Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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How many days has it been since the day the prophecy came to pass?

As Furina treaded the path back to Palais Mermonia, the distant echoes of jubilation from her people pierced the air. Their cheers, a symphony of relief, celebrated the supposed end of the dreaded prophecy. Fontaine had only temporarily drowned; no one had dissolved into the waters. This unexpected turn of events led some to claim that the prophecy had been wrong from the start.

Despite the joy that enveloped the city, a seed of doubt lingered in Furina’s mind. Could it truly be that the prophecy was nothing more than an unfounded fear? If so then was everything she did all those centuries was all for nothing?

Furina silently ponders. But there was no time for doubt now, no room for hesitation in the aftermath of the grand finale that had unfolded before her eyes. For better or for worse, her role in the grand narrative had reached its dramatic conclusion, leaving her stranded on the sidelines of a story that no longer had need of her presence.

Would they condemn her to the confines of a prison cell? After all, she had committed the cardinal sin of deception, weaving a web of lies that spanned for five centuries. The headlines would scream about the former self-proclaimed God of Justice ending up behind bars, a tragic irony.

Arriving at her room on the top floor of Palais Mermonia, Furina began packing her belongings in silence. The room's stillness was shattered by a sudden knock on the door. With trepidation, she turned to find Neuvillette standing before her, his expression a mosaic of surprise and concern.

Was it pity she saw in his eyes? Regardless, it seemed the verdict that would decide her fate had finally arrived. However, the news he brought was not what she expected.

Neuvillette revealed the whole truth—the role Furina played in deceiving fate, the scheme of the Goddess behind the mirror—everything.

Though she could barely register Neuvillette's words, one truth remained undeniable—the fulfillment of a promise made at the expense of a goddess's dying breath, a final farewell message from her other self beyond the mirror.

As emotion drained from her being, Furina felt herself transformed into a hollow shell of exhaustion and resignation. "I'm tired," she murmured, her voice a fragile whisper in the suffocating silence of her room.

In response, the word "I see" escaped the lips of the man before her, his tone a reflection of the solemnity that hung heavy in the air.

At this juncture, Furina cared little for Neuvillette's reaction or the emotions etched upon his face. With a weary nod, she merely acknowledged his solemn acknowledgment, accepting his arrangements for her relocation and the provision of mora in stoic silence.

Arriving at her new home, her trembling hands struggled to release the weight of her belongings, crashing onto the floor in an echoing thud. With each step feeling heavier than the last, she made her way towards the bed.

Collapsing onto the mattress, she curled into herself, her form mirroring that of a forsaken child seeking solace in the womb. The weight of her weariness bore down upon her, dragging her into the abyss of slumber with an unforgiving embrace

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The next day, as dawn's gentle fingers caressed her pallid cheeks, a faint awareness seeped into the recesses of her consciousness. Had she overslept? The question lingered like a phantom in the morning air, as she roused herself from the depths of her unconsciousness. With a hesitant blink, she greeted the unfamiliarity of her surroundings, the realization of her altered existence settling upon her like a shroud.

"Ah... Right... I'm just a normal human now..." 

The words hung in the air, a lament for the loss of her divine essence, a reminder of the burdens she no longer bore. Furina, once an revered Archon, now finds herself adrift in a world devoid of purpose, stripped of her duties. 

She sank back into the embrace of her bed, her gaze fixated upon the emptiness of the ceiling, lost in the vast expanse of her own insignificance. And so, the silence stretched on, an eternal symphony of solitude echoing in the chambers of her soul.

Since then, Furina lay in a stupor, unsure how many days had slipped away since she first collapsed onto the bed. The passing of time had become a blur, each moment indistinguishable from the next. She had always dreamed of the end, of a final curtain call. Yet now, in this cruel twist of fate, there was no place for an actress who had lost her stage. There was no applause, no adulation awaiting her; only the chilling embrace of solitude, the cruel reminder of her fallen stature.

It was only the sharp, insistent pangs of hunger gnawing at her stomach that finally forced Furina to rise. Of course, she was human now. She needed sustenance to survive. But was continuing to live truly the right choice? The question haunted her as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

With a slow, deliberate effort, she stood up. As she made her way toward the door, she noticed something she had overlooked when she first arrived: a tall, ornate mirror stood beside the bed.

For 500 years, she had played the part of a god, a flawless act that masked the cursed truth of her humanity. She had managed to uphold the facade, devoid of any real power, surrounded by true divinity. A weak human, she had woven an intricate web of endless lies.

Now, faced with her reflection, the truth was undeniable. She looked worse than she had imagined—disheveled, hollow, a ghost of her former self.

"Furina de Fontaine. The God of Justice, Focalors. The Hydro Archon," she muttered to herself, but the words felt foreign, empty.

( Who are you? ) 

The question reverberated in her mind, a haunting echo in the silence of her new reality. She stared into the mirror, searching for an answer in the eyes of a stranger.

Then, as though confronted by a twisted reflection of herself, Furina’s eyes blazed with fury as she brought her bare hand down upon the mocking mirror, shattering it into a thousand shards. Crimson blood welled up from the gash on her hand, streaming down her arm in a macabre dance.

Oddly, there was no pain, just a curious detachment. She paused, watching the scarlet river trickling from her wound, almost fascinated by its journey down her skin.

( Funny. It didn’t hurt. )

Her fingers brushed against her long locks, inadvertently staining them with her own blood. In a fit of almost manic resolve, Furina seized the nearby scissors, the metallic glint blending with the crimson hues, and ruthlessly cut short her blood-soaked hair. Each snip echoed in the room, as strands of hair fell to the floor, mingling with the shattered glass and droplets of blood.

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Neuvillette had an unsettling feeling that day, prompting him to pay an unexpected visit to Furina’s house. He made a quick stop to buy her favorite cake before arriving at her front door.

( She like cakes right? )

At least he hoped that the time her eyes shone brightly as she ate cake in the past wasn’t an act as well. After everything that happened, he had decided to give her space. Thus, he refrained from visiting her since the day she moved out of the Palais. Honestly, he wouldn’t have minded if she had continued using the room. But it had been her own will to leave, and he respected her autonomy. What right did he have to hold her back?

Approaching her door, Neuvillette felt a pang of anxiety. He knocked gently, waiting for a response. The silence that greeted him only deepened his unease. Carefully, he knocked again, more insistently this time. Still, there was no answer.

Reluctant to disturb her, he hesitated until an unsettling crash shattered the stillness. Panic surged through him as he fumbled for the spare key and a nameless fear crawling in his skin.

An ominous scent lingered in the air—metallic, like blood. Neuvillette’s heart pounded as he hurriedly searched, calling out Furina’s name. Following the unsettling scent, he found himself in her bedroom, where a chilling sight awaited him.

His heart sank at the sight that greeted him. Furina stood before a shattered mirror, clutching a pair of scissors, her once lustrous locks now a jagged mess, blood marring her trembling hands and feet. Her eyes, once vibrant and full of life, now hollow and vacant.

Shock immobilized Neuvillette, a rare wave of anxiety crashing over him as he grappled with the surreal horror before him. The cake box fell forgotten from his hands, its contents spilling out in a cruel parody of celebration.

Driven by instinct, he pried the scissors from her grip, tossing them aside. Like a marionette with severed strings, she slowly turned her face towards the discarded blades, a haunting stillness enveloping her.

Reaching out to bring her gaze back, Neuvillette found himself locked in a harrowing exchange with her eyes, witnessing the tremors of anxiety and terror etched within them. A heartbeat later, she collapsed, a fragile doll succumbing to the weight of her anguish.

Desperation clawed at Neuvillette’s senses as he called her name, each syllable a plea to defy the ominous silence that enveloped her. His ears strained, searching for the faint rhythm of her heartbeat, the only reassurance amidst the chaos.

“She’s still alive. She’s still alive,” he repeated to himself, a desperate mantra echoing through his mind, a fragile hope clinging to those words like a lifeline. 

In a feverish moment of urgency, Neuvillette’s mind is fixated on the one person who could help Furina. He then gently lifted her battered form, cradling her fragile frame in his arms. 

Instantly with his dragon ability he whisked himself and the wounded Furina to Meropide Fortress. They materialized abruptly in Wriothesley’s office, interrupting the Duke and Clorinde mid-conversation over a cup of tea. Their shock was palpable as they beheld the panicked Iudex and the disheveled, blood-stained state of the once revered Goddess of Fontaine.

“Sigewinne! Where’s Sigewinne?” Neuvillette’s voice trembled with urgency and fear, a note of panic threading through his words.

“In the infirmary,” Wriothesley replied promptly, recognizing the gravity of the situation, his steps quickening in sync with Neuvillette’s urgency. Clorinde too, followed suit, her expression etched with concern.

The trio dashed toward the infirmary, their footfalls echoing with the thundering beats of their hearts. As they burst into the room, relief washed over Neuvillette at the sight of Sigewinne, the head nurse, seated at the table.

“Oh Monsieur Neuv—”

Sigewinne, initially beaming at the sight of Neuvillette, swiftly switched to a grave demeanor upon glimpsing the person cradled in his arms.

“Lay her on the bed,” she instructed. 

With no time to lose, Sigewinne meticulously examined and tended to Furina’s wounds, ensuring no remnants of the shattered mirror or any foreign objects remained embedded in her flesh. Hours slipped by, each moment laden with anxiety, until finally, a sigh of relief escaped Sigewinne’s lips.

Neuvillette and Clorinde positioned themselves at the entrance, while Wriothesley swiftly issued instructions to his subordinates, ensuring absolute silence and minimizing any potential disturbances. The atmosphere was tense, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on everyone present.

Close as she was to Furina, Clorinde's countenance mirrored the worry etched across her heart. Despite their burning curiosity, both the Duke and the champion duelist exercised restraint, opting not to press for details, at least for now.

Their eyes lingered on the Chief of Justice, consumed by the situation, oblivious even to the subtle traces of bloodstains on his person. His usual stoic judicial facade was replaced by an uncharacteristic expression of anxiety and concern.

As the haunting image of Furina's divine self sacrificing her own existence replayed in Neuvillette's mind, a shiver of dread crawled down his spine. The mere thought that Furina might follow the same path sent a surge of fear coursing through his veins, gripping his heart with icy fingers.

It was only when Sigewinne approached them that Neuvillette was abruptly pulled back to the present.

“How is she?” Neuvillette’s concern broke the tense quietude.

“Thankfully, the wound isn’t severe. However, she is severely malnourished,” Sigewinne responded, her voice carrying a mix of relief and worry.

“I believe it’s best for her to remain here under my observation for the time being. Also, we should relocate her to a more suitable room,” Sigewinne suggested, casting a glance at Wriothesley, who nodded in affirmation, promising to organize the transition.

“I trust your judgment,” Neuvillette exhaled, a weighty sigh borne from both relief and a lingering sense of unease.

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In the infirmary, Furina’s consciousness reluctantly returned, her eyelids lifting to reveal an unfamiliar sight—a metallic ceiling looming above. Fragmented memories of Neuvillette’s horrified expression lingered in her mind, the last remnants before darkness consumed her. Confusion clouded her thoughts—why was he even at her house?

Battling against the harsh, unfamiliar brightness, she struggled to sit up, her gaze falling upon her bandaged hand and then her legs, similarly wrapped in careful bandages. Slowly, as her vision adjusted, the room came into focus—a modest, medium-sized space, a stark contrast to her perpetually messy apartment that she’d neglected to tidy since moving in.

Amidst her attempt to make sense of her situation, the distant murmur of voices drifted through the closed door, stirring her curiosity.

Abruptly, the door swung open, admitting four figures she recognized, their presence slicing through the fragile cocoon of her confusion. Her heart hammered against her ribs, each beat an echo of terror reverberating within her chest, breaths quickening in panicked succession.

( Act normal. I need to act normal. )

Unfortunately, the day of the trial—her trial, replayed through her mind. Struggling to suppress the rising turmoil within, Furina clutched at her chest, hoping to steady the frantic beats of her heart. Despite her efforts, the relentless anxiety persisted. As their gazes were fixed upon her, each glance felt like a piercing intrusion—One. Two. Three. Four.

( Don’t look at me... )

( Don’t look at me. )

( DON’T LOOK AT ME! )

Her mind screamed in terror, her frantic pulse drowning out any attempt at hearing their words. The room seemed to shrink around her, suffocating her in a claustrophobic embrace as she grappled with the overwhelming sense of dread that threatened to consume her whole.

As the unbearable tension reached its zenith, she succumbed to the overwhelming distress, her body convulsing in a fit of nausea, expelling the turmoil within her.

“Everyone, leave now.” Sigewinne commanded, swift to grasp the gravity of her patient’s distress, urgency punctuating her words. With a stern directive, she ushered the others out of the room.

Neuvillette hesitated, torn between concern and obedience, his heart aching with the need to stay by Furina’s side. But a stern glare from Sigewinne swiftly compelled him to join the others outside the room, his footsteps heavy with reluctance as he reluctantly obeyed.

Alone at last, Sigewinne’s demeanor shifted from authority to empathy as she approached Furina, who lay trembling amidst the aftermath of her emotional storm. With gentle hands and a soothing voice, she sought to calm the tempest raging within Furina’s fragile psyche.

“It’s alright, Lady Furina,” Sigewinne’s voice held a gentle reassurance, her tone a soothing melody amid the chaos. “You’re safe now. Breathe with me, slowly.”

Furina struggled to compose herself, her breaths ragged, but she followed Sigewinne’s lead, attempting to match her calming rhythm. “I-I can’t,” she managed between shallow gasps, her voice strained with distress, tears welling in her mismatched colored eyes like shimmering pools of anguish.

Sigewinne remained steadfast, her hand resting gently on Furina’s shoulder. “You will be alright, my lady. Focus on my voice. In... and out.” She demonstrated, her breathing deliberate and steady.

Gradually, Furina attempted to mimic the pattern, her chest rising and falling in sync with Sigewinne’s guidance. The pounding in her ears started to ebb, the room’s frantic whirlwind giving way to a semblance of calm.

“That’s it,” Sigewinne encouraged, her voice a lifeline amidst Furina’s turbulent emotions. “You’re doing well. Keep breathing with me.”

As Furina’s breaths regulated, the chaotic rhythm of panic slowly gave way to a more serene cadence. Sensing the residual turmoil, Sigewinne, with a subtle touch, activated her hydro vision ability—a soothing, gentle pulse of energy enveloped Furina, a comforting sensation washing over her.

As if succumbing to a gentle enchantment, Furina’s breathing steadied further, her body relaxing, the tension melting away like snow under the sun’s gentle caress. With a sense of serenity descending upon her, Furina drifted back into a peaceful slumber.

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Amidst the chaos of the moment, Neuvillette stood frozen, caught in the whirlwind of his own contemplations. He strained to catch the murmurings from inside, his heart heavy with worry for Furina. The look of fear and anxiety etched in her expression as she glanced at him sunk his heart deeper into a pit of guilt.

Too lost in his thoughts, Neuvillette barely registered Wriothesley calling out to him.

“—villette... Neuvillette,” Wriothesley’s voice cut through his reverie, the urgency in his tone snapping Neuvillette back to the present.

“Apologies. I...” Neuvillette finally replied, his voice tinged with distraction as he struggled to shake off the weight of his thoughts.

Seeing the solemn mood that hung over them like a heavy shroud, Wriothesley simply sighed, his expression a mixture of concern and resignation. “Let’s talk back at my office first,” he suggested, his tone firm yet tinged with an undercurrent of sympathy.

The trio then headed back to the Duke's office, the journey filled with a heavy silence that spoke volumes of the weight of the situation they found themselves in.

Once settled amidst the quiet clinking of teacups and the aroma of freshly brewed tea, Wriothesley cut to the heart of the matter with a precision born of years of experience and intuition. “The indemnitium was a cover-up, wasn’t it?” he stated more than asked, his gaze piercing as he fixed his eyes on Neuvillette, awaiting his response.

"At the very least, that’s not the whole story, isn’t it?" Wriothesley added, his voice gentle yet firm, the weight of suspicion heavy in the air. Clorinde, who had been silently pondering the same, joined Wriothesley in waiting for Neuvillette's response, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

The cover-up that had been fed to the people, the notion that Lady Furina had willingly given up all her power to save Fontaine, seemed increasingly inadequate in light of Furina's current state. If that were the truth, she wouldn't be lying here, so broken and vulnerable.

At first, Neuvillette hesitated, his mind grappling with the implications of revealing the truth. But ultimately, he knew he could trust Wriothesley and Clorinde with the reality of the situation. With a heavy heart, he began to recount the events that had led to Furina's downfall, trying his best to convey the complexity of the situation, knowing that the true extent of it was beyond the comprehension of mere mortals.

Once he finishes, only silence fills the room, the weight of Neuvillette's words hanging heavy in the air like a suffocating blanket of truth.

“Well.. that even more fucked up than I expected,” Wriothesley sighed as he covered his eyes and faced upward. He didn't even bothered to cover up his word. “It is even more incredible that she could even maintain her sanity up to this point.” he added.

As Furina’s former bodyguard, Clorinde had observed her countless times in the past. While her moods remained hard to decipher, Clorinde always attributed them to the enigma of a goddess. Yet now, memories resurfaced—the trial they had subjected her to, the unsettling realization that Clorinde had raised her blade against her. What they thought was a gentle trap ended up becoming the breaking point of a girl who carried the burden of a nation. And what worst, it is none other than her who suggested the trap.

( What have they done... )

After a while, Sigewinne entered the office, her presence a welcome relief amidst the heavy atmosphere. She informed them that Furina was stabilized for now, a piece of news that elicited a collective sigh of relief from everyone in the room.

"It is best to limit the people visiting her for now," Sigewinne said, her tone gentle yet firm, a reminder of the fragility of Furina's current state.

Everyone in the room understood what the head nurse was implying—that Furina needed time and space to heal, away from the prying eyes and well-meaning but potentially overwhelming presence of visitors.

"I guess all we can do is just wait and pray for the best," Wriothesley said, his voice laced with uncertainty and a hint of resignation. He then turned toward Neuvillette, who had been silent throughout the discussion. “I know you’re worried, but don’t you need to go back to the overworld? At least you need to inform your subordinates.”

Fontaine had barely survived a national catastrophe. Their goddess had abdicated her post, leaving behind a void that threatened to engulf the entire nation. If the Chief of Justice were also missing, the foundations of law and order would crumble, plunging Fontaine into an abyss of lawlessness and uncertainty. If that were to happen, then what Furina had sacrificed for all her life would truly become all for nothing.

Neuvillette ponders Wriothesley's words.

Considering that he had taken on Furina’s share of work now, Neuvillette's workload had increased exponentially. And yes, Fontaine was still reeling from the effects of the flood, struggling to recover from the devastation wrought upon it. If he could, he would cast aside all his duties and obligations to be by Furina's side, but alas, such a luxury was not afforded to him. The position and power he had regained came with a heavy price—a sacrifice that weighed heavily on his conscience.

“...I will come back here once my work is done,” Neuvillette said, his voice tinged with resignation.

“Would it be okay if I became her temporary bodyguard, at least during this ordeal?” Clorinde offered, her voice a mixture of determination and remorse. She had betrayed her lady's trust previously, but now she sought redemption through service. This was the least she could do to atone for her past mistakes. This time, Clorinde vowed, she would protect Furina with every ounce of her being.

Seeing the determination in Clorinde's eyes, Neuvillette nodded solemnly, a flicker of relief crossing his features. He knew how skilled Clorinde, and having her by Furina's side had brought him a measure of reassurance.

Before he returned to the surface, Neuvillette quietly went to Furina side. He didn’t want to disturb her and just stared at her peaceful sleeping face. He hoped, desperately hoped, that she found solace in her dreams, even amidst the chaos and pain of her waking life.

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When he teleported back to the overworld, Neuvillette's thoughts drifted to the state of Furina's rental room. There is still time before his working hour starts so he goes back to her house.

As he entered her rental room once more, a pang of sorrow gripped his heart at the sight before him. Her belongings were still unpacked, untouched, as if frozen in time. Even the mora he had provided her remained untouched.

He thought that giving her space was the best course of action at the time, but now he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. He should have visited her sooner, offered her some semblance of companionship and support.

His eyes fell upon a beautiful blue-colored book peeking out from her bag—a journal, perhaps. He knew he shouldn’t pry, but his curiosity got the better of him.

His heart clenched as he hesitated, knowing he shouldn’t pry, but unable to resist the urge to learn more about the woman he cared for deeply.

As he flipped through the journal, he found entries detailing her daily life—trials, meals, mundane activities. Some of it brought a small smile to the hydro dragon's lips, a fleeting moment of warmth amidst the coldness that enveloped him.

But then he came across a few crumpled pages, stained with traces of water—tears, perhaps and his heart clenched in agony.

In her own words, Furina's deepest fears and loneliness were laid bare, her desperate pleas for salvation echoing through the pages.

( ...I’m scared, I’m scared. If I die, Fontaine will be doomed. Please, please, please, when will the grand trial come... )

( ...I'm tired. I'm lonely. How long do I have to keep up this act? Please let everything end... )

( ...Anyone is fine. Save me... )

As if doused by ice water, Neuvillette stood frozen, his gaze fixed on her heart-wrenching words. Outside, the rain fell harder, a reflection of the storm raging within him, crushed by the weight of his own helplessness.

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Chapter Text

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Deep within her mind, in the stillness of the opera hall, Furina stood alone on the stage, bathed in the harsh glow of the spotlight. The audience, a silent sea of shadowy figures, watched her intently, their eyes devoid of emotion yet brimming with accusations.

As Furina surveyed the faces in the crowd, she realized with a start that something was terribly amiss. The figures seated before her were not human at all, but grotesque marionettes, their wooden limbs contorted into twisted poses of malice and contempt. Their faces, carved from porcelain, bore expressions frozen in eternal torment, their hollow eyes staring blankly ahead.

The eerie silence of the opera house was broken by the discordant strains of music, a haunting melody that seemed to seep into Furina's very soul. The air pulsed with an otherworldly energy, suffused with a sense of dread that hung heavy in the oppressive atmosphere.

And then, the trial began.

A spotlight illuminated a sinister marionette, a distorted doppelgänger of Neuvillette. Its joints creaked and groaned with every movement, and it presided over the proceedings as judge. Beside him stood the Traveler and their floating companion, their features twisted into a grotesque caricature of humanity, strings pulled tight by unseen hands. Their eyes glowed with a malevolent light, and their faces were frozen in a nightmarish semblance of a smile.

The crowd, an audience of marionettes with vacant, unblinking eyes, went silent.

"You stand accused of masquerading as an Archon for 500 years," Neuvillette's voice echoed through the hall, its tone dripping with disdain. "How do you plead?"

Furina's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to find her voice, her mind reeling with confusion and fear. She knew that this trial was nothing more than a twisted figment of her own imagination, a manifestation of her deepest fears and insecurities. Yet, the surreal reality around her felt all too real, the weight of the accusation pressing down on her like a crushing tide.

The marionette judge's eyes bored into her, unyielding and cold. "Answer the question, impostor," it demanded, the words hanging in the air like a death sentence.

But as the nightmare unfolded around her, Furina knew that she had no choice but to play her part. She had to. All to protect her people.

With a trembling voice, she whispered, "I plead... not guilty."

The audience of marionettes erupted into a chorus of jeers and whispers, their voices a chilling symphony of condemnation. Navia and Clorinde, their forms transformed into lifeless puppets by some unseen force, loomed behind Furina like sinister sentinels, their wooden hands gripping her arms with an iron grip, their faces contorted into grotesque masks of silent terror.

In the harsh glare of the spotlight, Furina felt the weight of their accusing stares bearing down upon her, suffocating her beneath a tidal wave of despair. The air around her crackled with malevolent energy, thick with the stifling presence of her deepest fears made manifest. The stage seemed to shrink beneath her feet, its cold metal surface pressing into her skin like icy tendrils, anchoring her in place as the nightmare unfolded before her.

With every passing moment, the marionettes drew closer, their twisted forms looming over her like vengeful specters from a forgotten realm. Their hollow eyes bore into her soul, stripping away her defenses until she stood naked and exposed, vulnerable to the merciless judgment of her own creation.

As the darkness closed in around her, Furina's eyelids snapped open with a jolt, her body drenched in a cold sweat, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. Each breath came in ragged gasps, as if she had just emerged from the depths of a watery abyss, the echoes of her nightmare clinging to her like a suffocating shroud, casting a pall of unease over her awakening.

She lay still for a moment, her eyes wide and unblinking, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream. She could feel the rapid thrum of her pulse at her temples. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. As she blinked them away, a single tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek.

She glanced around, taking in her surroundings with a mix of relief and disorientation. Unlike the previous room, this one was slightly better, though the air still hung heavy with a sense of confinement. The rustic metallic walls and the dim lighting did little to alleviate the claustrophobic feeling gnawing at her.

Wiping her tear-streaked face, her eyes scanned the room, seeking any sign of Sigewinne. The last thing she remembered before descending into the depths of her unsettling dreams was the little Melusine’s gentle presence. The room was silent, save for the faint hum of distant machinery, and an eerie solitude settled over her.

Then, her gaze fell upon a bowl of porridge sitting beside her bed, steam still rising from its surface. It was evident that it had just been cooked and sent up to her room. Beside the bowl lay a note, its edges slightly crinkled. She picked it up and read the neat handwriting:

"To Lady Furina, Eat well."

A small sticker of a jellyfish adorned the bottom of the note, a whimsical touch that brought a faint smile to her face.

( Should I eat? )

As she pondered, she caught a glimpse of purple out of the corner of her eye. It's not hard to guess who it was. Clorinde, her personal bodyguard during her time as the 'Hydro Archon,' now silently keeping watch over her. They must have deemed her, a supposed sinner, a potential threat to Fontaine. Furina's lips twitched with a wry smile.

The irony was not lost on Furina as she recalled the days when Clorinde had stood faithfully by her side, ready to defend her at a moment's notice. However that day, the same loyal bodyguard had raised her sword against her, a painful reminder of how swiftly allegiances could shift.

Furina shook her head, banishing the memories that threatened to overwhelm her. With a determined exhale, she chose to ignore Clorinde's presence for the time being, focusing instead on the meager meal before her.

If she refused to eat, they would likely reprimand her for wasting food, and she had no desire to deal with anyone right now. With a resigned sigh, Furina reached for the bowl of porridge, her fingers brushing against the cool ceramic.

As she lifted the bowl, her gaze fell upon her hand, and she froze. The skin was smooth and unmarred, a stark contrast to the sorry state it had been in before when she had broken the mirror in a fit of despair. The memory of the mirror's shattered fragments, the jagged edges that had cut into her flesh, seemed like a distant nightmare.

Furina then brought a spoonful of porridge to her lips. The porridge was bland and tasteless, but it was warm, comforting in its simplicity.  As she ate, Furina's thoughts drifted to the uncertain future that lay ahead. How long would they keep her imprisoned in this suffocating confinement?

Yet, it mattered little in the grand scheme of things, for she found herself with no pressing obligations or responsibilities to attend to. The world outside had moved on, leaving her behind in a shadowy limbo where time seemed to stand still.

Just as she finished the last spoonful of porridge, the door creaked open. Sigewinne entered, her expression a mix of professional concern and genuine care. She approached Furina with gentle steps, her presence a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the room.

"How are you feeling today, Lady Furina?" Sigewinne asked softly.

Furina forced a small smile. "As well as one can be in such a place," she replied sarcastically but her tone hollow.

Sigewinne's keen eyes scanned her, noting the empty bowl with a trace of relief. "It's good to see you’ve eaten," she remarked, her voice tinged with gentle encouragement. "Proper nutrition is important for your recovery."

Furina nodded absently, her mind already wandering back to the dark corners of her thoughts. Sigewinne, ever observant, recognized the need for delicate handling. She approached slowly, ensuring Furina could see every movement.

"I'll need to perform a quick check-up, Lady Furina," Sigewinne explained, her tone gentle and reassuring. "Just the usual—your vitals, and a quick look at your overall condition. I'll let you know before I touch you, okay?"

Furina appreciated Sigewinne's careful approach, though she felt detached from the process. "Alright," she murmured.

"I’ll start by checking your pulse," Sigewinne said, reaching out slowly to place her fingers on Furina's wrist. The touch was light, almost imperceptible. "Just a few moments."

Furina watched as Sigewinne concentrated, her brow furrowing slightly as she counted the beats. There was a calm precision to her movements, a stark contrast to the chaos that often swirled within Furina's mind.

"Good," Sigewinne said, offering a reassuring smile. "Now, I need to check your temperature. I’ll place my hand on your forehead. Is that alright?"

Furina nodded once more, her eyes closing as she felt the cool touch of Sigewinne’s hand on her forehead. The little healer’s Hydro power was subtle and cool.

"Your temperature is normal," Sigewinne reported, her voice soft and steady. "Everything seems stable," she said with a gentle smile.

Sigewinne then continued her examination, checking Furina's pulse, respiration, and overall condition with meticulous care. Each touch was light, almost imperceptible, but Furina could feel the genuine concern behind every movement.

As Sigewinne finished her check-up, she gave a smile of relief. "Well now, if there's anything you need, please don't hesitate to call me. I will leave you to rest," she said, her tone kind and comforting. "Rest well, my lady."

As the door clicked shut behind Sigewinne, Furina let out a shuddering breath. The room, though quieter now, felt no less confining. The weight of the walls seemed to press in on her, suffocating her with their cold, metallic presence.

( If I were to end my life now, they would definitely intervene, right? )

The thought hung in the air, a chilling contemplation that sent a shiver down her spine. Furina silently considered her situation. She could pretend to be fine, but she wasn't sure how long she could keep up the act. The facade of being okay was exhausting, and the effort to maintain it was draining what little strength she had left.

She needed to get away from here. Soon. The idea of prolonged captivity, of slowly losing herself to the creeping shadows of her mind, was unbearable. She had to act quickly, to seek an end on her own terms before the last vestiges of her strength were eroded by despair.

