In another corner of the bar, the atmosphere was as joyful as a different world.
Stelle had abandoned her academic research on the siren's abdominal tides and was now locking onto her new target.
The next moment, her eyes lit up—target acquired!
March 7th was using a small spoon, feeding Tribbie mousse cake, spoonful by spoonful.
Tribbie's cheeks were puffed out as she chewed, "Mwah~ mwah~ mwah~"
"Teacher Tribbie, is it delicious?"
Tribbie's mouth was stuffed full, like a little hamster, and hearing this, she vigorously gave a thumbs-up.
"Super duper yummy!"
Stelle's gaze swept to a nearby spot; Trianne and Trinnon, though not having eaten cake, were performing the exact same action, then, like a mirror image, simultaneously gave thumbs-up.
"Is this... telepathy?"
Stelle's thirst for knowledge was instantly ignited, and she slid over to Tribbie's side.
"Teacher Tribbie!"
Tribbie blinked her innocent big eyes: "What's wrong? Little Gray..."
Before she could finish, Stelle extended her index finger and accurately poked Tribbie's soft cheek.
"Ah!"
Tribbie exclaimed.
Meanwhile, Trianne and Trinnon simultaneously covered the same spot on their cheeks, showing identical expressions of surprise.
It truly was a trinity, with shared senses!
Seeing this, March 7th's mouth twitched uncontrollably: "Hey! You can't poke Teacher Tribbie's face with your finger!"
Though she said this, in her heart, she was frantically planning to try it herself when no one was around.
Just then.
An intensely rich aroma, without warning, permeated the entire bar.
The scent... was domineering, overbearing, instantly seizing everyone's sense of smell.
Stelle's finger, mid-poke, froze in the air.
"March, this smell..."
March 7th sniffed the air vigorously, a hint of confusion and longing flashing in her pink eyes.
"That's right, it's the smell of roast meat again! Wait, why did I say 'again'?"
Stelle's throat rolled, and she accurately added: "This time, it's top-grade... roast goose!"
Their mouths watered almost simultaneously.
They followed the source of the aroma, and finally, their gaze locked onto the curled-up figure in the corner of the wall.
Black Swan was crouched on the ground, her head buried deep between her knees, her entire body huddled into a ball, with wisps of smoke rising from her head.
"Miss Black... Black Swan?" March 7th's voice was uncertain.
Stelle carefully identified the iconic dress: "It's her, alright, but is she... self-cooking?"
A calm voice sounded behind them.
"She said she liked challenges, so I let her challenge herself."
Phainon had appeared there at some point.
March 7th and Stelle cast suspicious glances: "Really?"
Phainon nodded slightly, his eyes sincere: "Really, I even warned her that the waters of memory were too hot, and she wouldn't be able to handle it."
"Oh, right." March 7th suddenly remembered something, leaned towards Phainon, lowered her voice, and asked with eyes full of anticipation,
"Phainon, before we return to Amphoreus, can Tribbie and the others... sleep in the same room as me?"
No sooner had she spoken.
Black Swan in the corner suddenly stood up, clutching her head tightly with both hands, letting out a piercing shriek.
"Ahhh—Amphoreus is still chasing me!"
The next moment, space twisted, and Black Swan's figure vanished into thin air, leaving only a lingering scent of roast goose that hadn't yet dispersed.
March 7th and Stelle exchanged glances.
"This... was it that stimulating?"
Before they could figure it out, the bar door was pushed open, and a tall figure, covered in dust from travel, walked in.
The Galaxy Ranger, Boothill.
His gaze swept across the room, finally landing precisely on the unopened bottle of fine liquor in front of Phainon's bar.
"Well, I'll be." He whistled, "That stuff ain't cheap."
Phainon picked up the bottle, twisted it open cleanly, and poured him a full glass.
"It's fine, Sister Himeko is paying."
Boothill grinned, raised the glass, and drained it in one gulp, a satisfied sigh escaping his throat.
"Hiss... that's some good stuff! Alright, kid, you know how to pick a drink."
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his expression becoming a bit more serious, "Alright, by the rules of the jianghu, since you've had my drink, we're not strangers anymore."
Phainon nodded; he understood Boothill's unspoken meaning and cut straight to the chase.
"Mr. Boothill, is Tiernan's relic still with you?"
The playfulness in Boothill's eyes instantly receded, replaced by a hint of understanding.
"So that's your objective."
He pulled a bullet from his embrace.
The bullet shimmered with a crystalline glow like stars.
"Funnily enough, I was just about to send it to the heavens. But then, some guy, by his own will, tore a hole in the sky, which meant my good brothers and sisters didn't get a chance to make an appearance."
Boothill's fingertips caressed the bullet casing, his tone growing somber.
"This thing, in the hands of an outsider, is worthless; it can only fulfill their true purpose when returned to their rightful owner."
"It is a burial object, and only heroes who have achieved great military feats for the Galaxy Rangers are worthy of possessing it."
Boothill refilled his glass on his own accord, and once again, drained it.
This time, he looked into Phainon's eyes and said with utmost seriousness:
"And you, I'm absolutely sure, are more than qualified."
The next second, he pushed the bullet towards Phainon.
"Keep it safe, kid. Whenever, wherever, when their trajectory cuts across the starry sky, all Galaxy Rangers will answer your call."
Boothill paused, then added, "The only thing to note is that you'll need a gun that can fire it."
Phainon put away the bullet, looked at Boothill, his expression calm, "It's fine, my teacher has one."
Boothill was startled at first, then burst into deafening laughter.
"A teacher with a gun?! Hahahaha! Well, I'll be, you've got quite the life then!"