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The Ninth Harbinger did not particularly enjoy or dislike being seen in public. He’d often show face whenever he was in Liyue, and he’d be seen around more often than people think.
To those who had been observing, the Harbingers were known to rather conceal themselves in the background puppeteering their orchestration. Pantalone was no exception to that as only one Harbinger was known to boldly show himself. But, when there was no work to be made, the Regrator would be seen outside the Northland Bank, whatever his fancy may be.
And just like the other Harbingers, he’d have a knack for gambling. May it be in games or circumstances, it was an activity that the Harbinger would enjoy in moderation. And he’s heard of a certain teahouse that turns into a gamehouse by night. A player who’d never lose.
And that was enough to settle it.
Tonight, he shall pay a visit and merry on the entertainment the chosen game had to offer.
The Yansheng Teahouse offered a card table for four. It laid bare with a lantern pendant light hung above, beautifully hand-painted by local craftsmen in the harbor. Its hue glowed a warm orange that illuminated the place, showing off the black and gold palette that the teahouse had.
The whole place had a rather elegant and dignified air to it. Pantalone had noted that when he first came in as a guest not too long ago. Surely, this place was not naught for a reason, and that stood correct. He would even say that it did not disappoint if he were to comment on his first impression.
Then he’d find himself sharing the same table as the woman who once stole from him.
A woman who was a master strategist and a woman without peers when it came to using every move from the dirty books of tricks. She had managed to take another entire pot of Mora yet again, all the while he sat and watched her next move.
And that woman was none other than Yelan.
Yelan had never lost in these types of games. She would always come out as the victor. This very much intrigued the Regrator wishing her a defeat by him, at least in payment for the white silk mantle she stole that hung on her shoulders as her jacket.
The others at the table included a few local nobles who had little understanding or ability in the game. It was very clear from their faces they were not there for enjoyment, but a quick way to get rich.
Pantalone was at the table playing out of sheer curiosity to understand just how Yelan could win every time. He may also add for the sheer pleasure of having a high-stakes game.
Yelan also had a very unusual method of playing poker. She never lost her calm demeanor, like a stone wall that didn’t flinch even once, no matter how much the other person bluffed. Instead, she would make a series of small bets. And just when the opponents thought she was just trying to scare them and decided to go for broke, she would suddenly go all-in. The only way people could beat her is if they had an extraordinarily powerful hand such as a Full House.
The Harbinger lost the first few rounds, he was unable to beat her stone-cold demeanor. But he was a good player and a seasoned gambler.
On the last hand, he decided to go all in with a pair of Queens. He did this solely to see if Yelan really had no tells, no reaction to her bets.
Yet a Full House was not enough to break Yelan.
She folded and took another victory. This even paced the harbinger’s heart so much that it felt like a bone was stuck in his throat. He had not lost to someone like this in a long time.
He was both excited and irritated with himself. He had not planned on getting so swept into the game, he had only wanted to see her methods of winning. But this was his downfall— his only downfall, he could not contain his competitive nature. He was too used to winning that his pride did not allow him to accept a loss. And so he did something completely uncharacteristic for himself and threw his card hand face down on the table and said, “All-in.”
Yelan calmly studied her hand. Then, as if to mock the harbinger, she placed her own bet in a neat, stacked pile.
She declared, “All-in.”
The other players at the table were stunned. This was complete madness.
Both of them were now at the end of the line. One of them would win the great amount of wealth the patrons had ever seen in their lives so far, and one of them would leave the casino with nothing.
Though, of course, to Pantalone, the amount of Mora laid compared nothing to the riches he had all this time. He could care less about it. However, Pantalone had not been bluffing at all, but Yelan’s call to his all-in was still surprising.
Pantalone turned his hand face up— it was a pair of Queens. He looked straight at Yelan, a sly smile on his face.
A pair of Queens is a decently strong hand. There was no way he would lose to that.
Yelan looked back, her hand was unmoving. In an instant, Pantalone’s smile fell.
What... What did she have?
Yelan showed her hand: also a pair of Queens.
She had a small smirk on her face as she looked straight at him. But there was a twinkle in her eye that made the smile seem so much more real and alive— like it was real, genuine happiness and not just arrogance.
“A tie then?” Yelan asked, before adding in a whisper, just loud enough for the Regrator to hear. “ A tie is still a win, isn’t it? ”
Pantalone looked in stunned silence. She also had a pair of Queens...
This was impossible. The odds were just too low. But if anyone was an outlier when it came to probability, it was her. It was Yelan.