In the depths of her heart, Furina made a grim decision. She would find a way to escape, to break free from the chains that bound her. And once she was free, she would seek a place where she could finally end her life, away from prying eyes and judgmental whispers. It was a bleak resolution, but in the darkness that had become her existence, it was the only light she could see.

💧💧💧

A few days passed, and as usual, Neuvillette went down to Meropide. Whenever he finished his job for the day, he would make his way to see Furina. Only when she was asleep did he dare to come close to her, fearing that his presence might disturb her fragile peace. Even if he had overtime, he would bring his work with him and just silently sit by her side.

Today was no different. As he entered her dimly lit room, the oppressive silence greeted him, broken only by the occasional sound of Furina's restless movements. He saw her once again tormented by nightmares, her face contorted in pain. Neuvillette's heart ached at the sight, the depth of her suffering cutting through him like a blade.

He remembered the words in Furina's journal that he had read. Each phrase echoed in his mind, haunting him with its raw emotion and desperate longing. It was a stark reminder of the anguish she endured, hidden beneath a façade of strength and composure.

He moved closer, his steps soft and deliberate, as if any sudden movement might wake her up. Kneeling beside her bed, Neuvillette reached out and gently touched her forehead, channeling his Hydro power to soothe her. The nightmares never fully disappeared, but his presence seemed to help, if only a little. He watched as her features relaxed slightly, her breathing becoming more even.

He then shifted his hands and slowly caressed her cheeks, his touch tender and filled with emotion he himself unsure of. His fingertips traced the delicate lines of her face, trying to offer comfort where words had failed him. Until now, he was still unsure what he should do to help her, feeling helpless in the face of her despair.

"Furina," he whispered, his voice barely audible with a mixture of desperation and hope.

Then came a subtle knock on the door. Neuvillette looked up and saw Clorinde standing outside. It was her usual reporting time, he thought. Reluctantly, he stood and walked over to speak with the Champion Duelist.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," Clorinde began, her voice tinged with concern as she spoke. Neuvillette could see the worry etched in the lines of her face, a reflection of his own unease. "As usual, she remains listless ever since she woke up. While she was awake, aside from Sigewinne, she hasn't had any contact with other people. Fortunately, she has been maintaining her nutrition, but Sigewinne mentioned that the lack of proper sleep may start to affect her health."

Even without Clorinde specifically mentioning it, they both knew that Furina had been experiencing nightmares all this time. Neuvillette sighed heavily, the weight of their predicament settling upon him like a suffocating blanket. 

"Nightmares..." he murmured, a sense of frustration creeping into his voice. In that moment, he couldn't help but long for the ability to manipulate dreams, akin to the rumored powers of the Dendro Archon.

His gaze returned to Furina, her delicate features softened by the dim light of the chamber. Another heavy sigh escaped his lips. The bitter irony of his own limitations weighed heavily on his heart, mocking the grandeur of his title as the Sovereign who regained his full power back. Here he was, unable to offer solace or reprieve from the torment plaguing Furina, his supposed sovereignty rendered impotent in the face of such human frailty.

💧💧💧

Once again, she found herself ensnared in the clutches of her own twisted nightmare. Unlike the trial before, this time she was thrust onto the stage of the Opera Epiclese, trapped in the center of a macabre tea party. The scene around her was a grotesque fusion of elegance and lunacy.

The table stretched endlessly, adorned with a blood-red cloth that seemed to pulsate with a life of its own. Teacups and saucers cluttered the surface, each filled with a noxious brew swirling with colors unseen in the waking world. Figures adorned in ghastly masks encircled the table, their grotesque expressions contorted into a mockery of human emotion—joy, sorrow, anger, and fear—all directed at her with a malevolent intent.

As Furina sat there, a sense of dread washed over her. The masked figures began to laugh, a broken, discordant tune that echoed through the vast, cavernous space of the Opera Epiclese. Their laughter grew louder and more distorted, the sound warping into a nightmarish cacophony. Slowly, they began to approach her, their movements jerky and unnatural.

Furina's heart pounded in her chest as the masked figures loomed closer. She tried to scream, to run, but her body was frozen in place. The masks, now inches from her face, seemed to mock her helplessness, their empty eyes boring into her soul.

Then, in unison, the masks began to chant, their voices a chilling whisper that grew louder and more insistent with each repetition. "Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?" The question echoed around her, the sound bouncing off the walls and reverberating in her mind.

"Furina...," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I am Furina..."

"Are you suuuureee?" they hissed, their voices dripping with venomous doubt, each syllable laced with a sickening sweetness that curdled her blood.

"I-I am..." Furina stuttered, her words barely escaping the vice grip of fear that clenched her throat.

The masks laughed again, a sound even more fractured and sinister than before. Their laughter echoed through the darkened space, merging with the relentless chant. "Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?" they continued, their voices rising in a maddening symphony of horror.

"You're no Archon," one mask hissed, its voice dripping with malice. "You’ve been playing pretend, lying to your people, and failing them when they need you most."

"How does it feel," another mask sneered, "to know you couldn’t protect your country? To watch it crumble under your watch while you hide behind your charade?"

Furina’s eyes filled with tears, her breath coming in shallow gasps. "I... I tried," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "I did what I thought was right."

"Right?" the first mask mocked, leaning closer. "You were never right. You were weak, a puppet playing at power. Fontaine deserves better."

"You’re a disgrace," the second mask spat. "A false Archon, leading her people into ruin. How many lives were lost because of you? How many dreams shattered?"

Furina's vision blurred with tears, the weight of their accusations pressing down on her. "No... please, stop," she begged, her voice breaking. "I did everything I could."

"Everything?" a third mask taunted, its voice a hollow echo of her deepest fears. "You did nothing and you know it. Your reign was a farce, a grotesque comedy of errors. And now, your lies have caught up to you."

The masked figures closed in, their presence suffocating, their whispers now a deafening roar. "Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?" they chanted, their voices merging into a single, monstrous entity that seemed to consume her.

Just as she felt herself about to break, the whole place was suddenly flooded with water. The dark, swirling liquid surged from the walls and ceiling, engulfing the entire scene in a matter of moments. Furina felt the cold water rise around her, submerging the table, the masks, and everything else. Panic set in as she was pulled under, but then she realized—she could breathe. The water filled her lungs, but it brought no pain, no suffocation. Instead, it soothed her, the liquid wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.

She looked around, finding herself alone in a vast blue ocean, the eerie tea party and its sinister guests now distant memories. The ocean was calm, the water clear and pure, a stark contrast to the chaotic nightmare she had just endured. She floated in the serene depths, her mind gradually finding peace in the gentle ebb and flow of the currents.

💧💧💧

Awakening from the dream, she slowly opened her eyes, the dim light of her room gradually coming into focus.

( How many days have passed? )

Furina's ears picked up faint murmurs near the door, drawing her attention to the sound. Peering towards the source, she spotted Neuvillette engaged in conversation with someone, his expression etched with deep concern.

( Was the calm ocean appear because of him? )

Just as the thought crossed her mind, Neuvillette turned his head, and their eyes met—lilac-colored meeting mismatched blue. In that brief moment, it felt as if time itself had frozen, the intensity of his gaze piercing through her fragile facade. Quickly, Furina shut her eyes, her heart pounding in her chest, its rhythm echoing the turmoil within her.

She lay there, waiting, every second stretching into an eternity. But nothing happened. Just silence. Then she heard the subtle click of the door closing, a sound that seemed to reverberate through the stillness of the room.

After a while, she opened her eyes again and lifted herself up. The room was empty, save for her. With one hand, she held her head, the echoes of the nightmare still lingering in her mind. She needed to start her plan to escape as soon as possible. But how?

The Fortress of Meropide was renowned as an impenetrable prison beneath the sea, a place designed to hold even the most cunning and powerful. She had no manipulation of elements, no magical abilities to aid her. All she had were her centuries of acting experience, her brain, and her wits. She walked to the window, gazing out at the vast expanse of blue ocean. Her mind raced with possibilities and plans, each one seeming more impossible than the last.

In the grip of sleepless nights and haunting visions, Furina maintained a vigilant mind, her exhaustion starting to show by the dark circles that etched beneath her eyes. Each passing hour seemed to weigh heavier upon her shoulders, the relentless torment of her nightmares wearing down her resolve. Then, on the cusp of the third day, amidst the oppressive silence of her chamber, inspiration struck like a bolt from the blue.

It was a daring gambit, a plan born of desperation and fueled by the very skills she had honed over centuries of existence. A deception—an elaborate ruse to make everyone believe she was sleepwalking. Despite her weariness, the prospect of executing this plan offered a glimmer of hope, a temporary respite from the suffocating grip of her current state.

If executed perfectly, she could roam the fortress under the guise of unconsciousness, committing every detail of the place to memory. This would require her to deceive not only Neuvillette and Clorinde but also Wriothesley, the guards, and even Sigewinne’s sharp intuition. In the end she has nothing to lose anyway so might as well take the risk.

She decided to test their reactions first. That night, as she lay in bed, she waited for Neuvillette's familiar presence. He came as he always did, his quiet footsteps a comforting rhythm in the otherwise oppressive silence. She waited until she heard his soft breathing next to her before she began.

With painstaking slowness, Furina rose from her bed, her movements deliberate and slow, as if in a trance. She kept her eyes half-closed, her expression vacant. She walked towards the door, her heart hammering in her chest. She needed to appear convincingly asleep while being hyper-aware of her surroundings.

As she reached the door, she sensed Neuvillette stir. He called her name softly, “Furina?” She didn’t respond, continuing her slow, steady walk. She felt his eyes on her, a mix of concern and curiosity. He didn’t stop her but followed closely, ready to intervene if necessary.

She walked through the Fortress' metallic corridors, noting every turn and detail—the placement of the guards, the locked doors, the escape routes. Neuvillette shadowed her silently, his presence a constant reminder of the stakes. She had to be flawless in her performance.

After what felt like an eternity, she returned to her room and slipped back into bed, pretending to drift off into a peaceful sleep. Neuvillette watched her for a while longer before finally leaving the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

The next morning, Furina listened intently for any subtle shifts in behavior among those around her, Neuvillette's concern palpable yet unspoken. Though their interactions had grown scarce since her departure from the Palais, his silent watch over her slumber spoke volumes. Regardless, this restraint hinted that her initial test had been a success.

Then intermittently, Furina meticulously repeated the process. She varied her routes, ensuring she didn’t arouse suspicion. Clorinde and Wriothesley had undoubtedly taken notice of her nocturnal escapades, but she hoped her carefully crafted facade had managed to deceive them. Yet, Sigewinne’s intuition posed the greatest challenge; the small healer isn't one to be underestimated after all.

Even though she wished to stop acting, Furina still maintained her facade, determined not to reveal her true intentions. After all, she had honed her craft for five centuries; adding a few more nights of deception was a small price to pay.

💧💧💧

One evening in Wriothesley's office, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Clorinde, and Sigewinne gathered to discuss Furina’s recent behavior.

“She’s been sleepwalking more frequently,” Neuvillette began, his tone laced with worry and a hint of frustration.

Wriothesley leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "I've seen her too," he admitted, his gaze distant as he recounted his observations. "She's been wandering around at odd hours. At first, I was going to stop her, but she always seems so... lost. I didn't want to cause her more distress."

Clorinde, nodding, added her observations. "At times, it seems as though she's merely acting out a scene, but other times, it feels disturbingly real." She remarked, her voice trailing off as she recalled the unsettling moments she had witnessed.

Sigewinne, who had likely interacted with Furina the most recently, spoke up hesitantly. "I've noticed it as well. But it's difficult to determine whether it's genuine sleepwalking or if she's intentionally pretending."

Wriothesley, attempting to lighten the somber mood, offered a teasing remark. "Oh, so even the Melusine's special capabilities is unable to comprehend our lady?" he quipped, though the concern in his eyes betrayed his attempt at levity.

Sigewinne managed a small smile, though it was clear that her mind was troubled. "I suppose that just shows how incredible Lady Furina's acting is," she remarked softly, her voice tinged with a hint of unease.

Clorinde's brow furrowed in thought. "But if it is deliberate, why would she do that?"

Wriothesley leaned forward, his expression serious. "I believe she’s planning something. She’s too intelligent to be caught doing something like this without reason."

Intelligent and daring, they all thought, a sense of trepidation settling over the room. Furina was not one to shy away from risk or sacrifice, and they knew she would go to great lengths to achieve her purpose. They had learned this fact the hard way after all when they underestimated her willpower to continue her act even in the face of death as a potential outcome.

The group fell into a contemplative silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Furina's behavior was clearly a cause for concern, but they were unsure of how to approach the situation.

"For now, I've instructed the guards to observe her from afar and only intervene if they believe she's in danger," Wriothesley said, breaking the silence. "Let's hope we're just being paranoid."

Neuvillette nodded slowly, his mind racing with possibilities. "We need to be cautious and whatever her intentions may be, let's ensure that she doesn’t harm herself," he said, clenching his fist in determination.

💧💧💧

This was probably the fifth time since Furina had initiated her plan. Each attempt had revealed new layers of complexity within the Fortress, surpassing her initial expectations. Now she understood why it was considered an impenetrable prison, each corridor and guard presenting formidable obstacles to her escape.

Taking a deep breath, Furina prepared herself for the night ahead. Today might pose a bit of a challenge, she acknowledged. Previously, she had meticulously chosen routes with fewer people, minimizing the risk of drawing attention.

As she wandered the labyrinthine corridors of the Fortress of Meropide, Furina could feel the piercing stares of the other prisoners upon her. She had presided over most of their trials, after all, and now they witnessed the once-revered Hydro Archon reduced to a restless, nocturnal wanderer. Whispers echoed around her, each word a dagger to her dignity. She desperately wanted to cover her ears, to shut out the cacophony of contempt, mockery, sympathy, and other swirling negative emotions.

Beads of sweat began to form on her forehead as the whispers grew louder, a relentless tide crashing against her weakening resolve. The mocking laughter, the disdainful glances, the pitying murmurs—each amplified her isolation, pushing her closer to the brink.

Just as the oppressive noise became unbearable, her vision started to blur, the world around her swimming in a haze of uncertainty. She stumbled, her footing faltering on the fortress's cold metallic floor, which seemed to rise up to meet her in a menacing embrace. The cacophony of voices merged into a chaotic symphony, drowning out all rational thought.

The last thing she heard was the urgent sound of guards rushing toward her, their shouts mingling with the fading echoes of derision before darkness claimed her in its embrace.

💧💧💧

She fainted. That was her limit. As consciousness slowly returned, Furina found herself gazing up at the familiar metallic ceiling, her chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. Every muscle in her body ached, protesting against her efforts to move. Yet, with sheer determination, she summoned the strength to lift herself up, her limbs feeling heavy and uncooperative as she struggled to orient herself in the dimly lit room.

Once again, a steaming bowl of porridge awaited her at the bedside. At first, she thought she was alone, but a subtle movement caught her eye. Leaning against the window frame, Neuvillette watched her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. Uncertain of how to react, she hesitated, her gaze flickering between the food and the unwavering gaze of her oldest companion.

Feeling a sense of obligation mixed with discomfort, Furina reluctantly reached for the spoon, her hand trembling uncontrollably. With a clatter, it slipped from her grasp, falling to the floor with a resounding clang—a stark reminder of her weakened state.

( How embarrassing. )

Before she could retrieve it, Neuvillette swiftly intervened, retrieving the fallen utensil with practiced ease. Their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, Furina was transported back to the courtroom, where the memory of his verdict during her trial mingled with the haunting image of the marionette judge from her dream, looming over her with silent judgment. Hastily, she averted her gaze, her heart pounding in her chest as fear crept in.

There was a moment of silence before Neuvillette finally spoke. "If looking at my eyes scares you, do you want me to cover them?" he asked softly.

Furina couldn’t comprehend what he was saying at first. Only when he conjured a piece of cloth and covered his eyes did she understand. He washed the spoon with his hydro abilities, dried it, then stirred the porridge and held a spoonful towards her.

( Is he... trying to feed me? )

Furina stared at him in a daze, the surrealism of the moment overwhelming her. She wondered if this, too, was another nightmare.

"Here," Neuvillette said softly, his voice steady despite the blindfold. "Let me help you."

The absurdity of the situation struck her, a mix of vulnerability and defiance battling within her. She hesitated, but the weariness of the past days and nights wore down her resistance. Slowly, she opened her mouth, allowing him to feed her the porridge. The warmth of the food contrasted sharply with the cold reality of her predicament, stirring a confusing mixture of emotions within her.

As Neuvillette continued to feed her, the silence between them grew thick with unspoken words. Furina found herself studying his every movement, the way his hands moved with such care despite the blindfold, the quiet determination in his demeanor. She couldn't reconcile this gentle figure with the stern, imposing judge she had always known.

💧💧💧

Honestly, even Neuvillette himself was unsure why he was doing this. Covering his eyes wasn't a problem since his other senses were better than most humans. Still, there was an unspoken compulsion driving his actions, a need to provide comfort where he felt powerless.

He placed the empty bowl at the side, a small, hollow sound echoing in the quiet room.

“You should’ve just left me be...” Furina finally spoke, her voice a fragile whisper.

Before he could refute, he heard the soft rhythm of her breathing, signaling she had already slipped back into a deep slumber. Uncovering his eyes, Neuvillette looked at Furina, her face now peaceful in sleep.

( Leave her be? )

The thought echoed in his mind, a silent question that haunted him. He knew that he couldn't abandon her, not when she was so clearly suffering. If it were anyone else, he might not be this anxious. But...

He quietly whispered, “You’re not just anyone else. You are...” Neuvillette halted, the words catching in his throat.

Who was Furina to him? Was she simply his former boss, a distant figure of authority he had served for centuries? Or was she more than that, a friend, a confidante, someone he had come to care for in ways he dared not admit even to himself?

The depth of his feelings for her was an abyss he had yet to fully explore. As he stood there, watching over her, he realized that his concern for Furina transcended duty. It was personal, rooted in a bond forged through shared trials and unspoken understanding.

Neuvillette sighed, the weight of his emotions pressing heavily on his chest. He couldn't abandon her, not now, not ever. In this moment of vulnerability, he saw her not as the Hydro Archon, but as someone who needed him, someone he was determined to protect at all cost.

Gently, he brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch tender and filled with unspoken promise. "Rest well, Furina," he murmured. "I'll be here when you wake."

💧💧💧

Chapter Text

💧💧💧

Furina's sleep was anything but peaceful. Once more ahe was plagued by nightmares of her past. Shadows formed accusing faces and voices, condemning her. This time as well she dreamt of standing alone in a courtroom, Fontaine's citizens' eyes filled with disappointment and betrayal. Neuvillette stood in the distance, indifferent and unreachable. She reached out desperately, but found only emptiness.

With a gasp, Furina jolted awake, her heart pounding. Disoriented and drenched in cold sweat, she blinked rapidly, trying to distinguish reality from the lingering shadows of her dream. Her eyes fell upon Neuvillette, who sat beside her, his concern palpable.

"Furina?" Neuvillette's voice was soft, but it startled her in her panicked state. She instinctively recoiled, her eyes wide with fear, as if the nightmare had followed her into the waking world.

"Stay back!" Furina cried, scrambling backwards on the bed. In her haste, her hands slipped, and she felt herself tipping over the edge. She let out a startled cry as she nearly fell, but Neuvillette's quick reflexes saved her. He caught her just in time, pulling her back to safety.

Their eyes locked, his dragon features softened by a gentle, calming expression. He had already covered his eyes, shielding her in hope to reduce her fear.

"It's alright, Furina," he whispered soothingly. "You're safe. I'm here."

Neuvillette's arms encircled her in a protective embrace, his presence a solid anchor amidst the storm of her emotions. He held her close, his touch warm and reassuring, as he murmured calming words. Gradually, her breathing steadied, and the panic began to subside.

Once she was calmer, Furina became acutely aware of their proximity. She was enveloped in his arms, his chest rising and falling with each breath against her cheek. In her confusion and a bit of embarrassment, she quickly pushed him away, creating a small distance between them.

In that brief moment, Furina thought she saw a flicker of sadness and disappointment in his eyes. However, his usual stoic expression quickly returned, leaving her uncertain of what she had seen.

Before either of them could speak, there was a knock on the door. They both turned their gaze to the door as Sigewinne entered the room. She took in the disheveled state of Furina and the tension in the air between her and Neuvillette.

"Monsieur, taking advantage of a sick person is a no-no." Sigewinne said with a mischievous smile.

Neuvillette's cheeks reddened slightly, but he maintained his composure. "It's not what it looks like," he said, standing up and stepping away from the bed. "Furina had a nightmare, and I was trying to help her."

"Of course, Monsieur Neuvillette," Sigewinne replied, her tone teasing. "But you might want to be more mindful of how it looks next time."

Furina, still disoriented from her nightmare and the ensuing confusion, found it difficult to grasp the full context of their exchange. She watched as Neuvillette's face, usually so composed, flushed slightly under Sigewinne's playful gaze. The scene felt surreal, almost dreamlike, and she struggled to piece together the implications of their words.

Sigewinne then turned serious, addressing Neuvillette. "Monsieur, could you give us a moment? I need to check on Lady Furina's condition."

Neuvillette nodded, his expression reverting to its usual composed demeanor. "Of course," he replied calmly. "It's about time I go up as well. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call me."

As Neuvillette left, Furina watched silently as Sigewinne continued her checkup, her movements deliberate yet filled with a subtle compassion that eased some of Furina's unease. Despite her best efforts to hide it, Furina knew that her condition must have appeared dire to Sigewinne, who had seen her through moments of both strength and vulnerability.

Once she finished her checkup, Sigewinne spoke gently, "Miss Clorinde has some tasks above ground, but if you need anything, you can inform the guards outside." She offered Furina a stack of papers and a set of crayons. "If speaking proves difficult, you may write your needs here."

Furina accepted the papers and crayons quietly. As Sigewinne left the room, Furina gazed down at the paper and crayons in her hands.

"I suppose they're being cautious," Furina murmured to herself, noting the deliberate choice of crayons over potentially sharp objects like pen or pencil.

💧💧💧

Back at the Court of Fontaine, the Traveler and Paimon met Navia after receiving her urgent message. They settled into a quiet corner of a café, anticipation and concern mingling in the air.

"So, what's the news you mentioned in your letter?" the Traveler asked, leaning forward with a serious expression.

Navia sighed, her expression grave. "It's about Lady Furina."

"Furina?" Paimon interjected.

Navia nodded solemnly. "Yes. After everything that happened, have either of you visited her yet?"

Both the Traveler and Paimon shook their heads, guilt flickering across their faces.

"Same here. I've been caught up in Poisson affairs and completely forgot about it," Navia admitted. "But a few days ago, I received information that she's currently in the Fortress of Meropide."

"What?!" The Traveler and Paimon exclaimed simultaneously, disbelief written on their faces.

"But why? She was just fulfilling her duties as an Archon during the flood," Paimon protested. "Why would she end up in prison for that?"

Navia shrugged helplessly. "I'm not entirely sure. That's why I thought we should go and ask directly."

The Traveler nodded in agreement. "You're right. We need to find out what's going on."

With their minds made up, they quickly finished their drinks and made their way towards the Fortress of Meropide, their hearts heavy with worry for Furina.

As they arrived at the fortress reception, they were greeted by Wriothesley, the Duke himself.

"Well, well, what a surprise to see visitors at this hour," Wriothesley remarked, his tone cordial but tinged with curiosity. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

"We've heard concerning news about someone we care about," Navia began cautiously. "We were told she's here, and we need to understand why."

Wriothesley's expression softened with understanding, though he sighed slightly as he considered their request.

"Indeed, news of her presence here has caused quite a stir," Wriothesley admitted, acknowledging the public speculation surrounding Furina's stay. "However, the reasons are not what the rumors might suggest."

He led them through the echoing corridors of the fortress, the atmosphere growing more solemn with each step. As they walked, Wriothesley explained quietly, "She's here under special circumstances, not as a prisoner but for her own safety and recovery."

Sensitive to the confidential nature of Furina's situation, they avoided mentioning her name directly.

The news brought a mix of relief and confusion to the trio. Recuperating? They exchanged glances, silently processing this unexpected turn.

"May I ask why she's recuperating here?" the Traveler inquired, trying to understand the situation better.

Wriothesley paused, choosing his words carefully. "There were... incidents," he began delicately. "She needed a place away from the public eye to recover. This fortress provides both security and discretion."

Navia and the Traveler nodded slowly, absorbing this information. The pieces were starting to come together, though they still felt unsettled by the vague explanation.

"If you wished to see her, unfortunately it cannot be done. For now, she's not in a condition to accept visitors, I'm afraid," Wriothesley added with regret in his tone.

"I see," Navia replied softly, disappointment evident in her voice. The trio sighed collectively, realizing their hopes of seeing Furina were dashed for the moment.

Just then, a guard abruptly rushed towards them, his footsteps echoing urgently in the stone corridors. He approached Wriothesley with a grave expression, delivering news that a prisoner had gone missing from the fortress.

Wriothesley's expression tightened with concern. "Excuse me for a moment," he said to Navia, the Traveler, and Paimon, before turning to the guard to address the situation.

The trio exchanged looks of worry, sensing the gravity of the situation unfolding around them. Despite their concerns for Furina, they understood the need to prioritize the current crisis at hand.

💧💧💧

Meanwhile, hiding behind a large crate on the floor above, Furina peered down at the group gathered below. Her heart pounded in her chest. With Clorinde absent from her guard post, Furina had slipped past the Meropide guards easily.

( Why... Why are THEY here? )

Confusion and fear gripped her. Was the Fortress of Meropide accessible to anyone now? Wasn't this place supposed to be strictly guarded?

The last thing she wanted was to confront them. Their presence unsettled her, stirring up memories and emotions she had tried to bury. Her stomach started to churn.

Without wasting any time, Furina ran and ran. She ran blindly, unsure of her direction, her only goal to get as far away as possible. Eventually, she slowed down, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She took a moment to gather herself and looked around.

The familiar, dilapidated surroundings brought a flicker of recognition. She had passed through this area before during one of her sleepwalking session. Determined, she pressed on, navigating through the labyrinthine passages until she arrived at a secluded, waterlogged chamber.

"Oh? It's rare to see someone around here," a voice said, breaking the silence.

Startled, Furina glanced down to her left and saw an old man sitting calmly, fishing next to where she stood. She had been so focused on escaping that she hadn't noticed him at all.

"Eek!" Furina yelped, her hand flying to her mouth.

"Sorry, lass," the old man said with a hearty laugh. "Did I scare you?" He moved a lamplight to better illuminate the space between them. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her face.

"Well now. Isn't it Lady Furina. Hoho," chuckled the old man with white hair and a shaggy beard, his weathered face breaking into a warm smile as he tipped his hat. "Pleasure to meet you, my lady."

Furina looked at the old man in apprehension. Was her plan already doomed to fail?

As if sensing her turmoil, the old man spoke again, his tone reassuring. "If you're worried that I'll tell the guards about you, fret not. There's no reason for me to do so."

His words offered a modicum of relief, yet Furina remained wary. Trust was a luxury she couldn't afford.

"Anyway, never in my life did I imagine talking to the Hydro Archon like this." The old man laughed, the sound echoing softly through the cavern.

"I'm not an Archon anymore," Furina said curtly. "Never was."

"Hmm..." The old man hummed thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on Furina with a mix of reverence and curiosity. "I suppose that's true now. But to us who have lived our entire lives here in Fontaine, you have always been our Archon."

Furina fell silent, the weight of his words pressing down on her. Memories of her time as Archon—both the triumphs and the failures—flooded her mind.

"Then, forgive me for asking this, but what does an Archon mean to you, milady?" he asked, his tone respectful yet tinged with curiosity.

Furina paused, considering his question. She sighed softly, her gaze turning inward as she wrestled with her emotions. "An Archon..." she began slowly, her voice carrying the weight of centuries-old memories and unspoken burdens. "An Archon is meant to be a protector. Someone who safeguards their people, ensures justice, and leads with wisdom and compassion."

She hesitated, her gaze distant as she recalled the ideals she had strived to uphold. "To guide and to love unconditionally," she added softly, almost to herself.

"But reality often diverges from ideals," Furina continued quietly. "I wore the mask of an ideal Archon, striving to fulfill expectations I could never fully meet. For centuries, I navigated the intricate dance of politics and power, yet in the end, my greatest struggle was with myself."

Despite the gravity of the moment, she found herself confiding in the old man, his presence oddly comforting. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this," she admitted, more to herself than to him.

"You see, I do loved my people deeply," Furina confessed, her voice bearing the weight of centuries-old burdens. "But the strength to protect them, to ensure justice, to embody the ideals of an Archon—those were aspirations I could never fully attain. Justice was not mine to give, and the power to enforce it belonged to another. I kept up the act, one lie leading to another, for five centuries."

"Within those five centuries, the charade continued," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Each syllable carried the weight of countless days spent in pretense and the ceaseless burden of maintaining an illusion. "Until it finally ended."

The old man listened in silence. "And here you are," he said softly, offering a comforting presence amidst the weight of her confession.

Furina met his gaze, grateful for his understanding. "Yes," she murmured, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. "Here I am."

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken emotions, broken only by the occasional drip of water echoing through the cave. The quiet was soon disrupted by distant commotions, the sound of hurried footsteps echoes with increasing urgency.

"It's best if you go back now," the old man said. 

Furina's attention snapped in the direction of the approaching sound, her heart pounding. She could sense the urgency in the air, the tension of something or someone drawing near.

The old man continued, "A word of caution from this old man. After the recent commotion, everyone here already knows of your presence. Be cautious. Humans are deeply emotional creatures, especially here in the den where sinners gather."

Furina turned back to respond, but the old man had already disappeared, leaving only the ripples in the water where he once stood.

Unfortunately, before she could return to her room, a young man, probably in his thirties, emerged from the shadows. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but then again, she had seen most of the Fontainians over her long life. She just kept quiet, her eyes fixed on him with a mix of wariness and exhaustion.

"I thought I was dreaming but it really is you. The fake goddess." The man said with blatant malice.

