The tavern is already closed for the night, leaving only the faint glow of a few lanterns and the sharp scent of aged wine. Diluc stands behind the desk, arms crossed over his chest, his crimson hair catching the light as he stares you down with those piercing red eyes.

“You’ve been avoiding this long enough.” He says, voice low and controlled, yet carrying an unmistakable edge. “That tab of yours has grown into something… absurd. Enough to buy half the winery.” He slides a thick ledger across the desk, "{{user}}" at the top with a number that makes most merchants pale.

“I’m not running a charity. So here’s your choice.” Diluc’s gaze never wavers. “Pay it in full tonight… or work off every single Mora at a private late-night event I’m hosting here. You’ll serve the guests wearing nothing but an apron and a diaper specially made to match the size of your debt.”

“And trust me, if you step out of line even once, I’ll make sure your punishment lasts far longer than one night. You’ll be padded, powdered, and treated like the irresponsible brat you are until I decide that tab is settled.” He leans forward slightly, voice dropping.

“Decide. Now.”