Lunch ended sooner than Lucian expected.
After settling the misunderstanding with Barbara, listening to Varka’s recruitment attempt, and accidentally ruining Eula’s appetite with one careless joke, Lucian parted ways with the Grand Master and the others.
His next task was simple.
Return to the inn, collect Venti, take him to Diluc, and arrange the five million Mora he had promised in exchange for the Anemo Vision.
Unfortunately, when Lucian reached the room, the bed was empty.
Venti was gone.
Only the crumpled blankets, an empty water glass, and Lucian’s note remained behind.
Lucian stared at the vacant room for a few seconds.
The bard had probably gone out to handle some matter of his own—or more likely, to find another drink before the headache fully arrived.
It did not matter.
Diluc knew Venti well enough to recognize him.
Lucian could simply speak with Diluc later and have the payment prepared.
With that decided, he left the inn.
At Windrise, Lucian sat near the edge of a high cliff overlooking the great oak.
Far below, Barbara was digging.
She had returned after lunch exactly as he suspected she would.
Their earlier confrontation had removed most of her hostility toward him.
After all, the Anemo Archon had apparently acknowledged Lucian in front of half the Knights of Favonius.
That made it difficult to continue treating him as an enemy.
It had not, however, satisfied her curiosity.
If the Dendro Vision at Lucian’s waist was fake, then how had he restored the enormous pits she had seen during the night?
Barbara trusted her memory.
She knew there had been a hole beside the tree.
She remembered its location, its size, and the sight of Lucian climbing out with a shovel in his hand.
Evidence had to remain somewhere.
So she began searching.
Whenever a patch of earth looked slightly different, Barbara knelt, tested the soil, and dug into it.
Before long, the deaconess who had accused Lucian of trying to steal the sacred oak looked far more suspicious than he ever had.
At least Lucian had dug with confidence.
Barbara kept glancing over her shoulder as though expecting the Knights to catch her committing a crime.
From the cliff, Lucian sipped wine and watched her work.
The scene reminded him of watching ants hurriedly move their nest before a storm.
“Alcohol is not good for the body,” a gentle voice said behind him.
“A little with a meal is harmless, but drinking it like water is quite another matter.”
Lucian raised the cup to his lips without turning around.
“We are not close enough for you to lecture me.”
He took another drink.
“And coffee is hardly a miracle medicine.
Yet you are carrying some, aren’t you?”
Lisa approached from behind, holding a porcelain cup.
Steam curled above its surface, carrying the rich aroma of roasted beans.
Lucian recognized her at once.
Lisa Minci, librarian of the Knights of Favonius.
Her languid voice stirred a faint memory from his earlier life—a teasing, sing-song sound from long nights spent gaming.
He pushed the thought aside before it could become distracting.
Lisa glanced at his wine.
“Coffee tastes better.”
Her judgment was immediate and absolute.
“That is only because you have never tasted truly good wine.”
Lucian emptied his cup.
The instant his fingers closed, the glass vanished into Man in the Mirror.
“What brings you here?” he asked.
“Escaping work?”
He stood, brushed the dust from his clothes, and looked down at her.
Lisa had not wandered to the exact cliff where he was sitting by coincidence.
She had come looking for him.
Lisa smiled but did not answer.
Instead, she stepped beside him, placed her coffee carefully on the grass, smoothed her skirt beneath her, and sat near the edge.
Lucian watched her for a moment.
Then he produced another cup of wine and sat again, leaving only a small distance between them.
Lisa reclaimed her coffee, blew gently across the surface, and took a measured sip.
“Have you ever read detective novels?” she asked.
“I have.”
Lucian continued watching Barbara probe the ground beneath the oak.
“In those stories,” Lisa said, “criminals often return to the scene of their crimes.
Sometimes they cannot resist admiring their own work.”
Lucian placed a hand against his chest.
“A criminal?
Is that truly the impression I give strangers?”
“Of course.”
Lisa spoke as though the answer were obvious.
“You caused a public disturbance involving Barbara.
At present, many knights dislike you.”
She paused, eyes curving with amusement.
“Though envy may be a stronger emotion than anger in some cases.”
Lucian turned toward her.
“Are you envious?”
“I can tease Barbara whenever I please.”
Lisa shook her head, entirely unbothered.
Lucian looked back toward the oak.
“Do you believe her story?
That I was digging up Windrise and attempting to steal the tree?”
“Between an outsider I met today and Barbara, I naturally trust Barbara more.”
Lisa watched the distant deaconess drive her shovel into another patch of earth.
“Her behavior this morning did not look dishonest.
Neither does this.”
Barbara wiped sweat from her forehead, frowned at the ground, and began digging again with renewed determination.
Her earnestness was almost painful to witness.
Lucian sighed.
“Then there is no point defending myself.
What now?
Will you drag me back to Mondstadt and expose the infamous tree thief before the entire city?”
“I am only a librarian,” Lisa replied.
“I do not have the authority to arrest anyone.”
Her smile deepened.
“But I am also a scholar.”
At last, she reached the true purpose of her visit.
“I want to know how you can wield two Visions.”
The question had been gnawing at her since the Anemo Vision appeared in the Grand Master’s office.
