced entirely by anger and helplessness.
No one answered her. No one could.
The room had fallen into a suffocating silence.
Jean lowered her gaze, one hand pressed lightly against her chest as if steadying herself. "So this is… what she went through…" she murmured, her voice heavy with grief. "No child should ever have to live like that…"
Lisa's usual composure faltered. Her eyes softened, but there was something deeper beneath—something unsettled. "To think she smiles so brightly after enduring all of this…" she said quietly. "How much must she have buried inside…?"
"That woman is too much!" Amber suddenly stood.
Kaeya didn't speak. His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes had sharpened—cold, calculating. The kind of look he wore when something had already crossed a line. Whoever that woman was… he would remember her.
Lumine stood still, her gaze fixed on the projection. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her chest tightening with every passing second.
That small figure… that quiet suffering…
"…Etoma…" she whispered under her breath.
Venti just keep his unnatural silence, while closing his eyes.
Diluc said nothing. He hadn't moved. But the silence around him felt different—heavier, sharper.
His arms were still crossed, yet his hands had curled so tightly into fists that his nails dug into his palms. A thin line of red traced down his skin.
He didn't seem to notice. Or perhaps he simply didn't care.
His gaze remained locked on the image of the child lying on the cold floor.
Then the projection began to distort. The scene was skipping again.
.
.