Spicy Rewards and Tavern Troubles

The night had draped Mondstadt in a cloak of indigo, its stars winking through wisps of cloud as a cool breeze swept down from the cliffs, rustling the lanterns that swayed along the cobblestone streets. Beyond the city's walls, Wendy darted through the shadowed alleys, his green cape fluttering like a storm-tossed leaf, his Anemo Vision glinting at his side as he raced toward the Angel's Share tavern. His boots scuffed the stones, his breath a sharp pant as he clutched his newly acquired duel disk, its white-and-blue gleam a stark contrast to the dusk's gloom. "That cat—forgot it completely!" he muttered, his voice a frantic chirp as he slapped his forehead, his green eyes wide with a bard's belated panic.

He'd left his Maine Coonmon—a fluffy Digimon summoned from Digimon, not a mere tavern stray—in Diluc's care during the Stormterror crisis, a temporary handoff while he'd soared with Jean to tame Twalin's wrath. But Galehaven Comics had snared him, its pages a siren call that drowned out all else—Blue-Eyes roaring, Dark Magicians dueling—until now, with night fallen and his furry charge abandoned. "It's gonna hate me—thinks I ditched it!" he groaned, his cape swirling as he rounded a corner, the tavern's warm lights flickering ahead, a beacon of hope and dread. "Friendly chats won't fix this—better brace for claws," he thought, his bardic charm faltering as he pictured the Coonmon's glare, its purr turned to a hiss of betrayal.

Meanwhile, within the tucked-away walls of Galehaven Comics, the shop glowed with a cozy vitality, its narrow confines bathed in the soft flicker of a single lantern swaying from the ceiling. The air carried the earthy scent of aged paper, the faint floral steam of dandelion tea cooling on Harlan Flint's stove, a quiet counterpoint to the vibrant chaos of the shelves—teetering stacks of comics, their colorful spines whispering of worlds unclaimed, posters curling at the edges with dragons and duels. Harlan leaned against the counter, his dark jacket slung over his chair, a half-empty teacup cradled in his hands as he watched his customers weave their tales into the shop's fabric, the hum of their voices a gentle pulse against the night's stillness.

Barbara stood beside him, Nyaromon purring in her arms, her blonde curls swaying as she chatted, her blue eyes glinting with a mix of warmth and purpose. Klee perched on a worn sofa, Little Master clutched tight, her red hat bobbing as she flipped its final page, her tiny legs swinging with restless glee. Harlan's mind drifted, a spark of inspiration flaring as he studied Barbara—Mondstadt's idol, her voice a balm to the city's heart, her concerts a beacon of joy. "She'd draw a crowd—perfect pitch for Galehaven," he thought, his hazel eyes glinting with a shopkeeper's cunning as he set his tea down, his voice a casual lure. "Barbara—ever thought of hyping the shop? Your fans would swarm this place," he said, his grin widening as he leaned forward, his tone warm with promise.

Barbara's jaw dropped, her curls bouncing as she stared, her voice a shocked chime. "Me—promote Galehaven?!" she echoed, her hands tightening on Nyaromon, the Digimon mewing at her grip. Her healer's heart raced, her mind tracing her stage—crowds cheering, lanterns swaying, her songs a thread of light through Mondstadt's dusk. Harlan nodded, his grin sharpening as he fished a pouch from beneath the counter, its coins clinking faintly. "Yup—Mora for your trouble," he said, his tone a gentle nudge, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief as he slid it toward her, a fair trade for her starlight pull.

Barbara waved a hand, her smile blooming as she pushed the pouch back, her voice a bright laugh. "No way—just a shout-out at my concert, easy peasy! You've helped us tons—Jean's Haki, my Nyaromon—I'd do it for free," she said, her blue eyes sparkling with gratitude, her idol's zeal a gift she'd share. Harlan's brows lifted, his curiosity piqued as he tilted his head, his voice a quiet probe. "Concert—when's that?" he asked, his grin softening as he leaned back, his tea forgotten in the exchange.

Barbara's curls swayed, her tone brightening as she rocked Nyaromon, her voice a gentle hum. "Soon—Stormterror rattled everyone, so I'm opening with a big show. Calm the city, lift some spirits," she said, her healer's empathy a thread through her words, her mind tracing the chaos—Twalin's roars, Mondstadt's unease—her songs a balm to heal its scars. Harlan's grin widened, his heart stirring as he nodded, a new offer blooming. "No pay, huh? Fine—I'll write you some songs instead," he said, his tone a mix of mischief and resolve, his hazel eyes glinting with a creator's spark, his past life's tunes a secret he'd unleash.

Barbara's eyes widened, her curls bouncing as she gasped, her voice a burst of glee. "Songs—from you?!" she cried, her hands clasping Nyaromon tighter, the Digimon purring at her thrill. She pictured Harlan's mystery—comics of power, rewards of wonder—his music a promise of magic she couldn't resist. "Two days—come grab 'em," Harlan said, his grin softening as he sipped his tea, his mind racing with melodies—classics from Earth, Genshin anthems like Hu Tao's "Oh"—a test of Teyvat's taste, a ripple he'd watch with glee.

