It was only then that King remembered a crucial problem he had overlooked.
He didn't have a single coin on him!
Previously, all his expenses at the Opera Epiclese were covered by the authorities, so he never had to worry about money.
But now... he was screwed!
The shadow of social death loomed over King.
What should he do?
A dignified Divine Guard, eating out without paying?
Wouldn't that completely destroy his image!
Should he call Furina to save the day?
He'd rather die!
In just one second, countless thoughts flashed through King's mind, each pointing toward the tragic outcome of "image collapse."
His heart began to accelerate—
"Thump."
A heavy heartbeat echoed in the unusually quiet breakfast shop.
Paimon's satisfied sigh cut short. She blinked in confusion and looked at King.
The admiring smile on Lilith's face slightly froze.
The diners, who were still eating cautiously, froze with their knives and forks suspended in mid-air.
Lyney and Lynette, who were remotely spying from the shadows of the building across the street, simultaneously stiffened, their expressions changing drastically.
King lowered his gaze slightly, his eyes resting on his empty fingertips, as if contemplating some universal truth.
"Thump... thump..."
The emperor engine began to preheat.
Lilith's heart also skipped a few beats in rhythm with it.
She saw that after finishing his meal, Lord King did not look satisfied; instead, he sat there silently, arms crossed, his gaze unfathomable.
The increasingly distinct heartbeat made her feel an inexplicable dread.
'Where did I offend this Lord?'
'Could it be... that the food wasn't to his liking?'
Lilith instantly grew tense, cold sweat soaking her back.
'Impossible, I used the best ingredients and the best chef. I even sold it at a loss!'
"Thump! Thump!"
The heartbeat intensified, like a dull drumbeat hitting everyone's eardrums. The air inside the shop seemed to thicken.
Paimon sensed something was wrong and cautiously floated up from the table, looking at King: "Um... what's wrong?"
King did not reply. Beneath his seemingly calm exterior, his brain was running on overdrive, thinking about how to resolve the payment issue gracefully.
His silence, his slightly furrowed brow, and the low pressure spreading around him, accompanied by the heartbeat, were interpreted by others as signs of displeasure.
The diners began to tremble.
They shrank back in their seats in terror, even their breathing becoming cautious.
This Lord seems unhappy!
Who provoked him?
Could there be something wrong with the food at this shop?
Oh god! Will we be caught in the crossfire?
Lilith's face began to turn pale.
The sound of the heartbeat was like a giant hammer, each beat striking her heart. She clenched her fists, her nails digging deeply into her palms, using the pain to force herself to remain calm.
'Was the cream not fresh enough? Or was the bread not fluffy enough?'
'Heavens, what flaw did he find? The fastidiousness of such a powerhouse regarding details is something a mortal like me cannot possibly imagine!'
'My shop... my money... my family legacy...'
Cold sweat drenched Lilith's back, making her expensive silk shirt cling to her skin.
The diners exchanged looks of despair—they had only come for breakfast!
Who could have known they would run into this Vengeful Deity in a fit of anger?
Was it still time to run? Would moving even slightly be seen as a provocation?
"Thump! Thump! Thump!"
The sound of the emperor engine suddenly increased by an order of magnitude, exploding in everyone's ears like heavenly thunder.
Lilith's legs felt weak; she was about to collapse.
Lyney, eavesdropping outside, had a deathly pale face and was covered in cold sweat.
His fingers had long lost their usual steadiness and were trembling uncontrollably!
These were the fingers he, as a Magician, was most proud of!
Lyney turned his head and looked worriedly at his sister beside him.
Lynette's situation was equally grim.
Her cat-like pupils, usually calm and placid, were now filled with undisguised terror. Her cat ears were pressed tightly against her hair, and the fur on her tail was slightly bristled.
Lynette hugged her arms tightly; only by doing so could she gain a sliver of illusory support against that oppressive might.
"Bro... Brother..."
Lynette's voice held a fearful tremor, something Lyney rarely heard: "Are we going to die?"