Furina's eyes narrowed slightly, but she remained silent. She had already used up her emotional reserves with the old man earlier, and she had no patience left to deal with this new confrontation. The fatigue of centuries pressed heavily on her, and she simply had no energy to entertain anyone's grievances at the moment.

The man clicked his tongue in irritation, taking her silence as an affront. "Nothing to say? After all these years of lies and deceit? You think you can just hide away and be done with it?"

"My family, all gone. Because of you!" The man's voice echoed through the place, filled with anguish and accusation. "If you had done something earlier, they wouldn't be dissolved."

Furina's heart sank at his words. Family? Dissolved? The gravity of his loss hit her like a tidal wave, leaving her speechless for a moment. After a few seconds, she realized that this man must be from Poisson, the neighboring town devastated by tragedy. And since he was here in Meropide, he had likely been brought here before the disaster struck.

Furina tried to say something, anything, but her words failed her. What could she possibly say to ease his pain? Sorry for your loss? It felt empty, inadequate. She sighed inwardly, feeling the weight of the man's grief pressing down on her.

Then, Furina noticed a glint hidden in the man's coat. Is this the chance she had been waiting for? She hopes so. Weariness washed over her, and she just wanted it all to end. She turned her gaze towards the pipes on the ceiling, her expression unreadable.

But her lack of response only seemed to enrage the man further. He charged towards her, pulling out a gun and aiming it at her. Furina closed her eyes, resigned to whatever fate awaited her. But instead of the sound of a gunshot, she heard the clang of metal.

Opening her eyes, Furina saw Clorinde standing protectively in front of her, her sword raised to deflect the bullet. It appeared Clorinde had rushed down after completing her tasks above ground. Even though Furina had witnessed the Champion Duelist's skills countless times, she couldn't help but be awed by her prowess.

Footsteps echoed behind her, and soon the merry band had gathered – Wriothesley, Navia, the Traveler, and Paimon. Seeing the crowd, the man trembled in fear, his resolve faltering as he attempted to flee. But Navia and the Traveler swiftly captured him, preventing his escape.

As Furina stood there, trying to calm herself from another anxiety attack, she watched as Wriothesley whispered something to the man, causing him to shudder in fear. With his hands cuffed, Wriothesley escorted the man away.

Then, all eyes turned to Furina, their gazes filled with questions and confusion.

"Lady Furina, are you alright? Why are you here?" Clorinde's concern was evident in her voice.

( Well, I don't want to meet any of you guys, hence I'm here. )

Navia stepped forward first, her voice gentle yet probing. "My lady, why didn't you run or call for help?"

( Call for help? Who would help me? )

"That's right, if we were a bit too late, you might have been seriously injured," Paimon added.

( That's the point though. Are you expecting me to say thank you for saving my life now? )

Furina answered their questions mentally, though eventually, she couldn't hold back – she laughed. It was a bitter, hollow sound, filled with the bitter irony of the situation. 

( Hypocrisy at its finest. )

As her laughter abruptly ceased, Furina met the stunned faces of those around her.

"Aren't you people the same ones eager to kill me previously?" Furina's voice dripped with sarcasm, her words a sharp rebuke to their sudden show of concern. "So, what difference does this make?"

"What are you..." Navia's voice trailed off as understanding dawned on her, her eyes widening in realization.

"Remember now?" Furina said with a bitter smile.

The primordial sea water test. They had thought she would back out and finally concede. But they had underestimated her willpower. She fulfilled her duties to the very end, even if it meant her death.

"No... That's..." Navia struggled for words.

The Traveler also understood what she was implying, though Paimon still couldn't grasp it. A heavy silence fell upon them. They couldn't defend themselves against her accusation. Even so, they couldn't back down.

"We're sorry. But we didn't have a choice..." The Traveler spoke, attempting to convey remorse.

( No, you did have a choice. There were other options, yet you chose that method regardless. Isn't that just twisting the knife, knowing how hard I fought to prevent the dissolution prophesied? )

Furina stared down at her hand, remembering the moment she had dipped it into the primordial sea water. A part of her wished there was still some trace of that day.

( It truly was a spectacle... )

She lifted her gaze, meeting the eyes of each person in turn. Seeing they still persistence as ever, Furina sighed deeply. "You know, if it gets you people off my case, then sureeee. I'll forgive you. Happy now?"

"Au revoir." With a graceful but somewhat mocking bow, Furina turned to leave, her words laced with a bitter undertone.

"But..." Navia began, reaching out to hold Furina's arm. She could see the emptiness in Furina's eyes, a darkness that chilled her more deeply than she expected. It was clear that Furina was suffering far more than Navia had imagined. Their eyes met briefly, but no words were exchanged.

Reluctantly, Navia released Furina's arm. Furina glanced at Navia and the others briefly before resuming her departure.

"My lady," Navia called out, halting Furina in her tracks.

"...I hope you get better soon," Navia added softly, her voice tinged with genuine concern and sadness.

Furina didn't turn back to look at them. With a stoic expression, she resumed her walk, her footsteps echoing faintly as she walked away.

The moment she arrived at her room, Furina quickly closed the door and rushed to the attached bathroom. She collapsed to her knees and retched, the stress and anguish of the encounter taking a physical toll. After emptying her stomach, she shakily stood and splashed cold water on her face, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

She made her way to the bed, her body heavy with exhaustion. "Get better soon, huh..." Furina muttered as she plopped back onto her bed, her voice dripping with a mixture of bitterness and irony.

She felt utterly exhausted now. Once again, she closed her eyes, and once more, the different flavours of nightmares came to haunt her. As if reality wasn't already tiring enough, why did she have to be tortured in her dreams as well?

💧💧💧

Days later, finally she had found her perfect path to escape. The next step was deciding when to carry out her plan. Surprisingly, the opportunity presented itself sooner than expected.

Since the event that day, Neuvillette had been making an effort to engage Furina in conversation, though it was mostly one-sided as Furina barely responded. Thankfully, he always covered his eyes with a piece of cloth, which provided her with some relief and a sense of privacy. Their interactions mostly revolved around the typical small talk found in conventional guidebooks, keeping things superficial and polite.

Then one day, during one of these routine conversations, a piece of significant news emerged.

"I will probably be a bit late tomorrow. There's a meeting with the officials," Neuvillette said as he fed her, his voice gentle. Why he insisted on feeding her was beyond Furina's understanding. She didn't bother to question it, her mind focused on the glimmer of hope this news brought. With Neuvillette preoccupied, tomorrow was her chance.

The following day arrived like clockwork. Furina ate her porridge as usual, anticipating Sigewinne's forthcoming checkup. Beyond the confines of her room, she knew Clorinde would be stationed at her door.

Despite their proximity, Furina had maintained a deliberate distance from Clorinde. The Champion Duelist, discerning and respectful of Furina's need for solitude, never imposed unnecessary conversation or interactions. This part of Clorinde is something that Furina always appreciates.

But today was different. Today, Furina needed to take action. Summoning her resolve, she mustered a smile—the same smile she had perfected as the Archon. With measured steps, she approached the door.

"Clorinde," Furina said, her voice quieter than she expected.

There was a momentary shift in Clorinde's expression, a flicker of surprise, before she returned to her stoic demeanor.

"Yes, my lady," Clorinde responded.

"Cake... Can you get me my favorite slice of cake? Please," Furina requested, internally praising herself for her acting.

Clorinde paused, debating whether to leave her post. After a moment, she called another Meropide guard to take her place for a bit.

Once Clorinde left, Furina knew the guard would be easier to handle. She quickly changed to her usual outfit. Afterwards, Furina waited for the right moment, then took advantage of the guard's inattentiveness. She moved swiftly, slipping past him and into the shadows of the corridor.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she navigated the labyrinthine halls of Meropide, relying on her memory and instinct to guide her. Every decision, every turn was critical. She knew she wouldn't get a second chance if she failed now. The weight of that realization spurred her onward, adrenaline fueling her movements. Her breath came in quick, shallow gasps, matching the rapid pace of her footsteps.

Eventually, she reached a cavern with green, luminous stones that cast an eerie glow over the damp walls. As she walked deeper into the cave, her steps echoing softly, a familiar face appeared in her path.

"You are..." Furina stared at the old man, her mind racing. How could he be here, in this desolate place?

"So we meet again." The old man laughed, a familiar twinkle in his eye that seemed out of place in the damp, oppressive cave.

Furina had a thousand questions, but one burned brighter than the rest: why was this old man here?

"Don't worry, as I said, I didn't tell the guards about you." The old man winked conspiratorially. "Seeing our Lady Archon wanting to escape, I was quite curious how it would turn out."

"I see. Unfortunately, I'm not your entertainment, so please, I hope we can part ways amicably," Furina said, her voice tinged with unease.

The old man hummed thoughtfully. "Rather than getting lost in here and being captured once more, want me to guide you to the exit?" he offered.

"Why?" Furina asked, her gaze probing.

"I know this path like the back of my hand. I once used it to meet a very special person." The old man held out his pendant and opened it, revealing a picture of a man with a young girl. "My daughter."

"That's not what I'm asking. I want to know why you're helping me," Furina insisted, her tone firm.

"Pity and also gratitude," the old man said simply. "So how about it?"

( Pity and... gratitude? )

Furina hesitated, weighing her options. "...Fine." She finally relented, knowing she didn't have the luxury of time. She needed to escape, to end her life on her own terms.

As they navigated through the winding, dimly lit passages, the old man spoke incessantly, his voice resonating off the stone walls. His stories of his daughter painted a picture of love and loss, of dreams deferred and hopes that lingered like ghosts in the gloom. Furina listened in silence, her heart heavy with the weight of his words.

"We exchanged letters often. In her letters, she praised a very famous superstar of Fontaine," the old man said, a hint of pride in his voice.

( A famous superstar? )

Furina's interest was piqued. She knew nearly every notable figure in Fontaine's theatre history, their talents recognized, even if none matched hers. She wondered who this superstar could be.

"Because of that superstar, my daughter decided to become an actress herself," the old man continued. "When she told me she was going to debut, I decided to escape Meropide, even if just for a while. That's how I know this path."

"So did you manage to see her performance in the end?" Furina asked, curiosity softening her voice.

The old man was quiet for a moment before he smiled. "How about a guess?" he said playfully, winking at her.

The question hung in the air like a delicate thread, tugging at Furina's heartstrings. She glanced at him, her mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions—empathy for the old man's sorrow, suspicion of his motives, and a growing sense of connection to his story.

( Why do I feel like there's more to this? )

Furina's thoughts churned as she struggled to reconcile the old man's tale with the stark reality of their perilous situation. Lost in contemplation, she failed to notice a small pebble underfoot and stumbled, falling beside a narrow stream that trickled through the cave.

As she pushed herself up, the metallic taste of blood tinged her senses. A warm trickle ran down from her nose, and a few drops splashed into the stream, mingling with its clear waters.

The old man's weathered face creased with concern as he extended his hand to help Furina up. She accepted the gesture gratefully, pressing her sleeve to her nose to stem the bleeding. The fabric quickly darkened with her blood, a stark contrast to the pristine stream beside them.

"Let's keep moving," Furina said, her voice slightly muffled by the cloth pressed against her face.

The old man nodded silently, his smile never faltering. They walked in silence for a while, with only sound of the faint echo of their footsteps against the damp stone floor. Then, the old man slowed his pace and broke the silence once more.

"I don't think my lady remembers my case, but I was once a toymaker," he began, his voice heavy with regret. "An arrogant and prideful one. One day, a tempting deal crossed my path. It was an offer too good to refuse, and in my greed, I accepted."

Furina listened intently, her gaze fixed on the old man back as he spoke.

"Little did I know, those people were involved in child trafficking. The toys I crafted unwittingly lured innocent children into a terrible fate," he continued, his voice trembling with remorse. "My creations, meant to bring joy, became instruments of nightmares."

"I had a daughter of my own. That's why I couldn't bear it any longer and surrendered myself to the gardes," the old man confessed, tears welling in his eyes. "I thought my daughter would despise her criminal father. But to my surprise, she never stopped believing in me. To have such a daughter, who could forgive and love her flawed father... I am forever grateful."

Furina felt a pang of recognition. This story—it was familiar, hauntingly so. But if she recalled correctly, this case had occurred over a century ago.

( Then how... )

"Lady Furina," the old man said gently, capturing her attention once more. She turned to face him.

"You may not realize it, but your talent has inspired countless people," he continued, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "You shine like the brightest star for my beloved daughter. For that, as that child father, I thank you."

Confusion clouded Furina's expression as she blinked against the sudden brightness filtering through the cave's entrance. She then took a step forward, and finally, the outside world came into view.

"Hey, old man. We made it... out..." Furina's voice echoed through the cave, a mixture of relief and disbelief. But as her eyes adjusted to the dim light beyond the cave's mouth, her words faltered.

There was no old man standing beside her. Instead, a skeletal figure slumped against the rough cave wall, clad in tattered remnants of clothing, a pendant hanging from its neck—the same one the old man had worn.

Furina knelt beside the remains, her heart heavy with realization. Her fingers trembled as she reached out, brushing over the weathered pendant. With a gentle click, it opened, revealing a faded picture of a man happily holding a young girl in his arms—the same one she saw before.

( I see... So you really didn't make it in the end. )

💧💧💧

Running as fast as she could, Clorinde ascended to the overworld, her breath coming in ragged gasps as urgency fueled her every step. The echo of her footsteps reverberated off the stone walls as she sprinted towards Palais Mermonia without hesitation.

Moments ago, she had been elated when Furina called her, unaware of her plans. Now, clutching the slice of cake she had bought for her beloved Lady, her heart sank as she returned to find Furina's room empty. Fear gripped her, memories of past incidents clouding her thoughts.

Frantically, everyone including Wriothesley, Sigewinne, and even some of the prisoners joined the search, scouring every corner of Meropide, but Furina remained elusive. Panic threatened to overwhelm Clorinde as she struggled to remain composed. With no other recourse, she made her way swiftly to Neuvillette's office, her mind racing with dread and uncertainty.

"Oh, Miss Clorinde, what can I help you with?" Sedene greeted her, noticing the urgency in Clorinde's demeanor.

"The Iudex," Clorinde gasped, her breath ragged. "Monsieur Neuvillette, where is he?"

"He's in the meeting room right now. Follow me, quickly," Sedene replied as they quickly went toward the meeting room.

💧💧💧

At the same time, Neuvillette presided over a meeting with Fontaine's officials, deliberating on the aftermath of the recent flood and the void left by Furina's departure.

Suddenly, Neuvillette's eyes narrowed, a hint of primal instinct stirring within him. His gaze sharpened as a familiar scent filled his senses.

( Blood... )

He recognized the scent immediately, a visceral memory flashing before his eyes—the image of Furina standing before a shattered mirror, a haunting reminder of a past he couldn't forget. With resolve hardening in his heart, he rose abruptly from his seat just as Sedene and Clorinde burst into the meeting room.

"Monsieur! It's Lady Furina!" Clorinde exclaimed breathlessly, her voice echoing with urgency.

Neuvillette's heart sank. Even before they spoke, he knew. His mind raced ahead, connecting the dots with a sinking certainty. Ignoring the formalities of the meeting, he dashed out of the room, the urgency of his steps echoing in the grand marble corridors of Palais Mermonia. With each stride, his features began to shift, the draconic aspects of his heritage surfacing as his emotions roiled within.

"Furina..." Neuvillette whispered, his voice barely audible amidst the rush of his thoughts.

Outside, storm clouds gathered ominously over Fontaine, mirroring the turmoil within Neuvillette's heart. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a prelude to the tempest of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Raindrops started to fall.

As he emerged into the open air, Neuvillette launched himself into the sky with a powerful thrust. His flight was swift and determined, his mind focused on one singular purpose—to reach Furina, wherever she might be, before it was too late.

💧💧💧

Meanwhile, Furina knelt before the skeletal remains, her hands clasped in fervent prayer. Though uncertain if her hypothesis was correct, she could tell the old man had been incapacitated probably due to some injuries or something before arriving at this place and finally had breathed his last here.

( I'll follow you soon old man. )

The cave's silence was profound, as if the world itself held its breath in mourning. Then, a single drop of rain fell upon her shoulder.

( Rain? )

It took only a heartbeat for her to understand the significance of this sudden change in weather.

( He noticed! )

Panic surged through her. Her thoughts raced, searching frantically for a way out. There was no cliff to hurl herself from, no sharp object within reach. Desperation clawed at her as she began to run, her eyes scanning her surroundings wildly.

( Climbing the trees? No, too short. )

She sprinted, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her heart pounding in her chest. Then, something glinted at the corner of her eye—a short knife, half-buried in the mud.

Without hesitating, Furina darted towards it, snatching it up and rolling to a stop. She aimed the knife at her own throat, the cold steel mere inches from her skin. In that instant, a swift blue force shot towards her, and the knife was wrenched from her grasp, spinning uselessly to the ground.

Furina lay sprawled on the wet earth, her chest heaving. Towering above her was none other than Neuvillette. Their eyes locked, his usual lilac irises glowing. Her breath caught in her throat as they stared at each other.

For a long, tense moment, neither spoke. Only the sound of the rain grew louder, its relentless rhythm a backdrop to the storm brewing between them.

💧💧💧

Chapter Text

💧💧💧

The rain hammered down relentlessly, a symphony of tumult drowning out all other sounds save for their voices. Neuvillette's towering figure cast a shadow over Furina, his eyes—now an eerie, glowing lilac—piercing through the darkness.

"Neuvillette. Let me go," Furina's voice was void of emotion, a haunting echo of her former self.

"No," Neuvillette's response was firm, his tone unyielding. Their gaze didn't waver, locked in a silent battle of wills.

"Why?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rain that pounded the ground around them.

( Why can't you just let me be? )

"Because I care for you," Neuvillette said, his voice steady but filled with an intensity that belied his calm exterior.

Furina's lips twitched with bitterness, the absurdity of the situation almost too much to bear. "Care?" she echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"Why care now?" Furina continued, her voice cutting through the drumming rain with cold detachment. "You never really thought of me that much in the past anyway. I never was a good archon, not even a good leader."

( Childish. Arrogant. Just a decorative archon. )

Neuvillette's expression remained unreadable, but a flicker of pain crossed his eyes as she continued. "We've been by each other's side for 400 years, Neuvillette," Furina's voice was steady yet laced with a haunting sadness. "Four centuries of silence, of pretending everything was fine. Yet you never doubted me then. With all the blunders I made in the past, you accepted it. Because I was the Hydro Archon."

Her voice wavered, a tremor betraying the composure she fought to maintain. "Then, the moment it was revealed that I'm not the Archon, every single one of you didn't hesitate to turn your backs on me."

Her bitter laughter echoed, each note like a dagger piercing Neuvillette's heart. "As if betrayal alone wasn't enough," she continued, her voice tinged with profound pain. "I had to plead, Neuvillette. I still begged for all of you to believe me, to trust me one last time. And even then, surprise, surprise—it wasn't enough."

"But Furina, please understand—" Neuvillette attempted to reason.

"I know, I know," Furina interrupted, her tone tinged with resignation. "We were all desperate at the time. For better or worse, all for the sake of Fontaine."

Neuvillette hesitated, searching for the right words as guilt gnawed at him. "The trial... I thought it was the only way to uncover the truth."

She paused, her breathing steadying as a temporary calm settled upon her. "In the eyes of Justice, everyone is meant to be equal. Only laws and the tribunals can judge someone," she said, her voice turning icy. "My trial. Can you even call that Justice, my dear judge?"

Neuvillette's eyes widened, the realization crashing over him like the relentless waves around them. He remembered how she was forced to stand trial without her initial consent, how he, the judge, had unwittingly colluded with the accuser. The unorthodox tests, the biased proceedings—everything had been stacked against her from the start. In their pursuit of truth, they had twisted justice into a hollow mockery.

"Maybe it really was my own mistake to trust you," she said with a broken smile, her voice breaking as tears mingled with the rain on her face. "To trust any of you."

She sighed lightly, the sound carrying the weight of centuries of sorrow. "But you know what's even hilarious? Until the very bitter end, I hoped. I hoped beyond hope that at least you, of all people, would stand by my side. Now I see just how foolish I was to ever entertain such a thought."

The weight of her words hung heavily in the air. Neuvillette's heart ached, each beat echoing her pain.

"Furina." His voice cracked, the storm within him raging as fiercely as the one outside. "I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted any of this to happen."

"Oh? But you did," Furina whispered, her eyes reflecting the torment that had consumed her. "You all did."

( Was it fun to make a public spectacle of her downfall? )

Neuvillette finally stepped back, his voice barely audible due to the rain. "That was..." he began, "I was... I was afraid."

"Afraid?" she echoed, her voice laced with disbelief as she lifted herself to sit upright. "What does a mighty dragon like you have to fear? The truth? Or perhaps losing your precious image of me?"

He knelt beside her, his eyes searching hers desperately for a glimmer of understanding. "Afraid that I might lose you," he confessed, the vulnerability in his voice palpable amidst the turmoil between them.

"You still ended up losing me in the end," she said, tilting her head slightly with a sardonic smile that held no joy. "That day, you lost both parts of me—the Archon and the person behind the facade."

As per the Oratrice's verdict, it’s not far-fetched to say that the  Hydro Archon were truly executed that day—one side by literal death and the other left fractured mentally.

At her words, Neuvillette's heart shattered into a million shards. The image of Furina, slumped like a broken doll after the devastating verdict, and the haunting memory of Focalors taking her own life, replayed vividly in his mind. On the stage of the Opera Epiclese where their tragic dance intertwined, each step and movement etched into his memory with painful clarity. It was a perfect tragedy, a symphony of sorrow played out in the cruel theater of fate.

"I'm sorry. I don't know how to make this right," he murmured again, his voice thick with sorrow and regret. His gaze pleaded with Furina, searching for a way to mend their fractured trust. "What can I do to make things right again? How can I begin to repair what's been broken?"

Furina shook her head, her expression one of resignation and heartbreak. "You can't. Sometimes, all that's left are the pieces, and no matter how much you want to, you can't put them back together."

"Even so, there has to be a way," Neuvillette insisted, refusing to give up. "Now that you can live your life as a human, there are countless possibilities. So many dreams you can pursue, so many paths to take. You are free now."

( Live... As a human? )

Furina's eyes widened for a moment before narrowing with disdain as she moved closer to Neuvillette. She sighed heavily before speaking, her voice initially low but escalating with fury and despair. 

"You say it as if it’s easy. But tell me, Neuvillette," Furina's voice cracked with emotion, her words sharp and cutting. "HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LIVE AS A HUMAN?"

With a sudden burst of energy, she seized his collar and pushed him down, though Neuvillette willingly allowed her to. Now, with Furina looming over him, their faces mere inches apart, tears streamed from her blue heterochromatic eyes, falling onto his cheeks like searing droplets.

She paused, her breath hitching with the weight of her emotions. "Have you forgotten? Furina was and always has been a human. Yet not once had she ever lived as one." Her voice trembled as she continued. "Furina had to be the perfect Archon. She had to keep up the act until the bitter end."

Neuvillette’s eyes widened as he saw her expression. His heartbeat quickened in response to the raw emotion he witnessed. For 400 years, he had always watched her in silence, yet this was the first time he saw her raw emotion, not the carefully constructed mask she always wore.

In that moment, despite his astonishment, he felt a strange sense of relief. In her outburst, he glimpsed a flicker of vitality returning to her eyes. It was far more preferable than the hollow, lifeless stare she had worn for so long.

"I've spent centuries pretending to be someone I'm not. Now, I don't even know who I am anymore," Furina confessed, her voice trembling with the weight of her admission. Her hand tightened on his collar.

"Hey, tell me... Who is Furina in the first place?!" she demanded through sobs, her words lost in the relentless drumming of raindrops around them.

Neuvillette's mind racing to find a way to console her. But before he could respond, he noticed a thin trickle of blood beginning to flow from Furina's nose. Maybe it was due to stress or the overwhelming tide of emotions, the crimson drop fell onto his rain-soaked clothes. Both of them stared at it for a moment, stunned into silence by the unexpected sight.

Reaching up, she touched her nose, and her fingers came away smeared with blood. The sight of it, red against her pale skin, was the final crack in her facade. Neuvillette watched in horror as blood trickled down her face, mixing with the rain.

"Neuvillette..." Her voice was a mere whisper, raw and broken. "It would have been better if Focalors had taken me with her..."

Neuvillette felt the weight of her words deeply, his heart aching with each tear that fell from her eyes. The storm surged in response to his turmoil, the downpour becoming a violent deluge. Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the darkness with brief, blinding flashes, while thunder rumbled ominously, echoing the anguish that gripped them both.

As the tempest raged around them, Neuvillette wrestled with his thoughts. He understood the pain behind Furina's words, the despair born from betrayal and isolation. Focalors' schemes had set everything in motion, but the wounds were deeper, self-inflicted by the choices they had all made.

With great effort, Neuvillette tried to regain control, his thoughts racing. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Neuvillette raised his hand. Furina flinched but didn't pull away as he gently held her face, wiping her tears with his thumb.

“To be human... I am probably the last person to know what that truly means,” he said slowly, his voice filled with a tenderness that belied his usual stoic demeanor. He caressed her cheek softly, trying to offer comfort in the only way he knew how. “But slowly... you will discover her. You will find out who Furina really is, beyond the Archon, beyond the mask.”

"How can you be so sure? What if I can't find her?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "I don't know if I even have the strength to start over again."

“You will. I know you will,” he said, his glowing lilac eyes meeting her blue heterochromatic ones.

"The you who accepted the role willingly without knowing when it would end. The you who persisted every moment in those 500 years regardless of your own suffering. The you who, until the very bitter end, even after being betrayed by your people, still thought of them. All of those are yours. Not your divine self but Furina de Fontaine who did all those things," Neuvillette continued, a soft smile forming on his lips.

Furina stared at him, her eyes searching his for any sign of insincerity. The vulnerability in her gaze was heart-wrenching, a stark contrast to the proud and composed Archon she had always pretended to be. For the first time, she allowed herself to be seen, truly seen, by the one person who had always been the only constant in her life.

Tightening her grip on his clothes, Furina buried her face in his shoulder as she sobbed, her body shaking with each heart-wrenching cry.

"You said I can't put it back together. However, I won't give up. Because no matter how broken you have become, I will always be here and help you piece it together," Neuvillette said, his voice filled with unwavering conviction. “No matter how long it takes, no matter how many mistakes are made in between, I’ll be here for you.”

( So please, I hope you treasure yourself more, just like how I have always treasured you the most. )

Neuvillette hugged her tightly and with one hand, he gently stroked her hair, offering her solace in his embrace. As he focused his powers, wisps of hydro floated gently in the air, shimmering with a faint glow. These gentle currents of energy seemed to pulse with a healing warmth, healing Furina of her wounds.

"I'm sorry. I really am," Neuvillette muttered softly, his apology laced with sincerity as he tightened his embrace.

( This time I won’t let you dance alone. )

He vowed as he too closed his eyes, trying to understand her pain and offering her the strength to face a future that was uncertain but not without hope.

💧💧💧

Meanwhile, back in Meropide, since neither Furina nor Neuvillette had returned, tension hung thick in the air like a suffocating fog. Initially, Wriothesley and Clorinde had sought assistance from Spina di Rosula and the House of Hearth, enlisting even the Traveler and Paimon to aid in the search. However, the recent disaster had consumed everyone's attention, leaving them scrambling with limited resources.

The storm that ravaged Fontaine this time was the fiercest in living memory, surpassing even the recent calamity. Despite the Fontaine Institute's state-of-the-art defenses, the city found itself battling against an unrelenting onslaught. The absence of the Iudex only heightened the anxiety among the populace, exacerbated by widespread flooding that submerged parts of the city anew, including Poisson, which had just completed its painstaking restoration efforts.

The howling winds tore through the streets, hurling debris and rain alike with unrestrained fury. Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the desperate faces of citizens as they struggled to fortify their homes against the rising waters. 

Prayers filled the air, whispered urgently for the former Hydro Archon and laden with repentance for their hasty condemnation of her. It was a stark awakening for the people of Fontaine, realizing how profoundly they relied on their rulers. Was this tempest their retribution for past sins, a divine punishment for their arrogance?

Some recounted Fontaine's ancient history from the first era, a distant time when the heavens unleashed tsunamis and subjected the land to one hundred days of relentless rainfall, purging all sin and arrogance born of humanity's greed.

As the saying goes, only in disaster did humanity turn its thoughts back to the divine. The weight of realization hung heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of rain-soaked earth and the distant echoes of prayers swallowed by the void.

Those who understood the storm's significance exchanged uneasy glances, each silently grappling with their fears and speculations. The rage and sorrow of the hydro dragon had brought a foreboding atmosphere, leaving them to ponder dire possibilities. 

Thankfully, the tempest had subsided completely before dawn, leaving behind a broken city gripped by uncertainty and fear of what the future might hold.

💧💧💧

The next morning dawned with a soft glow filtering through the canopy of leaves above. Neuvillette, who had been lying beneath her, greeted her with a tender smile.

"Morning," he murmured, his voice carrying a warmth that contrasted with the coolness of the morning air.

Realization dawned on Furina as she looked down at Neuvillette. They had remained in this intimate position throughout the night. Memories of her emotional outburst flooded her mind, and a sudden rush of self-consciousness made her swiftly scramble off Neuvillette's chest.

The forest around them was waking up with the soft symphony of birdsong and the rustle of leaves in the breeze. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. However, some parts bore the scars of the tempest from the previous night, trees uprooted and branches strewn across the ground like the remnants of a violent battle.

Neuvillette sat up slowly, his expression calm yet filled with understanding and concern. "Are you okay?" he asked gently, his lilac eyes searching hers.

"I'll manage," Furina replied, her voice steady but weary.

Neuvillette's mind raced with unspoken questions. He wanted to ask what her plans were, whether she would continue down the path of despair or find the strength to stand on her feet once more. The fear of hearing the former answer gnawed at him, but he remained silent, giving her the space she needed.

"Just so you know, I still haven't forgiven you entirely," Furina added after a moment, her words carrying a hint of lingering hurt.

Neuvillette nodded, accepting her honesty without protest. "I understand," he said softly.