"Deal!" Barbara chirped, her smile radiant as she rocked on her heels, her blue eyes shining with anticipation, her idol's heart alight with the pact. The shop's hum shifted, Klee's voice cutting through as she darted from the sofa, Little Master clutched tight, her red hat bobbing with urgency. "Big brother Harlan—I'm done! Got yummy stuff?" she pleaded, her wide eyes glistening with a child's hunger, her tiny frame trembling with want as she tugged his sleeve, her Pyro Vision flickering at her hip.

Harlan's grin softened, his hazel eyes warm as he ruffled her hat, his tone a gentle tease. "Hold on, spark—let's see," he said, his voice a soothing balm as he glanced at the system, its screen flaring—[Customer Klee completed Little Master—Reward: Magic Mapo Tofu + Rice]. [Magic Mapo Tofu: Sixfold delight—spicy, fragrant, colorful, hot, crispy, numbing—crafted by Sichuan fairy chef Chen Bangling, perfected by Liu Maoxing. Note: Bliss in every bite.] Harlan's brows shot up, a chuckle escaping as he leaned back, his tea forgotten. "Mapo Tofu—straight from her dreams," he thought, his grin widening at the irony, Klee's wish a spark the system ignited.

A beam of light sliced through the ceiling, its radiance bathing the counter in a golden glow that drew Barbara's gasp and Klee's squeal, the shop's air crackling with anticipation. The light faded, a covered dish materializing—steaming, fragrant, its lid a mystery that teased the room. "My reward—food?!" Klee cried, her hat bouncing as she clapped, her voice a cannon blast of glee as she darted closer, her tiny hands hovering over the lid. Barbara stepped forward, her curls swaying as she smiled, her tone a mix of awe and curiosity. "What's inside? Smells amazing already," she said, her blue eyes glinting with hunger, her healer's calm yielding to the scent.

Harlan gestured, his grin widening as he leaned back, his voice a playful lure. "Go on—unveil it," he said, his hazel eyes tracking Klee's glee, the system ticking—[27/30 customers]—another thread in his shop's chaos. Klee nodded, her hat bobbing as she gripped the lid, her tiny fingers trembling with anticipation as she lifted it—whoosh—a golden burst erupted, its light flooding the shop, painting the shelves in a radiant glow that rivaled the lantern's flicker. A plate of Mapo Tofu gleamed beneath—bright red, speckled with green, its steam a dance of spice and warmth, its aroma a siren call that curled through the air.

"Mapo Tofu—I knew it!" Klee squealed, her voice a triumphant chirp as she clapped, her wide eyes locked on the dish, its vivid hues a mirror to Little Master's art. Barbara swallowed hard, her curls swaying as she leaned closer, her voice a whisper of awe. "It glows—smells like heaven," she said, her blue eyes wide with want, her healer's restraint crumbling under the scent—spicy, numbing, a promise of bliss. The shop's other customers—three newcomers hunched over One Piece and Sakura—jerked upright, their comics forgotten as they stared, their voices a chorus of envy—"Golden light—food?!" "That smell—I'm starving!" "Why us, not that?!"

Klee paused, her hat tilting as she turned, her voice a generous chirp. "Big brother Harlan, big sis Barbara—eat with Klee!" she said, her tiny hands gesturing at the dish, her Pyro soul warm with sharing. Barbara blinked, her curls swaying as she faltered, her tone a mix of guilt and longing. "Really? I shouldn't—it's yours," she said, her blue eyes darting to the tofu, its steam a torment at dinner's hour. Klee giggled, her hat bobbing as she tugged Barbara's hand, her voice a bright plea. "Klee can't finish—please!" she cried, her wide eyes glinting with trust, her child's heart a spark of kindness.

Harlan chuckled, his grin softening as he met their gazes, his tone a quiet tease. "Both begging me—how's a guy say no?" he said, his hazel eyes warm as he knelt, his hand ruffling Klee's hat. "Thanks, spark—count me in," he added, his voice a whisper as he leaned closer, his tone dropping. "Bomb comic shows up—I'll tip you off, secret-style," he murmured, his grin wicked as Klee's eyes curved into crescents, her squeal a burst of glee—"Yay—bombs!" The trio settled around the counter, spoons clinking as they dug in, the Mapo Tofu's heat a dance on their tongues—spicy, numbing, a bliss that drew cheers and gasps, their laughter a family's echo in the shop's glow.

The other customers slumped, their comics limp in their hands, their voices a grumble of resentment—"Reading's torture now!" "Why'd we get stuck with this?!"—their envy a bitter spice against Galehaven's feast, Mondstadt's night alive with its whimsy.

***

Support me on Patreon to read 50+ advanced chapters: patreon.com/Nocturnal_Breeze