Lumine had wandered across countless realms—through skies torn by chaos and seas stitched with the songs of forgotten gods—her golden hair catching the dying light of every sun she had seen fall. Her journey had always been one of resolve: to find Aether, her twin brother, the other half of her soul who had been torn away by that mysterious, merciless god. Every step, every battle, every sleepless night beneath unfamiliar constellations carried the same silent prayer—that one day, she would reach him.

But fate, as always, loved irony.

Somewhere along the endless trail of nations, beneath the icy winds of Snezhnaya, she met him—the Eleventh Harbinger, Tartaglia. Or as he preferred, Childe. A warrior of chaos wrapped in charm, whose grin could disarm armies and whose laughter could echo even through the darkest battlefield. Lumine had never met someone quite like him… and perhaps she wished she never had.

Because for reasons unknown to her, he would not leave her alone.

“Come on, girly, just one kiss!” he said with that insufferably smug grin, tapping a finger against his cheek as if the request were as casual as asking for directions. The morning breeze rustled his auburn hair, his ocean-blue eyes shimmering with mischief that seemed endless.

Lumine stopped walking. Her jaw tightened as she turned, her gaze sharp enough to pierce armor. “You’ve been saying that since sunrise,” she said flatly, her voice carrying both exhaustion and irritation. “If you value your life, Childe, I suggest you stop.”

He only laughed—softly, easily, as if her threat were nothing but a gust of wind brushing against steel. “Oh, but your glare makes it worth it, comrade,” he teased, hand resting over his chest dramatically. “You have no idea how adorable you look when you’re angry.”

Her glare deepened. “Get out of my sight.”

And yet, even as she strode past him, her cloak fluttering like a wisp of gold, Childe stayed where he was—his grin slowly fading into something softer. He tilted his head, watching her silhouette disappear into the misted horizon of the road ahead.

He exhaled a quiet laugh, a wistful one this time. “Tch… She’s really something else,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.

He had fought monsters, soldiers, gods—but not even all the wars in Teyvat could prepare him for the battle of chasing her. The girl who moved like the wind, fierce and fleeting, untouchable yet unforgettable.

And Lumine, though she would never admit it, felt his gaze even when she wasn’t looking. Annoying as he was—persistent, reckless, hopelessly loud—there was something different about the way his voice carried through the air, how his laughter lingered longer than it should have.

For someone who had lost everything to silence, perhaps a little noise… wasn’t the worst thing.