"Bust~ed~"
Kiyo Seigan sat on a stone, utterly dejected. His hair crown had been removed, and his pale long locks lay spread across the rock, cascading like a waterfall. The latter half of his hair was cradled gently in Lumine's hands, as a soft, warm breeze played among the strands—damp moisture evaporating into the air. He didn't struggle; his eyes half-closed in a contented manner, much like a well-behaved cat. Truly, the Lumine® Hairdryer Princess was remarkably effective.
"I told you so," Lumine chided. With her slender, fair fingers, she delicately teased through his smooth hair, slowly wiping away the moisture. "Don't get soaked on a rainy day! And remember, you must be home by nightfall—especially in time for dinner!"
"Hey, you rascal! You went out this morning promising to be back by eight for dinner, and yet here you are, messing around on a grave!" Her bright golden eyes were filled with nothing but exasperation and mild scolding.
Once, she was the one who was constantly nagging and looking out for him; now, the roles had reversed. Glancing at his profile with growing irritation, she pinched his nearly translucent, pale cheek—surprisingly cool and soft like molded jade—and admonished, "Did you hear me?"
"You, you little blonde brat—don't you dare overstep!"
Kiyo Seigan, a proud fellow through countless lifetimes with that stubborn, duck-mouthed trait etched deep into his soul, cared a great deal about his pride. With so many eyes watching, how could he possibly let a yellow-haired wench boss him around? "Go home for dinner, go home for dinner! Why must you fuss like an old nag?" he grumbled.
He had indeed promised, but who would have guessed that things would go awry—one after another, the grave-visiting incense-bringers had shown up, and he had ended up waiting from dawn until midnight!
"Baka Lumine…"
He swatted away Lumine's hand, trying to offer a feeble defense, "I'll be back, okay."
"How could I possibly miss dinner?" Seigan retorted sharply.
"No," she insisted.
Lumine fixed him with a steady, serious gaze—her brilliant golden eyes reflecting his face—and said in a firm tone, "You didn't. You didn't come back last time."
She tugged at his collar and pulled him close; in such proximity that the warm vapor from their breath nearly merged. Kiyo Seigan noticed the depths of her eyes—calm and profound as water, with her long, curled lashes trembling slightly, casting a shadow beneath her gaze. He heard her say,
"Kiyo Seigan, you didn't come home for dinner last time. Paimon and I waited for so long, but you still never returned."
He was completely baffled. "I don't know what you're talking about," he shook his head.
Yet, even though he couldn't grasp her meaning, the earnestness in Lumine's expression made him involuntarily grow serious. Apparently, coming home on time for dinner was truly important to her. But the boy simply couldn't remember.
"Sorry…" he mumbled while scratching his head, "I don't remember."
Having lost everything, his only recourse was to apologize. "I know I was wrong."
Lumine glared at him, then patted his cheek again, "Then from now on, we're setting a rule."
Her tone was almost as if she were scolding a child. "What rule?" he asked.
"No matter what happens—even if the world falls apart—you must be home for dinner before dusk. On—TIME—FOR—DINNER!"
Seigan nodded helplessly, "Y-yes, I will, definitely."
"Miss Blonde, you're in charge," he teased.
"Now, repeat it," she demanded.
"From now on, no matter what happens, I, Kiyo Seigan, will be home for dinner before dusk," he repeated, "and no getting soaked. Look at you—you're drenched!"
She pulled at his Zhongshan suit—which clung to him from being soaked—with clear indignation, "Waaah, my new clothes I just bought for you!"
He could only smile ruefully. That suit wasn't cheap at all—it had been purchased just yesterday: one set for little Qiqi the zombie and this very Zhongshan suit, which cost Lumine a full 2,000 Mora. In an instant, his wallet was emptied.
"I think my hair is dry now," Seigan remarked, pointing a short distance away. "By the way, I still have to join them for a toast."
Halfway through his drink, Lumine dragged him off to a corner to dry his hair with a hairdryer—while several fellows still waited nearby.
"Minors aren't allowed to drink, especially with strangers," Lumine declared.
"Lumine, this is something I must do," he insisted.