Yes, they would.
This was not an illusion.
"I'm afraid he discovered us long ago."
Lyney whispered bitterly, his throat dry: "Since the moment we started tracking him... No, maybe even earlier. Our self-perceived stealth is probably as ridiculous as a clown on a stage in his eyes."
"What do we do?"
Lynette's body was shaking uncontrollably as she asked in a low voice.
Lyney's brain was working at high speed.
Run away?
The success rate was infinitely close to zero, and it might even directly provoke him!
Fight?
"..."
Why would I even entertain such a thought!
Only one path remained.
"I'm going in."
Lyney took a deep breath, having made a certain decision, a hint of madness flashing in his eyes: "Show ourselves, apologize, and beg for forgiveness. This is the only chance to survive."
"But..." Lynette hesitated.
"Don't be afraid, I am Fatui, perhaps he will consider the 'diplomatic relations' between Fontaine and Snezhnaya..."
Lyney couldn't continue. This clumsy excuse couldn't even convince himself.
In front of an absolute powerhouse, background meant nothing.
But Lyney had no other choice.
"I'll go in and apologize, you..."
Lyney glanced at Lynette, his eyes full of reluctance: "You leave first, and tell Father what happened here."
Lynette was silent for a moment, then expressionlessly uttered two words: "Idiot."
Lyney froze.
Lynette took a step forward. Although her body was still shaking, her gaze was unusually firm: "If we go, we go together. If we die, we die together. We are family, Brother."
Lyney looked at his sister, a warm feeling and deeper guilt surging in his heart.
He nodded, saying no more.
The two exchanged glances, simultaneously taking a deep breath. Like prisoners heading to the execution ground, they straightened their collars, which weren't even messy, and then walked out of the shadows with somewhat stiff steps, crossing the cool morning street toward "Lilith's Bakery."
"Ding-a-ling—"
The doorbell rang, and Lyney and Lynette walked in.
Their faces were pale, their steps cautious, and their body language showed obvious tension.
Lyney tried hard to force an apologetic smile, but the curve of his mouth was incredibly stiff. Lynette, meanwhile, lowered her head slightly, her cat ears drooping, not daring to look at King.
King looked at the Magician siblings who had just walked in, feeling confused.
He suddenly recalled that, according to the plot, wouldn't Lyney help Lumine and Paimon when they first arrived in Fontaine?
Before King could sort out his thoughts.
Lyney stepped forward, took off his hat and pressed it to his chest, bowing deeply toward King—an angle close to 180 degrees.
"Lord Su-King! Our deepest apologies!"
Lynette followed immediately, bowing just as deeply, her posture even more humble than Lyney's: "It was presumptuous of us to follow behind you and disturb your enjoyment! Please forgive us!"
[Ding! Extreme Fear Emotion detected from Lyney and Lynette. Emotion Points +10,000!]
King was stunned.
You two were actually tracking me?!
Shocked internally, he remained silent, merely gazing at the Lyney siblings with profound eyes. Coupled with the "emperor engine" that hadn't stopped, but had accelerated due to his surprise, it terrified the Lyney siblings into immobility.
"Thump thump thump!"
Lyney and Lynette's nerves were taut. They maintained their bowing posture, not daring to look up, as cold sweat slowly trickled down their temples.
We're dead!
Lyney's heart turned cold.
Just then—
"Hahaha."
A flippant laugh suddenly rang out.
The laughter came from a corner of the shop, carrying a sense of cynical composure.
Everyone's gaze, including King's, followed the sound.
In the corner near the window, a man who had been wearing a hat and eating with his head down slowly lifted his head.
"Stop amusing me, you two pathetic weaklings."
"Why would a powerhouse of that caliber care about two little mice peeking from a corner?"
The man took off the fuzzy, Snezhnayan-style hat on his head, revealing warm orange short hair and a young face that held a hearty smile yet concealed sharpness.
In those azure eyes, an undisguised, fanatical fighting spirit was Burning.
Tartaglia.
The Eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui.
Childe!