The tension inside the Acting Grand Master's office was almost physical. Even the air felt stiff.
Klee stood on the polished wooden floor, head drooped, fingers knotted in the hem of her dress. Her bright red hat seemed to sink with her mood, and her eyes—usually sparkling like fresh Pyro blooms—kept darting up at Jean before darting right back to the floor.
Jean finally lifted her gaze from a stack of reports. Her brows arched in genuine shock.
"Klee? You came here… on your own?"
Her tone carried that rare mix of disbelief and dread that only Klee could invoke.
Klee swallowed, cheeks puffing slightly. "Klee… Klee knows she did something wrong…"
A tiny voice. Softer than the breeze tapping against the window.
Jean blinked.
Klee voluntarily admitting fault?
If the sun really rose from the west today, Jean would not have been surprised.
She steadied herself. "All right. Then tell me… what happened at Cider Lake?"
Klee trembled. "It… it was Klee's bomb…"
Her voice trailed into a whisper, barely audible.
Jean exhaled sharply. "And the explosion shook the city walls."
Klee nodded vigorously, horrified at her own memory.
"Sorry! Klee didn't mean it! Klee was just—just trying to see how big the boom would be—"
Jean pinched the bridge of her nose. Relief mixed with exasperation.
At least it wasn't a monster attack. No Abyss scheme. No emergency alert.
Just… Klee.
"Klee, because you came to confess, the punishment will be light."
Jean raised a hand and signaled a knight at the door. "Escort Klee to the confinement room."
"Confi—what?!"
Klee nearly jumped a full foot high. "But Klee apologized! Klee apologized sooo much!"
Jean shot her a steady look. "You caused a disturbance that mobilized half the Knights. Even with your apology, this is not something we can overlook."
Klee's face collapsed into a soft "( T_T )".
"But how long…?"
"Seven days."
"Seven?!"
The whole Acting Grand Master's office seemed to shake from her shock. "That's forever! Klee's never been locked up that long!"
"This time was different," Jean replied firmly. "You triggered the city's defenses. If you argue again, it becomes ten."
Klee snapped her mouth shut instantly.
She drooped like a wilted flower. "Seven days is okay… Klee will be good… Klee won't blow anything up…"
She toed the floor sadly.
"Klee really wanted to fish-blast again though…"
Jean sighed. A long, tired sigh.
"Klee, hand over your backpack."
Klee froze.
Her pupils shook.
"No."
"Klee."
"Nooo!" She hugged the pack like it was a living creature. "That's Klee's treasure!"
"It stays here. You cannot bring explosives into confinement."
Klee's expression crumpled like wet paper.
Slowly, reluctantly, she placed her backpack on Jean's desk.
Her fingers brushed the fabric one last time.
"You have to take good care of it… okay? Don't lose Klee's bombs."
"No one is going to touch your bombs," Jean muttered wearily. "Now go."
Klee trudged toward the door, trailing behind the knight.
Every step sounded like doom.
"Seven days is so long…" she mumbled. "Klee will be so bored… Klee really wanted to blast fish again…"
Jean massaged her temples. "That child… one day she'll be the end of me…"
"Sounds like the usual."
Jean looked up sharply.
The door swung open and sunlight spilled across the floor.
A man with sandy blond hair stepped inside, his white hooded coat trailing behind him. His Vision glinted faintly at his chest.
Albedo.
He closed the journal in his hand, wearing a faint, almost amused smile.
"I heard the commotion. Thought it was a monster siege," he remarked lightly. "Turns out it was only Klee."
"Only," Jean echoed dryly. "Cider Lake's shoreline was almost turned inside out."
Jean shot him a pointed look. "Tell me, Albedo. Shouldn't you… perhaps… refrain from making so many bombs for her?"
"Me?"
Albedo blinked.
Then frowned, genuinely puzzled.
"My bombs?"
"Yes," Jean said, exasperation slipping into her tone. "You're the one who makes her gear."
But Albedo shook his head.
"No. I haven't made Klee any explosives recently."
His voice lowered into a thoughtful murmur.
"And even the ones I have made… could not create an explosion of the scale reported today."
Jean stiffened.
Albedo crossed his arms. "I know my work. Its power is precisely measured. The blast at Cider Lake exceeded that range significantly."
Jean's brows furrowed. "You're saying… that wasn't your bomb?"
"It's highly unlikely," he confirmed. "Either someone tampered with Klee's equipment… or she used something that wasn't made by me at all."
A quiet chill spread through the room.
Jean's expression sharpened.
Albedo's eyes narrowed, thoughtful and wary.
"Whatever Klee threw," he said slowly, "it wasn't something I crafted."
And that single sentence changed everything.
Something else was evolving inside Mondstadt.
Something explosive.