The Silkfire Revue bloomed across the festival grounds like a dream come to life.
Under swaying lanterns dyed in hues of crimson and gold, music echoed gently from stringed zithers and hand flutes, blending with the laughter of the crowd and the rhythmic beat of distant dancers' feet. Glowing spirit-kites twirled overhead in spirals of light, trailing glimmers like falling stars, while incense coils released soft trails of perfume into the cooling night.
Daita stood before a booth glittering with prizes, ribbons, trinkets, wind chimes, hairpins and a game that required tossing small rings onto wooden pegs from a distance.
"Three more!" the shopkeeper cried, barely hiding his exasperation as Daita flicked another ring and landed it perfectly onto a delicate jade-tipped pole. Cheers burst from a small group of young women nearby, who clapped and giggled as Daita, grinning, handed each of them a prize with a bow.
"Please," he said smoothly, offering a carved phoenix comb to a blushing girl. "For the radiance you bring to this already unfairly bright evening."
The shopkeeper sighed, rubbing his temples. "He's cleared out half the stall."
Akira stood beside him, quiet as ever, arms crossed. His head tilted slightly toward Daita, though the mask concealed any trace of reaction. Still, the subtle shake of his head betrayed his thoughts well enough.
Daita shot him a cocky smile. "What? You're just jealous I have a better aim."
"Or a better audience," Akira murmured dryly.
Just then, a faint voice behind them broke through the music and noise.
"Ah—no, my…!"
Something crashed.
Daita turned, startled and Akira froze mid-step.
Behind them, half-crouched among the crowd, was Astra. A shattered glass charm lay at her feet, broken shards scattered across the cobblestones, catching the light in jagged glints. Her expression was equal parts dismay and frustration as she reached for the largest piece.
Before she could touch it, Shion stepped in swiftly, placing a firm hand on her shoulder.
"Astra, don't. Step aside—it's sharp."
Startled, Astra froze, pulling her hand back. Around them, the crowd continued to murmur and flow, but that one small space felt suspended.
She turned, brushing her hands off with a muttered sigh just as Shion crossed his arms, already inhaling sharply like he'd been holding in a lecture the whole time.
"I told you not to buy that," he began, brows furrowed deeply. "What did I say? It's delicate, it's expensive, and it needs a steady hand. Not even ten minutes, and you've managed to drop it.
Astra winced, avoiding his gaze.
Shion wasn't finished. "You know what this proves? That I'm right. You can't just point at something shiny and expect it not to fall apart in your hands. There's a reason I—"
"I got it, I got it," Astra muttered, already edging away. Her eyes darted across the street, scanning for an escape. Then she squinted at the nearest stall stacked with lacquered masks, soft lantern dolls, and fans and made her move.
"I'm going to look at that fan," she said quickly.
"You don't need another fan, Astra—wait—" Shion turned, but she was already halfway across the street.
He groaned, dragging a hand down his face, then gave chase with a string of muttered curses. "Every time it's like her feet are made of wind and bad decisions…"
Behind them, Daita let out a low whistle, amused.
Akira hadn't moved, but the slight tilt of his head suggested he hadn't missed a single word.
Daita leaned slightly toward him and murmured, "Well, that was… familiar."
Akira gave a slow nod, silent—but the shift in his posture didn't go unnoticed.
Daita, still holding his last few rings from the stall game, let out a casual hum. "Alright then…" Without even glancing, he flicked his wrist and tossed the rings over his shoulder.
The shopkeeper gasped, already shaking his head, certain the shots were a waste. But a sudden breeze kicked up.
The rings spun midair, curved like dancers on cue, and landed perfectly—clink, clink, clink—looping onto three prize stands. Each one clicked into place over the most expensive items, a jeweled hairpin, a sapphire-inlaid fan, and a delicate gold necklace.
The shopkeeper stared. "Wha—? You—! No, that's not—!" He clutched his head, swaying like he might collapse.
Daita grinned, unbothered. "Ladies who need them can take them," he said coolly, dusting off his hands. "I'm feeling generous tonight."
Akira let out a low exhale, part sigh, part suppressed chuckle.
Then, before he could drift back into thought, Daita grabbed his wrist and tugged him forward.
"Come on," Daita said with a spark in his tone. "Let's have some fun."
"Wait. Fun?"
Daita looked at him like he'd just asked if the moon was optional. "Yes, fun. You've heard of it, haven't you? Laughter? Joy? Mild chaos?"
Akira gave a small shake of his head. "I think we've had quite enough fun for one night. We should return. Commander Zhou might have news—and what about the spy—"
"Oh, come on," Daita cut in, waving a hand dismissively. "I'll take care of it."
"Daita—"
But he didn't wait for protest. With a growing smirk, Daita pivoted on his heel and strode ahead—each step casual, yet with a very clear destination in mind.
His eyes had already locked onto the stall just past the shimmering curtain of firefly-lights strung overhead, where Astra stood stiffly, pretending to examine an array of decorative fans with very forced interest. Every few seconds, she nodded absently at Shion, who was at her side and mid-rant—arms crossed, tone stern, and expression exasperated.
"I'm telling you, we should head back. Kaen only gave us an hour—if we stay any longer, we're pushing it."
Astra offered a tight smile, her eyes darting like a cornered fox. The moment Shion turned slightly to glance behind them, she seized her chance.
"Oh look! Puppets!" she blurted out far too cheerful and practically lunged toward the next stall.
Shion turned back, only to find the space beside him empty. He blinked, then sighed deeply, dragging a hand down his face. Grumbling under his breath, he trudged after her, muttering a string of low curses as he went.
Astra stood before the puppet stall, her gaze drifting over the array of intricately crafted figures, each displayed under a soft-glowing canopy of veil-silk and hanging crystal charms. Some puppets were clad in miniature battle gear, with tiny paper talismans swaying gently from their backs,
Among the display were puppets shaped like beasts a serpent coiled around a sun-disc, a kirin with pearlwood antlers, a qilin etched with cloud-swirl patterns, a winged tiger with obsidian claws, One stood out, a nine-tailed fox, delicate and poised, its tails glimmering with silver thread.
Astra leaned in closer, eyes scanning the rows—until her gaze stopped on one in particular. It was a small marionette dressed in flowing red robes, its wooden form unnervingly precise. The face was calm, serene even, but there was something haunting in its lifelike stillness. Its slender hands were poised in a silent mudra, and along its joints, a faint shimmer of spiritual lacquer caught the light, as if it had once been part of something more sacred than performance.
The shopkeeper noticed and brightened. "Ah, that one's new. Came in just last week with a consignment from Master Haien of the Jade Atelier. Said to be one of his final carved pieces before he went into seclusion."
Astra blinked. "What's the price?"
Before the shopkeeper could answer, Shion stepped in with a frown. "You're not seriously thinking of buying it?"
Astra gave a firm nod, not even glancing at him.
The shopkeeper rubbed his hands together. "That one's special. Five hundred solren."
Astra's jaw dropped. "Five hundred—?! That's nearly a Luna!" Her eyes shot back to the puppet. "It's just… does it really cost that much?"
The shopkeeper only smiled knowingly. "Master Haien's work doesn't come cheap. And that one, miss… it doesn't just move. It remembers."