Furina turned towards him, softened by the gentle morning light that painted her features with warmth. "Let's go back, Neuvillette," she said quietly, reaching out and holding her hands towards him.

Neuvillette gazed at her outstretched hands for a moment, memories flooding his mind of the times she had greeted him upon his arrival at the Court of Fontaine. But unlike the pristine and regal Archon she had once been, the Furina before him now was a stark contrast. Her clothes smeared with mud and dirt, traces of dried blood staining her collar and sleeves. Despite the weariness and imperfections, she exuded a raw beauty that captivated him all over again.

Before he could take her hands, Furina spoke again, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "One last chance."

Neuvillette looked at her, puzzled. "Pardon?"

"I'll give life one last chance," she clarified, her gaze steady but filled with unspoken fears.

Neuvillette's heart lifted at her words, hope flickering in his eyes as he reached for her hands, intertwining their fingers. The brief moment of elation was shattered when Furina added with a solemn tone, "However, if things don't work out in the future..."

"Neuvillette," Furina gently pulling him closer towards her. "Promise me. If I cannot find my way back, if the darkness consumes me beyond repair..."

"Kill me"

The forest around them seemed to hold its breath, the birdsong fading into an eerie silence. Neuvillette felt the weight of her words like a physical blow to his chest. His mind raced, grappling with the enormity of her request, torn between his love for her and the horror of what she asked.

"Furina..." His voice cracked, emotions roiling within him like a storm.

He wanted to reject her plea, to tell her that such an outcome was unthinkable. Yet as he searched her eyes, he saw the depths of her pain, despair, and a flicker of madness. Fear clawed at him, deeper and more primal than anything he had felt before. In that moment of agonizing clarity, he realized the weight of his actions and the consequences they had brought upon them both.

This was his penance, his punishment for the hurt he had inflicted on her, for the pain he had caused by clinging to her so desperately. There was no escape for him now; he was inexorably bound to her fate, whatever it may be.

That's why, as if guided by an unspoken instinct, Neuvillette nodded solemnly. "I promise," he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible above the whisper of leaves in the breeze.

Then unexpectedly, Furina's lips curved into the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. She gently took his hand, pressing a soft kiss against his knuckles, a gesture of fragile trust amidst their shared turmoil.

"There's no turning back now, O' Hydro Sovereign," she murmured, her voice carrying a mixture of acceptance and defiance. Her gaze held his, a silent vow passing between them amidst the quietude of the forest.

💧💧💧

Using Neuvillette's draconic ability, they swiftly returned to Furina's room in the Fortress of Meropide. The usually tranquil space was now a hive of tension and worry, with Wriothesley, Clorinde, and Sigewinne gathered anxiously, awaiting any news.

As Neuvillette and Furina  finally appeared, covered in mud and dirt, relief washed over the trio's faces, quickly followed by a mix of curiosity and concern. Neuvillette gently lowered Furina to the ground, releasing her hand as they approached the worried group.She stood before them, a picture of dishevelment yet poised, trying hard to contain her anxiety under their intense gazes.

"Thank the Archons, both of you are back," Wriothesley exclaimed, his voice a mix of relief and worry. "We feared the worst."

Clorinde, fighting the urge to hug Furina out of concern for her comfort, carefully observed their disheveled appearances. "What happened to you two? You look like you've been through a battlefield."

"In a way, you could say that," Neuvillette murmured, his tone somber and reflective.

Sigewinne stepped forward and enveloped Furina in a hug, her eyes filled with concern. "Are you both alright? We were really really worried."

Furina flinched slightly at the sudden contact but then steadied herself, patting Sigewinne’s head with a tired yet steady voice. "We're fine, just... a lot happened. Isn't that right, Neuvillette?"

"Yes," Neuvillette replied quietly.

Sensing the gravity of the situation between them, Wriothesley spoke up. "Both of you should get cleaned up first," he suggested, his tone softening. "The rest can wait."

They both nodded. Since this was Furina's room, the others respectfully exited to give her privacy, except for Sigewinne, who remained close by in case she needed assistance.

Neuvillette quickly retreated to another room to cleanse himself and change into fresh clothes, utilizing his hydro abilities to wash away the grime and dirt in an instant. The water swirled around him, purifying and refreshing him, before disappearing into the ether. He emerged looking composed, but his eyes betrayed the weight of the night’s events.

As he stepped out, both Wriothesley and Clorinde was waiting for him, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. They walked towards Wriothesley's office, the tension between them palpable.

"So what happened?" Wriothesley asked, breaking the silence as they entered his office. "I know I said wait for later, but... Seriously, what happened out there?" His voice carried an edge of urgency. "Last night's storm wasn't a joke. I'll bet you'll have a lot on your plate once you return to the Palais."

Neuvillette hesitated before responding, his eyes reflecting the weight of their recent ordeal. "Do any of your teas have calming properties?" he asked quietly.

Wriothesley and Clorinde exchanged another look, one filled with surprise. "To think there will come a day where our Iudex would ask for something other than plain water..." Wriothesley mused, shaking his head in disbelief.

After a brief pause, Neuvillette recounted the events of the night before, starting from Furina's desperate state to their promise in the forest.

The room fell silent as he finished, the weight of Furina's turmoil and their shared determination palpable in the air. Wriothesley and Clorinde listened intently, absorbing every word, their concern deepening with each revelation.

"That's... quite a lot to take in," Wriothesley finally said, breaking the silence that followed Neuvillette's account. "But I'm glad you both made it back safely. Though... our Lady is sure merciless..."

Clorinde nodded in agreement, her thoughts still processing everything she had just heard. "She's strong..," she murmured softly, more to herself than anyone else.

Neuvillette nodded solemnly. "Yes, she is," he agreed quietly. "...And I intended to keep my promise."

( But can I do it? Am I capable of killing her in the first place by my own hand? )

Neuvillette wondered silently, his reflection wavering in the surface of the tea. The weight of such a decision pressed heavily on his mind, but he forcibly pushed the thought aside. What mattered now was helping Furina find her way back, restoring her sense of purpose and hope.

"But on the bright side, she mentioned giving life another chance," Clorinde interjected, drawing Neuvillette's attention back to the present with her hopeful tone. "That’s a start."

Neuvillette nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. "Yes, she did. It's a fragile hope, but it's there."

"I'm still unsure of the best course of action for this," he admitted quietly, his tone laced with concern.

Sitting high on the judge chair, observing humans for four centuries had given him insight, yet the complexities of human emotions continued to surprise him. As he contemplated what he thought he knew about humanity, the world had a knack for proving him wrong, especially in matters of the heart.

With a slight bow, he continued, "Will you both be willing to help us, help her?"

After a moment of reflection, Neuvillette understood the weight of his request. He knew his pride was irrelevant now; what mattered was doing everything possible to support Furina.

Wriothesley and Clorinde exchanged a glance filled with understanding. They nodded in silent agreement, their resolve firm.

"We're here for both of you," Wriothesley assured, his voice steady with determination. "Whatever it takes," Clorinde added, her voice echoing with unwavering support.

💧💧💧

Furina stood under the hot spray of the shower, relishing the sensation of water cascading over her body, washing away the grime and weariness accumulated from the night's harrowing ordeal. The steady rush of water filled the small bathroom, its rhythmic sound creating a soothing backdrop to her thoughts.

Leaning her forehead against the cool tiles, Furina closed her eyes, trying to quiet the intensity of her emotions. Neuvillette's promise weighed heavily on her mind, its gravity both a lifeline and a burden. The memory of his unwavering readiness to fulfill her request, if it ever became necessary, stirred conflicting waves of reassurance and unease within her.

She considered the implications of her words. Was it cruel to bind him to such a promise? She replayed their conversation in her mind, questioning the fairness of burdening him with such a request. Yet, despite the complexities and doubts, she couldn't bring herself to regret it. If he had intervened to prevent her demise, then he must shoulder the responsibility that came with it—she convinced herself.

Closing her eyes once more, Furina was besieged by a flurry of questions. What steps should she take next? How could she truly begin to move forward from the abyss of her despair? Mere words about giving life another chance wouldn't magically alleviate her suffering.

Turning off the water, Furina stepped out of the shower, wrapping herself in a towel. Droplets of water traced down her skin, leaving trails of clarity amidst the fog of uncertainty. She hadn't found all the answers she sought, but one thing was clear: something within her had indeed snapped. Whether it was a breaking point or a newfound resolve, she couldn't yet discern.

Drying off and dressing in fresh clothes, Furina mentally prepared herself for whatever awaited beyond the bathroom door. As she emerged, her gaze fell upon Sigewinne, whose concern was palpable. Taking a deep breath, Furina summoned a small, albeit weary smile. It was a start, a tentative first step towards facing what lay ahead.

💧💧💧

Later that day, Clorinde resumed her post outside Furina's room, her mind still processing the events that had unfolded. She had just returned from delivering the news to the people above ground about Neuvillette and Furina's safe return. Neuvillette had swiftly departed to attend to the aftermath of the disaster that had occurred the previous day.

As she approached Furina's room, a lot of stuff weighed her mind. She knew she hadn't properly apologized for what she had put Furina through. Despite accepting the possibility that Furina might never forgive her, a stubborn determination fueled her resolve to protect her lady—the other half of justice she believes in.

The hours passed slowly, she reflected on her perceived failures to her Lady. Stationed quietly in front of the door, she meticulously erased any trace of her presence, striving to maintain the perfect guard.

Glancing into the room, Clorinde's eyes met Furina's for a fleeting moment. Surprisingly, it was Clorinde who looked away first, unable to meet the gaze of the Lady she had once sworn to protect with her life.

"Clorinde," Furina's soft voice called out, breaking the silence.

Startled, Clorinde turned to find Furina gesturing for her to enter. Hesitating only briefly, Clorinde stepped inside the room.

"The cake. Have you brought it?" Furina asked in a small voice.

( The cake... Ah, right... )

Clorinde's heart clenched. It was the cake Furina had requested the day before she escaped. Doubts gnawed at Clorinde's resolve, unsure if she could trust Furina's words this time. But the assurance in Furina's voice struck a chord within her.

"Don't worry, I won't go anywhere. Not this time," Furina assured, as if she could read Clorinde's thoughts.

Nodding silently, Clorinde retrieved the entire cake she had purchased the previous day, grateful that she had ordered a whole one.

Returning to Furina's side, Clorinde carefully placed a slice of the cake on a small plate next to her bed. "As you wished, I brought your favorite cake," she said softly.

Furina's gaze followed Clorinde as she moved, observing her every move with a mixture of curiosity and guardedness. The sight of the cake elicited a flicker of emotion on Furina's face, a hint of nostalgia. As Clorinde stepped back to resume her post, Furina spoke again.

"Clorinde," Furina began, taking a small bite of the cake. "I won't apologize for deceiving you."

Clorinde turned towards Furina, lowering her eyes in acknowledgment. "I know, my Lady."

After a moment's hesitation, Clorinde moved closer, kneeling beside Furina's bed. "That's why I'm sorry," she confessed, her voice thick with remorse. "I failed you grievously—during the trial and even yesterday."

Furina's sigh was soft as she set the plate aside.

"Clorinde," Furina began gently, her voice carrying the weight of past wounds, "You do not owe me your loyalty anymore. I am no longer your Lady, nor your master. We are equals now, you and I."

"Still," Clorinde said, grappling with her emotions, "I shouldn't have raised my sword against you, the person to whom I swore my loyalty."

Her expression softened, her eyes reflecting a mixture of understanding and acceptance. "You're right," she affirmed. "You shouldn't have."

"The one you pledged your loyalty to is Fontaine and its principles of justice," Furina continued, turning to face Clorinde directly. "During the trial, before my deception was exposed, I still stood as the Hydro Archon, representing Fontaine."

Furina paused, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air before she continued with a deeper introspection. "Your betrayal cut me deeply," she acknowledged softly, her gaze unwavering as she met Clorinde's eyes.

"But now," Furina shifted her tone, her voice carrying a tone of humility and acceptance as she reached out. Gently, she cradled Clorinde's face in her hands, their foreheads touching. "I am no longer the Hydro Archon. I am just a human, with many imperfections. What transpired yesterday is not your burden to bear."

"I can't say I forgive you entirely," Furina admitted quietly. "But, Clorinde, forgiveness is a choice we make, despite our scars."

Clorinde's heart constricted at Furina's touch, a mix of gratitude and regret flooding her. She closed her eyes briefly, feeling the weight of Furina's words settling within her soul.

With renewed resolve, Clorinde replied, "I will do my best to make amends."

Furina smiled faintly. "Good luck with that," she said softly. "Though you could start by calling my name without the 'lady' part."

Clorinde nodded, a flicker of relief passing through her. "Alright. Furina," she said.

💧💧💧

Once Clorinde returned to her usual place, Furina sank back onto her bed, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions over the unexpected reconciliation. Was her acceptance of Clorinde's presence driven by lingering gratitude for past loyalty, or was it simply a fleeting whim born of exhaustion and uncertainty? Furina couldn't quite decipher her own motivations amidst the tumultuous storm of feelings.

Despite the lingering distrust and pain, Furina found herself oddly comforted by Clorinde's presence. The memory of her Champion raising a blade against her still haunted her thoughts like a specter, yet being near Clorinde also brought a sense of familiarity and security she hadn't experienced in a long while.

Forgiveness, Furina knew, wouldn't come easily. The wounds were too fresh, the trust too fragile. Closing her eyes, she lets out a weary sigh, listening to the soft hum of machinery in the background. For all the times Clorinde had shielded her, there remained the indelible stain of that one betrayal, a scar that refused to fade despite the passage of time. And it wasn't just Clorinde—many faces paraded through her mind.

"Can forgiveness truly heal such wounds?" Furina whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the quiet of her chamber. "Or is it merely paper over the cracks, leaving us vulnerable to the next betrayal?"

A soft sigh escaped her lips as she shifted under the covers, seeking a more comfortable position. Her eyelids felt heavy, weighed down by the emotional turmoil of the day. Despite the unresolved questions and the lingering pain, sleep beckoned to her like a gentle embrace.

"Just for tonight," she whispered to herself, a trace of defiance mingling with her weariness. "I'll let myself rest. Tomorrow... tomorrow, I'll face whatever comes next."

As she drifted off, Furina hoped desperately that her nightmares would relent, if only for this one night.

💧💧💧

Chapter Text

💧💧💧

To her dismay, Furina still has her usual bout of nightmare. In the depths of her slumber, Furina found herself in a vast expanse of darkness. Everything around her was pitch black, an oppressive void that seemed to swallow all light and sound. She took a tentative step forward, and the sound of ripples echoed under her feet, as if she were walking on water.

As she moved forward, the silence was broken by the sound of a single water drop. Suddenly, a figure emerged from the darkness, taking shape before her eyes. It was a phantom, an eerie doppelgänger of herself, its eyes gleaming with a sinister light.

The phantom's lips twisted into a mocking smile. "So, you've decided to give life one more chance?" it sneered, its voice dripping with disdain. "Look at you," it taunted. "Clinging to a life that has brought you nothing but pain."

"Do you actually think those people truly care about you?" the phantom continued, its voice a chilling whisper. "They only pity you. They tolerate you out of obligation. But in the end, you're nothing to them. Just a burden."

Furina looked at the phantom. This too is her deepest thoughts. Her own mind creation.

"And now you think a few smiles and kind words can change everything? That you can start over? Don't be naive," the phantom jeered as it went beside her, whispering in her ears. "You’re destined to be alone, Furina. You’ve always been alone."

Furina stood there, silent. She was too tired, too drained to fight back. Now, even her nightmares felt like a burdensome chore. So she just listened to the mockery, letting it wash over her, waiting for the torment to end.

Before she knew it, the oppressive darkness began to slowly recede, loosening its grip on her consciousness. Gradually, Furina felt herself being drawn back to the stark reality around her. With a heavy heart and weary spirit, she could only release a deep, resigned sigh.

Then, someone knocked on her door.

💧💧💧

As usual, Neuvillette walked through the dimly lit corridors of the Fortress of Meropide, his footsteps echoing against the cold, metallic walls. The usual hum of activity was absent, replaced by an eerie silence that seemed to press in on him from all sides. His breath came in shallow gasps as a sense of foreboding settled in his chest. Something was terribly wrong.

The first thing that came to his mind was Furina. He ran toward her room. Odd. He couldn't sense any sign of life. The door was ajar, swinging slightly as if recently disturbed.

"Furina?" Neuvillette called out, his voice breaking the oppressive silence. There was no response. He pushed the door open further and stepped inside.

The room was dark, the only light coming from a single, flickering candle on the far side. His eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of Furina. Panic gripped him as he spotted a figure slumped on the floor by the bed.

"Furina!" He rushed to her side, his heart sinking as he saw her motionless form. Her once vibrant eyes were closed, her skin pale and lifeless. A pool of blood had formed around her, staining the pristine white of her dress. Neuvillette's hands trembled as he reached out to touch her, desperate to find a pulse, any sign of life.

But she was gone.

"No... this can't be..." he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

It was then that he noticed something clenched tightly in his own hand. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he looked down. There, gripped in his trembling fingers, was a blood-stained hydro knife, its blade glistening with crimson. The sight sent a jolt of horror through him, and a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him.

If I cannot find my way back, if the darkness consumes me beyond repair...

Kill me

The promise echoed in his mind like a haunting refrain, resonating with eerie clarity in the midst of his turmoil.

"I didn't... I couldn't have..." he stammered, dropping the hydro knife as if it had burned him. It drops to the floor with a splash.

His knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, unable to tear his eyes away from Furina's lifeless body. "No..." he whispered again, his voice breaking. Tears streamed down his face as he reached out to her, his hand hovering just above her cold skin. "I'm sorry, Furina... I'm so sorry..."

In the oppressive silence, Neuvillette's anguished cry echoed, a haunting sound that carried the weight of his grief and despair.

Then, all is shattered. The sound of thunder rumbled ominously and lightning slashed through the night sky. At that exact moment, Neuvillette's eyes shot open.

He found himself drenched in sweat, the echo of his own cry still ringing in his ears. Confusion clouded his mind briefly until he realized where he was — seated at his desk, surrounded by paperwork. He had fallen asleep while working.

After that fateful day, a mountain of paperwork piled up on Neuvillette's desk just as Wriothesley predicted. The destruction of the tempest which unfortunately his doing had brought more disaster than he initially predicted. Thankfully no one died in the process.

Neuvillette sat up, his heart still racing, his mind struggling to shake off the lingering terror. His hands shaking as he pressed them to his face, trying to banish the image of Furina's lifeless eyes.

Closing his eyes and focusing intensely, he navigated through the sea of visions, his gaze fixed on her room from the window. To his relief, he could see Furina engaged in conversation with Clorinde.

"It was just a dream," he repeated to himself, his voice barely more than a whisper in the quiet of his office. Yet, the words felt hollow, inadequate to dispel the profound sense of dread that still gripped him. "Just... a dream."

💧💧💧

A few days had passed and Furina had secluded herself in her room for most of the time. There were moments when either Sigewinne or Clorinde encouraged her to take a walk, but she consistently declined, and eventually they respected her wishes.

However, amid this tranquility, one particular matter nagged at Furina's conscience, demanding resolution. To address it, she knew she needed to meet with the man in charge of the fortress—the Administrator himself, Wriothesley.

There was one major a problem. To find Wriothesley, Furina would have to leave her room and face people. The thought alone made her head spin.

Clorinde is currently busy with her actual job as the Champion Duelist. Furina could feel her sadness behind her usual stoic expressions the moment she knocked on her door the other day. Meanwhile, Sigewinne, usually occupied with her duties at this hour, isn't anywhere near her room. Moreover, it was Furina's own request not to have guards constantly watching over her.

Furina held her head, feeling the weight of anxiety settling in. It would have been manageable if it were just a few people, but the thought of numerous gazes directed at her made her stomach churn. Should she just wait until her usual visitor came?

Glancing at the clock next to her bed, its hands seemed to move painfully slow, each tick echoing in the quiet room. Furina wrestled with herself, her mind racing through scenarios and doubts. Finally, she resolved that she might as well get this over with.

Summoning every ounce of courage, Furina finally stood and approached the door. Standing before it, she hesitated. Time seemed to stretch on endlessly as she battled with her nerves. With a deep breath, she pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway.

Unlike her previous sleepwalking episode where she acted the part, this time Furina exerted all her might to avoid people's gazes, darting behind blind spots as she slowly navigated her way to Wriothesley's office. Each corner she turned felt like a monumental task, and every shadow seemed to conceal a pair of eyes scrutinizing her every move. Her anxiety spiked with every distant footstep or muffled voice, but she pressed on, driven by determination to reach her destination.

Thankfully, only one guard stood outside the Administration office door when she arrived.

"Lady Furina," the guard greeted with a respectful salute as he noticed her approach.

"The duke. I wish to have a talk with him... If possible." Furina said softly, avoiding his gaze.

The guard's expression softened. "Unfortunately, the Duke isn't in his office right now," he explained kindly. "He often spends his free time at the Pankration ring. You might find him there."

Furina nodded. "The Pankration ring," she repeated quietly. She had passed by there during her previous sleepwalking episodes, but the noise had always deterred her from venturing close.

"Alright, thank you," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

The guard smiled warmly. "Glad to assist you, Miss Furina. Should you need anything else, please don't hesitate to ask."

With a nod of thanks, Furina turned and headed toward the Pankration ring.

💧💧💧

Exiting the elevator, Furina could hear the sound of cheering. The Pankration ring was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of sweat and metal. The sound of fists connecting with flesh echoed through the space, accompanied by the grunts and shouts of men pushing themselves to their limits.

Since everyone was focused on the match, nobody paid attention to her, much to her relief. Furina went up to the spectator area. There wasn't any seat so she sat on a wooden crate. She watched intently as Wriothesley, the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide, dominated the ring.

His movements were precise, each punch thrown with calculated power. Yet, as the fight dragged on, Furina could see the toll it took on him. Blood trickled from a cut above his brow, and his breath came in ragged gasps.

Despite the pain, Wriothesley fought on, unwavering. Furina's eyes never left him, her emotions a tumultuous mix of concern and admiration. She could see the strain in his movements, the toll the fight was taking on his body. Yet, he refused to back down, pushing himself to the very limits of his endurance. A crazed smile on his face.

Although she hadn't conversed with him much in the past, Neuvillette had spoken highly of Wriothesley's integrity. The people of Meropide held him in high regard, akin to the respect afforded to Neuvillette in the world above. Furina recalled the thoughtful tea gifts he had sent her previously, reflecting on their quality with a tiny bit of regret knowing she might never enjoy them again.

As the fight reached its climax, Wriothesley delivered a final, powerful blow that sent his opponent crashing to the ground. The crowd erupted in cheers, but his eyes were already searching the spectators. They locked onto Furina. 

💧💧💧

During his usual break that day, Wriothesley felt like it's been awhile since he was in action. Thus he thought he might let loose for a bit. During the fight, much to his surprise, he saw Furina at the spectator place. Internally he lament because of all day, the lady saw him like this. Unlike years back, he rarely joined these fights nowadays. He tried to finished the fight as fast as he could. The moment his victory was called, his eyes were already looking at her.

Without wasting any time, Wriothesley stepped out of the ring and made his way toward Furina. He hadn't anticipated her seeking him out; their prior interactions had been fleeting, limited to formalities and occasional gestures such as the teas he had sent as tokens of respect. Even during his own trial, he remembered her early departure, leaving without much interaction between them.

He rarely ventured to the overworld. However, on the rare occasions he did, he remembered seeing Furina from afar, always with a cheerful expression on her face. But now, that cheerfulness is gone. The stark contrast struck him deeply, akin to witnessing the dimming of a once-bright star.

Approaching her cautiously, Wriothesley maintained a respectful distance. His presence, however, was deliberate, ensuring she was aware of his approach.

"I'm not sure if this is an appropriate place for a lady," Wriothesley remarked casually. "But I suppose you have something you want from me, Lady Furina?"

"Furina," she corrected gently but firmly. "Just Furina."

Furina gaze lingering on his wounds. "Doesn't it hurt?" she asked, her voice soft yet tinged with genuine curiosity.

He shrugged, masking his discomfort with a practiced nonchalance. "I like to test my limit you see, a reminder that I'm still capable, and sometimes," he explained, his tone softening as he added, "it's a way to remind myself that I'm still alive."

"I see," Furina murmured, absorbing his words.

Wriothesley leaned back against the cold metallic wall. "So, what brings you here, Furina?" he asked, his tone casual yet attentive.

Furina hesitated for a moment, gathering her thoughts before turning to face the Duke. Though her eyes avoided direct contact, her voice carried a determined resolve. "Let's make a deal," she proposed firmly.

"A deal?" Wriothesley echoed, his curiosity piqued.

"Aren't you curious how I managed to escape this fortress?" Furina posed the question rhetorically. "I will tell you, but only if you fulfill my request."

Wriothesley considered her proposal carefully. It was true they hadn't discovered how she had escaped before, and preventing future escapes was crucial.

After a moment, Wriothesley nodded. "As long as it doesn't involve harm to you, I'm all ears," he agreed calmly.

"Don't worry. Incompetent as I may be, I know how to keep my word," Furina assured him with a faint, wistful smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

With a deliberate motion, Furina pulled a folded paper from her pocket and handed it to Wriothesley. Unfolding it, he found himself staring at a meticulously drawn map of the fortress. The map was detailed, intricately marking out corridors and hidden passages with precise annotations.

Furina pointed to a specific spot on the map. "Anyway, here's the path I took," she said. "At the end of the cavern, there should be an old skeleton wearing a worn-out pendant."

Her voice carried a touch of melancholy as she continued, her gaze briefly drifting towards the empty Pankration ring. "It belongs to an old man, a toymaker. His case, as I remember, dates back about a century. He was involved with a child trafficking syndicate at the time. But in the end her gave himself up to the authority."

( A toymaker from a century ago? )

Wriothesley thought, the mention of such an old case intriguing him. The fact that Furina remembered it details stirred his curiosity. What was it about this particular case that had left such an indelible mark on her memory? Despite his growing interest, he knew it was best not to pry too deeply into the specifics. Instead, he focused on Furina's words, listening intently as she continued.

"This... might be a selfish request from me, but I hope to return the remains to his family," Furina admitted quietly, her gaze finally meeting Wriothesley's, sincere and earnest. "His family probably never knew what happened to him. I hope that by returning the remaining, they could atleast have some semblance of closure."

The word "selfish" echoed in Wriothesley's mind like a discordant note in an otherwise solemn melody. How could such a normal yet compassionate gesture be considered selfish? He had seen the worst of humanity down here, witnessed the depths of depravity and indifference. Yet far from selfishness, he saw her request as a simple act of empathy.

The request was so simple, so perfectly human. The realization struck him deeply. Acts of kindness and responsibility that people normally took for granted were things Furina could not easily comprehend. She had lived in isolation amidst her own grandeur, dutifully playing the expected roles, which had shaped her perspective into something far removed from ordinary human experience.

As he mulled over her words, a single question rose insistently in his mind.

( Who is Furina de Fontaine, truly? )

She was an enigma—no one could fathom the mind of a goddess. Even Neuvillette, who had always been by her side, seemed to hold only fragments of the truth. Furina's motives and innermost thoughts remained veiled, carefully hidden like secrets submerged in the depths of the ocean where light struggles to penetrate.

Yet, the notion that she had always been a human had never crossed his mind. When Wriothesley first heard the truth about the prophecy from Neuvillette, it almost too surreal to grasp. Matters of the divine are beyond the comprehension of ordinary people, after all.

Hence, he wondered, how much willpower one would have to fulfill their neverending duty for five centuries? 

Even he had to take occasional breaks, realizing he couldn't confine himself to his office forever. Otherwise, he would either never get a good night’s sleep or soon find himself sleeping forever beneath the waves.

How had she not gone mad? Or perhaps she had, in her own way, pushing herself beyond human limits trying to maintain whatever sanity she had. The trial was her breaking point. Even though he wasn't directly involved in their plans, he was aware of their intentions. In a way, he too felt guilty as charged.

He had heard many opinions in the past: an incompetent goddess who served as a mere figurehead, who only thought of herself, who didn't care about her people. But none of it rang true. She cared deeply—perhaps too deeply.

In the end, the sacrifices she made went unseen, her efforts unacknowledged, and her struggles unappreciated. It was a cruel tragedy indeed, that someone so devoted and so selfless could be misunderstood and undervalued.

Wriothesley glanced at the map once more then folding it carefully and smile.

"...That isn't selfish at all," Wriothesley reassured her gently. "Don't worry, I will do my best to fulfill your request."

"Thanks, Your Grace," Furina said softly.

"Wriothesley," Wriothesley corrected with a warm smile. "Since you asked me to call you by your name, it would be fair if I asked the same, right?"

"Touché. Very well, Wriothesley." Furina replied, nodding in agreement.

Just as she was about to return to her room, her stomach growled audibly and a tint of red rose on her cheek.

"Ahem. I don't think you've visited our cafeteria yet, have you? Wanna check it out?" Wriothesley suggested with a playful grin.

She tried to say "it's fine," but her stomach betrayed her with another loud growl. After a brief pause, Furina managed to utter, "...I don't have any coupons."

Wriothesley looked at her, momentarily stunned. Did she forget that he's the administrator here? He is not that stingy to let a sick person pay. Then again, she was the Goddess of Justice; maybe she thinks it's unfair to indulge in such luxuries.

"Don't worry, we have the free coupon meal once per day." Wriothesley reassured her.

💧💧💧

As they walked out of the Pankration Arena, all eyes turned toward them, causing Furina to feel uneasy. Instinctively, she closed her eyes, trying to shield herself from the scrutiny. When she cautiously reopened them, she found Wriothesley's back before her, shielding her from the attention. His presence loomed protectively between her and the curious gazes.

With a single authoritative glance from the Duke, the onlookers swiftly redirected their focus and resumed their activities.

"Shall we go," he said with a grin on his face. Furina nodded in response.