His mind raced. His thoughts ran. He had no idea what to say and he could already feel his pride slowly being chipped away. He hated the feeling so much but after a few moments, he was able to mutter a few words once again.
“This...” he was still in much shock, “is... ridiculous.”
His final word had a bite to it.
“And I could say the same for you.” Yelan had her arms crossed as she leaned her back on one of the cushioned seats of the teahouse, making it clear that she was not going to let him off that easily. “A lot of people think I’m a cheat, but there’s a simple but important difference. I only bet on games I know I can win, you see? The people who lose to me, they’ve already lost before the game started. Now it really just turns into a matter of what that loss looks like.”
The look on Yelan’s face as she watched him was the only thing preventing Pantalone from doing something irrational. Normally, he wouldn’t lose his cool like this, but this woman just knew how to string his nerves well.
The Harbinger scoffed, “So what you’re saying is I already lost the game?"
He looked over at Yelan as she stared right back. Her face was emotionless, painting nothing.
Pantalone looked away first. A cold sweat had formed on his back, something completely different than his usual feelings of anticipation and excitement.
For the first time in his life, he felt defeat breathing down his neck. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn’t find the right words to inflict her back.
She uncrossed her arms. “That was always how it was going to turn out.”
In one smooth, graceful movement, Yelan collected all of the winnings in front of her, a smile still on her face. All that money— even someone like her, who had seen their fair share of large sums— could not help the rush of joy they felt at just how much money they could take home today.
“In any case,” she extended her hand to the two other players who fell despondent about the loss, “thank you for the game.”
She shook hands with them then turned to Pantalone, extending her hand invitingly. “It certainly did not disappoint.”
Pantalone stared at her outstretched hand. It was... it was a challenge. Though it had not been worded like one, it was a polite way of asking him to shake her hand.
A symbol of his defeat.
His face took on a cold, steely look. He reached out his hand, but his eyes were boring a hole into Yelan’s eyes the entire time. His lips were also curved, but many words ran through his head.
Without a word, he shook her hand. Their eyes met one last time, a look of mutual understanding on both their faces. Neither of them spoke, but they both knew what both of them meant.
Yelan dragged the Ninth Harbinger out to the balcony in the sea-breezed night, the streets of Liyue Harbor illuminated by the serene nightlife.
Out the backdoor, she had the Regrator by his neck and she threw him towards the two circular tables overlooking the body of water below.
The night was silent. No people roamed the pavements anymore, no one fancied the city, and their only audience was the streak of twinkling stars above along with the silver moon.
Pantalone attempted to gain composure under her but to his misfortune, Yelan was quick on her feet to flick off his hand from his shoulder making him lean back in the wooden railing. This prompted a groan from him to which Yelan placed a heel on the railing, trapping him under her grasp.
“What do you want?” the Regrator asked. “I hate getting my clothes dirty, I’ll let you know.”
Surprisingly, he hasn’t touched Yelan yet. If it were others, he might’ve already gotten his gloves dirtied by choking them.
“I don’t need to know that.” Yelan bent down to meet his face— pale, flawless, and smooth. She put a hand on his other shoulder with a slight grip. “What are you doing here?”
There was this flicker of anger in her eyes that he could vividly see through her calm facade. Not that she hid any of it if this was not evident enough.
“You don’t think I forgot about what you did to Uncle Tian, did you?”
He laughed. Was that all she meant to relay?
“Is that all you wish to tell me?” Pantalone chuckled even more. “Just that?” His laughter hasn’t died down. “Oh, Yelan. I am a busy man, you could’ve written to me instead and I would have promised you a response back. Afraid to get ghosted?”
Yelan’s grip tightened. “You don’t think we’re friends, do you?”
And then he hummed in silence. His laughter has finally died down.
“No, I don’t think so.” Pantalone opened his eyes and gazed at her fiery greens. It was filled with hatred, only reasonable, while he only found them entertaining to watch. “I’d like to believe you harbor the same sentiment.”
His eyes glanced down to her glossy lilac lips for a moment. One push and she’d crash foreheads with him. “So? What do you want from me?”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“And neither have you.”
He looked back at Yelan, finally gaining some semblance of composure under her. She bore her eyes through his lenses, and he knew he needed to get her off him now.
“Yet I find a feeling you’re just going to keep asking questions, aren’t you?” He leaned close to her ears. With his ominous voice, he whispered, “If you do that, then it won’t be very long before I make you regret it. ”
It was one that would send shivers down one’s spine.
