Volume 1

Your Dime Eerie Mystery! The Master Thief Reed Miller and the Sampo Mill (Deluxe
Quarterly Edition)

(This inexpensive and entertaining story series, popular in Nasha Town, costs
only 10 Mora per issue. Presumably, it's about the master thief Reed Miller's
attempt to steal the Frostmoon relic, the Sampo Mill, from the governor's
palace. However, in a seeming attempt to boost readership, the narrative is
focusing on the many young women vying for Miller's affections instead.)

...

Chapter IV

Wagtail, a beauty as dangerous as a hunting falcon, has appeared! She approaches
master thief Reed Miller under the moonlight... but to what end?

"Leaving your lovely female companions behind to come enjoy the night view here?
What a cad you are, my dear."

That soft voice is as smooth as the finest silk from Liyue, and yet beneath its
surface lurks a subtle cruelty, sharp as the thorns of a Sumeru Rose. Reed
Miller does not turn around, for he knows that voice all too well.

A graceful figure lands beside him with the poise of a cat. A young woman in her
twenties, with long lavender hair cascading over her pale, bare shoulders and
neck. She wears an elegant silver evening gown that clings to her curves like
liquid moonlight. Still, it cannot conceal the mockery in her brownish-red eyes.

Meet Wagtail — or "A," as she is known to a privileged few like Miller. She is
the only femme fatale in Nod-Krai whose skill and infamy rival those of the most
legendary thieves. Any treasure she sets her sights on is already hers; once the
thrill is gone, she'll just as soon toss it to the poor in the streets as she
might cast it into the sea. Countless men have vied for her affection, but she
takes pleasure only in toying with their earnest feelings and has never returned
the love of a suitor...

The only treasure Wagtail has been unable to steal is the heart of master thief
Reed Miller. This one impossible feat drives her obsession with the handsome,
enigmatic man, and she's tried every trick and gambit imaginable to make his
heart hers and hers alone.

"I smell expensive perfume and cheap ambition, Wagtail."

With a smile on her lips, she smoothly settles down beside the thief, then
almost imperceptibly sidles closer to him.

"It was a gift from another man. Jealous?" She lets a silk-gloved hand trail
down his arm. "As for me, I smell overconfidence, Reed. You've got your eye on
the Sampo Mill, I'm sure. But isn't that a little... obvious of you?"

"You're right. I do want the Mill, which was stolen from the Frostmoon Scions,
along with all the governor's other ill-gotten treasures." Miller finally meets
Wagtail's gaze, sending an involuntary shiver running through her and a blush
rising to her cheeks, which she forces down with a glib smile. "This is my stage
tonight. You'd better find your own."

"Nonsense." She leans in, her lips a mere breath from his. "This stage is big
enough for two. The spotlight, however... That only shines on one. I'll have my
hands on the Mill before you do, darling. And if you please me... I might even
let you see it from afar."

Ding!

The words are barely out of Wagtail's mouth before she whips out a slender,
sinister-looking dagger with lightning speed. She delights in the pointless and
seemingly dangerous attack, knowing full well Miller will block it, and indeed
he does, by simply raising his arm and deflecting her blade with his gauntlet.
The clash of metal on metal lasts but a brief moment.

"Reckless as always, Wagtail. It'll cost you one of these days."

"Hah. Recklessness is a privilege afforded to beautiful women, don't you know?
If it's not to your liking, darling, come teach me a lesson."

Like a moonlit breeze, she takes two steps back and blows him a playful kiss.
Then, she leaps into the darkness beneath the tower, leaving naught behind but
the ghost of her expensive perfume in the cold night air.

(The middle section of the volume has been ripped out, perhaps for a purpose
other than reading...)

Chapter XVII

Just as the governor is fuming over the theft of the Sampo Mill, a group of
detectives from Snezhnaya suddenly swarm in and clap him in irons! Just what
is...?

"Ha! Your Excellency, your fury must have overtaken you, such that you've
forgotten who Reed Miller is. He is a despicable thief, yes, but is he not also
a master of disguise, able to become any man, woman, or child with uncanny
skill?"

