“Is there… something you require of me?”
Rosalyne lowered her head, speaking softly.
At that moment, she hadn’t revealed her true appearance.
When Arlecchino entered, Rosalyne had used the Illusion Mask gifted to her by Luo Qing, disguising herself as a nondescript woman from Inazuma.
Still, pretending to be a mere servant in front of someone who used to be her colleague left a bitter taste in her mouth.
But what choice did she have?
She belonged to Luo Qing now.
“Arlecchino-sama?” Luo Qing feigned ignorance.
He had been mere seconds away from knocking her out cold. Thankfully, Rosalyne’s vigilance had paid off, and she’d used the Illusion Mask.
“…”
Arlecchino scrutinized Rosalyne’s disguise.
Though her physique bore some resemblance to Rosalyne’s, her aura and demeanor were entirely different.
After a long pause, Arlecchino seemed to dismiss the matter, her voice calm.
“Nothing. I was just curious about your attendants.”
“…”
Luo Qing resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
That’s the flimsiest excuse I’ve ever heard.
“And? What does Arlecchino-sama think of her appearance?”
“Mediocre.”
“…”
【+1 Frustration Value from Rosalyne】
Arlecchino didn’t seem inclined to press further. She gave Luo Qing a final glance before heading toward the door.
Luo Qing followed her out for a few symbolic steps before returning to the apartment.
Once the doors were securely locked, he sat back on the tatami mat and exhaled.
“Crisis averted. You can take off the masks now.”
As he spoke, Rosalyne deactivated her Illusion Mask, and Makoto removed her fox mask.
“Who was that woman?” Makoto asked, her tone puzzled.
“One of my colleagues, another Harbinger. She’s… a bit unhinged,” Luo Qing replied succinctly.
Then, something occurred to him.
“Wait a second, Makoto. Didn’t you foresee the future? How do you not know about her?”
“I’m Inazuma’s Archon, not a god of time. My foresight is limited to events tied to Inazuma!” Makoto pouted, muttering, “What good am I to you, then?”
“Excuse me?”
Annoyed, Makoto pointed at the cards on the table and huffed.
“I saw your cards earlier. You were going to lose, and yet you bailed mid-game!”
“That was official business! I had no choice!” Luo Qing protested, his tone righteous.
He turned to Rosalyne, his expression growing serious.
“Speaking of which, Rosalyne, you know how Arlecchino operates. While she’s still in Snezhnaya, be extra cautious.”
“Yes, Master,” Rosalyne said respectfully.
“Master, has Her Majesty granted you divine authority yet?”
“She has.”
With a thought, Luo Qing retrieved the Weeping Comedy Mask from his system’s inventory and placed it on the table.
He glanced between Makoto and Rosalyne, his mind churning.
Childe had told him that Harbingers could establish their own personal battalions—independent of the Fatui’s regular forces. These units would follow his direct orders, granted unique privileges, and move freely within Snezhnaya.
Considering that Rosalyne and Makoto were supposed to be dead, disguises would be necessary for them to move about.
Luo Qing began to formulate a plan: have his followers wear custom masks, modeled after Rosalyne’s and Makoto’s, and register them as part of his personal battalion. This would make it easier to assign them tasks without arousing suspicion.
With a flick of his hand, Luo Qing shaped a set of masks using Geo elements and laid them on the table.
Some resembled tengu masks from Inazuma; others bore dragon-like features inspired by Liyue. One even mirrored his Weeping Comedy Mask.
“What do you think of these designs?” he asked.
“None of them look good,” Makoto said, shaking her head.
“Whatever you decide, Master,” Rosalyne replied quietly, bowing her head.
“Tsk. Rosalyne, you’re so gentle now; it’s kind of unsettling,” Luo Qing teased, ruffling her hair.
“Mm…”
Rosalyne remained silent, allowing him to stroke her head.
Since her resurrection, she felt her once-agitated temperament had calmed significantly, replaced by an unusual serenity.
“I’ll arrange with headquarters to designate these masks as the official symbol of my battalion,” Luo Qing said.
“This way, you’ll be free to move about without worrying about Fatui agents identifying you.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to choose a different design?”
“None of them look good anyway,” Makoto said dismissively.
“Perhaps, Master,” Rosalyne suggested, “you could base the design on the mask Her Majesty granted you.”
“My mask?”
Luo Qing glanced at the Weeping Comedy Mask.
Unlike the other Harbingers’ masks, which only partially obscured their faces, his covered his entire face.
Admittedly, the mask did exude a certain gravitas—a perfect representation of an intimidating figure.
“Alright, I’ll head to headquarters and have them produce a batch.”
He stood and moved toward the door.
“Stay on high alert. Arlecchino seems to have her eye on you two. Don’t let her discover anything.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Got it…”
—
At the Fatui headquarters, Luo Qing quickly finalized the registration of his personal battalion’s insignia.
The logistics department began producing masks based on the Weeping Comedy Mask, each with slight variations to differentiate them while maintaining a cohesive design.
With his tasks complete, Luo Qing was about to head home for some well-earned leisure time when he reached the entrance hall and found his path blocked.
Standing before him was the Doctor.
“Well, what a coincidence, Brighella,” Dottore said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
His demeanor radiated calm confidence.
“Dottore-sama. What brings you here?” Luo Qing asked with a polite smile, though inwardly, he bristled.
Among all the Harbingers, he had the least favorable impression of the Doctor.
Dottore’s reputation as a mad scientist wasn’t undeserved; his penchant for using soldiers as experimental subjects—even if it didn’t kill them—left a sour taste in many mouths.
“Didn’t I mention it during the Tsaritsa’s audience?”
Dottore’s grin widened.
“I find your abilities… fascinating. Interested in collaborating?”
“Collaboration?” Luo Qing’s tone was lighthearted. “You’re not planning to dissect me, are you? Because if that’s the case, I’ll have to decline.”
“Hah, your humor is much sharper than Arlecchino’s,” Dottore replied, unperturbed by the subtle jab.
“For an experiment subject of your caliber, dissection would be far too crude.
“Your emotional manipulation aligns closely with one of my research topics. I know a place where I might be able to help you refine your abilities even further.”
“Oh?” Luo Qing feigned curiosity.
“And where might that be, Dottore-sama?”
The Doctor’s smirk deepened.
“Sumeru.”
—
T/N: sorry doctor, but you aren’t a woman so I don’t think he’ll go to Sumeru
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