Yelan remained unwavering. She even found a similar smirk crossing her lips.
“ Then make me regret it. ”
Pantalone wryly chucked as their proximity was closing to a zero. He could smell the scent of orchids, probably the lady’s perfume (it was, he knew). “You don’t like playing safe, don’t you?”
Yelan’s eyes never left him.
“Are you assuming I’d lose that? Is that it?” She snorted, her face breaking into a laugh as she saw the harbinger’s face shift into a smirk. “What a pity.”
Such compelling confidence.
“You’re going to regret this,” he warned. The Regrator made his move.
He escaped her grasps in a calculated manner and made use of the tables around them. He was agile with his steps, Yelan unable to foresee.
She’ll give it to him only this once. They had never been in a physical fight after all nor had they ever met. She wouldn’t know how he would move yet.
Yelan heard a click. A gun loaded to shoot. The Ninth Harbinger now stood across her, her open back for him to relish.
Under the threat of a gun, she turned to face Pantalone. He had his eyes closed, but his smile never faded. The glimmer of moonlight reflected in his glasses as he opened his eyes.
She could just kill him right now. She had the chance, but she didn’t. She hadn’t had the urge, but she suddenly had the slightest bit of respect for him just this time. Only this time.
She stared at him, her stone-cold eyes narrowed. “You really are a different kind of fool, aren’t you?”
“A fool is but a Fatuus, yes?” Pantalone chuckled. His revolver pointed directly at her. “And I am the Ninth Harbinger.”
What a stupid smirk.
Yelan began to back up ever so slightly, glancing around her for anything she could use to her advantage. Her eyes moved around the balcony but nothing much could be made of use. She let out a long, low sigh as she slowly raised her hands.
“Alright, you got me,” she said. But none of that concerned him.
He quickly spoke, “Would you like to play a game with me, Yelan?”
She raised a brow.
“The rules will be simple,” he added, staring intently into her irises trying to see if he could gain even the slightest of clues as to what could lie behind them.
And the same went for her. What did the man plan this time?
“Villain and hero.”
“Do you want to play the hero or the villain?” Yelan asked, her eyes staring directly into his. Her demeanor was relaxed, and she spoke slowly, calmly, and clearly, as if she couldn’t possibly care less about the gun that was pointed at her. “You can pick.”
The harbinger lowered his gun, inspecting it. He wryly chuckled yet again.
“I should be the one to decide our roles.”
“And why would I follow?”
“Because I’m the one who suggested the game.”
His devoid eyes— though the shimmer of moonlight had always reflected at this deep night— glanced up.
“But then again,” he aimed the revolver back at her, “I always play the villain.”
Cold, soulless, and cold-blooded. That was Pantalone’s voice in the chill of the night like a slithering snake waiting to strike its prey.
“What are you playing for then?”
He could tell she was confident and was not going to back down from him.
While Yelan continued her mocking smile, Pantalone’s was replaced with a look of intrigue. She obviously had some kind of plan, he just needed to make sure she won’t get the upper hand.
“Oh how about this, we play with our lives. Last person standing wins?”
He waited for her response, a sly look on his face.
“No,” she said firmly, the tone of her voice was cold and hard. “You can’t have this one.”
Taking a step backward, Yelan lifted her top’s blue fabric, pulling out a concealed six-shot revolver from her left inner thigh. She pointed it right back at Pantalone, readying for a shot.
“Oh?” Pantalone was surprised at the weapon she revealed. “You also have a Carry?” he laughed. “Unbelievable. From Fontaine or from Snezhnaya?”
“Snezhnaya.”
Pantalone’s lips curved. “Very well, let’s make this game an excellent one, shall we?”
The two pointed their pistols at each other, their faces full of lacking emotions to a bystander. Neither Yelan nor Pantalone could not be bothered to hide their feelings from each other; they were both ready to kill the other.
There was no time for either of them to say anything. Pantalone’s hand suddenly tightened around the grip of his revolver, and he pulled the trigger.
Yelan pulled her trigger at the same moment. Her shot went wide, Pantalone’s did not.
Yelan’s jaw tightened. He missed his shot on purpose.
“Ten to fifteen minutes until the Millelith comes.”
“Ten to fifteen minutes we shall play.”
Pantalone let out yet another chuckle as the noise from the patrons inside grew louder. Panic and fear were in the air, yet the very well opposite for him.