"Y—You... That's impossible! This is absurd... If you were pretending to be
Leonov, the Oprichniki would surely have—"

The man posing as Detective Leonov laughs, slowly circling the bound governor
twice in a clear mockery of his pompous "deductions."

"The Oprichniki? You mean the men who tied you up and sealed off this palace?
Those are my people. I had them pose as Oprichniki, and your men believed it
without question. Surprised, Governor? Have you forgotten how blindly Snezhnayan
soldiers follow orders, whether from real superiors or clever impostors? As we
speak, the Frostmoon Scions' treasure has been safely returned to their holy
lady. Unless you plan to defy the Tsar's will and risk open war with the
Frostmoon Scions, recovering the Sampo Mill is no longer an option for you."

"You... You blasted crook! You accursed thief! I could have tolerated you
stealing the Mill, but must you plunder my personal collection too!?"

"Does it matter? Those treasures you claim as yours, those lands you call your
own, weren't they stolen from the destitute who live here?" The man's demeanor
remains perfectly composed, a stark contrast to the agitation written all over
the governor's crimson face. "I see no difference between a bandit who robs the
people and a governor who oppresses them. We defend our freedom in the only way
we can, because no one else will fight for it. But rest assured, I'm not keeping
any of this. Every treasure will be returned to its rightful owner. I shall not
keep even a single piece."

Across the room, Wagtail, posing as a detective, lets out a soft sigh inaudible
to the governor.

"Oh dear, this man truly is beyond help. He speaks of laying no claim to
treasure, when he holds the Frost Moon's most prized gem in his hand..."

Wagtail's words stun Shadow Weasel, momentarily pulling her attention away from
her adoptive father, who is bound up in the center of the room.

"Wh—When? Mr. Reed Miller should've given the Sampo Mill to that holy woman.
Wait. He didn't secretly swap it for a fake while we weren't looking, did
he...?"

"Ah, you don't get it, do you? That's exactly how he deceived you young ladies."
The woman sighs dramatically. "What he has stolen for himself is the heart of
the Frost Moon's daughter."

Volume 2

Just who is this person who so swiftly captured the heart of a young lady who
didn't believe in love?

(This is a popular piece of fiction in Nod-Krai that chronicles the romance
between the master thief Reed Miller and the governor's daughter, Leonita
Prokhorovna Trubetskaya, from their first encounter on. Disclaimer: This story
is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is
purely coincidental.)

The young lady Leonita Prokhorovna Trubetskaya, the apple of the governor's eye,
makes her way to the dining room with her maid in tow. Though there's a current
of anxiety running beneath her calm facade, her steps are poised and graceful.
After all, a lady must always appear as such, no matter what.

Her eyes are fixed on the morning papers, for she's almost certain today is the
day the master thief Reed Miller shall publish his notice. She might be
beginning to understand the mind of this elusive raven, she thinks, and the fact
that her father's men haven't even caught a glimpse of him yet has sparked a
flash of anger in her. "Hmph, I'll catch you for sure!"

Her father seems unusually absorbed in the paper today. Leonita swallows her
bite of toast and asks casually, "My dear Father, any interesting news today?"
"Mmm, nothing that my dear little Leonita needs to worry her pretty little head
about." Lord Trubetskoy puts down the newspaper, smiles at his daughter, and
says, "Send the jeweler in."

A red-haired footman standing next to the governor immediately leads someone in.
The latter bows deeply, a jewelry box in hand. The governor takes but a glance
at it, then gestures for the box to be presented to his daughter. As a look of
surprise flickers across Leonita's face, he says, "Come now, don't tell me you
thought I forgot your birthday. At the ball three days from now, my dear little
Nita will be the belle of Snezhnaya — no, of the whole of Teyvat. Now, put it on
so I can take a look!"

Leonita obediently takes the necklace from the box and clasps it around her
neck. Her father's choice is, as always, impeccable: the design and cut are
unmistakably from Fontaine, and the central gemstone is so brilliant as to
outshine the finest stones from Natlan. "I know it's a bit early," he says, "but
as your father, I should be the first to wish you a happy birthday, my dear!" He
casts a glance at the necklace and adds,

"Make sure you wear it to the ball. A very important guest will be there, and I
want you to meet him."

