Quiet Hours at the Northland Bank
In Fontaine, a land embraced by water, the imposing Northland Bank branch stood tall and solemn, like a silent giant watching over the bustling rise and fall of the nation.
Its majestic silhouette rippled in the mirrored waters around it, the undulating surface casting a reflection that seemed to whisper untold stories.
Inside the office of La Signora, the serene stillness was gently interrupted by a soft knock—like a pebble dropped in a calm lake, sending ripples outward.
A person entered, garbed in a mysterious outfit. Her steps were light and measured, careful not to disturb the room's tranquility.
Holding a stack of documents in both hands, she walked reverently toward Rosalyne and spoke in a hushed tone.
"Signora, these are urgent documents delivered from Sumeru."
Her voice was soft but clear, echoing quietly through the still air.
Rosalyne remained composed, like a glacier unmoved by the warmth of the sun. An aura of unapproachability surrounded her.
She extended a slender, pale hand with elegant grace, taking the documents.
Her eyes were sharp and bright, scanning through the contents at a swift, efficient pace.
Suddenly, her brow arched slightly—like a butterfly poised to take flight—as she murmured to herself.
"Hm? I didn't expect that Doctor's God Creation project to be nearing completion already."
A faint, mocking smile tugged at her lips—equal parts scorn and amusement at the arrogance behind the plan.
"To rival the gods… Hmph, what a bold claim."
Her mind drifted back to the memory of Shajin's god-slaying rampage—so swift, so unstoppable. That spectacle had etched itself deeply into her thoughts.
Compared to that, these so-called grand ambitions seemed dull and uninspired, like watching a third-rate play after witnessing a divine drama.
With a graceful wave of her hand, she dismissed the warlock.
"That'll be all. You may go."
The fatui agent bowed crisply and respectfully.
"Yes, my lady."
She turned and slipped out soundlessly, leaving the office once again shrouded in silence, as if nothing had ever occurred.
Rosalyne lifted her hand and removed the exquisite blood-crystal hairpin from her head. In an instant, her silky golden hair cascaded down like a waterfall of sunlight, flowing over her shoulders with a mesmerizing luster.
She slowly leaned forward, resting her head on her broad desk, eyes fixed on the hairpin in her hand. A faint trace of melancholy flickered within her gaze.
That sorrow was like a deep-sea current—unseen, unheard, but unmistakably real.
"Hmph! Honestly… You leave me here all alone, and who knows where you're off enjoying yourself now."
Her voice was soft, tinged with indignation—and perhaps, just the faintest hint of grievance.
"I haven't forgotten you, Rosalyne~"
A familiar, teasing voice rang out suddenly, like a lightning bolt cutting through the night.
Rosalyne instantly tensed, every muscle on edge. The air itself seemed to freeze, and icicles began to silently form around her—sharp, glimmering, and deadly.
But the tension vanished just as quickly. Recognizing the voice in her heart, her body relaxed, and she slumped back down onto the desk.
The ice spears disappeared without a trace, like mist burned away by sunlight.
Rosalyne sat upright, eyes half-lidded with a mix of annoyance and fondness.
"Hmph. What are you doing back here?"
Shajin chuckled and stepped forward.
Sunlight filtered through the thinning clouds, casting a gentle glow upon the office—warm and golden, like an old memory come to life.
Rosalyne sat quietly in her chair, golden hair spilling over her pale back like starlight on midnight water—irresistibly beautiful.
Shajin picked up the delicate jade hairpin. In his hand, it seemed almost alive.
He stepped behind her, lifting a strand of her hair with his left hand—fingers moving gently, as if handling the most precious treasure—and with his right, carefully pinned her hair up once more, like a sacred ritual.
As the hairpin slid into place, her golden hair gathered neatly, revealing the elegant curve of her face—delicate as porcelain, breathtaking in its serenity.
A few playful strands of hair slipped free, curling beside her ears, adding a touch of liveliness and allure—like the finishing stroke of a master painter.
Shajin's fingers moved through her hair, occasionally brushing against her cheek—each touch like spring wind on a blossom, tender enough to make one's heart flutter.
A faint blush bloomed on Rosalyne's face, delicate as sunset-tinted clouds. Her lips parted ever so slightly.
"You came to see me for something, didn't you?"
Her voice carried the faintest trace of reproach.
Shajin smirked and countered,
"What, can't I drop by just to see you?"
Rosalyne's lips twitched downward in disbelief. Her clear eyes rolled ever so slightly in mock annoyance.
"Come on. You know you only show up when there's something you want."
There was a hint of grievance in her tone.
Shajin reached up and carefully tucked her stray strands back into place, admiring his handiwork with a satisfied nod.
But then his hand lingered—gently stroking her hair, pampering her like one would a prized pet.
"Ah, Rosalyne, how cruel… This time, I really came just to invite you to a banquet!"
He said it with exaggerated sorrow.
"Oh? A banquet?"
Rosalyne tilted her head, intrigued. Her golden hair slipped from her shoulder, accentuating her slender, graceful neck.
There was a spark of curiosity in her eyes, though her expression quickly returned to its usual indifference.
Seeing her reaction, Shajin brightened, reaching out to take her hand—only for Rosalyne to swat it away with practiced ease.
He paused midair, disappointment flickering across his face.
"It's almost time for the Moonchase Festival in Liyue," he said cheerily.
"I came all this way to invite you to join the fun~"
Rosalyne glanced at the towering stack of paperwork on her desk. With one slender finger, she gestured at them.
"And these?"
Her tone remained cool, but there was a glimmer of hesitation in her eyes.
Shajin shrugged, his hands thrown up nonchalantly.
"What's there to worry about? That's what Arlecchino's for!"
Rosalyne lowered her gaze, thoughtful. Her eyes flicked between the documents and Shajin, weighing her options.
Finally, she sighed.
"I suppose you're right~"
Shajin seized the moment, grabbing her wrist as if afraid she might change her mind.
"Then let's go right now!"
As the words left his mouth, a soft golden light enveloped them both, growing ever brighter until their figures slowly vanished from the room.
…
Meanwhile, Arlecchino sat stiffly at her desk, surrounded by mountains of documents, her brow deeply furrowed.
She hadn't expected—at all—to suddenly be saddled with this entire mess.
Letting out a long, steady breath, she tried to calm herself before reaching for the top file and diving into the work with grim determination.
The only sound in the office was the quiet rustle of pen against paper.
_
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