He grabbed a chair from the side that leaned onto the walls of the establishment and sat on it. Yelan kept the door to the balcony locked earlier so they could only have the place by themselves. And truly, this place was theirs as the people scrammed out after hearing the two bullets.
“Pity that the wall now had a hole,” he thought, “but oh well, that was her aim, not mine.”
He took out five of his remaining bullets, dropping them on the wooden floor of the balcony. Yelan’s eyes attentively followed his next move. He saved one bullet and loaded it back in his revolver.
“Take a seat,” he invited Yelan who stood meters away from him. “That chair over there, grab it.”
Yelan clicked her tongue. He doesn't need to instruct her.
She dragged a chair from one of the round tables and placed it in front of him. She sat on it and took out her bullets the same as him, leaving one behind.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Pantalone said with a smug and satisfied smile on his face. “Are we ready then?”
Yelan crossed her legs and lit up a lighter that she took while the Regrator blabbered. She brought up the flame near her mouth where her cigar was, her gun on her lap, and then smoked it out.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” she heard.
“And I know you do,” he received.
The lady garbed in a rare furred jacket threw her lighter across and the Ninth Harbinger was able to catch it.
She puffed out another smoke as he lit himself a cigarette.
“Touché.”
He threw back her lighter and smoked, the particles becoming one with the brewing night.
“Now, I believe you have already caught wind of what game I propose.” He tapped the embers off his stick. “This will be a simple and swift game.” He had his revolver in his black-gloved hand as his back was slightly hunched, arms resting on his legs. “It will be if you choose to oblige and play with no extra matters.”
“If I win?”
There was a simple answer to that.
“Then you’d be the hero.”
“If I lose…”
It would have been a simple question had she asked.
“Then I’d be the villain. Precisely.”
Her emerald eyes narrowed a little as his own never left hers. Both looked at each other with a menacing aura that bubbled over them, calculating and predicting whatever may lie at what they faced.
Truly, this game was a huge gamble. But they loved it anyway. They lived the thrill that chased them to their win.
“Let’s start, shall we?” Pantalone straightened his posture. “We don’t want to waste any more of our precious game time or else, it would be game over for the both of us. Lady’s first, right? Why don’t you go first?”
“Hmm...” Yelan, still with her legs crossed and a cigarette, hummed. She puffed out before continuing. “You work with Northland Bank, right? What’s the best business move you’ve ever made?”
This is a question with no right or wrong answer but may give Yelan an idea of Pantalone’s nature. If he doesn’t give enough of a good answer, she might shoot.
Pantalone broke a chuckle to the side. Such an intriguing woman. It had not been a question he expected.
“The best business move I’ve ever made would have to be when I made a large investment in an up-and-coming trade business. At the time, it was a risky bet to take due to the business’s inexperience, but my intuition told me they would succeed. After just a few years, the business turned a large profit. You could say I made a... killing on the investment.”
Good one , she remarked in her head. But the way he spoke made her think twice. “A killing, you say? Does that mean you like to use your position to take advantage of others? Do you enjoy taking risks, especially with others’ lives on the line? I’m a gambling woman myself, but even this is too dangerous for my tastes.”
It was Pantalone’s turn to ask the woman he saw across. “Getting way too ahead of ourselves, are we?”
The Regrator brought his revolver to his lips and slowly tapped it thrice. His cigarette was still in between his bejeweled fingers, halfway run out.
“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done just to get a piece of information?” he gave back. “I’d like to see what you’re willing to risk for a chance to win this little game. I’m sure I will be able to tell how much of a “gambling woman” you really are.”
“It may surprise you to know that I do have a crazy side.” She removed her cigarette from her lips. “If you’re in a position to take advantage of a target, wouldn’t you jump at the opportunity?”
Yelan leaned her body forward, her bosoms defined more as the light blue tassel of her choker got squished. “When you’ve been living the life of an undercover operative for as long as I have, there’s little point in playing it safe. You just have to be willing to take risks. You can never know when that might be your next winning turn. What does that sound like to you? Is that a dangerous gamble, a calculated bet... or something else entirely?”
Pantalone passively smiled. She did not answer his question. “A calculated but dangerous gamble, I’ll say. Your willingness to take risks certainly reminds me of my own, so I think I have a pretty good idea of the kind of person you are. But I suppose only time will tell if that’s for good or for bad.”
His cigarette was almost down to its complete burn.
“I would still like an answer to my question if you don’t mind.”
He did mind.