Her father is speaking in a serious tone, one that makes Leonita grasp the
gift's true import immediately. She will be of age to be betrothed after this
birthday. As the governor's daughter, she has always been expected to be married
off to the son of some powerful Snezhnayan noble. This is why she has never
believed in love. It was, after all, completely meaningless. Her father has
special affection for her intelligence and beauty, of course. But more
importantly, her obedience and maturity are everything he expects from an
adopted daughter.

Of course, that's just one of the reasons.

"I understand, dear Father." He ruffles her hair with a final, affectionate
gesture. The fatherly smile vanishes from his face as he returns to his
formidable role as governor, his full attention now back on his duties.

Leonita watches her father leave with a gentle pang in her heart. She composes
herself after a soft exhale, for it's time to focus. She picks up the morning
paper, and there on the front page, just as she expected, is a letter adorned
with black feathers. It reads:

Dear Lord Trubetskoy, Three nights from now, on the dark night of the new moon,
your treasure will be mine.

I thank you for your kind generosity. With the greatest regard, Reed Miller.

====================
"Tell me, can you tell which of us is which?" The jeweler
from Fontaine stares in surprise as two red-haired footmen emerge from the
dressing room. Of course, only one of them ranks as a Footman, Second Class from
the governor's palace. "Left... no, wait. Right? No, that can't be it... I
mean... right! Yes, the right one is right!" "Are you just taking a guess?" The
man on the right seems a tad displeased. "Are you sure about that? If you're
wrong, you'll be in trouble tonight!" the footman on the left teases. "Right is
right!" A firm reply, but one betrayed by a copiously sweating face. The
footman on the right bursts out laughing, then shoves his double toward the
jeweler. "You're wrong," he says. "This one here is your sweetheart!" "Ha! Our
disguise is impeccable!" "Uh... I—I meant the one on the right is the fake!"
"You...!" "Hahaha, you two!" Reed Miller, disguised as a footman, interjects,
his laughter filling the room. "Don't forget, our goal is to make the fake look
real! If even a lover cannot recognize their beloved, tonight's operation is
bound to go off without a hitch." "But is it wise for you to do this alone? If
anything goes wrong, you won't have anyone to fall back on," the real footman
points out, his voice filled with concern. "I won't lose any more of my
Treasure Hoarders," Reed Miller says, the mirth gone from his face. "You've
already completed the most dangerous task, which is to infiltrate the governor's
palace. So don't worry about me and go back to Fontaine. The people there need
the Treasure Hoarders' help, too." The footman and the jeweler exchange a
glance. Then, they swear solemnly to Reed Miller: "We promise to steal all the
misery from this world!"

Miller watches the two leave, then turns toward the governor's palace, bathed in
the setting sun. Trubetskoy had been successful against the Treasure Hoarders
for one simple reason: his immense wealth. Even the world's greatest thieves
have been powerless before his near-limitless resources. With enough treasure,
one could hire the finest warriors, acquire the best weapons, and surround
oneself with the shrewdest advisors. Wealth could even silence the law and bury
all resistance beneath a grave of golden sand.

The true extent of Trubetskoy's wealth has been a mystery to the world. More
oddly, no one has ever seriously questioned its source either. A chuckle escapes
Miller's lips at the thought. But now, he holds the answer: the legendary Sampo
Mill, a magical relic said to generate endless riches, is hidden within the
governor's palace itself. For this discovery, he has the red-haired footman's
investigation, the jeweler's keen eye, and the governor's daughter (whose
birthday was fast approaching) to thank...

====================
The newspaper with Miller's letter sells out almost
instantly. In the days that follow, all of Nod-Krai is abuzz with anticipation
for Leonita's birthday ball... albeit not for the governor's daughter herself,
but for the inevitable clash between the master thief and the governor.

The governor's palace has been put on high alert, with every arriving guest
subjected to intense scrutiny. This is a necessary precaution given the master
thief's known skill for disguise. As Leonita scans the long list of names and
titles — barons, sons of earls, rising stars in the royal court, clans favored
by the Tsar, and so on — the necklace around her neck begins to feel heavy, less
like a gift and more like a set of shackles.

Some fresh air out in the courtyard would be good right now, she thinks.