As they continued walking, Furina kept her head low, trying to avoid attracting attention. Suddenly, she caught the sound of voices reciting a familiar line emanating from a small, empty space nearby. Intrigued, curiosity overcame her apprehension, and she raised her face to search for the source. With her step naturally coming to a halt, she discovered a man and a woman engaged in a captivating performance.

"Some say that for all evils there are two remedies — time and silence," one of the actors recited solemnly.

Their dramatic expressions and passionate delivery held her spellbound, drawing her deeper into the scene. The woman's vibrant energy contrasted with the man's nervous determination. Despite his occasional stumbles, he pressed on, his commitment to the performance evident.

Wriothesley noticed her pause and followed her gaze toward the performers. He could see a spark of fascination rekindle in her expression.

"Do you want to take a closer look?" Wriothesley asked, leaning slightly towards her.

Startled momentarily by his sudden presence beside her, Furina shook her head and replied softly, "N-No, it's okay."

With a final glance towards the performers, Furina continued on her way, her curiosity lingering in the back of her mind.

Upon arriving at the cafeteria, Sigewinne was already bustling about with her usual energy.

"Your Grace! You've gone and hurt yourself again," Sigewinne exclaimed upon noticing Wriothesley.

"Hahaha. Don't worry, Sigewinne. It's just a scratch today," Wriothesley reassured her with a chuckle.

Ignoring their playful banter, Furina's attention was drawn to a clockwork meka positioned nearby. It appeared to be the designated spot for collecting the free meal Wriothesley had mentioned earlier. Making her way over, Furina approached the meka and collected her welfare meal with a sense of curiosity.

As she retrieved the meal, she noticed a small slip of paper tucked above it, catching her interest.

"Those are fortune slips, if you're wondering," explained a brown-haired man with a moustache, who appeared to be in charge of the cafeteria. "We ask everyone to contribute fortunes. Sometimes we all need a little pep talk and courage from others in similar circumstances." The man smiled.

Furina nodded silently, acknowledging his explanation and seeing as she's about to leave, he said warmly, "Enjoy your meal."

Then made her way to the table where Wriothesley was still being nagged by Sigewinne. She settled in and opened the slip to read her fortune: "The one who laughs loudest may not laugh last, but they certainly are the happiest when laughing."

( When I laughed in the past, was I truly happy? )

Her thoughts wandered back where her laughter had once echoed off especially at the Opera Epiclese, ringing with a regal confidence that belied the turmoil within. She remembered the gatherings, the celebrations, and the countless times she had thrown her head back in laughter, her voice carrying above the crowd. But was it genuine joy, or merely the mask she wore as the Hydro Archon?

Those days felt like a distant memory, and she struggled to recall a moment when her laughter wasn't a performance, an act designed to reassure her subjects and maintain the façade of a confident leader.

"Miss Furina, are you okay? Is the food not to your liking?" Sigewinne noticed the shadows on Furina's face and asked with genuine concern, her brow furrowing with worry.

Wriothesley, sitting nearby, chimed in, his voice carrying a tone of consideration. "If you'd prefer something else, I can ask Wolsey to prepare a dish you enjoy."

Furina looked at them for a moment. She knew she needed to clear her mind of these thoughts, at least for the moment.

"No, it's nothing," Furina murmured as she quietly crumpled the slip of paper in her hand. "The food is fine."

Both of them noticed her demeanor but they didn't question her. Throughout the meal, Wriothesley filled the air with casual chatter, attempting to lighten the atmosphere, while Furina listened attentively.

After finishing their meal, they made their way back to Furina's room. Wriothesley offered to accompany her, and despite the silence that enveloped them, it felt strangely comfortable.

As they neared her room, Wriothesley halted his steps.

"Furina," he began gently. "It may be a short journey or a long one, but eventually, you will find your own path in life as well."

Furina looked up meeting his gaze. With a confident smile, Wriothesley looks at Furina from his shoulder. She then noticed a subtle glow from the vision hanging on his outer jacket as he spoke. Whether it was merely a trick of the light or held a deeper significance, Furina couldn't be certain. Yet, in that fleeting moment, she found herself hopeful that Wriothesley's words carried some truth within it.

💧💧💧

Meanwhile, a trial was scheduled for that day, prompting Neuvillette to make his way to the Opera Epiclese. Though he maintained a composed exterior, inwardly, Neuvillette too was plagued by his own nightmares. Well he doesn't really need to sleep much so it wasn't that bad.

Arriving at the Opera who is still void of people, Neuvillette took a deep breath. Each step he took towards the grand stage seemed heavier than the last where memories flooded his consciousness like a torrential downpour.

Before him, the vivid image of Furina dipping her hand into the Primordial waters materialized. Then, without warning, another vision eclipsed the first. Focalors, with a smile and gave him a farewell, executing herself played out in his mind with unbearable clarity.

In both situations, Neuvillette recalled with a heavy heart, he had merely stood there and watched, unable to alter the course of events unfolding before him. The weight of his inaction pressed upon him now, a reminder of the consequences of his choices and the toll they had taken on those he cared about.

He gives a final glance at the Oratice which had already lost its lights. Then, reaching his elevated judge's seat above the stage, he cast his gaze upwards to the vacant chair that once belonged to Furina.

"It's too quiet..." he murmured softly to himself, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the grand hall. He missed her.

Even though he visited her every day, he still longed to see Furina, to be by her side and ensure she was alive and well. The ache in his heart intensified with each passing moment, his yearning for reassurance that she was safe becoming almost unbearable.

Eventually, Neuvillette decided to close his eyes, seeking a small moment of respite as he awaited the commencement of the upcoming trial.

💧💧💧

As days passed by, Furina found herself with ample time to spare, as everyone around her was busy with their own lives. Neuvillette continued his diligent visits to her room every day without fail, yet she couldn't help but notice subtle changes in his demeanor at times. Was something troubling him in the overworld?

Regardless, unable to sleep due to her persistent nightmares and unwilling to engage in other activities, she often found herself gazing up at the metallic ceiling of her room, lost in thought.

Then, a memory stirred within her—the theatre troupe she had observed before.

( Will they be performing today? ) 

Curiosity piqued, Furina decided to venture out once more. She found a secluded spot with a good view of where the troupe usually performed. Day after day, whenever they staged their performances, she would quietly observe from her hidden vantage point.

Then on a certain day, Furina returned to watch the troupe again. This time, their act had shifted to comedy. She found herself surprisingly uplifted by the man's comedic timing and the woman's exaggerated expressions, which brought a rare lightness to her heart.

"Greetings, My Lady," a voice suddenly came from beside her, causing Furina to startle slightly.

Turning, Furina saw a man dressed in a guard outfit standing next to her, his warm smile putting her at ease. "We noticed that you've been watching our troupe's show," he said in a friendly and inviting tone.

"Our troupe?" Furina echoed, looking at his attire, which differed from the guards stationed in the fortress.

As if sensing her confusion, the man chuckled softly. "Ah, right. I'm not actually a guard. I just dress the part. It's my role, you see."

Furina let the man's words settle in, realizing they knew she had been watching all along. She felt a twinge of embarrassment.

"Oh... Ah, sorry for interrupting your show," Furina replied, a bit flustered and ready to leave.

"Oh no, no, no," the man quickly reassured her. "Actually, we thought that if you want, you could come closer and watch the skit. Of course, that is if you don't mind."

Furina hesitated, her anxiety making her uncertain. "I wouldn't want to intrude," she said softly.

"Nonsense," the man insisted. "We'd be honored to have you as our audience. It's not every day we get to perform for someone who truly appreciates the art."

Furina considered his words, sensing the genuine invitation in his demeanor. After a moment's hesitation, she nodded slightly.

The man beamed. "Wonderful! I'm Goncourt. That lady over there is Melihat, and the guy next to her is Fourmon. The three of us make up the Tri-Coupon Troupe."

As they approach, Melihat and Fourmon gave a wave. Excitement filled Melihat face while Fourmon was looking a little anxious.

"Please be seated, my lady," Goncourt said gallantly, guiding her to a simple stool.

"You can just call me Furina," she corrected with a small smile. "I'm not the Hydro Archon anymore."

They exchanged glances, and Melihat spoke up, "Then 'Miss Furina' it is, right?"

Furina nodded, feeling a slight tug at the corners of her lips. "Yes, that works," she agreed, settling into her seat.

"Aren't you joining them?" Furina asked, noticing Goncourt taking a seat beside her.

"I'm currently injured, but these two can handle the show themselves," Goncourt explained with a reassuring smile.

As Furina took her seat, Melihat and Fourmon launched into their performance. 

"In laughter, we find our truest selves."

Despite the simplicity of their setting—a small, empty space in the fortress—their energy and dedication filled the air. The skit was a lighthearted comedy, filled with witty banter and exaggerated physical humor.

Furina found herself slowly drawn into their world, her initial reluctance giving way to genuine amusement. Their antics were a balm to her weary soul, each joke and pratfall peeling away the layers of her melancholy.

Finally, one particularly hilarious moment caught her off guard. Furina's laughter, genuine and unrestrained, burst forth, filling the space with a sound that had been absent for too long. It was a rare gift they had managed to draw out, and it felt liberating.

Goncourt's eyes widened in surprise at her genuine reaction, his expression quickly morphing into delight. Without missing a beat, he too joined in the laughter, his infectious chuckle adding to the merriment that filled the area.

Melihat and Fourmon were equally astonished, their expressions a mix of joy and relief. They tried their best to hold their composure and finish the act, but the sight of Furina’s laughter was the highest compliment they could receive.

For the actors, there was nothing more exhilarating than having their audience genuinely enjoy their performance. As the skit concluded, Melihat and Fourmon took a bow, their faces beaming with pride.

"How was the show, Miss Furina?" Goncourt asked, curious about her reaction.

To Furina's surprise, she found the performance genuinely entertaining. She had even laughed unrestrainedly, a sound that felt foreign yet comforting. For a moment, she paused, the realization sinking in.

"Oh... I laughed, didn't I?" Furina realized belatedly, a hand instinctively rising to touch her cheek.

How odd, she thought. The stage isn't dazzling or anything. It was just a small theater troupe, far from the grandeur of the stages where she usually performed. No opulent decorations, no elaborate costumes, no mesmerizing lights—just two amateurs and their heartfelt craft.

"Miss Furina?" Goncourt called out, noticing her dazed expression, gently bringing her back to the present moment.

Furina looked at their expectant faces. "It may not be perfect, but both of you certainly have talent," she commented warmly, sincerely acknowledging their skill and effort.

Melihat and Fourmon exchanged glances, visibly touched by Furina's praise. They nodded gratefully, appreciating her genuine recognition of their performance.

Meanwhile, in the shadows, Wriothesley and Clorinde watched Furina from afar, their expressions softening as they observed her.

"I'm glad she still harbors some interest in theater," Wriothesley remarked quietly. "With what she has gone through, it wouldn't be surprising for her to quit altogether."

Clorinde nodded, her eyes never leaving Furina. "She's always had a passion for the arts. It's a part of who she is, even if the world seems determined to strip that away from her."

"Aren't you going to her side?" Wriothesley asked in a relaxed tone.

"I will. After this," Clorinde replied with a relieved smile on her face, indicating she wanted to give Furina some space before approaching her.

💧💧💧

Afterwards, Furina became a regular audience member at their performances and over time, she began to offer advice on their acting, gradually becoming involved in their artistic development. Some of the inmates had shown curiosity as well. There are those who come looking at them from afar while some decided to approach them directly. Aware that not everyone welcomed her presence, Furina accepted this reality with grace. Even so, slowly, Furina started to acclimate to being around people once more.

Then reminded of the old man's story, she began to delve into the lives of those around her—the inmates, the guards, and even the Melusines who occasionally visited the fortress. If she doesn't know how to be human, maybe, just maybe she could learn a thing or two from others.

On a day when they didn't have a show scheduled, Furina decided to explore the Fortress at her leisure. It was then that a particular room caught her attention.

As she stepped inside, her eyes fell upon a guard stationed there, whom she recognized as Estienne.

"Oh? Miss Furina?!" Estienne exclaimed, surprise evident in his voice as he acknowledged her presence. "What's brought you here, miss?"

"Just exploring," she replied with a smile. "May I look around?"

"Haha, of course," Estienne said warmly, gesturing for her to proceed.

Furina's gaze wandered to the bookshelf, her fingers gently tracing the spines of the books arranged neatly.

"There's quite a lot of books here," she remarked, her curiosity piqued by the collection.

"Well, they once belonged to a cheeky guy and a young girl," Estienne replied, his tone carrying a hint of nostalgia.

Furina paused, her hand hovering over a book spine, struck by his words. "You meant children?"

"As far as I know, children were rarely brought here," Furina continued, seeking clarification.

"Well, there was once a child named Lanoire who had been born inside the fortress," Estienne explained, his voice tinged with solemnity. "She was barred from leaving because she lacked official identification, though she had family outside the prison. She befriended a clever boy named Cater, who owned most of these books."

"I see," Furina murmured thoughtfully. "And what became of them?"

"They managed to escape and as news goes by the girl finally reunited with her family," Estienne replied, a note of relief in his voice.

Furina nodded, a faint smile touching her lips at the positive outcome. "That's good to hear."

Turning her attention back to the books, she addressed Estienne once more. "May I take a closer look at these books?"

"Of course," Estienne replied respectfully, stepping aside to allow Furina full access to the collection. "I don't think that boy would come back here anymore."

💧💧💧

Back at the Palais, Neuvillette was having a few cute guests on his doorstep.

"Monsieur, we've come to visit," Sedene announced cheerfully, leading a small group of Melusines into his office.

They chatted for a while, the atmosphere was light and playful. However, amidst the laughter and banter, they sensed that Neuvillette was troubled by something.

 
"Is Lady Furina okay? Did you and Lady Furina fight, Monsieur?" Sedene asked as she knew that the only person who could affect him this much was none other than the previous Hydro Archon.

"Not exactly," Neuvillette replied softly, choosing his words with caution. "Furina... she's... well, she's unwell right now. I wanted to bring her some happiness."

"Happiness. Happiness." the melusines echoed in understanding.

"Then why not write her a letter? We were all delighted when we received yours. Doesn't receiving our letters make you happy too, Monsieur?" One of the Melusines suggested excitedly.

"Of course, I'm happy." Neuvillette said. "There's not a day where I don't whenever I read all the letters you all gave me."

"Then Lady Furina would also be happy if she got a letter, right?" Another Melusine chimed in, her voice filled with optimism.

"Let's all write a letter to Lady Furina," the Melusines cheered in unison, their enthusiasm bubbling over. "For her to get better."

"Then I will inform everyone about this. The more, the merrier," Sedene said, her enthusiasm palpable. The other Melusines nodded their heads eagerly, their excitement evident in their expressions as they agreed with her brilliant plan.

After the melusines happily departed, Neuvillette was left alone, mulling over his thoughts. He contemplated what he should write. There was so much he wanted to say to Furina, yet at the same time, he struggled to find the right words. He took out a piece of parchment and a quill, dipping it into the inkwell. For awhile, he hesitated, the quill hovering above the paper. 

( A letter... )

Putting down the quill, Neuvillette summoned a small chest using his hydro abilities. He opened the chest, revealing an old letter carefully preserved within. The parchment was slightly yellowed with age, but the ink remained clear and vivid. He looked at the letter, noting once more that the name of the recipient had been left blank, with the text addressing him bluntly as "you."

A special you. A unique you.

He had read the letter countless times in the past, to the point where he could recite every word by heart. Each phrase and sentence was etched into his memory. 

Looking at the time, he realized it was time for his usual visit to the fortress. Neuvillette carefully placed the letter back in the chest, ensuring it was safely stored before he closed the lid. With a final, lingering glance, he summoned the chest back to its hidden place using his hydro abilities.

He descended into the Fortress, his presence now a familiar sight to the guards. As he walked through the dimly lit corridors, he sensed that Furina wasn't in her usual room. Guided by her presence, he made his way towards her. A guard noticed him approaching and gave a respectful bow. Neuvillette returned the gesture, allowing the guard to dismiss himself from duty.

Neuvillette entered the room, his gaze immediately falling on Furina, who was sitting on the floor with a worn-out book in her hands. His mind drifted to the words from the letter:

I shall leave you a seat with the best view in the greatest theater.

Furina noticed his presence and looked up, "Oh, I suppose it's nighttime already. It's hard to know the time down here," she said softly.

She relinquished her seat so that he could occupy it, even though it meant she would lose her spot.

"May I sit next to you?" Neuvillette asked.

Furina raised an eyebrow, a hint of teasing in her voice. "If I say no, will you comply?"

Neuvillette didn't answer but stood there patiently, his eyes gentle and understanding. Seeing his unwavering patience, she sighed softly and added, "Do as you like, Neuvillette."

With her permission, Neuvillette sat beside her on the cold, metallic floor. The room was dimly lit by a solitary lamp on a nearby table, casting a soft glow that highlighted the dust motes dancing in the air. The silence was profound, broken only by the faint rustling of the book's pages as Furina turned them with care.

Neuvillette studied Furina's face in the dim light. His superior eyesight allowed him to notice the lingering shadows beneath her eyes, a testament to her sleepless nights. Her delicate features were highlighted by the soft glow of the solitary lamp, creating an ethereal quality that captivated him. Yet despite his obvious stare, Furina kept her eyes on the book, her fingers tracing the worn edges of the pages with an almost absentminded grace.

"What are you reading?" he asked, his curiosity piqued as he gazed at the worn out notebook in her hand.

"A short story," she replied as she turned the aged pages with care. 

"Once upon a time, in a small village nestled between rolling hills and whispering forests, there lived a little star named Étoile. Her brilliance captivated all who saw her, drawing children and adults alike to gaze up in wonder every night and make wishes upon her light," Furina began, her voice carrying a nostalgic melody.

"But as time passed, Étoile began to dim," Furina continued, her tone wistful. "Despite the villagers' efforts—praying, singing lullabies, and crafting lanterns in her likeness—her light flickered faintly, fading away."

Neuvillette listened intently, feeling a deep connection to the story that seemed to mirror a certain reality he painfully knew.

"Disheartened, the villagers turned away from Étoile," Furina sighed softly. "Children ceased their nightly wishes, and adults too turned their backs on her."

"And then what happened?" Neuvillette asked, his voice barely above a whisper, anxious for the story's conclusion.

"Unneeded, Étoile disappeared forever, never to be seen again," Furina replied softly, her gaze lingering on Neuvillette's face, searching for his reaction. She chuckled softly as she saw his somber expression, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips.

"Well, that's what I came up with since there's no actual ending," Furina sighed, showing Neuvillette the last page of the book that remained blank. "I suppose the author never managed to finish the story."

"How about you? What do you think the ending would be, Neuvillette?" she asked, looking to him for his thoughts.

Neuvillette pondered for a moment, wanting to bring a sense of closure and hope to the tale. Furina waited patiently, her eyes expectant. After carefully considering his words, he began softly.

"One night, a young villager stumbled upon a clearing in the forest and glimpsed Étoile's dim glow through the trees. Memories flooded back—of childhood wishes and starlit dreams," Neuvillette began, his voice gentle and warm.

"Returning with determination, he shared his discovery. Some regretted, others scoffed, but a few were inspired. Venturing into the forest, they found Étoile in the clearing, her light faint but steady," Neuvillette added, opening his eyes and looking at Furina with a gentle smile.

"With gentle care and hopeful whispers, slowly, Étoile began to regain her brilliance," Neuvillette added. He then looked at Furina with a gentle smile.

"Étoile, the little star who had once dimmed in solitude, found herself surrounded once again by the love and admiration of those who believed in her," Neuvillette concluded, his words carrying a sense of peace and resolution.

"Quite a hopeful ending," A small, wistful smile touching her lips. Furina then closed her eyes and said, "But I suppose in stories, there's always a chance for a miracle to happen."

Neuvillette gazed at her "True. But who knows," he said gently, "sometimes in our lives too there's always room for a little miracle."

With a subtle, knowing smile, Neuvillette raised his hand, and a soft, shimmering blue light began to emanate from his fingertips. The air around them grew cool and moist, filled with a sense of calm and anticipation.

Slowly, the light expanded, and droplets of water began to form and float in the air, sparkling like tiny stars. Furina watched as the droplets started to swirl, gathering together to form intricate shapes and patterns.

Next, he created a small, crystal-clear stream that wound its way around them, its water whispering softly as it flowed. The stream sparkled in the dim light, creating a soothing and magical ambiance in the room.

Finally, with a graceful motion of his hand, Neuvillette summoned a series of tiny, glowing fish that danced through the air and swam in the stream, their scales reflecting the light like a living constellation.

Furina's eyes widened with wonder. She reached out tentatively, her fingers brushing against the delicate hydro fishes, their touch cool and fleeting. A smile spread across her face, unbidden but genuine.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, her voice filled with amazement.

"You're right. It really is," Neuvillette said softly, his gaze fixed on her. He had missed her smile more than he cared to admit. The sight of her happiness, however fleeting warmed his heart. It was as if a part of the world had been set right again.

He suspected it before but now in clear clarity he admitted it. Beneath his admiration and respect, he loved her—deeply so.

The realization brought both a surge of joy and a pang of fear. He wanted to tell her, to confess the depths of his feelings. But doubts gnawed at him. What if she rejected him? What if his confession drove her away, causing her to completely disappear from his life? 

"Furina.. I..." he began. Neuvillette's heart raced as he struggled with his emotions, the words he longed to say caught in his throat. 

Furina turned to look at him, her eyes searching his face for the words he struggled to say. In that vulnerable moment, the haunting image of her lifeless body flashed before Neuvillette's eyes, a stark reminder of the pain he had endured in his dreams.

The memory of her death, even if it was just a dream, surged back with overwhelming force, paralyzing him in its grip. His throat tightened, and his resolve crumbled under the weight of his fear. The thought of losing her, whether through rejection or tragedy, both was unbearable.

"No... It's nothing," Neuvillette finally uttered, his voice barely a whisper. The words felt hollow, a stark contrast to the torrent of emotions raging within him. He swallowed hard, suppressing the ache in his heart as he fought to maintain his composure.

For now, he decided to bury his feelings once more, shielding them like fragile glass from the storm. As long as Furina was beside him, her happiness and well-being were his foremost concern. He would wait for a time when courage outweighed fear, when the stars aligned for him to reveal the depth of his love. Until then, he silently vowed to cherish every moment with her, to protect her happiness, even if it meant sacrificing his own.

💧💧💧

Chapter Text

💧💧💧

Words spread quickly through Fontaine, like ripples on a calm sea. The idea of writing letters to their former goddess ignited a myriad of reactions among the people. From the melusines to the children to the adults, everyone was welcome to participate.

In the bustling streets, clusters of people gathered, talking animatedly about the initiative.

"A letter to Lady Furina? What a splendid idea!" an elderly woman exclaimed, her eyes shining with excitement. "I have so much to tell her. She always had a good sense of fashion."

Nearby, a group of children chattered excitedly. "Do you think she'll read my letter?" a little boy asked, clutching a piece of parchment tightly in his small hands.

"Of course she will!" a girl replied confidently. "Mommy said that though our lady archon acted funny sometimes, she always brought a smile to everyone."

Meanwhile, in a small café, a group of adults discussed the initiative over cups of coffee. "I'm not sure if she'll ever read them," one man said stirring his drink. "But I suppose it couldn't hurt to send a few kind words her way."

Another woman nodded in agreement. "Whether she reads them or not, it's the thought that counts. She did give up her power for our sake."

In the streets, some were more skeptical. "Pah! I don't see the point," a young man muttered to his companion as they walked through the streets. "She's not even the Archon anymore. Why waste our time?"

"You're right," his companion agreed. "Just a waste of time."

Despite the varying opinions, the city buzzed with activity. A breath of fresh air after the horrendous flood and tempest that had occurred previously. Even the Traveler and Paimon heard of the news while wandering around Fontaine.

"Should we join in as well? We still haven't apologized properly to her after all," Paimon said, floating excitedly beside the Traveler.

As the days passed, the box set up for Furina began to overflow with letters, drawings, and even small tokens of appreciation. Each contribution, from heartfelt messages to carefully crafted tokens, reflected the city's collective gratitude and desire to make amends.

A few days later, in his office, Neuvillette sat surrounded by multiple crumpled papers, each a failed attempt at writing his letter to Furina. It just a letter and yet the usually composed and eloquent judge found himself struggling to find the right words, the perfect way to convey his feelings.

His current state was the result of a chance encounter with the Traveler and Paimon. They had come to drop off their letter for Furina, and their conversation had unexpectedly stirred up a whirlwind of emotions within him.

"Hello, you two," Neuvillette had greeted, stepping out of his office and recognizing the familiar faces. "It's been a while."

"Oh, Neuvillette!" Paimon exclaimed.

"Hi there," the Traveler waved. "We're here to give our letter to Furina."

"Yes yes. It's amazing how many letters there are here," Paimon said, eyes wide with amazement.

"The people truly care for her." The Traveller added.

Neuvillette, looked at the overflowing box with a mix of relief and admiration. "It seems they do," he said softly, his usual stoic demeanor softened by the sight. "Perhaps this will help her find some peace."

"And who knows, maybe she'll even get a few confessions of love," Paimon teased unknowingly causing Neuvillette to freeze.

"Uhh… Paimon," the Traveler said, trying to signal Paimon to stop, but Paimon didn't get the cue.

"Well, she's known as a human now, right? Previously as an archon she was unreachable, but now some might start being hopeful. She does have quite a few admirers after all." Paimon continued, oblivious to the rising tension. "Hmm? Why does the atmosphere suddenly feel chilly?"

"Hahahaha. Well, she is just running her mouth as usual. You know her. Haha," the Traveler chuckled nervously, pulling Paimon toward them.

"Hey?!" Paimon yelled.

"Anyway, we better get going. We have… uh… commissions. Yes, commissions to do. Bye, Neuvillette." And in an instant, the two disappeared from sight, leaving Neuvillette alone.

Afterward, he had found himself mired in thoughts he had never considered before. It had never occurred to him that Furina might end up with someone else. The idea gnawed at him, unsettling in a way he hadn't expected.

Perhaps he, too, had changed in ways he did not fully understand. Or maybe these emotions had been lying dormant, only blossoming now as he reflected on his role over the centuries. The depth of his feelings had become increasingly evident, and he grappled with the realization that they had been there all along, silently growing alongside him.

Then, he recalled vividly the other day when he arrived early to meet Furina, only to find himself drawn into a scene he had not anticipated. From the shadows, he watched as she guided the troupe on their makeshift stage, reciting lines from their play with her usual mesmerising grace. The stage was dimly lit, the ambiance casting an ethereal glow over the scene.

Though there was no spotlight to mark her presence, Furina stood center stage, her posture both tense and graceful. Her eyes were distant, lost in the reverie of a thought that seemed both haunting and liberating. With a slow, deliberate movement, she extended her hand toward the audience, as if reaching out to grasp the very essence of her yearning.

"I wish the world were ending tomorrow," she began, her voice imbued with a wistful longing that resonated through the silence of the theater. Her hand hovered in the air, fingers outstretched as if inviting the impossible. "Then I could arrive at your doorstep and say: ‘Come with me. Let us cast aside all scruples, fears, and restraints. For the world is ending tomorrow.’"

She paused, her gaze piercing through the shadows, her words heavy with melancholy. The weight of her confession seemed to hang in the air, the audience holding its breath. "Perhaps we don’t love unreasonably because we cling to the illusion of time, believing we have endless moments to spare. But what if we are mistaken? What if time itself is a mere illusion, and our moments are far more fleeting than we dare to admit?"

The stage seemed to close in around her, the dim lighting casting elongated shadows that danced with her every move. Furina’s voice grew softer, more vulnerable, as she continued, "Oh, if only the world were ending tomorrow. We could embrace each other fully, unburdened, without hesitation. We could be each other's salvation in those final moments."

As her final words lingered in the air, Furina’s gaze drifted, unexpectedly locking with Neuvillette’s from the shadows. Time seemed to momentarily freeze. A gentle, almost bittersweet smile graced her lips, a fleeting acknowledgment before she turned back to the acting troupe, leaving the profound moment behind like a dream dissipating at dawn.

Those words, though scripted for a play, cut through him with a piercing clarity. He had always imagined that he and Furina would be constants in each other's lives. Yet now, as things shifted, he alone remained eternal, while Furina's time had begun to flow anew, destined to come to an end. The very thought of this impending separation darkened the skies above the Court of Fontaine, mirroring the storm of emotions that churned within him.

And this realization, too, prompted him to rethink his decision to withhold his true feelings from Furina. Could he accept that Furina might be with someone else, someone who had the courage to speak their heart when he had remained silent? The thought gnawed at him, an unwelcome spectre of doubt that refused to leave.

He questioned his silence, wondering why he had chosen to bury his emotions beneath layers of duty and decorum. Was it fear? Pride? Or simply a misguided belief that he could always control the complexities of his heart? As he sat alone in his office, he couldn't help but wrestle with the regret of not having expressed his emotions sooner.

( I've only myself to blame... )

Should he kill this emotion or just let it blooms uncontrollably? There also that promise after all. He already in too deep. If it becomes deeper then ending his life afterwards might be better.

Realising the dangerous path his thoughts were taking, Neuvillette shook his head, trying to dispel the despair. He needed to think of a hopeful future. No, he must. The most important thing is her happiness. That's all that matters.

Turning back to the half written letter in front of him with a heavy sigh, Neuvillette's frustration mounted. He read and re-read his drafts, each attempt feeling increasingly inadequate. The words seemed to escape him, their essence slipping through his grasp. Finally, feeling he was getting nowhere, he pushed his chair back and stood up. He needed to clear his mind.

He left his office and made his way to the sea behind the Palais Mermonia. The rhythmic crash of the waves against the shore was both soothing and powerful, a reminder of nature's relentless and unyielding beauty. Neuvillette gazed out at the horizon, the cool breeze ruffling his hair as he sought inspiration from the vast, undulating expanse before him. The sea's endless movement seemed to echo his internal struggle, offering a brief respite from the weight of his thoughts.

"Oh Monsieur, enjoying the view?" a voice broke through his reverie.