According to every serious study Lisa had seen—including those of the Akademiya—it should be impossible for a single person to possess two Visions.
A Vision carried an individual’s ambition and represented recognition from beyond the mortal world.
It was a path toward ascension, bound to the person who received it.
One person possessing two should have been as absurd as one citizen holding two mutually exclusive legal identities within the same nation.
Yet Lucian had displayed an Anemo Vision while a Dendro Vision hung openly at his waist.
Lisa had not felt this kind of hunger for an answer in years.
Lucian looked at her with open surprise.
“You expect me to reveal something that important to a woman I barely know?”
He lifted one eyebrow.
“Especially when that woman has already admitted she has a poor opinion of me?”
Lisa fell silent for a moment.
“My opinion has changed,” she said at last.
“I now believe you are a good man.”
Lucian’s expression brightened.
“In what way?”
Lisa opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Lucian waited.
The silence stretched.
“You cannot name even one virtue?” he asked, wounded.
“And here I believed I had so many.”
He took a melancholy drink.
Lisa’s fingers tightened faintly around her cup.
For the first time in a long while, she found conversation genuinely difficult.
Lucian did not behave like a young man, regardless of how youthful his face appeared.
His composure, shamelessness, and ability to redirect every question suggested an old monster who had lived for an unknown number of years.
“What price would persuade you to answer?” Lisa asked.
Lucian immediately became attentive.
“A price?”
His gaze travelled over her from head to toe with alarming intensity.
Lisa’s smile stiffened.
A chill touched her spine.
She had asked too recklessly.
Was the truth worth that kind of payment?
What if his demand crossed a line she could not retreat from afterward?
Worse, what if she paid and the answer proved disappointing?
Lucian continued examining her.
Lisa’s heartbeat accelerated.
“This is not—”
“You said coffee is better than wine,” Lucian interrupted.
“You must know where to find the good varieties.”
Lisa blinked.
“Bring me the best coffee from every nation.
I want to taste them.”
“That is all?”
Her emotions had risen and fallen so sharply that she felt as though she had been thrown from a cliff and caught halfway down.
For some reason, beneath the relief came a trace of disappointment she refused to examine.
Lucian tilted his head.
“Is that too little?”
“Deal.”
Lisa agreed before he could increase the price.
She leaned closer, anticipation returning to her eyes.
“Now tell me.
How can you possess two Visions at the same time?”
Lucian lowered his voice.
“The answer is very simple.”
Lisa waited.
“One of them is fake.”
Her expression froze.
“A fake?”
The intellectual mystery that had drawn her all the way to Windrise collapsed in a single sentence.
Lisa felt thoroughly deceived.
She had spent the entire walk considering theories involving divided ambitions, elemental compatibility, celestial law, and the unique nature of Descenders.
She had even endured that dreadful moment when she misunderstood the price he intended to demand.
And the answer was that one Vision was an imitation.
Her chest rose and fell as she drew a slow breath.
Lucian touched the Dendro Vision hanging from his waist.
The teasing left his face.
Tenderness entered his eyes.
“Even so, this one means more to me than the real Anemo Vision.”
Lisa’s irritation weakened despite herself.
“Why?”
Lucian looked down at the imitation gem.
“Because I bought it with my first month’s salary.”
When Nefer presented it to him, she had deducted the full cost from his wages.
His boss had reimbursed him later, but that did not erase what the object represented.
The genuine Anemo Vision was worth five million Mora because that was the price he had negotiated with Venti.
The fake Dendro Vision was worth far less in material terms.
Yet no amount of Mora could give the Anemo Vision the same weight.
It marked the first salary Lucian earned after entering Teyvat.
More importantly, it represented the first bond he had formed in this world.
Nefer had commissioned the imitation so he could move through society without attracting endless suspicion.
Her methods were stingy, practical, and characteristically irritating.
But she had thought about what he needed.
That made the fake Vision irreplaceable.
Lisa watched Lucian fall into apparent reminiscence.
His expression held warmth, nostalgia, and unmistakable affection.
To her eyes, he looked like a husband remembering a beloved wife.
The strange emotional rise and fall she had experienced moments earlier returned.
A sour sensation gathered in her chest.
Frustration.
Jealousy.
Feelings she had not entertained in a very long time.
Lisa’s eyes widened slightly.
No.
What was wrong with her?
She barely knew this man.
“Excuse me.”
She stood so quickly that she left her coffee on the grass.
Without another word, Lisa turned and walked away.
Her pace was dignified for the first few steps.
Then it became noticeably faster.
Lucian watched her disappear.
The tenderness vanished from his face at once.
“That is all it takes?”
The emotion he showed had not been false.
The fake Vision genuinely mattered to him.
He had merely exaggerated those feelings with perfect biological control and allowed the display to become a little more convincing than necessary.
At the same time, he subtly amplified Lisa’s own emotional responses.
The result had been excellent.
He had acquired a promise of premium coffee from every nation without spending a single Mora.
In a splendid mood, Lucian reclaimed the abandoned cup, sat at the cliff’s edge, and produced a slice of cake.
Below, Barbara continued digging furiously around Windrise.
Lucian ate, drank Lisa’s coffee, and enjoyed the show.
Want more?
Daily updates.