"Mama, is that the daughter of Lord Trubetskoy?" "Indeed, she is." "But why is
she... human? I mean, the Honorable Lord isn't." "She's just the Lord's adoptive
daughter." "How utterly strange. Why would the noble Lord Trubetskoy adopt a
human...?"

A poised and elegant lady, whom Leonita has never seen before, is whispering to
her child in a nearby hallway. When she notices Leonita looking, she turns away
and leaves without a word.

That's true. Why in the world would the noble Lord Trubetskoy adopt a human
being? "That's true! Why in the world would the noble Lord Trubetskoy adopt a
human being?"

A whisper, speaking of the unhappiness creeping into her heart, startles
Leonita. She looks around the courtyard, but she is alone. Is her imagination
playing tricks on her? She sighs and turns toward the palace's innermost
chambers for another round of treatment. These sessions leave her utterly
drained, yet she endures them without a word of complaint, so determined is she
never to be a source of shame for her father.

For some reason, she recalls the voice she had just heard in the courtyard.

It was a voice that, like a bonfire in winter, radiated heat that could melt the
snow.

====================
As night falls, guests begin to arrive one after another.
Leonita feels her nervousness grow. All evening, she is approached by a stream
of potential partners, each asking for a dance. But as they come and go, not a
single name registers in her mind.

"Ten, nine, eight..." The countdown to midnight begins, and every eye in the
room turns eagerly to her. Beside her father, the ambitious upstart from the
royal court stands, his gaze fixed on her — or perhaps on the massive gem
gleaming at her neck. "Six, five, four..." She can't tell what everyone is
anticipating: is it her birthday, or is it something else entirely...?

"...Three, two—"

Huh...? Since moments ago, Leonita has noticed that everyone around her seems
enveloped in a silvery-white glow, and this light has only grown brighter since.
From time to time, her own body would emit the same silvery-white light. Her
father calls it a disease that requires constant treatment — a flaw in her very
being.

"...ONE!" The jewel on her neck suddenly drops with a whoosh.

The world is engulfed in a silvery-white light. Around Leonita, a silence as
deep as a snowy night falls. She stands frozen, her pulse beating in rhythm with
the light and her heart pulled by an invisible thread. There's a part of her
that is screaming to run, but a gentle restraint holds her feet. What is this?
Magic? Fate? Or is it the feeling she's never believed in, flaring to life the
moment it comes near? The crowd around her melts away as time seems to stop, and
from the stillness, a flash of warm red bolts toward her.

"Miss Leonita, you're in danger! The governor has instructed me to protect you.
Please, follow me." "But Father told me to... no. No, he didn't send you.
You're... Reed Miller!" "Please, Miss. This was a last-minute order by—"
"Everyone calls you clever, but in my opinion, you're nothing but a shameless
liar!" "...Well, well. Isn't someone a sharp young Miss?" "Hmph. Father has set
a tight net. You're not getting out of here." "But that 'tight net' is centered
on the Sampo Mill in the secret chamber, isn't it?" "Ugh..." "I made it clear in
the notice: Tonight, the governor's most prized treasure will be mine. And while
the Mill is valuable, it's hardly what I'd call a true 'treasure.'" "You...
A—Are you saying that your target is... me?!" "That's right, my clever and
adorable young lady." "Hah! I am the daughter of Lord Prokhor Trubetskoy. I
shall not give my father's archenemy the chance to take me hostage!" "Really?
Are you really the governor's daughter? Then tell me, why would the noble Lord
Trubetskoy adopt a human...?" "..."

The silvery-white power, the treatments, the Sampo Mill, her father's endless
wealth, and the word "adopted"... It all comes together for Leonita in an
instant. She is the true source of her father's fortune. The "treatments" were
not for healing. They were rituals, the key to making the Mill produce an
endless stream of diamonds. Though a part of her has always known, she has never
allowed herself to face the truth until now.

"Ah, I almost forgot." As Miller speaks, he sheds his disguise as the red-haired
footman, revealing his true face. "I triggered that little contrivance inside
the gemstone at the very last moment. A good thing I didn't miss it." He leans
in close and whispers into Leonita's ear, "Happy birthday!"