This time, however, the youth did not back down. Holding his head high, he stared directly into Lumine's eyes and earnestly declared, "I'm going to have my toast. And besides, to me, they're not strangers—I want to say a proper goodbye."
[Second Covenant: Go to Wuwang Hill to wait at the desolate grave and drink a cup of wine with the mourners.]
After a pause, Lumine's tone softened as if she'd understood something. "…Is that thing forcing you to do this? It still won't let you off, does it?"
With a steady gaze fixed on the boy who had lost everything, she continued, "…It still won't let you go, does it?"
"What…?" Kiyo Seigan was startled. The existence of that system—did she actually know about it?
Tentatively, he asked, "I don't know what you're referring to."
"I will, sooner or later…" Lumine replied, not answering directly. Her face remained calm as she spoke in an ominous tone, "I'll tear out that thing in your head."
Kamigiri answered with a swift, blade-bright ring. In a barely audible whisper, Lumine added, "And La Signora, too."
Soft starlight refreshed the night, as one patch of light after another was brushed onto the sky. Perhaps unevenly applied, those glimmers seemed to drip down along the canvas of the heavens, falling onto the bleak plains. The stars hung low over the fields, and the swaying grass caught the starlight so that the line between sky and earth blurred.
"Wow, the boy's back!"
Indarias clapped her hands in delighted welcome. Lively and outgoing as ever, General Musatas was known as the friendliest of all yakshas toward humans. She lifted one broad sleeve and called cheerfully, "Hello, little girl! What's your name?"
Lumine eyed the newcomer warily. If her guess was correct, the young girl in the pale red skirt was probably someone Seigan had known in a past life—someone brought back by Erosion.
Erosion—something that exists nowhere and yet follows him everywhere. Once old memories and former bonds returned, Erosion followed, wearing away at his soul. The safest course was to keep Seigan away from these so-called ties of a past life.
Because of a certain Harbinger, she regarded anything of the sort with immediate hostility.
"None of that concerns you," Lumine replied coolly.
"Wow…" Having been rebuffed, Indarias shifted her attention and called out, "Seigan…"
"Kiyo Seigan. It's Kiyo Seigan," Lumine interrupted with a cough, her tone brisk, "Please address him by his full name—you aren't really that close, are you?"
"Wow…" Indarias bristled a little. Though she was usually the most good-natured of the yakshas, she was still a fierce one. Not willing to back down, she retorted, "We're already friends! We've swept the tomb together—call us tomb buddies. But what kind of friend are you?"
"Hey, this guy was dug out of the tomb by me; you can call me a digging buddy," Lumine quipped.
"What the heck…" Kiyo Seigan blinked, caught in the middle and utterly bewildered, not understanding a word of their banter.
"Alright, alright—stop bickering," Menogias said with a conciliatory smile. After Bosacius left, Menogias was the eldest of the four yakshas and naturally took on the role of mediator:
"It's New Year! Didn't we all agree to have a drink together? It's getting late."
He scratched his head and reminisced, "Back in the old days, on New Year's Day we always gathered to celebrate. Big Brother loved his drink, you know."
Xiao, arms crossed and expressionless, remarked, "Boring. Useless."
Indeed, it all felt exceedingly trivial.
Time was growing late.
"I brought half a jug of ale—one cup per person is just right," Kiyo Seigan announced as the Geo in his hand slowly coalesced, forming into six smooth, translucent stone cups.
"Everyone, please stop arguing," he whispered. "We must be happy. My only dream in this life is simply to live happily—nothing more."
"Not that it's laughable, but this is the first New Year I remember," he added with a smile. "I'm happy right now. Does everyone know what the New Year means? It's about bidding farewell to the old and welcoming the new—discarding the bad past and ushering in a fresh future. In other words, it's a farewell."
He lifted the lid of the jug; the aroma of malt drifted into the chilly night air as he carefully poured cup after cup, handing them out to Xiao, Indarias, Menogias, Bonanus, and Lumine.
It was truly very late. In the distance, most of the lights at Liyue Harbor had been turned off, with only a few families still burning fireworks—small bursts that punched little holes in the dark night. Even as the lights went out, fireworks continued to burst one after another; streams of brilliant sparks traced vivid arcs, splashing color onto the canvas of the starry sky—even the distant Wuwang Hill was illuminated.