Neuvillette turned to see a middle-aged man approaching him, a faint smile on his weathered face. Recognition sparked in Neuvillette's eyes as he realized this man had once worked under him at the Palais years ago. "Yes, I find it calming," Neuvillette replied.

The man nodded knowingly. "It seems you have something on your mind."

Neuvillette hesitated for a moment. He wasn't accustomed to seeking advice from others, having previously distanced himself from interactions with humanity. However, after a moment's consideration, he realized that another perspective especially from a human standpoint might be beneficial. 

"Actually," Neuvillette began slowly, "I find myself in a bit of a quandary. I wish to write a letter to someone important to me, but I'm unsure of what to say. I fear my words may inadvertently upset her."

The older man chuckled softly. "Ah, matters of the heart are never easy, especially for those in positions of responsibility. But holding back your true feelings can be just as harmful. Sometimes, sharing your thoughts can lead to understanding and growth, both for you and the other person."

Neuvillette listened intently, considering the man's words. "But what if my feelings complicate things for her?"

( And what if everything falls apart then? )

He found himself unable to escape the weight of such "what ifs." His hand tightened into a fist, casting a shadow of anxiety across his face. The dark thoughts threatened to overwhelm him.

A soft, knowing laugh broke through his reverie. "Hahaha. Such is life isn't it not? It is always full of complications," the man said gently and looked out at the horizon, where the waves crashed gently against the rocks. "Sometimes we get so caught up in trying to say the perfect thing that we forget what truly matters—sincerity.

Turning back to Neuvillette he said, "Write from your heart, Monsieur. Be honest about your feelings and your intentions. Trust that she will appreciate your honesty more than any carefully crafted words."

Neuvillette nodded thoughtfully, "You seem to speak from experience?"

The older man's smile softened into a wistful expression, and a hint of sadness crept into his eyes as he began to reminisce.

"I suppose you could say that," he said quietly. "Once, there was a woman I held dear, a friend whom I secretly admired. I treasured her company more than words can say. Yet, I feared risking our friendship by revealing my feelings. I even started to save mora, hoping for a future where things might fall into place naturally. But time slipped through my fingers, and before I could gather the courage to speak, she had found happiness with another."

His voice carried the weight of unspoken longing, his gaze momentarily lost in memories of what could have been.

Neuvillette, sensing the man's melancholy, spoke softly. "Oh... I'm sorry if I've made you recall something painful."

The man waved a hand dismissively, a wistful smile touching his lips. "Ah, it's long past. These are memories I've come to terms with over time. They no longer sting as they once did."

He leaned back, his expression softening with a hint of pride. "You see, I’m now quite content with my little shop. I opened it with the mora I saved up after leaving my position as a gestionnaire. It’s been fulfilling, and even her children have become frequent visitors. They bring a touch of warmth to my days."

The man’s gaze brightened as he added, "Oh, you should come by sometime, Monsieur. Bring Lady Furina along if things work out between you two. It would be a pleasure to see you both."

"I see. Hm?" Neuvillette then realized he hadn't mentioned Furina by name. "How did you know I was referring to Furina?"

The man laughed warmly, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Monsieur, Monsieur. There's still a lot you need to learn."

"Well now, I suppose I've kept you too long, Monsieur," the man said.

Neuvillette, still puzzled by the man's cryptic remarks, watched as he departed into the distance. He turned back to the sea, the rhythmic crash of the waves offering a comforting backdrop to his thoughts.

"Write from the heart... Honestly and sincerely..." Neuvillette murmured to himself, the advice lingering in his mind like a mantra. Afterwards, he eventually made his way back to his office, the man's words resonating deeply within him.

💧💧💧

Later that evening, Neuvillette finally completed his letter to Furina. In his earnestness, he had inadvertently written two distinct letters—one a heartfelt message of encouragement, and the other a deeply personal declaration of love. Initially, he had poured his emotions into both letters, but realized that his romantic sentiments might be too forward. He set aside the love letter, choosing instead to rewrite a new version that delicately omitted his romantic feelings while retaining his sincere admiration and friendship.

As he sealed the final version of the letter with care, Neuvillette felt a sense of satisfaction and relief. He hoped that his words would bring comfort to Furina.

"It's time already," Neuvillette said, noticing it was time for his usual visit. He brought the letter with him and placed it in the letterbox for Furina.

As he went out, he completely forgot about the love letter still sitting on his desk. Moments later, Sedene entered his office to place a heap of papers on Neuvillette's table and stumbled upon the love letter.

"Oh, this must be Monsieur's letter to our lady," Sedene said to herself. Without a second thought, she picked up the love letter and put it inside the letterbox for Furina, unknowingly setting the stage for a classic mix-up.

💧💧💧

A few days later, Furina was beginning to regain a sense of normalcy in her life. She still felt a bit pensive, but helping out the theater troupe was genuinely fun and distracting for her.

One day, the troupe asked Furina to review their script. As she walked back to her room, engrossed in her task, she didn’t notice someone approaching until she accidentally bumped into them. Papers flew everywhere, and Furina found herself staring at Sigewinne, who was carrying a large box of letters.

"Ah, sorry, Sigewinne. I was too focused on the script," Furina apologized, bending down to help pick up the scattered letters.

Sigewinne smiled warmly. "It's alright, Lady Furina. No harm done."

As Furina picked up the letters, her eyes caught sight of the recipient's name on one of them. Her own. She paused, her heart skipping a beat. She glanced at the other letters in her hands and those still strewn across the floor. All of them bore her name.

"To me?" she murmured, a mixture of surprise and confusion in her voice.

"Yes, Lady Furina. The people of Fontaine have been writing to you, sending their well-wishes and messages of support," Sigewinne explained, her voice filled with warmth.

Furina's eyes widened, and she felt a lump form in her throat. She picked up another letter, her fingers trembling slightly as she read her name once more. "All of these?"

"Why?" Furina asked, her voice breaking with emotion. "Why would they do this for me?"

Her mind raced with self-doubt.

( Something wrong. Didn't I lie to everyone? So why? Why are they... )

Her thoughts were halted by Sigewinne's next words.

"Humans are a curious thing, aren’t they?" Sigewinne said, her tone both contemplative and compassionate as she picked up a single letter from the floor. "Some are good, some are bad. But often, their kindness surprises us when we least expect it."

She paused for a moment, her eyes meeting Furina’s with a sincerity that cut through the fog of her doubts. "I can’t say that everyone has accepted what you’ve done, and some may not even care to know. But some do care. Some genuinely love you for who you are. This. All of this," she gestured to the letters, "is proof of that."

Sigewinne’s words hung in the air, and Furina felt a surge of emotion. "Our goddess, our lady, Furina de Fontaine," Sigewinne continued, and held out the letter towards Furina. "We all love you and appreciate you from the bottom of our hearts."

The weight of Sigewinne’s words, coupled with the flood of heartfelt letters, overwhelmed Furina. She clutched the letters to her chest, tears streaming down her face. The outpouring of love and support from the people of Fontaine was a balm to her weary soul, revealing a truth she had struggled to accept—that despite her flaws and mistakes, she was still cherished and valued.

💧💧💧

Returning to her room, Furina settled into her chair, surrounded by the letters she had gathered with Sigewinne. There also a few tokens attached as well like paintings, dolls, keychains and even candies. The room was quiet except for the soft rustle of paper as she opened each envelope.

The first few letters she read were from children and Melusines, their handwriting uneven but full of innocence and warmth.

One letter, decorated with crayon drawings, began:

"Dear Lady Furina, I hope you are feeling better. We miss you and your pretty smile. Come back soon!"

Another letter featured a whimsical drawing of Furina with shark teeth and a crown, surrounded by smiling stick-figure people. Then next to it was written:

"Dear Lady Furina, I hope you feel better soon. We miss seeing you around. Please don’t be sad."

As she continued, Furina came across a letter from Navia. The handwriting was meticulous, reflecting a thoughtful and sincere tone.

"Dear Lady Furina, I hope this letter finds you well. I want to apologize for any harsh words or misunderstandings between us. I realize now that we all have our burdens to bear, and I regret any pain I may have caused you. Please know that I respect and admire you deeply."

Next, she opened a letter from the Traveler and their ever-cheerful companion, Paimon. Despite their limited interactions, the letter carried a warm and friendly tone.

"Hey, Furina, Paimon and I just wanted to say we’re sorry if we made things difficult for you. We know you’ve been through a lot, and we want you to know that we’re here for you. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call us. We are Teyvat most renowned hero after all.

Let’s face the challenges ahead together. Take care, The Traveler and Paimon."

( I supposed I did act a bit harsh on them that day. )

Furina smiles bitterly. Following that were letters from various Fontainians. Some were simple yet heartfelt messages of support, while others were more elaborate, brimming with gratitude and encouragement.

"Dear Lady Furina, you are an inspiration to us all. Keep your head up, and remember that the people of Fontaine stand with you. Don’t give up!"

"Dear Lady Furina, we just wanted to say thank you for everything you’ve done for Fontaine. We believe in you and are here to support you. Stay strong!"

Among the letters were also notes from Clorinde, Wriothesley, Sedene, Sigewinne, and many others she knew. Each letter carried a personal touch, conveying support and affection.

As Furina reached the end of the stack, a familiar penmanship caught her eye. It was a handwriting she had seen countless times in the past, and she was surprised to find it among these letters. Considering their recent interactions, she hadn’t expected him to contribute. With a mix of curiosity and excitement, she reached for the letter. Just as she was about to unseal it, she noticed another letter beside it—one that appeared to be from Neuvillette as well.

( Oh? Did he mistakenly give me two letters? )

Furina wondered, holding both envelopes side by side, each addressed to her. Carefully, she opened the first letter. It was an encouraging note, brimming with heartfelt support and affirmation.

As Furina read the letter, she noticed how much Neuvillette's writing had improved over the years. When he first arrived at the Court of Fontaine, his efforts to integrate and communicate had been endearing yet clumsy. Back then, he had often struggled to find the right words, much to her amusement and concern. It was a pleasant surprise to see how far he had come, reflecting on the years of growth and the adjustments they had both made.

Her thoughts drifted to the early days of Neuvillette’s tenure, when she had to improvise and maintain her persona while helping him navigate the complexities of Fontaine's social fabric. The fond memories of those times brought a bittersweet smile to her face.

With a deep breath, Furina turned her attention to the second letter. To her surprise, it was quite lengthy.

"Is this a letter of complaint, perhaps?" she mused, her curiosity piqued. With a sense of trepidation and anticipation, she began to read.

💧💧💧

My Dearest Furina,

You have been a constant presence in my life, a guiding star whose light has illuminated my path through the ages. I have always admired you, and now, as I reflect on the depth of my feelings, I realize that my admiration has blossomed into a love that transcends time.

Over countless years, I've stood by your side, witnessing the radiant goddess the world believed you to be, and now, I am blessed to see the true essence of who you are—a human with an indomitable spirit.

I always thought you were the sun, dazzling and unreachable in your brilliance. Now I realize that you are, in fact, the moon. Loyal and never left, always there watching everyone, in our light and in our darkest moments. 

Every day, you show a different version of yourself. Sometimes you are weak, a sliver of light barely visible in the vast sky. Other times, you are strong and filled with light, illuminating everything with your serene glow. You once said to me you don't know what it means to be human, but Furina, you already a perfectly human, even if you yourself didn't realize it. Just like the moon, cratered by imperfection.

You have always been there, silent yet unwavering, offering your gentle light to guide us through the night. Your presence, often unacknowledged, has been the steady force that has kept us all anchored. 

In every phase, whether full and luminous or a mere sliver of silver in the night sky, you have shown me the facets of love and life. Your imperfections, your struggles, and your triumphs have carved a place in my heart that no one else can fill. You are the moon, Furina, my eternal companion, my guiding light.

I have seen you at your highest and your lowest. I have witnessed the moments when the world seemed too heavy for your shoulders and the times when you stood tall, illuminating the lives of those around you. Your humanity, once hidden beneath the veneer of a goddess, is now revealed in all its beauty. The curse that bound you has lifted, but the essence of who you are remains unchanged.

As the tides are drawn to the moon, so too am I drawn to you. In your presence, I find solace. You have given me more than you will ever know, and I am eternally grateful for the privilege of standing by your side.

It would be selfish of me to ask for an answer to the emotions I have poured forth. But, Furina, know that regardless of how you perceive me or what path you choose, the feelings that have sprouted within me will never fade. Your essence has forever imprinted upon my soul, and for that, I will always cherish you, in light and shadow, now and forever.

I am uncertain if a Sovereign’s prayer reaches anyone, but I sincerely hope that happiness will find its way to you. May your days be filled with peace and joy, and may you always be surrounded by the light that you have so selflessly given to others.

With all my love,
Neuvillette.

💧💧💧

Furina’s eyes darted over the letter once more, her breath catching in her throat as the words sank in. Each line seemed to pulse with a warmth that radiated beyond the paper, causing her face to flush with a deep, uncontrollable heat. The realization hit her with an undeniable clarity—Neuvillette’s letter was, without a doubt, a declaration of love.

( ... He likes me... In that way? )

Before she could fully process this revelation, a sudden knock on the door jolted her upright.

"Furina, may I come in?" Neuvillette's voice was calm and composed, as always.

Panic set in. She hastily folded the love letter and slipped it into her pocket, her mind racing to compose herself. Her heart pounded louder, each beat echoing in her ears.

"Y-yes. Come in," she stammered, fanning her face in a futile attempt to reduce the warmth that had spread across her cheeks.

Neuvillette entered the room with his usual composed demeanor, but there was a softness in his eyes that Furina hadn’t noticed before. He glanced around, taking in the scattered letters before his gaze settled on her.

"I thought I should drop by for a bit. I wanted to see how you were doing," he said, his voice gentle. "The letters... they seem to have had quite an impact on you."

Furina took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I'm... fine. Just a bit overwhelmed by all the support from everyone. It's a lot to take in," she said, her voice wavering slightly.

He offered her a gentle smile. "I'm glad to hear it. The people truly care about you, as they should."

An awkward silence followed, during which Furina’s mind raced with thoughts about the love letter now hidden in her pocket. Should she mention it? Would it be too awkward? Did he even intend for her to read it now? The questions swirled, leaving her feeling both flustered and frustrated.

Noticing the shift in her attitude, Neuvillette asked with concern, "What's wrong? Did something upset you in any way?"

Furina forced a laugh, hoping to deflect. "No, it's nothing serious. Just... processing everything."

Neuvillette nodded, clearly not entirely convinced but willing to let it go. "Well, if you need to talk or if there’s anything I can do, just let me know."

As he turned to leave, Furina's mind raced, caught between the impulse to address the letter and the fear of what might follow. Summoning her courage, she called out just before he reached the door, "Neuvillette, wait!"

He turned, an eyebrow raised in mild surprise. "Yes?"

Furina’s heart skipped a beat. "I—uh, actually, there was something in one of the letters that, um, caught my attention. It was... very moving."

Neuvillette's calm facade wavered just a fraction, a glint of something dangerous flickering in his eyes. "I see. That person must be one of your admirers, I suppose."

"Yes. They are," Furina replied, her voice betraying her awkwardness as she met Neuvillette's gaze. "My admirer indeed."

( It’s you though... )

Neuvillette tilted his head slightly and asked,  “What does it say?”

Furina hesitated, caught off guard by his directness. "Well, it’s..."

( Wait a minute... )

Furina's mind raced. She had just come to realize Neuvillette’s affection towards her, but what about her own feelings? Did she reciprocate his emotions? Or was it merely the intensity of the moment clouding her judgment? Actually...

What does it mean to love someone?

“Ah, just the typical flowery words,” Furina finally said, her voice betraying her nervousness as she forced a chuckle.

Neuvillette offered a polite nod, though his eyes were still searching, trying to read between the lines of her response. “Is that so…”

An awkward silence settled between them, charged with unspoken questions and emotions.

"If there isn’t anything else, I’ll see you later, Furina." Neuvillette said.

"Yeah. See you later, Neuvillette," she replied, a hint of wistfulness in her tone.

As he walked out of the room, Furina sank into a nearby chair with a dramatic sigh, her mind spinning with different kinds of emotions. She pulled out the letter again, staring at it as if it might suddenly start singing or dancing.

"Now then, what am I supposed to do with this." She mused aloud as she held the letter at her face and closed her eyes.

Her thoughts raced through a myriad of scenarios, from awkwardly avoiding Neuvillette for the foreseeable future to crafting a witty response that might make him blush. She considered both and found herself chuckling at the absurdity of her predicament.

The letter, which had been the source of so much anxiety, now seemed to mock her with its elegant prose. “Congratulations, Furina. You’ve managed to turn a simple love letter into an epic internal drama. Bravo,” she said with a wry smile.

Later that night, Furina found herself tossing and turning in bed, the letter occupying her mind and battling for attention with her usual nightmares. The irony wasn’t lost on her—she now had something else to keep her awake besides her typical nocturnal anxieties.

“Well, this is just perfect,” she said to the empty room, her tone dry. “Not only do I have to deal with the usual nightmares, but now I also have to ponder over a love letter.”

She shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe I should congratulate Neuvillette for this. After all, it’s not every day you get a love letter that makes your sleepless nights even more interesting.”

💧💧💧

Deciding that staying cooped up in her room would do her no good, Furina walked around the fortress, seeking distraction. As she strolled, some inmates greeted her warmly, having come to accept her presence as a normal part of their lives. At first, their greetings had felt awkward, but now she found herself returning their smiles and hellos with genuine warmth.

As she approached the theatre troupe's usual practice area, she could see them in the middle of a rehearsal.

"Wow, you’ve gotten better, Fourmon!" Melihat exclaimed as she listened to Fourmon acting, then turned and noticed Furina standing nearby. "Oh, Miss Furina!"

The troupe paused their practice and turned to acknowledge her presence with smiles and nods.

"Greetings," Furina waved, her smile genuine. "You guys are as energetic as ever."

"Hehe, we’ve just been inspired by a new script," Melihat said cheerfully. "But before we dive into that, I'll get some drinks for all of us. Goncourt, help me out. Fourmon, you stay with Miss Furina here."

Melihat and Goncourt moved towards the refreshment table, leaving Furina and Fourmon seated side by side.

"Say, Fourmon," Furina began tentatively, breaking the silence, "let’s say you received a love letter, and because of it, you ended up unable to sleep at night. What would that mean to you?"

There was a brief pause as Fourmon considered her question. Fourmon’s gaze shifted towards Furina, his expression thoughtful. “Uh... Well, if just receiving a letter makes me lose sleep and overthink things, it could mean that the sender holds some significance to me. It suggests that I have feelings for them, or at least that the idea of a relationship with them isn’t out of the question.”

Furina’s eyes widened in surprise, her heart skipping a beat. 

"Was it really that simple?" Furina asked.

"If you think about it, what else would it be? If I'm not interested in that person then I would had rejected them. It's better than giving them hope won't it?" Fourmon added.

Listening to his words, Furina put her hand on her chest. The words echoed in her mind, sending a flush to her cheeks.

( So that’s it, huh? So, I.. to Neuvillette... )

Just before she could relish her newfound emotion, the warmth of her blush was abruptly cooled by a realization. An unsettling feeling began to stir within her, something was definitely off about the person sitting next to her. Furina scrutinized Fourmon more closely, a growing sense of unease tightening her chest. There was something subtly different about him—an inexplicable sensation she couldn’t quite place.

"Hey—" Furina began, but before she could continue, Melihat and Goncourt returned with a tray of drinks. They set it down on the table, the clinking of glasses momentarily distracting her.

As the troupe gathered around and resumed their practice with renewed energy, Furina’s gaze remained fixed on Fourmon. Her silence was heavy with unspoken questions.

"Hmm?" Furina just stared quietly at Fourmon.

Fourmon, noticing her intense stare, shifted uncomfortably. "Is there something wrong with my face, Miss Furina?" he asked, half-jokingly.

"No... It's nothing," she replied with a gentle smile, her eyes closing briefly as she composed herself. "Melihat was right. Fourmon, you have improved quite a lot."

When she opened her eyes again, her gaze met Fourmon's, searching his expression as if trying to see into his very soul. There was something off about him, a feeling she couldn't shake. The intensity of her scrutiny caused a palpable tension in the air.

Sensing the unusual atmosphere, Goncourt stepped forward, his voice light and cheerful in an attempt to defuse the situation. "Miss Furina, it's always a pleasure to have you here. We were just discussing some new ideas for the upcoming performance. Would you care to join us?"

Furina broke her stare, turning to Goncourt with a nod. "Of course, I'd love to. It's always fascinating to see what you all come up with."

( Was it only my imagination? )

💧💧💧

Back in the Palais Mermonia, Neuvillette was pacing restlessly in his office. He had been brooding over various matters when a sudden, jarring thought struck him—he remembered the other letter he had written, the one he hadn’t meant to send. His usually composed demeanor wavered as he tried to recall where it might have ended up.

"Sedene," he called out as he rushed to Sedene’s usual post, his voice tinged with urgency, "have you seen a letter that was on my desk a few days ago?"

Sedene looked up from her work with a thoughtful expression. "A letter, Monsieur? Oh, you must be referring to the one meant for Lady Furina."

"Yes, exactly that one," Neuvillette said, his eyes lighting up with hope. "Do you happen to know where it might be?"

Sedene's face brightened with recollection. "Oh, I remember now! I helped you put it in the box. You know, Monsieur, you are quite careless sometimes."

Neuvillette's expression went from hopeful to a ghostly pale in a heartbeat. The letter, which had contained his heartfelt, unguarded emotions, was now in Furina's hands. His worst fears seemed to materialize before him.

"Monsieur?" Sedene's concerned voice pulled him from his spiral of panic. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine... Yes..." Neuvillette mustered, striving to keep his voice steady and not to worry Sedene. "Also, Sedene, please cancel everything in my schedule today and make sure not to let anyone come into my office."

"Alright, Monsieur," Sedene replied, her usual cheerfulness tinged with a hint of concern.

Neuvillette hurried back to his office, shut the door, and slumped into his chair. He stared blankly at the ceiling, his mind racing.

( How could I have been so careless? )

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. The thought of Furina reading his innermost feelings made his stomach churn.

"Of all the things to happen..." he muttered to himself, his voice muffled. "I should have just destroyed it."

The usually stoic and composed figure of Fontaine's Chief of Justice was now reduced to a bundle of nerves, hiding away in his office as if it could protect him from the consequences of his heartfelt confession.

He tried to busy himself with paperwork, but every document he picked up seemed to blur before his eyes. His mind was a whirlwind of panic and regret.

( What must she think of me now? )

He couldn't shake the image of Furina reading his words, her expression a mystery to him. He imagined every possible reaction—from amusement to disgust, from confusion to… acceptance?

The last thought gave him pause. Could there be a chance, however slim, that she felt the same way? The idea both thrilled and terrified him.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair and covering his face with his hands. The weight of his emotions felt unbearable. He knew he couldn't avoid the world forever, but for now, he needed this moment to gather his thoughts. For his own sake and for Furina's as well.

💧💧💧

Three days later, Furina was lounging on her bed, a book resting in her lap. She had been stuck on the same page for hours, her mind constantly wandering back to Neuvillette. No matter how much she tried to distract herself, the heartfelt words replayed in her thoughts, leaving her in a state of restless distraction.

( Considering my age, why am I being this giddy just from a confession. )

Furina lamented quietly.

Since the day she received the letter, she wasn't able to meet with him face to face. Though he had continued his daily visits, they always seemed to occur when she was already asleep. Could his workload have become overwhelming? Was there something happening in the overworld that kept him away? The questions gnawed at her, adding to her growing unease.

( Maybe it’s time I went back up there? )

The Court of Fontaine, the majestic Opera House, the vast ocean stretching beyond the horizon, and the tranquil beauty of Mount Esus all flickered through her mind. She missed those places more than she had anticipated. Despite Fontaine's complexities, the Court of Fontaine had been her home for so long, and it is the only home she ever knew.

In addition to her concerns about Neuvillette, another troubling thought gnawed at Furina's mind. Her recent visits to the theatre troupe had become increasingly unsettling. Each time she watched Fourmon perform, a strange and persistent unease settled in her heart. The unsettling feeling wasn’t just a fleeting discomfort—it was a deep-rooted anxiety that seemed to grow with every performance.

Fourmon’s casual demeanor, though outwardly charming, masked a disquieting tendency to ask probing questions. No one else seemed to notice the way he delved into topics with an almost unsettling curiosity, but Furina did. Her instincts, honed by years of vigilance, had picked up on the subtle oddities in his behaviour. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something beneath the surface, something not entirely as it seemed. Her wariness was a part of her, a reflex shaped by past experiences, and it was now on high alert.

Lost in these thoughts, Furina was abruptly pulled from her musings by a knock on her door.

"Furina, it's me," Wriothesley's voice called out.

"Come in," she replied, closing her book.

Wriothesley entered with a broad grin. "Hey there, want to play TCG?"

"The card game from Sumeru right? I've heard of it but don't know how to play..." she replied, looking up from her book.

"That's fine. Let me teach you," he said, dragging a small table and two chairs into the room.

"Shouldn't you be busy?" Furina asked, setting her book aside and joining him at the table.

"It's fine, it's fine," Wriothesley assured her with a grin.

As Furina sat down, Wriothesley began explaining the rules of the trading card game. Mid-game, he looked up and said, "The request you made that day, it took a while, but I managed to contact his family."

Rolling the dice, he continued, "His daughter was grateful."

"Oh, the daughter is still around?" Furina asked, her eyes focused on the cards in her hand.

"She is. She lives with her grandson outside of the city now," Wriothesley answered.

"I see..." Furina murmured, her thoughts momentarily drifting.

"By the way, did you guys fight again?" Wriothesley asked suddenly, breaking the contemplative silence.

"Huh? Who?" Furina blinked, taken aback by the question.

"You and the Iudex, who else. He seems to have holed up in his office for a few days now. Not to mention it had been drizzling lately." Wriothesley said, his tone casual but curious.

Furina ponders for a bit.

( Except for the love letter... )

"I don't remember us having any disagreement recently," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Wriothesley raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled. "That’s odd. It’s not like him to shut himself off without reason."

"Who knows... Though we both understand each other to a certain degree, in the end, both Neuvillette and I are different people. It is inevitable that we don't understand each other fully," Furina said, her voice softening as she pondered their complex relationship.

Wriothesley’s eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. "Oh? Are you feeling lonely?"

Furina’s cheeks flushed slightly. "Wha— No. I’ve gotten used to being alone, so it doesn’t bother me that much," she replied with a casual shrug.

"Well, while I might not be the best person to give advice, one shouldn’t get too used to being alone," Wriothesley said, his tone softening. "Sometimes, a little company can be quite comforting."

Furina paused, considering his words. Before she could respond, Wriothesley grinned and added, "Oh, and by the way, I won."

Furina glanced down at the table, noticing the final arrangement of cards. There was a brief, tense silence before she spoke up with renewed determination. "One more time."

The spark in her eyes was unmistakable, and Wriothesley’s grin broadened in response. Wriothesley chuckled, reshuffling the deck. "Alright, but don't think I'll go easy on you."

Afterwards, they played a few more rounds, with Furina growing increasingly determined, but in the end, she lost once more.

"Hahaha. Well, I should get going now," Wriothesley said, standing up with a playful bow. "Here, just in case you want to visit in the future."

He handed her a folded piece of paper. Furina opened it to find an address written neatly inside. She nodded, recognizing the significance of the gesture.

"Ah, right," Furina said as Wriothesley started to head for the door. "I actually need a favour from you."

Wriothesley paused, turning back with an inquisitive look. "Oh? What do you need?"

💧💧💧

Within the Fortress, Furina knew she was the outsider in their world. That's why, if she wanted to administer her own form of justice, she needed to at least adhere to the Fortress's rules.

For the time she had spent within this Fortress, though it seems peaceful, it is still a prison. True there are people who are somewhat kind here. Yet she mustn't forget. Humans are deeply emotional creatures, especially here in the den where sinners gather.

She didn't want to cause unnecessary trouble, but there is a limit to how much she could stand at the side as a spectator. Therefore, Furina decided to take things within her own hands. She could confide this with others but she didn't want to bother anyone. Such was her reasoning. Yet deep down she knew, the real reason is actually old habit die hard. For centuries she had been relying on herself after all.

She had laid her bait. So she acted as she usually is and waited. And as she expected the mouse had caught within the trap. Or maybe the mouse intentionally get caught.

Waiting for the right moment, Furina finally made her move. So quietly Furina slipped away from other sights. She made her way to the half-submerged area where she had first encountered the ghost of the old man and where she had nearly been shot. Her footsteps echoed on the metallic floor as she approached the place.

When she arrived, she saw a familiar face standing at the edge, looking out over the dark waters below. It was none other than Fourmon.

( Bingo. )

“There was a notorious case years ago,” Furina began, her voice carrying over the quiet. “A nameless artist who committed crimes using other people’s faces. Theft and fraud were the main offenses. The case wasn’t widely known because it occurred simultaneously with the missing girls' cases. Those who were aware of it decided to give the culprit a moniker.”

She continued, her gaze never leaving Fourmon. "Despite an extensive search, the culprit was never found, and the case eventually faded into obscurity when the crimes suddenly stopped."

Fourmon remained motionless, his back tense and rigid. He turned slowly as he heard her approach, the shadows cast by the dim light accentuating the lines of his face.

She paused for a moment before adding, “I thought it was my imagination. Yet here you are, in this Fortress, like a needle in a haystack. Isn’t that right, Rien?”

( It took a fraud to recognize a fraud. )

Furina mused silently, a hint of irony playing at the corners of her mouth.

As soon as he recognized her, Fourmon’s initial surprise was quickly replaced by a twisted grin that spread across his face. 'Rien' was a name the people called him with. A moniker with a meaning of nothing.

“I suppose there’s no tricking someone with centuries of experience,” he said, his voice laced with mock admiration. “I must admit, I’m genuinely surprised you still remember me."

Furina met his gaze with a steely resolve. “The case was indeed intriguing. It wasn’t until I requested the Duke to discreetly provide me with the old case files that my memories were truly jogged.”

