Ye Ruo's novel Detective Windhaven painted a city kissed by gentle breezes, a place any Mondstadter would recognize as their own.
Mondstadt's wind-blown charm shone through every page, its streets alive with the whispers of Barbatos' favor.
No one needed to spell it out—the city of freedom pulsed in the story's heart.
Albert, still clutching his copy of Idol Debut, couldn't contain his excitement as he turned to the group.
"I adore Detective Windhaven—it's about guarding everything, from stray cats to lost souls, with a tenderness that screams Ye Ruo's love for Mondstadt!"
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush.
"I'm convinced Shotaro, the brash half of the duo, is modeled after Master Ye Ruo himself."
The name sounded faintly Inazuman, but Albert brushed that aside with a wave.
"His knightly resolve mirrors the Darknight Hero's legend, don't you think?"
Albert's eyes gleamed as he pieced it together, his passion spilling over.
"And those shadowy merchants peddling relics of dead gods' wrath? They're clearly the Fatui, meddling as always!"
He spat the last words quietly, wary of prying ears.
The Fatui loomed large across Teyvat, their eleven Harbingers a terrifying force behind diplomatic smiles.
Mondstadt felt their shadow keenly, especially now, with Grand Master Falga and the elite knights away on expedition.
Albert, just an ordinary man, kept his curses soft—fear tempered his fire.
Detective Windhaven had arrived like a gust of fresh air after Idol Debut's playful fame.
Its battles and mysteries, rooted in Mondstadt's soul, struck a deeper chord with the city's people.
Readers saw their home in its pages, a love letter to the land they cherished.
The story's secret treasure, imbued with Barbatos' power, transformed into weapons of wind to smite foes.
That alone hooked them—relics of the Anemo Archon were rare, coveted beyond measure.
Once, a collector had outbid the Fatui for a vial said to hold Barbatos' breath, buying two thousand fakes in his quest.
Ye Ruo's novel spun that allure into gold, thrilling readers with every twist.
Irene tilted her head toward Yuri, curiosity lighting her youthful face.
"So, Yuri, you must love the idea of a wind-god treasure powering those fights, right?"
Yuri shook her head with a decisive grin.
"No, it's Shotaro and Philip's bond that gets me—their clash and unity open a whole new world!"
She laughed, bright and unapologetic, leaving the others stunned.
Irene blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected answer.
Albert's jaw dropped, his fervor momentarily silenced.
The freckled girl frowned, then seized on a new thread.
"If Shotaro's the Wind Knight, who's Philip supposed to be?"
Irene pondered, her mind racing through Ye Ruo's past.
"He teamed up a lot with Eula, the Spindrift Knight, back in his active days."
She hesitated, nearly naming Eula's family, then caught herself.
Albert coughed sharply, a warning in his throat.
Yuri echoed it, her eyes flicking to the crowd around them.
Irene froze, realizing the danger of that name—Lawrence.
The Lawrence clan's legacy of tyranny still poisoned Mondstadt's memory, a stain no one forgave.
Eula bore that burden, an outcast despite her valor.
Ye Ruo, her comrade, must have masked her in Philip, tweaking the gender to shield her.
Philip's subtle softness suddenly made sense, a nod to Eula's hidden grace.
The freckled girl nodded, steering them away from the taboo.
"Guess that fits—lots of real faces hide in his stories."
Nearby, other voices buzzed with their own theories and chatter.
On the bookstore's second floor, Ye Ruo heard it all, a faint chuckle escaping his lips.
He pushed open the window, letting sunlight flood the room with morning's golden warmth.
Mondstadt sprawled below, its windmills spinning lazily amid colorful rooftops.
Ye Ruo stood tall, his white-and-black suit catching the light, elegant and poised.
His dark hair brushed his forehead, framing eyes that held depths like a storm-tossed sea.
Women in Mondstadt swooned over him, drawn to his noble air and quiet charm.
He wasn't born here—a traveler from another world, he'd landed in Teyvat over a decade ago.
His old life ended abruptly, crushed by a truck after a grueling night of overtime.
Reborn in Mondstadt, he'd pieced his past together by age seven, memories flooding back.
An orphan then, he'd nearly fallen into the Fatui's clutches, bound for Arlecchino's grim orphanage.
The system sparked awake just in time, gifting him mastery over wind before slipping into silence.
With that power, he fled, rejecting the Fatui's chains for a future of his own making.
Freedom called him, a longing so fierce it summoned a Wind Vision at seven years old.
He'd stared at the glowing orb, baffled—wind atop wind felt like overkill.
Still, it marked him as extraordinary, a child wielding power others dreamed of.
He stowed away to Clearwater Port, Mondstadt's bustling trade hub, hiding among crates.
There, filthy and desperate, he met Falga, the Grand Master, a man as bold as the gales.
Falga took him in, burying his past and guiding him into the Knights of Favonius.
Ye Ruo rose fast, his talent blooming into the legend of the Wind Knight.
Swordplay came naturally, the Favonius style—light, swift, precise—fitting him like a glove.
Without elements, he could slice raindrops mid-fall, his blade's gusts felling trees.
With his Vision, that power soared, a force of nature in a young man's hands.
Now, he gazed out at Mondstadt, the city he'd fought for and now shaped with words.
The system had reawakened recently, stirring as he penned Detective Windhaven.
Its hum promised more—power, purpose—but he wanted only ink and peace.
Downstairs, fans dissected his work, seeing truths he hadn't meant to reveal.
Albert's rant about the Fatui rang true; Ye Ruo loathed their schemes as much as anyone.
Shotaro and Philip weren't just fiction—their roots tangled with his own history.
Eula's shadow lingered in Philip, a tribute to their battles side by side.
He'd veiled her, sparing her the Lawrence stigma, but her spirit shone through.
The treasure of wind? A nod to his own Vision, a spark of Barbatos he carried.
Ye Ruo leaned against the window, the breeze tugging at his vest.
Mondstadt thrived below, its people weaving his tales into their lives.
He'd escaped the Fatui's grasp, built a name, yet the system pulled him further.
Knighthood had been duty; writing was freedom—now both blurred into something vast.
A bard's tune drifted up, praising the Wind Knight's valor and mystery.
He pulled his manuscript closer, its pages blank with unwritten defiance.
The system pulsed, tempting him with destinies he hadn't sought.
He'd fled once, from a fate of servitude, and he'd flee again if he must.
His quill hovered, ready to carve a path back to the quiet he craved.
Sunlight bathed him, a silent witness to a man caught between legend and longing.
***
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