The idea came to him in a flash, and Idris shrugged on his coat, already halfway to the door.
"Huh? Grand Sage, it's late. You're still heading out?" Nahida tilted her head.
"Mm. I'm going to the Grand Bazaar."
Of course—if you wanted to showcase a nation to guests, you took them where the pulse was loudest: a crush of stalls, bright lamps, laughter, and that unmistakable cadence of Sumeru's dances. Soft power 101.
"Are you… going to give them trouble?" she asked, suddenly anxious. Every previous Grand Sage had despised the Bazaar's 'lowborn chaos' and made a point of suppressing it. If he walked in tonight…
He rolled a shoulder. "Depends on their attitude. If they won't give me face, I won't pretend to be polite. Knowing one's place is their job, not mine."
"You—… fine. Expecting you to be gentle is impossible." She sighed, then softened. "But you should rest. Three straight days refining pills wrecked your mind and body, and you only napped a few hours. Night's fallen. Please… don't carry the whole nation on no sleep."
He waved her off, dry as ever. "And leave Sumeru to the decrepit fossils—or to you? A better Sumeru is worth more than a nap. There's nothing in that bed that interests me."
He stepped past her, then tossed the line over his shoulder, utterly deadpan: "Unless you're in it to warm it for me."
He was gone before the words finished detonating.
Nahida froze, cheeks going scarlet. To sleep if someone warms the bed for you… you picky, impossible man. She glanced at the neatly turned-down quilt, then at the door he'd just exited, still ajar on a sliver of night.
"…You said it. So I don't have much choice, do I?"
On tiptoe, the little god slipped into his room, slid under the covers, and pulled the blanket up to her nose—small, serious, determined to do something useful for once.
Idris, unaware his bed had acquired a guardian spirit, chose a dark corridor to quietly claim his latest system payout.
He'd changed Sumeru's trajectory again—developing alchemy and presenting a real cure for Eleazar without sacrificing the Greater Lord. The system chimed, pleased.
[System] Congratulations, host. By replacing the Tree King's martyrdom with alchemy, you've altered a major plotline.
Reward: 1x lottery draw.
Result: Weapon — Frostmourne.
Note: Formerly an absolutely evil blade. All mind-corrupting miasma has been purged. Safe to wield.
"Frostmourne, huh?"
A proper weapon was welcome—he'd lacked a truly decisive means of offense. Still, he eyed the blade's name with a crooked smile.
"System… you didn't expect me to take this and butcher Sumeru, did you?"
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