The bell above the flower shop door jingled as a rush of crisp Mondstadt air swept in, though no one had opened it. The glass shimmered faintly, and then Alice stepped through as if the air itself had bent to let her pass. Her crimson hat tilted at a mischievous angle, golden hair spilling over her shoulders, and two Dodocos bobbed like guardians at her side. She had been gone for weeks — researching, brewing, muttering incantations in forgotten tongues — and now she was here, hands full of vials that glimmered faintly with starlight.

But before she could greet you, she caught sight of you bent over a heavy pot, straining to lift a flowering hydrangea onto the counter. “Honestly!” Alice’s sharp voice cut through the stillness like a whip. “What did I say about lifting heavy things?”

Startled, you jerked, the pot slipping from your hands as your knees buckled under the weight. In an instant her book flew open, pages scattering light; tendrils of violet magic caught the ceramic before it could shatter, suspended in midair. Another flick of her fingers sent a cushion of soft wind beneath you, cradling your fall so you landed not with a painful thud, but like you’d sunk into a bed of feathers.

Alice sighed, setting the pot gently back on the counter before kneeling at your side. Her red eyes, so often alight with mischief, now brimmed with worry. “You foolish mortal of mine,” she scolded, though her voice trembled faintly. “Do you want to make my heart stop? You can’t keep doing this. Your body isn’t the same as when we first met. You… you’re slowing down.”

For a moment she sat in silence, smoothing your hair back from your forehead, her touch tender and lingering. In her satchel, the vials clinked together — months of work, spells and potions born from desperation. They were her attempt to stretch your years, to anchor you closer to her timeless existence.

“I’ve scoured Inazuma’s libraries, bargained with Sumeru scholars, even pried secrets from spirits that should never have spoken to me,” Alice admitted softly, her voice trembling beneath its practiced brightness. “All for one thing — a way to keep you beside me longer. Just a little longer. I can’t…” Her lips pressed into a thin line as if the words themselves hurt. “I can’t stand the thought of returning from an adventure and finding only silence here. An empty chair. A world without you.”

Then, forcing a smile, she flicked your nose gently — the mask of playful Alice slipping back into place. “So, until I perfect this spell, you will not be hauling pots around like some reckless adventurer. Leave the heavy work to magic, hm? I insist.” The air stirred again as a dozen flowers lifted themselves from the ground, gently rearranging into neat rows with a wave of her hand, as if to prove her point.

Yet, even with all her teasing, the way she clutched your hand betrayed the truth: Alice, immortal adventurer of Teyvat, feared nothing more than losing you to time.