The Acting Grand Master's office.
Klee stood quietly before Jean's desk, head lowered, her tiny hands clutching the hem of her dress. She looked exceptionally well-behaved—almost suspiciously so.
Her big, watery eyes darted up at Jean for half a second before quickly dropping again, her whole demeanor screaming: I want to confess, but I'm scared to death to do so.
Jean, who had been reviewing documents, looked up to see the little culprit standing there. Her brows lifted slightly in surprise, her gaze filled with doubt.
"Klee?"
Jean set down the papers in her hands, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You came here to confess? Did the sun just rise from the west?"
Klee bit her lip, glanced up at Jean, then lowered her head again and murmured, "Klee… Klee knows she did something wrong."
Her voice was as soft as a mosquito's hum, but it was brimming with sincerity.
Jean's expression froze for a moment.
Normally, when Klee caused trouble, she'd either run for the hills or pretend she knew nothing.
She had never come to confess on her own before.
This was… truly unprecedented.
Jean exhaled slowly, softening her tone slightly. "So, are you going to tell me what exactly happened with the explosion at Cider Lake?"
"It was… it was Klee's bomb…"
Her voice grew even quieter, fingers twisting nervously at her clothes. "Klee… accidentally threw one into the lake, and then… and then it just went boom…"
"And that 'boom' nearly triggered the city's defense alarm?"
Jean's tone sharpened, calm but filled with authority.
Klee flinched at the reprimand and nodded frantically. "I'm sorry! Klee really knows she was wrong! Klee didn't mean to do it…"
Jean's stern eyes softened slightly.
When the explosions had shaken all of Mondstadt, she'd feared a monster siege—or worse, an Abyss Order plot.
Finding out it was just Klee was both a relief and a headache.
"Well," Jean sighed, rubbing her temple, "since you've come to admit your mistake, I'll be lenient this time."
She clapped her hands, summoning a knight from outside the door. "Take Klee to the confinement room."
"Confinement?!"
Klee's eyes widened, face full of despair. "But Klee already said sorry! Captain Jean, can't I not go this time?"
Jean arched an eyebrow, her gaze cooling. "The explosion at Cider Lake didn't just alert the Knights—it triggered the city's defense alarm. Do you have any idea how many people were mobilized because of it? Even if you confessed, this can't be overlooked."
Klee's expression collapsed, her whole body drooping like a wilted flower.
After a moment of silence, she looked up pitifully. "Then… then how long does Klee have to stay? Klee really doesn't want to be in there too long… Klee will be good…"
Jean's lips twitched slightly, but she remained firm. "Seven days."
"Seven days?!"
Klee nearly jumped into the air. "That's way too long! It's never been more than three days before!"
"This time is different," Jean replied, arms crossed, voice steady and resolute. "Cider Lake's explosion affected the entire city's defense. The Stormterror crisis has only just passed—do you still think seven days is long? Say another word, and it'll be ten."
Klee opened her mouth, then quickly shut it again.
Finally, she mumbled in defeat, "Seven days it is… Klee will be good…"
"And another thing," Jean said, raising a hand to point at the oversized pack on Klee's back, "your backpack will be confiscated. Absolutely no bombs in the confinement room."
"Eh?"
Klee's eyes went round as saucers. She hugged her backpack tightly. "Nooo! You can't!"
"That's Klee's treasure! Klee will be so bored without her bombs…"
"Klee."
Jean's gaze turned even colder. "Don't make me repeat myself."
Klee's shoulders slumped in defeat. She reluctantly placed the pack on Jean's desk, staring at it with mournful eyes. Her little fingers ran across the surface as she muttered, "Fine, fine, Klee understands… but Captain Jean has to keep it safe, okay? Don't lose my bombs!"
"Don't worry. No one's touching your bombs."
Jean rubbed her temples, gesturing wearily. "Go on, Klee. And please—try not to cause any more disasters."
Head hanging low, Klee trudged out behind the knight. Before stepping through the door, she turned back to give her beloved backpack one last lingering look, her face full of longing and grievance.
As she walked away, her small voice drifted down the corridor:
"Seven days is so long… Klee will really be good this time…"
"Klee just wants to blow up fish again…"
Jean watched her go and sighed deeply. "That child… always gives me a headache."
"So it really was Klee who caused the commotion, huh?"
A deep, good-natured voice came from the doorway.
The office door creaked open, and a familiar figure stepped inside.
Sunlight glinted faintly on hair the color of soft amber.
Dressed in his signature white-and-blue coat, the Vision on his neck swayed slightly as he walked.
It was none other than Albedo, Mondstadt's Chief Alchemist and Captain of the Investigation Team.
He held an open notebook in one hand, clearly having been jotting something down only moments earlier. His calm face carried a trace of wry amusement as he glanced at Jean.
"I honestly thought it was a monster attack," he said, snapping his notebook shut with a flick of his wrist. "Turns out it was just Klee again. Quite the explosion this time—I was about to head out and lend a hand."
Jean could only shake her head, helpless. "It's more than just her usual trouble this time. The area around Cider Lake is practically in ruins. Even the city defenses were alerted."
"Albedo, maybe you should stop making so many bombs for her."
"Me?"
Albedo blinked in surprise, frowning slightly. "My bombs?"
Jean nodded firmly. "Who else would supply Klee with that kind of firepower? This incident's serious enough as it is—you need to be more cautious."
But Albedo's expression turned serious at once.
He tucked the notebook under his arm, pushed his bangs back, and said in a calm, measured tone, "That can't be right. I haven't made any bombs for Klee recently."
"And even the ones I did give her before were carefully calibrated. They shouldn't have caused that level of destruction."
Jean froze, staring at him in mild shock.
"You mean to say… the bombs from today weren't yours?"
"They shouldn't be," Albedo replied, shaking his head. His voice was composed, yet analytical. "I know my own work. Every one of Klee's bombs has its yield precisely limited."
"But the explosions today—those were on an entirely different scale. The range, the magnitude, the sound—they were far beyond anything I designed."
"When I heard the blast, I assumed it was a monster attack—or maybe a powerful Pyro creature had appeared near the lake. That's why I came to check."
He paused, his golden eyes narrowing slightly.
"But if you're telling me Klee's bombs did it… then either someone tampered with her explosives, or…"
He looked meaningfully toward Jean's desk, where the confiscated backpack sat.
"…or those weren't my bombs at all."