Lydia stumbled and scrambled into the washroom, splashing cold water on her face to barely quell her panic.
She brushed her teeth in a flash, then snatched the dress draped over the back of a chair and hastily pulled it on.
Without even taking the time to comb her hair, she grabbed the now-cold apple pie Noelle had thoughtfully prepared and bolted for the cathedral.
As she sprinted past the Adventurer's Guild, Katheryne saw her frantic rush and called out with a smile, "Lydia, slow down! Don't trip!"
Lydia waved back without turning. "Can't slow down! Sister Grace is going to kill me!"
Ten minutes later, Lydia finally reached the entrance of the Favonius Cathedral.
Mondstadt might seem small in the game, but the real city was far, far larger. If Lydia hadn't taken shortcuts by climbing walls, the journey would have taken at least half an hour.
She clutched the apple pie in one hand, a half-eaten piece still dangling from her mouth.
Taking a deep breath, she gently pushed open the massive doors.
Inside, Grace stood in the main hall. Lydia approached her, her heart pounding with dread.
But the scolding she expected never came.
Instead, Grace spoke first, her voice filled with concern. "Lydia, did you not rest well last night? You look so pale."
Gotelinde leaned in, gently touching Lydia's forehead. "Noelle came by this morning. She said you two were so exhausted from helping people rebuild yesterday that you overslept."
Lydia nearly spat out the apple pie in her mouth. She stared blankly for a long moment before it sank in. "Noelle... she covered for me?"
"She did," Sister Grace said, shaking her head with a mix of helplessness and amusement. "That girl came to the cathedral bright and early, telling us how you helped Wagner clean up his blacksmith shop, then went to The Cat's Tail to lend a hand, working until midnight. She even apologized to us on your behalf."
Gotelinde nodded in agreement. "We're thrilled you're actively helping the citizens. Why would we ever blame you? Just don't push yourself so hard next time. Take care of your body and know your limits, understand?"
A warmth spread through Lydia's chest, and she was about to promise she would.
But Gotelinde's voice cut in again. "That said, rules are still rules."
"The graffiti on the Statue of the Anemo Archon in the plaza still hasn't been cleaned off. Perhaps Lydia could take care of it?"
The other nuns froze for a second, then nodded in unison.
"Indeed. It wouldn't do for the Lord Anemo Archon to look so grimy."
"Lydia's quite handy. She's perfect for the job."
Lydia's newly relaxed shoulders slumped instantly. She threw her head back and wailed, "Nooo! The graffiti is so high up! I can't reach it!"
But her protest was futile. Sister Grace was already handing her a bucket and a rag. "As the culprit who started this, that excuse won't fly."
Pouting, Lydia took the bucket and trudged toward the plaza, glancing back reluctantly every few steps.
At the base of the statue, she hugged the pedestal and tried to climb three times on tiptoe, failing each time.
Finally, she clenched the bucket's handle in her teeth and scrambled up, using both hands and feet.
Her snow-white hair fell over her face, obscuring her vision, so she used her elbow to tuck it behind her ear.
The hem of her skirt snagged on the statue's textured surface, but she ignored it, stubbornly pushing onward until she reached the statue's chest.
She sat perched on the folds of the statue's collar, her legs dangling and swinging as she scrubbed back and forth at the graffiti with the rag.
Passing citizens stopped to watch, unable to resist calling out warnings:
"Be careful you don't fall!"
Lydia called back in acknowledgment while hooking her foot onto the statue's arm.
As she shimmied along the stone limb, she looked like a white-furred monkey hanging upside down from a tree.
The cleaning took several days.
Every morning, Lydia would squat by the statue with a bucket, and soon she'd be seen clinging to its various parts.
Sometimes she'd be perched on the statue's shoulder, scrubbing graffiti off the Anemo Archon's hood. The sunlight on her white hair, seen from a distance, looked like a scarf wrapped around the statue's neck.
Other times, Lydia would sit on the statue's outstretched palm, dangling her legs while munching on an apple. She looked even more carefree than an old man out for a leisurely stroll.