And the rest is history, yes? Reed Miller makes off with every treasure in the
governor's palace, and Leonita, having fallen in love with him the moment she
saw his true face, forsakes her gilded cage to wander the world with the master
thief. The legend of Reed Miller is often called fiction. But like a person who
has never loved and thus insists love isn't real, those who find this story
implausible only do so because they have never experienced such a moment
themselves.

Volume 3

Little is known about Zima, who hailed from Snezhnaya, a land of perpetual
winter. His name is found in no logbook, no epic, no heroic tale. Like a single
snowflake, he briefly brushed against the surface of legend before disappearing
without a trace.

Zima came from a small town southeast of Snezhnograd, where villagers harvested
ice beneath the snow-capped mountain peaks. On snowy nights, they called forth
tales and skeins, like primeval airs sealed beneath the ice — of mischievous
frost spirits who stole travelers' boots and pale, melancholy Snegurochka who,
when betrayed, froze the lovers they had once sought into lifelike statues by
ripping the very warmth from them. Zima had seen a strange, deranged smile on a
companion who fell for a Snegurochka before, and he found it a monotonous way to
die. He abhorred following a pattern, even the pattern of an unusual death.
Instead, he longed for a unique fate and a life of adventure, and so he left the
land of eternal white for the blue seas of the archipelago to the south. It was
there that he first heard of the legendary master thief.

The name Reed Miller was already well-known across Nod-Krai. Stories claimed he
had been captured by the governor and taken to Snezhnograd for a hanging on the
public square. But just as everyone believed his story would end with a swaying
corpse, the governor's vault was found emptied with a taunting message etched in
gold dust on the wall. No one knew how he had escaped the noose, but his
miraculous return turned him into a tavern legend and an idol to the youth. So
when the master thief reappears, buys a three-masted ship, and starts recruiting
sailors seeking adventure and fortune at the harbor, Zima offers his name
without a second thought.

Life aboard the ship, however, turns out to be far less heroic than the legends
promised. Though famed for robbing the rich, Miller runs his operation with the
meticulous care of a spice merchant — his nautical charts are cluttered not only
with markings for reefs and currents but also red-circled warnings for waters
said to harbor sea monsters. He spends days skirting around those regions,
avoiding the dark abysses where dangerous creatures lurk as well as the
serpent-infested Sea of Mist. Day-to-day life has been a grind of scrubbing
decks, patching sails, and scurvy gums. For Zima, it all feels too familiar, too
safe, too dull. At night, he prays to the inky sea for a real storm, or for some
monstrous kraken to rise from the depths. He longs to see the master thief drive
a harpoon into a creature's eye, just like the heroes of old. More than
anything, he craves an adventure that would truly stir his soul.

His prayers are answered, albeit in a cruel and twisted way. Drifting into a
calm, azure sea, the ship is met with a strange, inhuman song. Though it has no
melody, its power ensnares even the most drunken sailors. The sails drop, and
the ship stalls. From the water, a pale, hauntingly beautiful face emerges. It
is a siren, and she demands a sacrifice in exchange for safe passage. The ship
is given a choice: make a sacrifice, or be dragged to the depths.

Reed Miller flatly refuses to make the sacrifice. Instead, he orders everyone
aboard to plug their ears with beeswax to block out the siren's haunting song.
But it is futile. Even reason and willpower bend beneath the weight of legend.
Seized by panic and the deadly song, the sailors hurl the crates of Mora looted
from the governor's palace overboard, thinking the gold might serve as payment.
But the siren pays the shimmering discs that have scattered and sank into the
azure deep no heed, for human wealth means nothing to her. Her covetous gaze
remains only on the sailors themselves.

The master thief, whose neck not even the hangman's noose could restrain, now
has no choice but to acquiesce. Miller places his scimitar coldly at Zima's
throat, but Zima does not resist. This is the moment he has traveled so far for.
As the icy waters rise above his head, the face of his long-lost friend appears
before him, frozen in sculpture, still wearing that faint, familiar, ecstatic
smile sealed by the Snegurochka's kiss. All his life, Zima has abhorred
following a pattern, running from every known ending, only to realize in this
final moment that every escape has been a flight into another mirror. His
adventures did not pen a new story... They were merely unnoticed footnotes to an
existing one.