At precisely 7 PM, the sun in Teyvat clocked out on schedule.
Aside from Albert's odd little interlude, Victor Wang had spent the entire day in the library. Now, at last, he and Eula set off toward the Lawrence estate.
Under the veil of night, the ancient manor glowed brightly under manmade lights, banishing the shadows of darkness except for the occasional dim space between lanterns. Compared to the daytime view, it carried an entirely different charm.
Even if he disagreed with the stiff ideals of old nobility, Victor Wang had to admit—the Lawrence family's aesthetic sense was still on point.
Standing at the iron gate of the estate, Eula's mood was conflicted. She hadn't returned here since the day she left for good.
And to think… my first time back is to help catch a criminal. What a joke.
But she couldn't even bring herself to laugh.
Meanwhile, Victor Wang seemed completely at ease—like he truly had come to attend a banquet.
"Welcome home!" Vera had been waiting and rushed forward excitedly, pulling Eula inside.
Out on the lawn, rows of long tables had been set up, each covered with red tablecloths and lined with exquisite food. But what dominated the scene were the many glasses of richly colored wine.
Victor Wang couldn't help but wonder—Who was still willing to sell to the Lawrences? Then again, noble families had their connections. When buying in large quantities, it was hard for vendors to say no.
The Lawrence youths were all elegantly dressed, chatting and laughing in groups, raising their glasses in cheer.
Some middle-aged guests mingled among them—probably extended relatives rather than direct descendants.
Victor Wang estimated there were over a hundred attendees.
The real powerholders—the four Lawrence brothers including Schubert—were notably absent, likely inside the manor.
As Eula stepped into view, a wave of silence swept the crowd. Their reactions varied, but all paused their conversations and drinking to regard her arrival with subdued respect.
"Isn't that Eula? I can't believe she had the nerve to come back."
"Who even invited her? Why's she here?"
"This is still her home. Don't be so harsh."
"Hmph! She's disgraced the Lawrence name enough."
"The family head was about to disown her. There's no place for her here."
A few middle-aged men standing a bit farther off muttered openly. As the crowd quieted further, their voices grew louder, yet they made no effort to lower them.
Victor Wang glanced at Eula. She didn't flinch, didn't even glance their way. Her expression didn't change, but the way her hand gripped Vera's arm—tight enough to turn her knuckles white—betrayed her.
Gradually, the noise picked back up, though much of the chatter now revolved around Eula.
Only once the buzz returned did a few people find the courage to greet her.
"Eula, it's been a while."
A tall, handsome young man with chestnut hair—taller even than Eula—offered a warm smile.
Eula gave a slight nod to her cousin, who was only a year younger.
"Eula."
Another man, older, raised his glass in a silent toast.
Though Eula was the eldest among her father's siblings' children, some distant cousins were older.
To this brother-like figure, Eula responded with another nod, saying nothing. Whether that was due to a less close relationship or not knowing what to say was unclear.
Victor Wang paused, observing carefully. He noted that among the entire Lawrence gathering, Eula appeared to be the only one with a Vision. At least, none of the others showed any signs of possessing one.
"Long-lost reunion. Eula, why don't you catch up with your family and enjoy a drink? I'll go meet the elders inside."
"You sure you'll be okay alone?"
While none of the others had Visions, the Lawrence family still trained rigorously in horsemanship and swordplay. Most adults were at least proficient, if not masters.
"Having you around would actually make things harder."
Victor Wang didn't want her to witness just how far gone her elders had become.
"Alright." Seeing how confident he was, Eula didn't argue further.
Leaving her among familiar faces, Victor Wang made his way toward the manor's main hall. Naturally, he was stopped a few times by people verifying his identity—but his line about being a Steambird reporter, scheduled to photograph the family head, worked every time. While Victor had fabricated it, the four Lawrence brothers had bought into it completely.
Inside the guest hall were plenty of people, mostly older—no youth in sight.
Most were already deep into their drinks, and people came and went, so no one noticed Victor at first.
Eula's father sat at the head of the table, his brothers flanking him. Schubert was happily enjoying his pickled meat.
As Victor strode straight into the center of the hall, eyes finally turned toward him.
What an uncultured commoner, some thought. But then again, this was probably the last time they'd see him. The family head held back his irritation and said:
"You've come."
"I have. So, if you would, Lord Lawrence, please dismiss everyone not involved in the photo session."
"What? Since when did a photo need this kind of procedure?"
"The photo doesn't. I do."
"Hmph! What's the meaning of this?"
"I'm here on behalf of the Knights of Favonius. I've gathered sufficient evidence and wish to speak privately with the four of you."
Victor pointed to each of the Lawrence brothers.
The hall froze. A few hot-tempered individuals immediately drew weapons.
One burly man with a thick beard leveled his sword at Victor. "The Knights? All I see is some punk causing trouble at a Lawrence banquet. If he gets beaten to death, who could blame us?"
Too bad for them—Victor had plenty of energy stored up from yesterday's restraint.
A few sharp anemo currents lashed out, knocking weapons from hands, then spiraled into the room's center to form a massive Palm Vortex.
Boom!
With Victor's sound effect, the wind vortex exploded—harmlessly but loudly enough to terrify the crowd. Controlled with precision, it was all for intimidation.
Wind swirled through the hall, slipping behind curtains, under tables, cheekily lifting lace-trimmed cloths.
To those without Visions, even a single wind blade could be fatal.
Though the hall was still full, silence fell like a blanket.
Seeing no one react further, Victor repeated, "Everyone not involved, please step out. Or shall we spar a little? Just so you know—the Knights are already stationed outside."
Eula's father scowled and waved a hand. The guests, some panicking, began filing out. A strong gust slammed the front doors shut.
Victor hadn't planned to be so flashy. He'd intended to use the excuse of photography to gather the brothers quietly—but the banquet had complicated things.
Now only the four brothers remained.
Eula's father asked, "What case are you investigating? The Lawrences have committed no crimes."
"The Holy Lyre theft."
"Didn't the Knights already—" Schubert caught himself mid-sentence.
Victor finished it for him. "Exactly. The harp's been recovered. The real question is—who told the Fatui where it was?"
"How should we know? Are the Knights of Favonius making up charges now?"
"Yeah, where's your proof?"
"The proof is that you knew the harp was recovered. That information is still classified within the Knights. Who else but the Fatui would know?"
"You think you can slander us with just your words? You're a Knight of Favonius—you'd obviously take their side. The people won't believe you."
Victor could easily bring Vera in as a witness—she'd been with him the entire time and was a Lawrence herself.
But that would make her the next Eula.
"You can deny it all you want. But when the Knights of Favonius find your copies of the city's defense maps—prepared for Schubert to deliver to the Fatui—what will you say then?"
Schubert's face darkened. The plan was still in its early stages—how had it been exposed? And to be named so directly—was there a mole?
"Whether you confess or not, once the Knights of Favonius begin their search, you'd better pray there's no evidence left. Otherwise, no one involved will get away."
Victor didn't need absolute proof. All he needed was sufficient cause for the Knights to investigate.
The brothers exchanged uneasy glances, silence settling over the hall.
Clap clap.
Victor clapped his hands and continued, "Or—take responsibility. Offer one person as the scapegoat, and cut all ties with the Fatui. Acting Grand Master Jean asked me to relay this message to you all: 'This is the last time the Lawrence family will be let off. Next time, we won't hold back.'"