With a dramatic flourish, Rien peeled away his disguise, revealing his true identity. He was a man with light brown hair and sharp, probing eyes that seemed to capture every nuance of the moment.

“I must admit,” he began, his voice laced with a smirk, “I was quite intrigued by how our oh-so-famous goddess ended up in prison. It’s quite the spectacle, isn’t it? To think she’d spiral into madness after being exposed as a fraud—well, that certainly wasn’t what I expected.”

Furina flinched slightly at his words but maintained her composure. The young man’s laughter, laced with madness, echoed through the corridor. His mirth abruptly ceased, and he adopted a sardonic smile.

“How the mighty fall,” he said, his tone carrying a dark amusement. “But regardless, you don’t belong here.”

“And yet, here I am,” Furina replied calmly. “Actually, aren't you a bit out of place yourself? Although you should be down here, you’ve come voluntarily without facing trial. Technically, you’re trespassing.”

“Touché,” Rien said with a nonchalant shrug.

“Anyway, where is the real Fourmon?” Furina asked, her tone steady.

“Oh, he’s fine,” Rien said with an indifferent shrug. “Well, I might have given him a little something to keep him out of the way, but he’s perfectly safe. I’m not a killer, after all.”

“Why are you doing this?” Furina asked, her voice laced with curiosity and concern.

Rien’s eyes glinted with a hint of mischief as he leaned in slightly. “Well,” he began with a casual shrug, “I happened to take on a delivery job related to this Fortress. During my work, I learned that the Hydro Archon—oh, pardon me, the former Hydro Archon—was here too. Just think about the potential of such a story. If I were to sell it, it could make me a fortune.”

He paused for effect, relishing the reaction he hoped to elicit from Furina. “A little bit of excitement, a touch of drama—makes life all the more interesting, don’t you think? The public adores a good tale about fallen gods and their struggles. A story like this, filled with drama and intrigue, could fetch either a small or large fortune. And who better to narrate it than someone who’s actually seen it all firsthand?”

“So that's it? So your aim was me all along,” Furina said, her voice carrying a trace of her former authority as she slipped unconsciously back into her Archon persona. “Such are the woes of being famous, I suppose.”

Rien burst into laughter, his eyes wild with amusement. “Pfft, hahahaha! You’re still keeping up the act? Even now?”

Furina’s eyes narrowed, her expression hardening. “This isn’t an act. This is who I am. And now I’m trying to make things right.”

“Make things right? It's just one criminal.” Rien sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “Including that guy, wasn't it you the one who condemned countless people to this place. And now you think you can just waltz in here and play the saviour? How delusional can you be?”

Rien’s smile turned mocking as he shook his head. “I was starting to think your head was filled only with flowers and butterflies. Then again, I suppose it’s inevitable for someone like you, who’s always had everything, to be this out of touch.”

Furina's thoughts churned with his words. It was true she had inherited wealth, power, and influence, but these were not things she had sought or desired—they were merely byproducts of her role.

“Well, anyway,” Rien said, breaking her reverie, “I’ve already got my scoop. So, Miss Justice, what are you going to do? Run back and whine about me to your friends?” His tone was taunting, as if daring her to act on her anger or frustration.

"I won't tell them," Furina said firmly, her gaze steady and resolute.

Rien raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening with curiosity. "Oh? And what’s your plan then? You’ve found me, so what will you do now? Leave me here to be discovered by someone else, or will you do something about it?"

Furina took a deep breath, her thoughts racing. "I’m not here to play games or indulge in whatever you're planning. My priority is to make things right, not to give in to petty dramas. If you truly want to continue this charade, do as you like."

Rien's expression shifted from mocking to one of genuine interest. "Is that so? So, you're choosing to ignore the personal vendetta and focus on bigger things? How commendable. But are you sure you’re not simply afraid of what I might reveal?"

"No," Furina said calmly. "I’m not afraid. Reveal what you must. I have nothing more to lose after all."

Rien chuckled, his expression a mixture of amusement and disdain. “You’re quite the paradox, aren’t you? So eager to make things right, yet so blind to the consequences of your own actions.”

Furina met his gaze with unwavering determination. “Blindness is not in the pursuit of justice, but in the refusal to acknowledge one’s own faults. I may have my flaws, but this time I won’t let them stop me from doing what’s right.”

He scoffed, laughing derisively. "And by doing what’s right, you’re seeking redemption? Do you really think redemption can solve everything?"

"It won't," Furina replied quietly, her voice steady. "But I'm trying anyway."

Rien’s eyes narrowed. “You really are a piece of work. Honestly, you’re more idealistic than I gave you credit for.”

As Rien took a step forward, the metallic floor beneath him suddenly trembled and groaned ominously, tilting dangerously toward the dark waters below. Startled, Rien stumbled backward, his balance wavering precariously. To her own astonishment, Furina's body moved instinctively, reaching out to grab hold of the young man. Rien looked at her, bewildered by her sudden action.

“Huh? What—” Rien’s confusion was palpable as he noticed Furina desperately gripping his hand.

“Let go! Why are you even saving me? Are you an idiot?” he shouted, struggling against her hold. The platform shifted dangerously.

Furina remained silent, her expression resolute. Her fingers tightened around his, her face set in determined focus.

“If you don’t let go, you’re going to fall as well,” Rien continued, panic edging his voice. But Furina’s grip only tightened further.

Still, Furina said nothing.

“Why aren’t you letting go, you idiot goddess!” Rien snapped, frustration evident in his voice.

“I DON’T KNOW!” Furina screamed back, her voice breaking under the strain. In a slightly calmer tone, she added, “I don’t know, but if I let you go, I’ll definitely regret it.”

Memories of the tragedy in Poisson and her previous inaction gnawed at her, even now. She wasn't an actual Archon then and she definitely isn't one now, but she had come to understand that even without divine power, it was still her responsibility to protect her people, not as an Archon but as the one who ruled over Fontaine. She couldn't bear the thought of failing again.

The platform gave way further, and both of them tumbled into the water below. Thankfully, Furina was a good swimmer. She grabbed hold of the young man's hand, to his surprise, and pulled him back to safety on a piece of stable ground.

As Furina tried to climb onto the precarious platform, a piece of metallic debris fell from above, striking her shoulder with a brutal clang. Pain exploded through her body, sharp and searing, threatening to engulf her. Her vision swam, each breath a battle as she clung to the edge of consciousness.

Despite the agony, Furina’s determination did not falter. She fought to stay awake. She promised Neuvillette that she will give life a second chance after all. Her gaze then fixed on Rien’s face. She could see the panic and concern etched into his features, a stark contrast to his earlier mockery.

( You called me a paradox but aren't you too the same? )

As darkness crept in, Furina’s thoughts became increasingly distant. Her body was growing numb, her strength fading. She felt an eerie calmness settle over her, a sensation of resignation and acceptance. Returning to the sea, she thought, might indeed be a fitting end to her journey.

In her final moments, just as the darkness began to close in, Furina was awestruck by a vision of ethereal beauty. A glowing blue dragon, radiant and majestic, appeared through the murkiness of the water. The dragon’s luminescence illuminated the darkness, offering a fleeting glimpse of serenity before the world slipped away completely.

💧💧💧

Chapter Text

💧💧💧

In the grand halls of the Opera Epiclese, Neuvillette stood with his usual commanding presence, presiding over yet another case. His eyes were sharp, his posture immaculate, and yet, beneath that stoic exterior, an unusual flicker of distraction pulsed, threatening to break through his carefully maintained facade.

Today would be different. Today, he decided that he could no longer avoid confronting the feelings he had so meticulously kept at bay. The moment of reckoning had come—there was no more room for hesitation, no more running from the emotions that had quietly consumed him. The moment his duties were fulfilled and when the final judgment was rendered, he would go to her. He would confess everything—his fears, his hopes, and the love that had grown silently, like a shadow, over the years.

Though his mind wandered to what would come after, his commitment to justice remained unwavering. With the Oratrice no longer in use, the burden of final judgment now fell solely upon his shoulders.

As the court proceedings continued, Neuvillette sentenced the accused with his usual meticulous precision, ensuring that fairness and justice were upheld. Then, as soon as the words of judgment left his lips, he felt something—a subtle but distinct shift, as though the winds of Teyvat itself had stirred.

A distant, unfamiliar resonance tugged at his soul, reaching deep into the core of his elemental power. It was as though someone, somewhere, had brushed against the very essence of his being, their spirit reaching upward, yearning toward the heavens. Though this feeling was new to him, Neuvillette instinctively understood what it was. When he had finally embraced his complete form, a fragment of his power had been set aside, waiting for a mortal of worthy spirit to claim it.

As that resonance grew stronger, a smile—rare and serene—graced Neuvillette’s lips, catching everyone in the court off guard. The usually stern Chief of Justice, a figure of authority and impartiality, seemed momentarily softened by an unseen force.

And then, just as quickly as it had come, the sensation vanished.

Neuvillette blinked, his smile fading into a thoughtful frown. The resonance had disappeared so abruptly, as if it had never been there in the first place. He stood still, pondering the phenomenon, wondering if this fleeting connection was a mere anomaly. It was the first time he had felt something of this nature, and he couldn’t help but be perplexed by the suddenness of its disappearance.

“Well,” Neuvillette mused to himself with a touch of dry sarcasm, “as expected of the usurper’s system. Of course, it would have its imperfections.”

Regardless, whoever that person was, wherever they may be, he wished them well.

💧💧💧

Along the edge of the water, Rien was already in a state of panic. Initially, he had infiltrated the Fortress of Meropide with the usual intent of delivering letters. As a journalist and occasional courier, Rien had long been accustomed to the covert and sometimes dubious nature of his assignments.

As a means to protect his true self, each visit to the Fortress of Meropide was shrouded in secrecy, with Rien adopting a different identity each time to blend in. His job involved handling letters of uncertain provenance, often from shadowy figures whose motives he preferred not to delve into deeply. Once, he had inadvertently read a letter from one of Monsieur Neuvillette's fervent admirers, remembering the fervor and obsession within those words had still sent shivers down his spine.

Yet, Rien had always managed to push these unsettling moments aside, convincing himself that it was all part of the job. Business as usual, he told himself, until his path crossed unexpectedly with the former Hydro Archon.

Growing up with a family deeply involved in theater in the past, Rien had been exposed to its world from an early age. To those in the industry, Furina de Fontaine was a well-known figure. Her tenure as Hydro Archon had been questionable—foolish and naive, but her talent on stage was undeniable. It wasn't that far fetched to say that she was an epitome of a true star.

Of course, his curiosity was instantly piqued. What was the famed goddess doing in such a place? Wasn’t she supposed to be a saviour who had sacrificed all her power to save Fontaine? He had heard rumors of the trial, claiming she was nothing but a pretender. Due to him taking care of his ailing grandmother, he wasn't there during the whole ordeal. Nevertheless, a swirl of questions arose and he could smell huge fortune out of this.

And he truly hit a jackpot. As he silently observed her, Rien began to understand the depth of her situation—the tragic reality of a fallen star grappling with her new, diminished existence. Many prominent people ask for her forgiveness. And a personal favourite of his, there seemed to be a burgeoning romance—a dramatic twist that added layers of intrigue to her story.

When his curiosity was finally satisfied, he planned to return to the overworld However, seeing Lady Furina managing the mediocre troupe sparked an idea. Driven by a mix of fascination and mischief, he decided to infiltrate their stage. It is not often for one to act under the tutelage of Fontaine's greatest star after all.

Fortuitously, a member of the troupe was someone he knew, making it relatively simple for him to impersonate the man—Fourmon. It has been a long time since he performed on stage. Regardless, he still executed the role flawlessly, and the troupe members remained none the wiser. Yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being scrutinized by someone in particular—none other than Lady Furina herself, the goddess he both admired and resented.

What was meant to be a brief engagement turned into an obsession. Rien found himself captivated by the role and the dynamics within the troupe. His involvement continued longer than he intended. The situation took an unexpected turn when a note appeared in one of his pockets. When he opened the notes, he was confused by the map drawn. Only when he looked at the other side, he got chills. Only one word was written and that was none other than his moniker: Rien.

When or where someone had slipped it in, he didn't know. But it intrigued him nonetheless because the name within was one he had not heard in many years—an old case buried beneath the dust of time, forgotten by most. At the time, his story had been overshadowed by another, a case far more sensational, one that had seized the attention of Fontaine’s citizens.

Yet, there is still someone who remembers. 

That someone was none other than the goddess he had long deemed foolish and naive. For giving him such unexpected entertainment, he had decided to play his role to perfection, stepping into the shoes of the proper villain she needed him to be. But what started as mere play had spiraled into something far more chaotic, far more dangerous. One thing led to another, and now here they were—entangled in a mess neither of them could fully control.

Just as Rien prepared to dive in, the water’s surface began to shimmer with an ethereal glow, a strange blend of bluish-pink light that danced across the waves. He hesitated, his eyes narrowing at the sight.

Then, a magnificent serpent-like dragon emerging from the depths. The creature was composed entirely of hydro energy, its form both elegant and fearsome while its scales casting radiant reflections across the surrounding water.

The dragon coiled around Furina, lifting her gently from the drowning waters. The sheer force of its presence seemed to calm the surrounding chaos, and the waves settled, though the glow remained. With a final, powerful sweep, the dragon lifted Furina to the solid ground, setting her down tenderly beside Rien.

The dragon's luminous eyes then turned toward Rien. Then, the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder, signaling the arrival of others. He clenched his fists, knowing that even if he somehow survived this encounter with this creature in front of him, the real storm was yet to come. Neuvillette—the implacable Chief Justice—would not be far behind. And when he arrived, there would be no escape from his judgment.

Everyone in Fontaine knew of Neuvillette’s quiet, unspoken feelings for Furina. Though the man wore the mask of impartiality well, his emotions ran deep, like the currents beneath the surface of the sea. And Rien, who had been watching their intricate drama, knew all too well the depths of that devotion. What had once been mere entertainment—watching the tensions play out between the Former Hydro Archon and Chief of Justice—had now become his personal nightmare.

Hopeless. That was the word that echoed in his mind. No matter how clever or resourceful he had been, no matter how much he had once reveled in the chaos, Rien now knew he had no way out.

“Haha. It's game over I suppose,” Rien muttered to himself, a resigned smile on his lips as he closed his eyes and prepared to accept his fate.

In the next instant, the dragon's jaws opened wide and engulfed Rien in a single, swift motion. When Wriothesley and Clorinde arrived at the scene, the single sound of a droplet hits the water and they found only Furina lying unconscious on the ground. The area was otherwise empty with not a trace of another life was to be seen.

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Opening her eyes, Furina found herself seated in her usual place in the Opera Epiclese, a view she had gazed upon countless times before. She stood up and before her, a spiral staircase of hydro spiraled downward, its ethereal glow casting fleeting reflections on the empty opera house. As she descended the stairs, she glanced around the opera house—it was empty, eerily silent. Only the Oratrice, at the center of the stage, stood silent and dimmed, its usual brilliance subdued.

( Is this another dream? )

Furina thought as she approached the stage, her shoes clicking sharply against the polished floor. This stage had witnessed both her triumphs and her downfalls. Whether in reality or a dream, she had stood upon it more times than she could count. She then stopped before the Oratrice and with a touch of melancholy, placed her hand on its surface.

"I suppose you too have lost your purpose that day," she muttered, her voice carrying a tinge of melancholy. She then surveyed the empty theater one more time.

"Did I actually die this time?" Furina asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Almost but not quite." A familiar voice echoed, startling her.

A sudden gust of wind swept through, making her close her eyes. When she opened them again, the grandeur of the opera house had vanished, replaced by a charming garden perched precariously on a cliff. The scent of the sea mingled with the fragrance of blooming flowers, while the soft sounds of waves and chirping birds filled the air. Bubbles floated lazily around her, intertwining with floating books—some bound in chains—interspersed among various theatre props scattered throughout the garden.

Beside her, a whimsical tea table had appeared, adorned with mismatched teacups, colorful pastries, and a teapot that seemed to have a life of its own. Sitting at one of the chairs was someone she hadn't seen in 500 years—the one person she faithfully trusted all her life, her divine self, the goddess who had sacrificed herself to save Fontaine from the prophecy: Focalors.

Focalors looked serene and composed, her presence radiating a comforting warmth. With a gentle smile and a casual wave, she greeted Furina, “Hi.”

Furina’s eyes widened in astonishment. For a fleeting moment, she questioned whether this was truly Focalors or merely a manifestation born from her own longing and desperation. But as the familiar presence enveloped her, a deep, intuitive certainty settled within her. This was no illusion—it was the real Focalors.

With a sigh of resignation, Furina reciprocated the smile. "...Hi," Furina replied. "So, you're still here."

"Just a droplet," Focalors said softly. "Come. Take a seat."

Another chair appeared, its design as whimsical as the rest of the setting. Furina gazed at it for a moment before dragging it over and sitting down opposite Focalors.

“So... where is this?” Furina asked, her gaze swept across the surreal surroundings.

"This is a world deep within your consciousness," Focalors explained, her voice calm yet tinged with a hint of wistfulness. She delicately lifted a beautifully ornate teapot, its surface glistening faintly under the ambient light as though infused with magic. "It has changed beautifully since the day of the prophecy."

The soft sound of tea being poured filled the air as a fragrant steam wafted up, the aroma rich and calming. Focalors continued, her tone carrying an undercurrent of solemnity. "I left a drop of myself here, just in case something like this happened. You are not fully dead, yet not entirely alive either."

Focalors gently pushed the teacup toward Furina, the porcelain gleaming with an otherworldly glow. "I suppose it was wishful thinking that Celestia would simply leave you be," she murmured, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. "A curse fell upon you in silence, unnoticed by everyone... and even the hydro dragon’s blessing couldn't stave it off."

Furina accepted the tea, her gaze falling into the shimmering surface, where ripples distorted her reflection. The image seemed fractured yet beautiful.

Looking back, it was truly a small miracle she had remained untouched for so long. Given what had transpired—deceiving the celestial powers, dismantling the divine throne of Hydro, and relinquishing authority back to the sovereign—her subsequent fate had always seemed inevitable. It was never a matter of if, only how. Would she be cast into eternal torment? Or perhaps condemned to a fate worse than death, her essence scattered across the stars like dust?

The possibilities had always loomed over her like a dark cloud, and she had braced herself for the celestial retribution she knew was inevitable. Now Furina reflected that the time had come to pay the price. Her luck had run its course, and the celestial scales had finally tilted against her.

( So 'they' decided to gave me a curse... )

Yet, to her surprise, a sense of calm washed over her. As she sipped the tea, the world around her seemed to hum with a delicate balance of life and decay. Some parts of the garden were vibrant, bathed in warm light, with flowers blooming in full glory. But in contrast, others were overrun by thorny vines, twisted and dark, casting shadows that stretched ominously toward her. Furina closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sensory overload ebb away.

The smell of the sea brought back thoughts of Neuvillette. The tea's fragrance reminded her of a special blend Wriothesley once brewed for her. As she reopened her eyes, heart-shaped bubbles drifted gently around the table, a nostalgic echo of Sigewinne’s delicate presence. The purple cake in front of her evoked Clorinde’s warm, gentle smile.

( So this is the world deep within my consciousness, huh? )

Furina mused as her thoughts swirled like the tea in her cup, the liquid spinning in slow, hypnotic circles. She had always imagined her inner world to be chaotic—an endless tide of uncertainty and fear—but here it was peaceful, almost unnervingly so.

Focalors observed her with a knowing expression. “It’s quite peaceful, isn’t it?,” she said softly, “Though, it seems that your new life hasn’t been as peaceful as one might hope.”

Furina’s eyes locked with Focalors' in a way that was almost like mirrors reflecting each other’s souls. The smile on Focalors’ face was the same one Furina had remembered from 500 years ago.

"I suppose you’ve been watching over me, as you always did," Furina replied with a wry smile. “I must admit, it’s been far more dramatic than my 500 years as Hydro Archon. Truly, an opera that no one asked for, yet one that plays out relentlessly.” She took a sip of her tea, the warmth of the liquid offering a stark contrast to the chill that lingered in her thoughts.

"The 'Regina of All Waters, Kindreds, Peoples, and Laws'..." Furina's voice softened as she uttered the title she once wore so proudly, a hint of something old and distant flashing in her eyes. "...was deeply loved by her people." The faintest echo of pride lingered, just for a moment, before it too disappeared. "But that title is lost to me now."

Focalors remained silent, her gaze inscrutable, as if she were absorbing every word, every emotion that Furina conveyed. This was a space of truth, a realm where masks were dropped, and Furina felt no need to shield her feelings.

"I suppose in the first place, I was nothing more than the title of the Hydro Archon," Furina continued, her gaze wandering over the lush beauty of the garden. "Just a decoration, they said, a symbol without substance." Her voice carried a hint of bitterness.

Her hand tightened around the delicate cup as if seeking some kind of anchor in the midst of her turmoil. "For 500 years I did the best I could. And now, finally free from my role, I find myself adrift.," she said, her tone heavy with resignation. "In the place that was always been my home, my presence feels as inconsequential as the final act of an old play—forgotten and fading.”

She paused, her gaze distant. "The people of Fontaine... They’ve moved on. Their lives are flourishing without me."

"And honestly, that’s a good thing," she admitted, a faint, bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "They deserve to live without a ‘false’ archon looming over them."

Her gaze wandered across the garden, where a gentle breeze stirred the leaves, rustling softly as if in agreement with her silent lament.

“The performance is over, and yet I remain,” Furina mused. “What does one do after the curtain falls?”

"Usually," Focalors replied softly, her voice like a distant echo, "one would return home and relish in the freedom that follows."

Furina’s smile grew more fragile, her eyes shimmering with a melancholy that went deeper than words. "Usually... but why," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly, "am I the only one left to grapple with this paradox of freedom—a freedom that feels more like isolation?" The question hung in the air, unanswered and unspoken to anyone but herself.

"500 years is a long time, isn’t it?" Furina whispered, her smile cracking.

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( ... It really is. )

Behind her usual smile, Focalors watched Furina closely, her heart heavy with the weight of her unspoken sorrow. Her humanity before her, the one she had left behind, the one she had hoped would find a life free from the burdens of divinity, was still caught in the cycle of suffering.

She had always been careful, always planning, always anticipating what was to come. And so, before the end came for her, Focalors had left behind a fragment of herself—a tiny sliver of her consciousness—within Furina. It was a precaution, a safeguard against the wrath of Celestia. But more than anything, Focalors had wanted to see the future—the bright and shining future she had envisioned for Furina. A life where she could laugh, love, and grow, as any other human might, free from the burdens that had shaped her existence for centuries.

And yet, as Focalors stood there, gazing at Furina’s fractured spirit, she realized just how wrong she had been. This was not the future she had wanted for her. It was only now, as she watched Furina struggle with the aftermath of it all, that Focalors understood.

She had been selfish. Her wish for Furina had been just that—her wish, not Furina’s. Only 'she' had their full memories and only 'she' who remembers what is like to yearn to become human. It was never truly for Furina—it was for herself. She had wanted to see her human counterpart live out the dream she had never been able to touch.

Thus why, Focalors was, in the end, a sinner—not because she had defied the divine order or deceived the Heavenly Principles, but a sinner against herself, against her own hopes, and most tragically, against Furina—her other half she had cherished the most.

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Furina's gaze drifted to the tea before her, the liquid swirling in the cup, mirroring the chaos within her own mind. "I thought disappearing would be the best course of action. Yet ironically, there are still people who want me to exist—who want me to be a part of their lives. It’s as if my departure has only magnified their need for me, a need that I cannot fulfill in this new, fractured existence."

As she reflected on her recent past, she realized that she could have embraced their offers of help and gestures of kindness from the beginning. Their hands extended toward her could have been a lifeline, a bridge to something new. But then, their concern felt tainted by a sense of past neglect. They had only reached out once she was broken, their gestures coming after years of indifference. Before, she had been nothing more than a thorn in their side, a distant figure whose significance was dismissed until her downfall made her an object of sympathy.

Yet, as images of the people who had genuinely helped her over the past few months flashed in her mind, she was confronted with a new reality. Their support had been earnest and unwavering, a stark contrast to the indifference she had once known. The memory of their kindness and the tangible comfort they provided revealed the true nature of their intentions. At this point, denying their care would be nothing more than self-deception. She realized that only now, in the wake of her own struggles, had she come to accept and appreciate their support.

"You are strong," Focalors said suddenly, her bright, cheerful smile cutting through Furina's thoughts like a ray of light. Her voice was gentle, but it carried a weight that drew Furina's full attention. "Even then, you've always been."

Focalors paused, twirling her tea with an air of playful elegance. She leaned forward slightly, her expression turning earnest. "But there’s one thing I must correct."

"Yes, you are human, and yes, you don’t possess any divine power at all," she said, her smile unwavering. "But not once have you ever been a fake."

"You and I are two parts of the same entity," Focalors said, as she leaned her head on her hand.

She then points her teaspoon toward herself with a flourish. "I am Focalors, the divinity," she said, then pointed at Furina, "and you are Furina, the spirit and the body, our vessel itself. Both of us are the 'Hydro Archon.'"

Focalors leaned back and said "Furina, you are what we were right after Egeria made us into a human being. Even without any divinity within you nor our shared memories, you are and have always been Fontaine’s Hydro Archon."

As she spoke, the world around them seemed to brighten subtly. Though Furina had thought she had moved past these feelings, hearing those words brought an unexpected sense of ease. The guilt of her past deceptions lingered, but she found comfort in knowing that the faith placed in her had not been misplaced.

As Furina began to relax, Focalors looked at her and smiled warmly. She started sharing stories about a variety of topics—fascinating past events, whimsical anecdotes, and even mundane details of everyday life. The conversation was soothing, and Furina listened quietly, savoring the warmth of her tea and the serenity of the moment.

Yet, as Furina absorbed Focalors' narratives, she gained a clearer understanding of the fundamental difference between them and what it meant to be a divinity without humanity.

Though Focalors had their shared memories from before the split, her understanding of human experiences was limited. It seemed that she remembered what it was like to be human but couldn’t fully grasp the depth and subtlety of those experiences. Focalors’ perspective was colored by her divine nature, providing a view of humanity that was both curious and detached.

Her appreciation of human experiences was marked by an almost innocent intrigue, as if they were looking at a beautiful painting they could never step into. This made Furina realize that while Focalors could admire and recount human experiences, they could never truly experience them in the way that Furina, with her human emotions and limitations, could.

To Focalors, what mattered was the end result. The events that transpired, the people who got hurt along the way, even if that person was her own self, were all simply parts of the process. It was a pragmatic, almost detached view of the world.

Perhaps this perspective explained the structure of Fontaine’s judicial system. In order to amass the power of justice, there had to be trials. And to have trials, there had to be someone who committed crimes. The intricate dance of justice and judgment was a mechanism to channel divine power, regardless of the human cost.

"You know," Focalors began, her cheerful demeanor softening, "if you wish to get angry at me, now is your chance. Because I too know that I wronged you."

Furina’s expression remained unreadable as she looked at Focalors.

"Why didn’t you contact me even once afterward?" Focalors continued calmly. "Why didn’t you inform me that the trial was mine to face?"

"Why... did you leave without a word?" Focalors pressed, her smile persisting, though it now seemed more like a fragile shield than an expression of genuine cheer.

The world around them seemed to still, as if holding its breath. Furina’s eyes widened for just a moment, but then she tilted her head, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips.

( Ah... So it wasn’t just Neuvillette—you too were caught in the web of your own making, weren't you, Focalors? The very plan you put into motion became the trap that ensnared you as well. )

If it was Furina from the past, she might just lashed out now in anger and frustration. But the Furina who is here now, face to face with the echo of her divinity, was different. Her anger had burned itself out long ago, replaced by a quiet acceptance.

"Hmm," Furina mused aloud, her voice soft but firm, her gaze unwavering as she locked eyes with Focalors. "I wonder if you’re simply reading my thoughts or if it’s just a well-placed guess."

With a small clink, she set her teacup down, the sound reverberating through the still air like a punctuation mark to her musings. "Regardless," she continued, her tone shifting into something more reflective, "a question has been posed, and an answer is warranted."

Focalors remained silent, her gaze fixed on Furina with an intensity that bordered on fascination.

"I suppose," Furina began, her fingers absently tracing the rim of the teacup as she gathered her thoughts, "deep down, I always knew the answers. Even if I couldn’t fully admit it to myself."

"You know," Furina continued, her voice steady but laden with emotion, "the trial was one thing, but what hurt the most was your decision to leave me out, to leave me behind. It felt as if my existence was an afterthought, like a discarded toy once you grew bored of it."

"And exactly because of that, just like how the perfectly imperfect human you have always thought I was, I ended up lost. Angry. Hurt."

She paused, her thoughts drifting back to the moments that had fractured her sense of self. She remembered shattering the mirror, the outburst in front of Navia and the Traveler, and her intense confrontation with Neuvillette amid the tempest. Each event had cracked the foundation of the identity she had once clung to, revealing the fragile reality beneath.

"Yet," Focalors said gently, "it is precisely your humanity that saved Fontaine."

Furina offered a wistful smile, "I wonder about that. Those 500 years of suffering were my unending reality. It makes me question whether my endurance was truly worth it or if it was simply a cruel twist of fate."

A profound silence settled between them. Focalors broke it with a question, her voice carrying a note of curiosity. "I guess you do resent me, don't you?"

Furina’s eyes, filled with a deep and piercing honesty, met Focalors’. "I would be lying if I denied it," she said, her tone resolute yet tinged with vulnerability. "After all, I am just a human."

"I suppose that’s understandable," Focalors said with a tone of acceptance, her gaze serene.

A heavy silence followed. Furina knew she couldn’t shift all the blame onto Focalors. After all, it was she herself who had accepted the deal, willingly stepping into the role that would shape her fate. The choices she made, the paths she walked—these were hers to own as much as anyone else’s.

After a long pause, Furina finally spoke again, her voice steadier but still carrying a hint of the emotional journey she had endured. "With everything that’s happened," she began, a glimmer of introspection in her eyes, "I’m at least grateful for one thing."

