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After a long day’s journey, you arrive in Liyue Harbor. The sun is setting over the sea, and tonight’s Lantern Rite festival means hundreds of decorations are being placed around Liyue Harbor.
But you’re not here for a festival. You pull a wrinkled paper from your pocket and read the note one more time.
“Meet me outside Wanmin Restaurant at sunset on the night of the Lantern Rite. If you are otherwise occupied, disregard this note.
-6”
As one of Scaramouche’s most reliable subordinates, you’re used to getting important orders on short notice. Your diligence seems to have earned you his favor, even. Although you’ve often been treated uncharacteristically well by him, this time is different. When he makes demands, there’s never an “if” attached.
Which is why you find yourself fidgeting as you wait in line at what must be the most busy restaurant in Teyvat.
A familiar sound catches your ear- a jingle. You hear his hat’s bells before you see him. Your head snaps to look at your right side. Although he concealed his identity in the note he gave you, he made no effort to dress down for the occasion. His ornate outfit usually turns heads, but most are too preoccupied with the festival to notice his garb.
“Good evening,” he greets. Your heart skips with joy. You’re the only subordinate who he acknowledges in a friendly manner.
“Good evening, my lord.” You lean in close to him and whisper, mindful of prying ears. “What is my assignment tonight?”
He doesn’t immediately answer your question. He glances around at the people on either side of you two in line. “Are you here alone?”
“Yes.” You make no expression and hide your confusion.
“Do you normally attend festivals by yourself?”
Your heart sinks. Since you were taken from your world and brought to this one… “I don’t go to festivals, I have no one to go with.”
He nods. “This kind of social event doesn’t appeal to me either. People are everywhere… it’s so noisy.”
In a short time, you find yourselves at the front of the line. Chef Mao is working in his kitchen on countless dishes. The assistant taking orders looks at you and Scaramouche expectantly.
“Let’s see…” Scaramouche’s finger taps his chin, and you’re entranced by the motion as well as the slightest movements of his hat’s ornaments when his head moves. “We’ll be having these to go. I would like an order of Squirrel Fish.” The man taking the order jots this down on a ticket. Scaramouche turns his gaze to you.
“Are you hungry?” He asks.
“Um,” you say, stupefied. Never in your wildest dreams did you anticipate Scaramouche asking what you want. “I’ll have an order of Jueyun Chili Chicken, please.”
“If that’s all, your total is 7,500 Mora.”
Scaramouche reaches into the pouch that sits on his left hip and pays the cashier. He then beckons you to the side, where several other customers wait for their food as well.
Having been to this establishment before, you remember the cost of the chicken being 2,500 Mora. So you reach into your pocket, cringing at your thin wallet. Scaramouche sees you doing this and puts his hand on your arm to stop you.
“Are you kidding? I can have all the money in the Northland Bank if I ask for it. No need to pay me back.”
“Thank you, my lord,” you whisper, taken aback.
He gives you a thoughtful look, examining your expression. The prolonged eye contact makes you feel self conscious. You squirm under his gaze. It feels like years pass before he finally says, “you can call me by my name.”
“Oh… okay then, my- ah, I mean, Scaramouche.” The second his name passes through your lips, he smiles. It injects butterflies into your stomach.
He pauses for a moment, but nods. “Good.” Under his breath, he mutters, “for now.” You pretend not to hear it.
You watch as Chef Mao finally prepares the dishes you ordered, a dozen tickets following your own in the queue.
After a minute, an employee hands you your food. You take it and turn to Scaramouche. “Follow me. We’re going to enjoy our food more away from the crowd.” He turns in the direction of the harbor. Upon seeing the ever-growing crowd, however, he looks back at you. He grabs your wrist. “Don’t want you getting lost,” he says, dragging you towards the docks.
His hold on your wrist is firm, but gentle. As you navigate, your eyes are fixated on his hand. Each slim finger looks paper white against your skin, and his palm is warm in contrast to the chilly air. His veil might say “evil”, but you’re finding yourself stunned at his gentle demeanor tonight.
When you reach the docks, the crowd has thinned enough that there is no risk of you being separated. To your displeasure, he releases his hold on you. He looks back and motions with his head towards one of the docks. You follow him onto it.
At the very end, there is a boatman and a single canoe. The boatman nods at the sight of Scaramouche, untying the boat from the dock.
Scaramouche steps in first, then holds out his hand for you. Your face feels warm as he helps you in. You sit opposite each other, and Scaramouche takes one of the paddles of the canoe. “We’re gonna go to the middle of the harbor. We’ll have a nice view there.” You set the food next to you and take the other paddle. You work together to propel your boat well away from the harbor.
When you finally set down your paddle, you look in front of you to see Scaramouche already looking at you. He’s giving you a look you can’t decipher. “Scaramouche,” you try, and he raises his eyebrows. “Shall we eat?”
“Yeah. Give me.” He beckons for his food, and you hand him the box and a pair of chopsticks. You start to open your food as well. You suppress a giggle at how eager he is when he wastes no time inhaling a mouthful of his Squirrel Fish. Not that you ever knew him for his manners…
“This is so good,” he drawls, mouth still full. “Wanna try?”
“Sure,” you reply. Before you can grab a utensil, though, he takes a piece of fish in his chopsticks and holds it up to your mouth.
“Say aaah, ” he says. You laugh a bit, but comply. “Open wider.” You open wider. “Wider.” You stretch your mouth open so wide it hurts. Your mouth is getting dry. He gives a wicked chuckle before putting the food on your tongue. “Good girl.”
In the night, the sky is only lit by lanterns, and you hope the dark is enough to hide your red face.
You two continue eating in silence. The hustle and bustle is distant now, even more quiet than the waves in the sea splashing around you.
You’re both nearing your last bites. You’re nervous, but you’ve been dying to ask the whole time. “Why did you ask me to come?”
Scaramouche sets his food down. You can’t see him well, but even if you could, you think, you would never be able to tell what he’s thinking. “I told you that you can call me by my real name.”
“Yes, Scara-”
“Not that. My real name. Kunikuzushi.”
The word sits in the air between you. Your heart is thumping uncontrollably against your chest. “Kunikuzushi,” you whisper, every syllable heavy on your lips. “Why would you tell me this?”
He leans forward, and his knees bump against your own. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”
You think for a moment. “No.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” He takes a breath. “The truth is, I don’t want you to be my henchman anymore.”
Your breath hitches in your throat.
“If you’re near me, it shouldn’t be because you have to be.”
You can’t believe your ears. You pinch your arm, because how can this be real?
“I’m releasing you from your duty. Starting now, you have no obligation to me whatsoever. Say the word, and we’ll go back to the harbor right now. You never have to see my face again.”
You remain as still as a statue.
“If you’d like, though, we can do something like this more often. But not as a master and a subordinate.”
You reach for his hand. “I would like that, Kunikuzushi.”
He takes your hand in both of his own and lowers his head, moving the back of your hand to his lips…
The fireworks explode at the perfect moment.