Genshin Impact: Watch me turn the tables and kill my servants at the start!

As Fanes followed the girl up the wall, only one thought crossed his mind: he had used up all the exercise he had ever done in his life in this one night.

The walls of the Winter Palace were much higher than he had imagined, and the thick stone bricks were covered with a smooth layer of ice. He almost slipped three times as he climbed up using both his hands and feet.

Finally, when the girl lifted him up onto the wall by the back of his collar with one hand, his short legs kicked several times in the air before finding a foothold. A faint white mark was scratched on the hem of his coat by ice shards. He patted it off with a pained expression, thinking that he hadn't even worn this coat for a full day yet.

The patrolling guards carrying crystal lamps passed by below the wall, and the light paused noticeably when it swept across the top of the wall.

"Hey, isn't that the young lady?" a guard whispered.

Another guard looked up in the direction he was pointing—in the moonlight, a small, light-colored figure sat on the wall, next to which was an unidentified object shrunk into a ball.

"It really is. That guy next to me... isn't that the newly appointed twelfth seat? What's his name again?"

"Fanes. I heard he shares the same name as Tenri and has an exceptionally strong fate."

"Oh, so that's the kid who became an executive officer at the age of six?"

The first guard clicked his tongue twice, then waved his hand. "Forget it, forget it. There's nothing to steal from the kitchen anyway, let them go. Besides, that kitchen is practically the executive officer's private domain."

The two guards continued their patrol carrying lanterns, and the sounds of footsteps and conversations gradually faded into the distance.

Faenes, perched on the wall, caught the exchange, his expression complex. What did he mean by "there's nothing to steal from the kitchen anyway"? This was a palace kitchen! There should at least be some supplies inside, right?

And isn't it a bit too insulting to say that there's "nothing to steal" for a kitchen?

The girl had already leaped lightly off the wall, landing with a sound as soft as a leaf touching the ground. She turned back and waved to Fanes: "Come down, I'll catch you."

Fanes glanced at the distance from the ground to the top of the wall—roughly three times his height—and swallowed hard. "Are you sure you can catch it?"

"Sure."

Fanes took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and jumped. The expected pain of hitting the ice didn't happen; he felt himself being caught steadily by a pair of hands and gently placed on the ground.

The girl was much stronger than she looked. She put Fanes down without changing her expression and even brushed off a small snowflake that was stuck to his head.

"Let's go." She took his hand and led him around the side of the main hall, through a narrow corridor, to a half-open window.

Warm yellow light shone through the window, along with a rich aroma of food. Fanes' nose twitched—baked bread, stew, cream, and some spice he couldn't name, all mixed together to create a smell that immediately made his stomach rumble.

The girl pushed open the window and climbed inside, her movements as practiced as if she'd done it a hundred times. Fanes followed behind, scrambling onto the windowsill on all fours, then splattering onto the floor with a soft thud. Luckily, the floor was covered with a thick carpet, so the fall didn't hurt.

When I looked up, I was stunned.

The kitchen was huge, very huge. Several rows of wide countertops were neatly arranged, with shiny stainless steel utensils and neatly arranged spice bottles and jars on the surfaces.

Several rows of copper pots hung from the ceiling, gleaming under the lights. The most extravagant sight was the enormous long table in the center—it was piled high with food, at least thirty or forty dishes at a glance.

Golden-brown, crispy honey-glazed chicken wings are neatly arranged on a plate, next to a large plate of creamy mashed potatoes piled high.

Deep red stewed beef simmered in the earthenware pot, a glistening layer of oil on its surface. Fanes also saw a whole roasted goose, a whole salmon drizzled with sauce, baked macaroni covered in cheese, and several plates of exquisite desserts—chocolate lava cake, crème brûlée, berry tarts, and even a huge cream puff tower standing in the center of the table.

Fanes' eyes widened in surprise.

How many people would it take to finish this? Are the executives of the Fools having a group annual meeting?

The girl had already walked to the long table, reached over and pulled a grilled chicken wing from the side, took a bite, and smiled contentedly. She chewed the wing and mumbled, "Delicious. Little Twelve, you should have some too."

Fanes walked to the table, stood on tiptoe, and looked at the enormous spread of food—a veritable Manchu Han Imperial Feast: "What's going on? Was all this prepared in advance?"

The girl swallowed the meat in her mouth and wiped the grease from the corner of her mouth: "This is what the Doctor wanted."

"PhD?"

The image of the Second Seat wearing a bird-beak mask flashed through Fanes' mind. To be honest, he had never officially met this person, only knowing that the other party was conducting experiments within the Fools.

"How can he eat so much by himself?"

The girl tilted her head, her light golden hair brushing against her shoulder: "He has many clones, and he always orders a huge amount. He practically keeps the whole kitchen under his control."

Fanes glanced down at the table in front of him, enough food to feed an entire army, and then thought about the rumors surrounding the Doctor. The number of the sliced ​​clones was unknown, but each possessed independent consciousness and the ability to act, requiring food and resupply periodically.

If there are really several or even a dozen slices at the same time, then such a large table of food doesn't seem so exaggerated.

"He shouldn't notice if the two of us eat a little, right?"

Fanes reached out and grabbed a piece of honey-baked bread, popping it into his mouth. The moment the sweetness exploded on his tongue, he was almost moved to tears.

The girl nodded with a smile: "That makes sense. With so many dishes, you wouldn't even notice if a few were missing. Besides, the professor doesn't count the dishes when they're delivered; the chef just brings them to the door of his lab. We can eat here and then sneak out without anyone noticing."

Fanes had already started. He first ladled a bowl of stewed beef, poured it over rice, mixed it, and shoveled it into his mouth. The beef was stewed until tender and flavorful, and the broth was thick and delicious—better than everything he had eaten in Fontaine combined. After a couple of bites of rice, he picked up some baked macaroni and cheese. The cheese stretched into long strands, and the way he tilted his head back and slurped it up looked just like a little mouse stealing cheese.

The girl leaned on the opposite side of the table, resting her chin on her hand as she watched him eat. The expression beneath her mesh veil held a kind of contentment, like watching a small animal eat.

"Eat slowly, no one's going to take it from you."

With his mouth full of food, Fanes mumbled an "um" in response, but his hands didn't slow down at all.

The kitchen was bathed in warm light, and outside the window lay a long, snowy winter night. The chefs had clearly finished preparing the meal and left, leaving only the two of them in the kitchen.

Fañez sat at the long table piled high with food, his cheeks puffed out like a squirrel that had stolen some nuts, and suddenly felt that this midnight snack was worth it.

It's totally worth it. Even if I get dragged away by the clown for a lecture tomorrow, it'll still be worth it.

Of course, if the professor calls me over to do an experiment tomorrow, I'll just pretend I didn't say anything.