When she got tired, Lydia would even curl up in the hollow of the statue's collar to take a nap. The sight of the girl drooling in her sleep left the patrolling Favonius Knights utterly dumbfounded.
Grace watched from afar as Lydia curled into a ball on the statue's palm and shook her head helplessly. "This child... she's turned her punishment into a vacation."
Gotelinde was at her wit's end. She had intended to teach Lydia a lesson, but instead, the girl had become Mondstadt's "newest attraction."
More citizens came to watch Lydia each day than to pray.
This afternoon, Lydia was once again curled up on the statue's palm, dozing in the warm sunlight.
She was sleeping soundly when a familiar conversation suddenly woke her.
"Hey, where are you going?"
"—To the Symbol of Mondstadt's Hero. See ya!"
"..."
Stare~ Lydia quietly peeked out, her breathing softening to a whisper.
Paimon's chirpy voice grew closer, mingled with Lumine's gentle replies, every word reaching Lydia's ears.
"Lumine! Are we really not going to ask Lydia to come?" Paimon's voice held a hint of hesitation. "I heard she's been stuck on the statue for days. She must be so bored."
Lumine's footsteps paused. Her tone was both helpless and serious. "Acting Grand Master Jean and Venti both said it's too dangerous. Stormterror is no joke, and Lydia doesn't have a Vision. She'd only get hurt if she came with us."
"Let's not worry her. We can explain everything after we've dealt with it."
"But..." Paimon started to protest, but Lumine gave her a gentle tug.
"Let's go. Venti's waiting for us at Windrise. Don't wake her."
Lydia, still sprawled on the statue's palm, puffed out her cheeks in frustration.
Unbelievable!
That Venti! It's bad enough he hasn't come to see me in days.
Now he's conspiring with Lumine and Paimon to keep secrets from me!
The Symbol of Mondstadt's Hero? Isn't that Windrise?!
If I remember correctly, they're about to plot how to steal the Holy Lyre.
How could they leave me out of something so interesting?!
You see, when it comes to petty theft... no, stealing... that's not right either.
Anyway, for this kind of operation, Lydia—a master-level expert—would like to state for the record that they definitely didn't ask the right person!
Her mind was made up in an instant.
Screw it! I have to follow them and see what happens!
Besides, I know this area like the back of my hand. Even if there's danger, I can always find a place to hide!
Lydia quietly shuffled to the edge of the statue's palm, ready to jump down.
Suddenly, a familiar voice called from behind her: "Lydia, how's the cleaning coming along?"
She froze mid-motion, stiff as if hit by a paralysis spell, and slowly turned her head.
Barbara stood at the base of the statue, holding a cloth bag, her eyes filled with exasperation.
"B-Barbara..." Lydia quickly snatched the nearby rag and started scrubbing randomly at the stone surface. "Almost done! Just a little graffiti left!"
Barbara looked up at her and sighed softly. "You know, you spend all day sleeping on the statue. Where do you find the energy to clean?"
"Come home with me. Rest for today, and you can continue tomorrow."
As she spoke, she opened the cloth bag, revealing the dinner she'd brought for Lydia.
"Noelle told me you like this, so I made it myself."
"You're always pushing yourself too hard. Don't wear yourself out like this next time..."
Lydia stared at the steaming apple pie, a pang of guilt twisting in her gut.
Her eyes darted around. The moment Barbara closed her eyes, Lydia seized her chance.
She silently dropped the rag into the bucket and tiptoed down the statue's side.
Forgetting the apple pie entirely, she leaped from the edge of the plaza and vanished.
"...So, from now on, you need to behave, that way..."
When Barbara opened her eyes, ready to call Lydia down for dinner, she found only an empty statue, an overturned bucket, and a rag lying on the ground.
Barbara stood frozen, gazing at the deserted plaza, and rubbed her temples.
Fine. Next time, I'll let Lydia suffer a little more.
She swore to the Lord Anemo Archon:
If she ever went soft on Lydia again, she—Barbara—would write her name backward