Following the hairstyle of the Ice Queen from a certain Disney animation in his memory, he began to braid Anastasia’s hair into an updo.
The ice element condensed at his fingertips, molding into gorgeous hairpins, hanging one by one onto the braided bun.
In the mirror, Anastasia’s reflection gradually became graceful and elegant.
The apple of the eye of the Lord of the North.
“I have told you stories about the Astral Express,” Morgan said, his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather.
“The Trailblazers explore the universe and have been to many, many places.”
Belobog, the Xianzhou, Penacony, Omphalos…
“Everyone united as one, solving many troubles, enemies, and disasters.
In the stories, our life of adventuring together seemed to never end, extending infinitely—what a beautiful future…
But I have never told you about the experiences after the Astral Express Crew.”
His voice sank low.
“That was not a perfect ending.”
Anastasia’s heart tightened, and she turned to look at Morgan.
Morgan didn’t look at her.
He lowered his eyes, his hands still continuing the movements, but the speed slowed down.
“The Astral Express became something I could only reminisce about.
Perhaps this world bestowed upon me the extraordinary status of ‘Descenders.’
But to myself, I am nothing more than a pitiful exile who had to make an emergency landing.
It is hard to imagine that such a beautiful and vibrant planet still exists in this world.”
“My [Remembrance] was allowed to enter here by the Heavenly Principles, thanks to the good reputation of the Trailblazers.
I was originally an intangible meme; the craftsmen of the Golden Kingdom created the Fae from the remains of a giant beast, and my memories were cast into it by another Descender, becoming what I am now.
I myself also became a gear inlaid by Him on fate.”
He hung the last hairpin, then condensed an ice mirror and handed it to Anastasia.
“Take a look.”
Anastasia took the ice mirror.
The woman in the mirror was graceful and elegant, with a thousand manners.
The exquisite braided hair was adorned with scattered snowflakes, every detail showing care.
But Anastasia’s expression carried deep worry.
“If one day I must leave you, it will absolutely not be voluntary, Anastasia.”
Morgan’s voice came from behind, his hands resting on her shoulders.
Anastasia looked up, looking at his reflection in the mirror, seeing a rare melancholy on the face of the usually optimistic Your Majesty.
“But I have already known my destined fate; it is a [Death] I cannot escape.”
Anastasia’s breathing stopped for a moment.
“But do not worry,” Morgan looked at her eyes in the mirror.
“I am a meme lifeform.
As long as the [Remembrance] of me does not fade, there will surely be a day of return.”
“Death…” Anastasia chewed on the word.
She suddenly realized the seriousness of this matter; her father also had his own worries.
What she thought was “he wants to abandon me” was actually because “he has to leave.”
What she thought was “he doesn’t consider this place home” was actually because “he is afraid he cannot stay.”
Anastasia opened her mouth, wanting to say something.
Morgan’s tone suddenly became light.
“Alright, let’s not talk about these heavy things anymore.
Speaking of which, I originally wanted to give you a gift after going back—but now, I’ll give it to you early.”
He snapped his fingers.
Before Anastasia’s eyes, a dazzling light suddenly lit up.
The light was colorful, condensing into an entity before her, and a small pink thing appeared.
It was wearing a gorgeous little cloak, with golden patterns embroidered on the edges of the cloak.
Its hands and feet were short, its body long, like the physique of a chicken-wing rice wrap in the cat world.
Most eye-catching were its long ears, like rabbit ears, but with elf-like pointed tips.
“Mimi mimi—mi!”
This cute little guy waved its hand, greeting the two.
Anastasia was stunned.
“…What is this?”
“This is a lifeform born in a world called Omphalos,” Morgan’s tone carried a hint of pride.
“They are also Fae.”
He pointed at the pink ball.
“Look, it likes you very much.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the little pink Fae floated up and dove into Anastasia’s embrace.
Anastasia instinctively caught it.
It was soft, warm, and carried a faint, sweet fragrance.
The little thing rubbed against her in her arms, emitting a satisfied “mimi” sound.
Anastasia lifted it up, supporting its underarms with both hands, looking left and right.
“…Just like the Cat Cake you gave me when I was little?”
“That Cat Cake that resembled me was a creation of Ms.
Ruan Mei.
She is an incredible genius,” Morgan said.
“And this little Fae, I molded it using materials from Teyvat, based on my memory.”
Anastasia blinked.
“Does it have a name?”
“It’s called Hakimi,” Morgan said.
“Of course, you can also change the name.”
He paused and added: “By the way, this little guy really likes eating things made with honey.”
Anastasia remained silent for a moment; her father really liked giving cute creations strange names.
“…Let’s just call it that.”
She looked down at the little pink ball in her arms.
Hakimi also looked up at her, its big eyes blinking.
“Mi?”
The corners of Anastasia’s mouth, which had been raised, suddenly dropped because she suddenly remembered something.
“Wait,” she said.
She remembered that Cat Cake at home; that thing would suddenly sing loudly.
Although it did sing quite well, the lyrics repeated over and over were just “North South Mung Bean” “Oxi ga hai ya ku,” these few lines, looping endlessly, never-ending.
Morgan blinked; he also remembered that Cat Cake that looked somewhat like him.
The personality of a Cat Cake would be determined by the personality of the one being imitated, and unfortunately, during his time on the Astral Express, he was quite…
abstract.
“It shouldn’t, right?” he said, his tone uncertain.
“Probably?”
Anastasia looked at him, and Morgan coughed lightly.
“Even if it sings, it shouldn’t be too loud,” he said.
“After all, the materials are from Teyvat, so its personality should be more steady.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Hakimi started singing in Anastasia’s arms.
“Mimi mimi—mimi mi—!”
The tune was cheerful, the rhythm distinct.
Morgan: “…”
Anastasia: “…”
The two looked at each other.
Hakimi sang even more enthusiastically and even started dancing.
“Mimi mimi mimi—!”
Morgan raised his hand and rubbed his brow; why did even this thing know how to sing abstract Northeastern Yujie ditties?
“…I probably still need to teach it a bit more.”
Anastasia looked down at the little pink ball in her arms; it was singing with total absorption, focused and undistracted.
She was suddenly amused.
“It’s fine, a little liveliness is good too.”
Morgan looked at her, and Anastasia looked up, meeting his gaze.
“You promised me,” she said.
“After parting, we will meet again.”
Morgan looked at her, his ice-blue eyes reflecting her and the pink ball.
“Alright.”
Anastasia nodded.
She looked down, looking at Hakimi in her arms.
The little thing was tired from singing, curled up in her arms, emitting a satisfied purring sound.
Anastasia held Hakimi, standing in front of the window, with Morgan standing behind her.
“Father,” she suddenly spoke.
“Hmm?”
“Whether it’s me or Snezhnaya, we love you, Father.”
Morgan didn’t speak.
He just reached out and gently rubbed the top of her head, just like a father would do to a child.
Just like many years ago, on the snowfields.
Hakimi turned over in Anastasia’s arms, emitting a satisfied “mi” sound.
“And If you’re enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!”