Xiao, Indarias, Menogias, Bonanus—Seigan's gaze passed over each of them. Perhaps they had once been like family. The youth felt genuine joy that, after all these years, they still came to see him—it warmed his heart, even though he himself was dead, already laid to rest in a grave. The past was buried. The very meaning of the New Year was to say farewell.
"I'm so glad to have met you all," Seigan declared as he raised his cup. "Unforgettable tonight—let's have a drink together!"
"What's the toast?" asked Indarias. "Every New Year, Big Brother would deliver the longest, most elaborate toast—something like, 'May Xiao grow five centimeters taller next year,' or so I recall."
"How about, 'For the covenants of the past and today's fireworks'?" Seigan proposed.
"Feels less fun than 'May Xiao grow ten centimeters taller next year,'" Menogias added seriously, "but whatever—it's decided then, let's go with the youth's idea."
Xiao's face fell in silent disapproval.
"Then, cheers?" Bonanus prompted.
"Cheers," Lumine sighed, nodding resignedly, though she reminded Seigan, "You can only have one drink."
"Cheers."
"Cheers."
"Cheers—to the covenants of the past and today's fireworks!"
As fireworks burst across the sky in a dazzling display, the six stone cups clinked together with a crisp, clear sound.
"Happy New Year!"
[Second Covenant: Completed]
[Reward: Talisman Arts (Adeptal Art)]
[Third Covenant —]
…
All official business was now handled. Every matter had been settled; there was nothing left to do.
Xuanmo let his drooping brush drip onto the rice paper—the ink accumulating into a small lump, even beginning to solidify—without Ganyu even noticing. She had already lost herself in thought.
Today was the first day of the New Year. Outside, fireworks still burst, and the jubilant voices of the people swirled together. Ganyu rested her cheek in her hand as the afterglow of the fireworks illuminated her cool, delicate profile.
How strange.
Ganyu hated having idle moments. Only when she was busy did she avoid thinking about things. But whenever she was idle, unwanted memories would resurface.
Indarias.
That Yaksha had come to invite her again this morning—so earnestly, yet she had also refused with equal earnestness. She wouldn't go.
For over two thousand years, Ganyu had not gone to see him again; in fact, she hardly ever thought of him at all. She had forgotten him.
The little Indarias would go tend his grave because she had lost her awareness, never having seen him as he once was, never witnessing that terrible scene.
Countless lives had perished, blood flowed like rivers, and yet he had grinned grimly amid the carnage. Everything had been an illusion—his feigned appearance so beautiful was nothing more than a mask. Or perhaps he had once been good, but then he turned bad.
Because of [Lifespan].
Mortal lifespans have limits—even if one enters an adeptal sect, one can only postpone the inevitable. Six hundred years is enough to corrode everything in a person, even his heart.
He had grown old, his aging unmistakable, yet he refused to accept it… He muttered all day, "Not yet… not yet."
The changes in Bosacius had become apparent during their final years together, not long after the Adepti–Demon War had ended. His temperament grew increasingly brutal, and though his visage appeared ever more youthful, his eyes harbored a deep-seated obsession so intense it seemed as if it might drip from them—"Not yet… not yet…"
A profound obsession indeed.
"Bosacius has practiced forbidden arts."
This was what Rex Lapis had personally confided to her once everything had settled:
"By absorbing and usurping the lives of others to extend his own, and through practicing forbidden arts, his soul is gradually decaying until he becomes utterly insane. The yakshas were the first targets of Bosacius's plundering."
Ganyu had never told the other yakshas about this. In truth, many things could then be explained—those massacres, those betrayals, everything would make sense.
He had killed the God of Salt, massacred the God of Salt's followers, grievously wounded four yakshas, utterly fallen from grace, betrayed Liyue, joined the Abyss Order, and was ultimately slain in the Abyss.
Ganyu killed him without regret.
For over two thousand years, no matter how Indarias tried to invite her, she had never gone to see him again—free of any burden.
Perhaps.