Yelan took another hit of her own cigarette. The silence was the only answer the Ninth Harbinger received.
Pantalone tightened the grip on his revolver.
“Hmm? You’re still thinking about that, aren’t you?” She couldn’t help but chuckle. How cute. “What? Does my silence bother you? Well then, I’ll give you one answer to keep you in suspense. A few years ago, I did something that could have gotten me imprisoned... or maybe worse. So you tell me, just how desperate are you? Are you willing to take a risk to win this game, or are you a coward who backs down the moment things start looking too dangerous? Well, Regrator? What do you say?”
Yelan cocked her gun at the man who sat in front of her directly.
Pantalone cocked his own gun as well.
“A coward? You’re making me laugh. Taking a risk and being a fool are two completely different things, Yelan. There’s no point taking a risk you know is going to end badly, right?” He smirked and pointed his gun at Yelan. “I don’t make reckless bets. I’m going to take the shot.”
As the two of them stared each other down, they waited in silence both with their fingers on the trigger of their guns.
Who will blink first?
“ Then do it. ”
Yelan raised her revolver and took a deep breath. She pulled the trigger and a metallic clicking sounded out as the hammer fell back.
“And now it’s your turn to fire.”
And click.
Neither of them blinked and neither of them fell. Both still had air flowing through their lungs, and blood still circulated in their hearts. Nothing drilled through their skulls and their arms still extended at each other.
There were no bullets shot this round.
“Another round?” Yelan took one last hit of her stick before laying it on the ground and crushing it beneath her heel. “You know I’d only need one bullet to be done with this. Are you really that confident in your luck?”
Pantalone let go of his cigarette, leaving it to roll on the wooden floor of the balcony. He does not bother to extinguish it. Instead, he crossed his legs and shifted himself to a more formal manner where his hands laced together, resting on his lap.
He pushed his glasses before speaking once more. His lips curved yet again. “It’s a game, is it not? There is bound to be a victor and a vanquished. Perhaps the next round will determine that.”
Impressively bold. The man she faced held the perfect description for that.
Pantalone carried marvelous confidence in a game where his die can roll in any side. To safety, to danger; to salvation, to death.
And yet he chooses to bet on a card filled much with anticipated uncertainty. He chooses to gamble .
And she, too, rolled her die and played this game.
She gave a dry laugh, unamused by the answer he gave. It was easy to pick up her revolver and shoot again, but that could only result in an inevitable outcome. “Tch. How egotistical.”
“Well, I’m just about tired of your mind games, my friend. ” She got up and walked towards him, the moonlight bathing her figure as she approached the Regrator. “We’ve been playing them since this game began. I’m not interested in answering any more questions right now.”
A lighter and another stick. She lit it up and pointed her gun at Pantalone, ready to fire.
“If I see you move even an inch, I will shoot you. What’s your move?”
That damned smile.
“A little hostile, are we?” He chuckled, “If you really wanted me dead, you could’ve just declined to play, to begin with. What I’m getting is that you’ve never really cared how dangerous this game might be. You just want a little bit of satisfaction in beating me. You won’t get it.”
“Take your shot. I dare you.”
“You’re just a smug vixen, aren’t you? I don’t mind being a little hostile, especially when it’s clear who deserves what.”
Yelan had Pantalone’s neck all to her using a thread of hydro from her abilities. The concealed revolver dug into his forehead, his wavy raven hair falling off to the side. A vicious gaze behind the rims of glass, but never without his smile.
“This gun holds a single bullet. Tell me, do you trust the chances?”
He brought his own revolver to the side of her head, voice dark as ever such as the winter nights with no Borealis in sight.
“ Do you trust your chances, Yelan? ”
Their noses touched and they did not find the uncomfortabilty to part. Their lips were only separated by the cigarette by her edge threatening to mark his skin. And the gods of Celestia knew how much he hated getting dirtied.
Yelan’s jaw clenched. Time ticked and this was her second cigarette. Should it be over, it should be over for them.
“ Tell me, Yelan. Are your successes truly because of your strategy and planning?” His finger curled to pull the trigger. “Or is it sheer luck?”
“How do you even know my name?” she asked for the last time.
Pantalone did not answer Yelan’s question. He simply gave a quiet smile.
Click.
A soft strike. The bullet didn’t go off.
Click.
And the only remnants left on the Yansheng Teahouse’s balcony were a burning and burnt-out cigarette.
The Millileth arrived moments later in the night.
And as for the victor…
“A tie is still a win, isn’t it?”