Anastasia sneered as she trailed the Lady toward Galehaven Comics, her voice dripping with scorn. "Heh, these gullible Mondstadters actually swallow that bard's ridiculous tales—pathetic."
Her mood festered with bitterness—yesterday's plan to snag the city defense map had crumbled, met with Jean's rejection and a Haki-fueled thrashing that left her unconscious.
Carried back to the Goethe Hotel like a sack, her pride still stung, the humiliation before the Lady a wound she couldn't shake.
Luke bobbed his head in agreement, his own skepticism mirroring hers. "Rewards from reading comics? Sounds like a fairy tale for fools."
He'd survived Jean's warning shot, but the notion of magical books granting power struck him as absurd, a jest not worth entertaining.
The Lady's brow furrowed as she walked, her mind wrestling with the overheard chatter. "Reading comics to claim their contents—could such a thing hold truth?"
Over five centuries, her travels had unveiled countless wonders, yet this defied even her vast experience, teetering on the edge of fantasy.
Still, Jean's abrupt surge in strength and Luke's awed recounting of the shopkeeper's respect gnawed at her—could this be the thread tying it all together?
"We'll see for ourselves," she resolved silently, her pace quickening as the trio closed in on the alley harboring Galehaven Comics.
Stepping inside, the Lady's sharp eyes swept the space, its decor an unfamiliar blend of cozy and alien that piqued her curiosity despite her guarded demeanor.
Five readers lounged within—Amber, Eula, Lisa, Barbara, and a chuunibyou-clad girl—each engrossed in a comic, their focus unbroken by her entrance.
Spotting Lisa and the Knights among them jolted her—once might be chance, but four together screamed intent, a pattern too deliberate to dismiss.
"There's something extraordinary here," she mused inwardly, her suspicion hardening into certainty as she took in the scene.
Lisa's gaze flicked up, her lazy smile tightening into a frown. "Why's that woman here—retaliation for yesterday, or sniffing out the shop's secrets?"
If the Fatui tapped into Galehaven's power, Mondstadt's fragile balance could tip—a worry she'd need to relay to Jean soon.
"Welcome—here to read comics, you three?" Harlan Flint asked from behind the counter, his tone even despite a flicker of surprise at their swift arrival.
He'd anticipated the Fatui's interest after the clash, but not this fast—and certainly not led by an executive like the Lady herself.
Guests were guests, though, and he wouldn't turn them away—not when his shop's might could crush any threat, Harbinger or otherwise.
The Lady fixed him with a probing stare. "I've heard your shop offers rewards for reading comics—is that true, or just a bard's fanciful lie?"
This black-haired youth seemed unremarkable, yet Jean's deference hinted at depths unseen—could comics truly be the source of such reverence?
Questions swirled in her mind as she sized him up, seeking cracks in his calm facade that refused to yield.
"It's 100,000 Mora per read, one book a day," Harlan answered, his voice steady as he met her scrutiny without flinching.
"Here," the Lady said, her expression unchanging as she slid a pouch across the counter, Solstice's wealth rendering the price a trifle.
The Northland Bank's coffers, fueled by Fatui schemes, ensured Mora flowed like water for her ambitions—she'd not balk at this.
"Can I pick now?" she asked, eager to test the rumors and unravel the mystery that had drawn her here.
"Sorry, no comics are free yet—you'll need to wait," Harlan replied, his tone matter-of-fact as he gestured to the occupied readers.
"Wait?" The Lady's frown deepened, a rare irritation flaring—executives didn't wait; others bent to her schedule, not the reverse.
For critical matters or lofty figures, she'd stomach delay, but lingering for a mere comic felt beneath her station.
"When someone finishes, you can take their book—those are the rules," Harlan said, his voice calm but unyielding, brooking no debate.
"Wait for a comic? Do you even grasp how valuable the Lady's time is?" Anastasia snapped, seizing the chance to claw back favor after yesterday's disgrace.
The Lady's silence emboldened her—she assumed tacit approval, her eyes darting to the readers as she plotted to reclaim a book by force.
Lisa's group, all Knights, loomed as a risky target—four against one tilted the odds—so she zeroed in on Fischl, solitary and engrossed.
As Anastasia stepped toward the chuunibyou girl, Harlan's voice cut through, low and firm. "This shop has rules—no snatching comics allowed."
He set his teacup down with deliberate slowness, and in that instant, a titanic pressure erupted, flooding Galehaven Comics with an invisible, suffocating weight.
The air thickened, a vast, primal force pressing down as if the space itself might fracture under its might, leaving every soul within trembling.
Amber, Eula, Lisa, Barbara, and Fischl froze, their comics forgotten as they swallowed hard, dwarfed by a presence that dwarfed their very beings.
Life, will, even their souls felt borrowed, pinned beneath a power so absolute they couldn't muster a whisper of resistance.
Was this the shopkeeper's true strength—an unassuming man wielding a might that humbled them all in a heartbeat?
Anastasia bore the brunt, an unseen blow slamming her backward, blood spraying from her lips as she crashed outside, crumpling unconscious once more.
"First offense gets a warning—break the rules again, and it won't end so lightly," Harlan said, his tone icy and detached, devoid of warmth.
The pressure lifted as he reined it in, the shop settling back into stillness, though the echo of his power lingered in their bones.
The Lady collapsed to her knees, her mask of composure shattered, horror etching her features as she stared at Harlan with wide, disbelieving eyes.
She'd let Anastasia test him, expecting resistance but not this—a force that pinned her speechless, stripping her of control in mere seconds.
It dragged her back to centuries past, a powerless mortal once more, her strength a flicker against this overwhelming tide.
He looked so ordinary—yet this aura rivaled, no, surpassed anything she'd felt, even from the Tsaritsa herself in Solstice's icy halls.
Who was this man, this unassuming keeper of comics, wielding a might that could crush gods without breaking a sweat?
***
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