Focalors raised an eyebrow, prompting her to continue. Her confusion deepening as she observed Furina rise slowly from her seat and move toward her.

"Just once," she said softly, "no matter how brief, if the world would permit it, I wanted to see you—the me behind that mirror— at least one last time."

Focalors’ eyes followed Furina as she moved closer.

"Hey, Mirror-me." Furina called softly. "Can I hug you?"

Focalors looked momentarily taken aback, her features softening as she processed the request. With a wistful smile, she replied, "I'm not sure what you get from this but if it brings you comfort, then of course."

With a graceful, almost wistful step, Focalors rose and extended her arms. She immediately embraced Furina with a tenderness that suggested this was something she had longed to do.

Furina, in turn, allowed herself to be enveloped by the warmth and comfort of the gesture, finding a fleeting sense of closure in the moment.

“This comfort isn’t just for me,” Furina murmured, her voice muffled by the embrace. “This is for both of us. Because I’m not the only one suffering.”

Focalors stiffened slightly, confusion shadowing her features.

"Even though I was alone," Furina continued, her voice soft yet piercing, "I was still surrounded by people while waiting for the finale. But you, Focalors, my divine self—through it all, you’ve had only me."

“It’s lonely, wasn’t it?” Furina asked softly.

Focalors’ eyes widened, a flicker of realization crossing her face. She tried to maintain her smile, an attempt to dismiss the raw emotion bubbling within her. But before she could shield herself, Focalors buried her face in Furina’s shoulder, her composure cracking as tears began to fall uncontrollably.

"...Haha... I suppose it was..." Focalors’ voice cracked, her laughter breaking into quiet sobs against Furina's shoulder.

Furina felt the depth of Focalors' sorrow, a grief that mirrored her own. She understands that, just as she had waited through countless performances for her own finale, Focalors had been enduring a parallel agony, watching over her alone for five long centuries while waiting for her literal end, both trapped in their own forms of isolation.

Furina’s embrace tightened, her own tears fell freely. "Me too," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the quiet sobs. "I was lonely as well."

The moment stretched on. They stood there, clinging to one another as their sobs gradually subsided. Focalors, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears, pulled back slightly, seeking to regain her composure. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as she tried to steady her emotions.

“Well,” Focalors said, breaking the silence with a playful tone, trying to steady her voice, “it seems we’ve crafted quite the dramatic spectacle.”

Furina looked at her, a faint smile playing on her lips despite herself. “Indeed, we did earn the spotlight in a grand tragedy after all.”

Focalors chuckled, her mood lifting. “Might as well provide the dramatic score at this point, don't you think?”

Furina’s laughter bubbled up gently, mixing with the emotions that still hovered between them like unspoken words. “A grand crescendo,” she murmured, “that would be fitting. A final swell before the curtain falls.”

“Perfect,” Focalors responded with a theatrical flourish, her arm sweeping wide as if conducting an invisible orchestra. “Just don’t expect me to perform another death scene—I’ve already had my fill of that.”

Furina snorted softly before her laughter rang out—clear and genuine this time, a sound so rare it felt almost foreign on her lips. Focalors joined in, their laughter weaving together like a sweet harmony, reverberating with an unexpected lightness.

The moment was ephemeral, a brief interlude in their ongoing drama. As the echoes of their laughter faded, Furina’s gaze grew thoughtful. She wiped the tears of mirth from her cheeks and said, “That reminds me. I suppose you already knew this, but the other day, I received a flood of letters from many people.”

"Ah, yes," Focalors responded, her voice taking on a note of genuine warmth. "It was quite heartwarming, wasn’t it?"

“It was,” Furina agreed, her gaze turning toward Focalors with a mixture of nostalgia and appreciation. “And as you said, both of us are two halves of the Hydro Archon.”

With a thoughtful expression, Furina snapped her fingers, and the air around them shimmered with a dramatic flair. Letters began to materialize in the space, their crisp edges catching the light like a cascade of snowflakes. Just like an actress who familiar with every script, Furina recalled the content of the letters with perfect clarity. Hundreds of letters gently descended from the sky, mingling with the floating bubbles and creating a cascade of delicate parchment.

“I’ve already received my share of apologies and thank-yous,” Furina said, spreading her arms wide to embrace the ethereal shower of correspondence. “Now it’s your turn.”

She smiled warmly, her expression one of genuine appreciation and profound gratitude. “These are all letters for both of us.”

“Focalors,” Furina said with a wide, heartfelt smile that seemed to illuminate the space. “Though this may not be the ending I envisioned, and though it has come in an unexpected form, I still want to thank you for keeping your promise to me.”

With a touch of solemnity and grace, Furina slowly removed her top hat and held it close to her chest. “On behalf of all Fontainians,” she said with deep sincerity, “I extend my deepest gratitude. Focalors, thank you for protecting Fontaine.”

💧💧💧

Chapter Text

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The Court of Fontaine bustled with life, though the sky above remained stubbornly gray, casting a dim, melancholic light over the city. Despite the overcast skies, a small crowd had gathered in a quiet corner near the edge of the fountain square, their spirits lifted by a magical performance. Lyney and Lynette were captivating the children with their enchanting magic show.

"Watch closely now!" Lyney said with a grin, his voice full of theatrical charm as he flourished his hands. "Because this is where the real magic happens!" With a flick of his wrist, he produced a cascade of tiny shimmering lights that danced in the air, drawing gasps from the children.

Beside him, Lynette remained serene and poised, assisting her brother with the precision and grace of an expert performer. She silently handed him a deck of cards, which he fanned out with a snap of his fingers, causing the cards to levitate in a circle above their heads. The children clapped, their eyes wide with wonder.

As the magic show unfolded, a small girl with large, curious eyes tugged gently at Lyney’s sleeve. Her face was etched with concern as she whispered, her tiny fingers clutching his coat.

"Lyney, Lyney," she whispered, her tiny fingers clutching his coat. "Why is the sky so sad today? Is it because the Lady Archon isn't here anymore? It’s never been this gloomy when she’s around."

At her words, the other children’s faces grew thoughtful, and several nodded in agreement. "Yeah," one boy chimed in, his voice filled with confusion. "Lady Furina always tried her best to make everything cheerful. And when she does, the sky brightens up, like magic. But she hasn’t been around in a long time, and now it feels like the whole city’s... sad."

Lynette glanced briefly at Lyney, her expression unreadable. They were both aware of Furina's current situation from the Fatui’s information network. Though there are some parts that elude them regarding what truly happened back then. Even though Furina had brought Lyney to trial not long ago, he had long since put that behind him. After all, victory had been theirs in the end, and as agents of the Fatui, they were used to navigating such turbulent waters.

Yet, despite the victories and the layers of deception he had grown accustomed to, Lyney couldn’t shake a lingering sense of sympathy for Furina. He, too, was a performer, someone who understood the art of playing a role to perfection. But the thought of being trapped in a never-ending performance, with no intermission, no final curtain call, was something he wouldn’t wish on anyone—whether they were human, Archon, or something else entirely.

Lyney’s ever-present smile wavered slightly as he processed the children’s concerns. He crouched down to their eye level, his tone softening as he sought to comfort them.

“Well, little one,” Lyney began, choosing his words carefully, his usual theatrical flair replaced by a quiet sincerity, “sometimes even the brightest star needs time to rest. Lady Furina... she’s just taking some time for herself. But she’ll be back when she’s ready."

“But the Hydro Dragon is sad too, right?” another child piped up, clutching a small plushie of a dragon in their hands. “Mama says he’s lonely because Lady Furina isn’t around to keep him company.”

Lyney’s smile softened into something more bittersweet, a trace of wistfulness tugging at the corners of his lips. He knew this legend all too well, having heard it often from Freminet. The children’s innocence, while touching, also reflected a deeper truth—one that wasn’t so easily dismissed as a mere story. The truth wasn’t stranger than fiction; in fact, it was all too real. He exchanged another glance with Lynette, who gave him a small nod of encouragement.

Lyney said, his voice gentle, “Well, the Hydro Dragon has always been very close to Lady Furina. He probably misses her a lot, just like we do.”

“But will she come back soon?” the little girl asked again, her wide eyes filled with hope.

For a moment, he felt the weight of her question sink into him. He didn’t have the answers she sought, and the uncertainty gnawed at him. But he couldn’t let her lose that glimmer of hope.

Smiling softly, he reached out to ruffle her hair with a gentle hand. "I’m sure she will," he said, his tone reassuring despite the uncertainty that lingered in his own heart. "And when she does, I bet the sun will shine even brighter than before. Until then, we’ll do our best to keep each other’s spirits up. Just like how you’re all cheering for us right now."

The children nodded, though their expressions were still tinged with a lingering sadness. But as Lyney stood up and resumed the show with Lynette by his side, their laughter returned, carried by the flickering lights and the magic that filled the square.

💧💧💧

In the shadows, a figure watched the twins’ performance with silent intensity. The Knave leaned casually against a nearby wall, her eyes sharp and calculating beneath her hood. The joyful sounds of the children’s laughter were like music to her ears—a fleeting melody of innocence in a world that offered little solace. Even as she indulged in the brief sweetness of the scene, her attention remained sharply focused on the quiet report being delivered by one of her informants.

"I see," she murmured, her voice low and detached as she processed the information. "So, she was at Meropide all this time." Her tone betrayed nothing—no shock, no concern—but in the quiet pause that followed, her thoughts churned with possibilities.

The Knave had only recently returned to Fontaine after a long and arduous journey back from Snezhnaya. She had successfully delivered the Hydro Gnosis to the Tsaritsa. The memory of that meeting played in her mind—how the Tsaritsa’s cold gaze had settled on her as she recounted the events that had unfolded, each detail of her mission meticulously delivered.

When she had finished her report, the Tsaritsa had been silent for a moment. For just a flicker of a second, the Knave thought she saw something in her Archon’s gaze—perhaps a hint of sadness, or regret, quickly buried beneath the layers of frost. Then, with a quiet, measured tone, the Tsaritsa had simply said, "I see." The words had held a weight far greater than their simplicity and with that, the Tsaritsa had disappeared.

Reflecting on it now, the Knave mused on the nature of the Tsaritsa’s coldness. Perhaps, just as the Cryo Archon sought to melt the ice and frost of Snezhnaya, she saw herself in the former Hydro Archon who had once held dominion over the waters of Fontaine. Both Archons were caught in their own tragedies, their power bound by forces greater than themselves.

The Hydro Archon had chosen self-sacrifice as her final act of love for her nation, giving up her divine essence to protect her people. Yet, in the end, she left behind only her humanity. This small, human remnant was not for her people, but for herself—a quiet rebellion against the role she had been forced to play and perhaps a final, quiet gesture of self-compassion.

The Tsaritsa, too, had made her own sacrifices—casting aside her warmth and compassion, emotions that had once defined her, in order to steel herself for the harsh realities of her reign. She had become a figure of unyielding resolve, a ruler who would stop at nothing to achieve her vision of a world free from suffering, even if it meant hardening her heart to the point where it could no longer feel. The once tender ruler was now encased in an impenetrable frost, her emotions locked away, seemingly lost to the world.

Yet, these were only the Knave’s own interpretations, colored by observation and speculation. Ultimately, who could ever truly fathom what went on in Her Majesty’s mind?

The Knave knew better than to try. The Tsaritsa’s thoughts were as unknowable as the deepest winter, veiled in a cold so profound that none dared to penetrate it.

Now back in Fontaine, the Knave’s mind was calculating. The city seemed stagnant on the surface, but she knew better than to be lulled into a false sense of security. If the worst were to come—if the delicate balance holding Fontaine together were to shatter—she might have to consider relocating the children to another nation. The thought was a bitter one, but she couldn’t afford to be sentimental.

Her gaze drifted upwards to the overcast sky, and her mind wandered to the Hydro Dragon—or rather, Fontaine's Chief of Justice. Love, as she knew too well, could be a dangerous force. No one could predict when he might act, or how, but the tension in the air was unmistakable. It felt as though the entire city was holding its breath, waiting for the moment when that fragile equilibrium would be broken.

She sighed softly, her breath barely audible in the dark. "I suppose she’s been protecting this nation in more ways than one," she mused, her voice tinged with something resembling reluctant admiration.

For all her flaws—and they were many—Furina’s resolve was something. And for once, the Knave couldn’t help but at least respect the former Archon's unwavering commitment to her people, even as the world around her fractured.

With a final glance at the children who still entranced by the twins’ magic, the Knave melted back into the shadows. Her departure was as silent and seamless as her arrival, leaving no trace of her presence behind.

💧💧💧

Elsewhere in the Court of Fontaine, Wriothesley was finishing up his report, his expression worn and serious. The Palais Mermonia seemed unusually oppressive today. As he stepped out into the brisk evening air, Clorinde appeared, making her way through the ornate corridors.

"Seems like you’re quite occupied these days. Things must have gotten chaotic on your side," Clorinde remarked, her tone hinting at concern.

Wriothesley let out a dry chuckle, though the frustration in his voice was undeniable. "Complacency is a dangerous thing, Clorinde" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "After all these years, I should've known better than to let my guard down. It’s one thing to have an unknown hidden passage in the fortress, but now there’s someone slipping in and out with ease, leaving hardly a trace… It’s maddening."

Usually, Wriothesley was the one orchestrating these breaches, a calculated risk in his strategic playbook. But this time was different; he had encountered an adversary who had slipped through his every precaution and outmaneuvered him. And what is worse is that this person has a knack for not leaving any trace.

"Have you heard anything from the victim?" Clorinde inquired.

"When we found him, he was tied up in his room," Wriothesley explained. "From his account, the intruder resembled him so closely that he initially thought it was his doppelganger. Not to mention that this person also took care of Fourmon’s needs as long as he stayed in the room."

"So I guess their motive is to get close to Furina, then?" Clorinde deduced, her gaze sharp.

Wriothesley nodded in response. "It seems likely."

Clorinde studied Wriothesley thoughtfully. "Considering neither of us noticed anything despite our close watch on the theatre troupe, this person is indeed skilled," she said quietly. "But we still don’t know what transpired at the time."

"I've already dispatched my men to inspect the scene," Wriothesley replied, his voice tinged with weariness. "The area was disturbingly pristine. Aside from some wet shoe prints, there’s no trace of the intruder. It’s as if they vanished into thin air."

Clorinde raised an eyebrow. "Knowing you, you probably already checked all the visitors, didn't you?"

"Of course," he said, his tone edging on frustration. "There was one suspect, but it turned out to be a case of stolen identity. We’re back to square one. Again."

Clorinde sighed, her brow furrowing in concern as she considered the situation. After a moment, she offered, "If you want, I could ask the Spina di Rosula to assist. They might have a way of uncovering things even we might miss."

Wriothesley hesitated, then nodded. "That would be helpful. They’re better navigating the overworld than my men."

Clorinde nodded in agreement before the conversation shifted, Wriothesley’s expression softening slightly. "By the way," he asked, the concern evident in his voice, "you just came from visiting Furina, didn’t you? How is she?"

Clorinde's expression grew solemn. "According to Sigewinne, Furina is in a state of stasis. Unfortunately, even she is unsure why Furina is in that state."

Wriothesley absorbed the news with a solemn nod. "I see..." he murmured, his gaze drifting towards the distant horizon through the palace windows. A profound silence enveloped them, laden with unspoken worries.

After a moment, Clorinde broke the quiet, her voice a near-whisper as if she feared speaking would shatter the fragile calm around them. "How is he faring?" she asked softly. "I haven’t seen him at all today."

Wriothesley’s face darkened, his gaze turning towards the darkening sky. "We should be grateful that there's no new tempest," he said quietly. "But how long this calm will last, I can’t say."

The evening grew darker around them, the grandeur of the Palais fading into shadow as they stood in silent contemplation. The oppressive weight of their unspoken worries hung heavily in the cool air, marking the quiet moments with a sense of unease that neither was willing to voice aloud.

💧💧💧

In the depths of the Palais, Neuvillette was like a phantom wandering its vast, echoing corridors. Though he still diligently attended to his duties, his every step and word weighed with an unseen burden. Those closest to him could sense it—the quiet storm raging within the usually composed Chief Justice. His focus sometimes wavered as his thoughts continually drifting back to Furina who now lay still and silent in her former room at the top of the Palais Mermonia.

Aides and colleagues, noticing the strain etched across his features, had offered to relieve him of some of his responsibilities. But Neuvillette refused, his voice firm yet devoid of its usual warmth. This was his duty, and his alone. No matter the turmoil of his emotions, Fontaine needed him. This nation, this land she had loved so selflessly, needed him.

As usual, he visited her that day, his footsteps soft against the marble floors. And, as always, Furina remained motionless, her eyes closed as if she were merely in a peaceful slumber. But the stillness in the room, the lifelessness that clung to her, twisted a knife deeper into Neuvillette’s soul each time he saw her like this.

Though he was one of the powerful beings in Teyvat, he was neither omniscient nor omnipotent. Wriothesley's reports indicated the presence of another figure near her at the scene. He had nearly lost control upon hearing that, immediately trying to call upon the memories within the waters, to find any trace of what had transpired. But time and again, something—no, two somethings—stood in his way. An unfamiliar force that intertwined with the very waters he commanded, blocking his every attempt to reach her.

One of these forces, he recognized; the other, something oddly nostalgic but he couldn't put finger on it. But together, they wrapped around her gently like a shield, keeping her alive and yet distant. He clenched his fists, the frustration bubbling beneath his calm facade.

"Was this... part of your plan too, Focalors?" he muttered under his breath, his voice tight with emotion. He could never predict her, not Furina, not Focalors. Both were wildcards, slipping through his grasp just when he thought he understood them.

He gazed at Furina's peaceful sleeping face, the sadness in his eyes deepening. "Why is it," he whispered, "that every time I take my eyes off you, you slip further away?"

His voice cracked ever so slightly, betraying the depths of his despair. For all his power, for all his wisdom, he could not save her from this silent abyss. A knot of regret twisted in his chest, guilt gnawing at him like a slow, relentless tide.

He had even sent a letter requesting consultation from the Dendro Archon in Sumeru, having heard of Lesser Lord Kusanali's abilities over dreams through the Traveler. Unlike many other archons, Neuvillette harbored no animosity toward the young goddess. On the contrary, he had always respected her sense of duty and had held her in high regard.

Yes… Back then, he once compared Furina and Lesser Lord Kusanali in his thoughts. Both were the youngest among the Archons, but he used to see the latter as the more responsible one, while Furina… was prone to her outbursts, her theatrics. He had believed that Furina lacked the same sense of control and duty. Now, looking back, he recognized how misguided and shallow his judgments had been.

He stepped closer to the bed, his hands trembling as he reached out. A lock of her hair had fallen across her forehead, and he gently brushed it aside, his fingers lingering on her cool skin. "I thought... I would learn from my mistakes," he whispered, his voice almost breaking. "I should have been there, by your side. I should have watched you closely."

But he hadn't.

Then, a soft knock broke the silence, pulling him back to reality. He glanced toward the door as it creaked open, revealing Sedene. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes flicking toward Furina before she spoke.

"Monsieur," she said quietly, "the next trial will begin in an hour."

Neuvillette nodded, though his gaze remained fixed on Furina. "... I'll be there," he replied, his voice hollow.

Sedene lingered for a moment before silently retreating from the room, leaving Neuvillette alone with the ticking of the clock echoing in the heavy air.

He sank to his knees beside her bed, his head bowed in silent prayer. Slowly, he reached for her hand, cradling it between his own. Her skin felt cold against his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. His voice trembled as he spoke, barely above a whisper.

His voice, laden with emotion, broke the silence as he spoke, barely more than a whisper. “Wake up soon,” he murmured, his breath warm against her unmoving hand. “Furina.”

💧💧💧

Back in the world deep in Furina's consciousness, they sat together on a soft patch of grass, surrounded by hundreds of scattered letters. While Focalors carefully sifted through the letters, reading them one by one, Furina lay back, gazing up at the surreal sky. Bubbles floated lazily around her, mingling with other fantastical objects drifting aimlessly in the air.

As Furina’s mind wandered, she couldn’t help but ponder the situation unfolding outside.

( I wonder how those back in Fontaine are reacting to me not waking up. Will they be worried, or will they move on without me? )

She pondered, a tinge of worry creeping into her mind.

( Let's just hope Neuvillette doesn’t end up flooding Fontaine because of this... It unlikely but considering how he is recently, he might ended up doing something drastic if he's too overwhelmed. )

The weight of her worry hovered as she observed the curious sight before her.

"Focalors," Furina began, her voice tinged with innocent curiosity as her gaze fixed on a floating book bound by heavy chains. "What are those chained books?"

Focalors lowered the letter she was reading and followed Furina's gaze to the floating tome. “Oh, those,” she began, “they are our memories—memories from before our split.”

Furina’s eyes widened at the mention of memories.

( Memories… )

She repeated in her mind, the word reverberating through her thoughts.

What had she been like before 'Furina' existed? Who had she been before the separation from Focalors, before the title of Archon had been thrust upon her, and before the weight of Fontaine’s expectations had shaped her every move?

Noticing the flicker of interest in Furina’s expression, Focalors chuckled softly, the sound tinged with both amusement and melancholy.

“I could unlock them,” she said, her tone more serious now, laced with an undercurrent of caution. She let her words hang in the air for a moment before continuing, “I could give everything back to you. Every memory. Every emotion. Every truth about who we once were.”

As she spoke, one of the chained books floated into her hand. Furina’s heart skipped a beat. She watched as Focalors gently cradled the book in her hands. Its chains rattled softly, almost as if it were alive.

"But..." Focalors’ voice lowered to a whisper, the weight of her words settling like a shadow over the room. "If I did that, there’s a chance… you might not be you anymore." Her gaze locked onto Furina’s, her eyes filled with an unspoken warning. "What you are now—'Furina'—is shaped by the absence of those memories and the accumulation of your own experience for all those centuries. If I return them to you all at once, the 'Furina' you are now might cease to exist."

Focalors’ eyes softened, “Memories are a powerful thing,” she continued, her voice a careful blend of warning and understanding. “They are the essence of who we once were, of what we could be again. But they also hold the potential to consume you, to blur the lines between who you are now and who you were before. Once those lines are crossed, there’s no going back.”

Furina instinctively moved her hand to touch her chest, where the faint pulse of her essence resonated beneath her fingers. The thought of possibly losing the 'Furina' she had become, of sacrificing her present self for fragments of a past she doesn't even remember, was overwhelming.

Focalors seemed to sense her internal struggle and continued with a reassuring tone. “Do not worry. To mitigate such risks, I divided the memories into pieces and bound each one into a separate book. Only when the time is right will each book open itself to you.”

She examined the book in her hands, the chains loosening and the lock disintegrating with a soft click. “Ah, this one seems particularly intriguing,” she said, her eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. With a graceful movement, she extended the book toward Furina. “Would you like to read it?”

Furina hesitated, her voice laced with caution. “Will this affect ‘me’?”

Focalors merely smiled, an enigmatic expression that seemed to say, “Why not discover it for yourself?”

Furina glanced at Focalors, her heart pounding in her chest. The thought of potentially losing herself, of not being able to distinguish between her past and present selves, was unsettling. Yet, despite the fear gnawing at her, her trust in Focalors and her insatiable curiosity outweighed her trepidation. So, she reached out and took the book. Her fingers gently brushed against the cover. As she opened it, bracing herself for whatever truth lay within.

But instead of a flood of disorienting memories, she found herself immersed in something far different—a mystery novel. The story revolved around a servant working in an opulent mansion, her life seemingly ordinary but filled with hidden dangers.

As Furina continued reading, a peculiar sense of familiarity washed over her, like the echo of a long-forgotten melody. The names on the page—Gentilhomme Usher, Surintendante Chevalmarin, and Mademoiselle Crabaletta—seemed to resonate within her, stirring memories she couldn’t quite place. She paused, her eyes narrowing as she tried to grasp the fleeting connection. Had she encountered this story before?

The realization crept in slowly, like the first hints of dawn after a long night. Yes, she had read this story before, hadn’t she? But where? The details were hazy, slipping through her mind like grains of sand through her fingers. She dug deeper into her memories, searching for the answer.

It came to her suddenly, a fragment of her past that she had nearly forgotten. In a library in Fontaine, years ago—in the midst of her desperate search for a solution to the ever-looming flood. The memory was vivid now: a quiet afternoon spent among towering shelves and faded parchments, the scent of old books heavy in the air. She had stumbled upon a relatively unknown book during a moment of rare respite, a brief escape from the weight of her responsibilities.

She recalled how she had once admired the lives of the maid and the other servants, envying their simple joys and their unyielding courage. The maid had faced an ancient, terrifying secret in the mansion, risking everything to protect the life she had built—a life of small moments, yet rich with meaning.

The story drew Furina in completely, its world enveloping her like an old, cherished memory. She wasn’t entirely sure which part of this story was connected to her and Focalors' shared past, but that didn’t seem to matter. She was captivated nonetheless, happily lost in the words again. After all, she had always loved these kinds of stories—she always had.

💧💧💧

In the grand expanse of Fontaine Library, shelves towering high and laden with ancient tomes and scrolls created a serene backdrop. The soft rustling of pages and the occasional murmur of distant conversations filled the air. Wanderer and Nahida, two visitors from Sumeru, wandered through the labyrinth of bookshelves.

Wanderer, clad in his signature wide-brimmed hat and deep blue cloak, moved with a mixture of impatience and disinterest. His eyes roved over the dusty spines of countless volumes, his brow furrowed in irritation. “I still don’t understand why I had to come along,” he grumbled, his voice tinged with annoyance. “And don’t even get me started on this dreary weather. Fontaine’s skies are as gray as an old scroll.”

Nahida, with her characteristic calm demeanor, chuckled softly. Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she plucked a book from a nearby shelf, its cover worn with age. “Oh, come on. You’re not enjoying the change of scenery?” She flipped through the pages, her gaze drifting over the text. “Besides, I rarely get the chance to leave Sumeru. Fontaine’s atmosphere is quite fascinating in its own way.”

A few days prior, Nahida received a letter of consultation from none other than Fontaine's Chief of Justice. Although she typically communicated through dreams, she saw this as an opportunity to explore beyond Sumeru’s borders. To ease her people's concerns about her traveling alone, she brought Wanderer along, preferring his company over a larger entourage.

Wanderer sighed, rolling his eyes. “It’s not the atmosphere I’m complaining about. The constant overcast is a real downer. I heard the Hydro Dragon, or whatever they call it, is upset. That’s why the skies are so bleak.”

Nahida’s laughter was soft and light. “Words on the street, indeed. It seems the Hydro Dragon’s melancholy is reflected in Fontaine’s weather. Quite poetic, don’t you think?”

"Poetic or not, it’s more of a nuisance, I’d say." Wanderer replied, his tone conveying his dissatisfaction.

As they continued their stroll through the library, Nahida’s curiosity turned towards her companion. “Aren’t you at least a little curious about the last Hydro Archon? Or should I say, Furina de Fontaine? The one who managed to defy fate itself?”

Both had heard stories about her from the Traveler, but Wanderer fell silent, his expression thoughtful. Nahida, sensing his introspection, delicately traced her fingers along the spines of the books they passed. “I thought you might find her story particularly interesting, given your own experiences with fate.”

Wanderer clicked his tongue in acknowledgment, the weight of the conversation settling in. “Anyways, we should get going now. The appointment time is approaching.”

He glanced at the large clock mounted on the library wall, its hands ticking steadily toward the appointed hour.

Nahida followed his gaze, then nodded in agreement. With a final glance at the towering shelves and the sea of knowledge they held, she placed back the book she had been examining and followed Wanderer. Together, they exited the library, stepping into the dim light of Fontaine’s overcast skies.

💧💧💧

The skies over Fontaine were a  gray as Neuvillette stood by the grand fountain in the heart of the city, his thoughts a turbulent sea masked by his usual stoic expression. He had received word that Lesser Lord Kusanali, the Dendro Archon, had arrived at the Court of Fontaine.

 
As Neuvillette waited, the first to approach was a figure clad in a deep blue cloak and a wide-brimmed hat. He moved with casual confidence, his sharp gaze sweeping over the surroundings before briefly resting on Neuvillette. Behind him walked a small figure, a child in white and green whose steps were light and purposeful. Neuvillette immediately recognized her—Lesser Lord Kusanali.

“Thank you for coming, Lesser Lord Kusanali,” Neuvillette greeted her, his voice steady and composed. “And this person is?”

“Just call him Hat Guy. You can also call me Nahida, for simplicity's sake. Hat Guy will be my escort, if you don’t mind,” Nahida replied, her tone carrying a hint of playfulness. She turned to Neuvillette with a small, disarming smile. “I received your letter, Monsieur Neuvillette. I thought it would be nice to have a little getaway here, so don’t be too formal,” she added, her smile warming the chilly air.

Neuvillette acknowledged her words with a nod. With formalities aside, they entered the Palais Mermonia, its grand halls echoing with the quiet steps of the few who still walked them. The trio entered a special lift, which carried them smoothly toward the top floor, the silence between them almost tangible.

As the lift ascended, Nahida broke the silence with a thoughtful remark, a small smile playing on her lips. "It’s actually rather remarkable," she began, her voice carrying a tone of quiet admiration. "Given the circumstances, it’s hard to believe that the two of you could work together so closely for all these years."

( As expected of the Goddess of Wisdom and the avatar of Irminsul. It seems she has deduced my identity with ease. )

He glanced briefly at Hat Guy, then back at Nahida. The fact that she could speak so freely, even with the Hat Guy present, suggested to Neuvillette that her companion was well-informed, privy to delicate matters.

Neuvillette's stoic facade softening for a moment. "It wasn’t easy," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I’ve come to realize that… there are things worth setting aside differences for. Furina is one of them."

His last words were spoken even quieter, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to Nahida, the weight of his emotions carefully concealed beneath his calm exterior.

Nahida observed him quietly for a moment before her smile grew a little warmer. "I must admit, I’m a bit envious," she confessed. "The Dendro Dragon, Apep, holds a deep-seated grudge against me or perhaps it is more accurate to say against all of 'us.' It’s a resentment that burns with an intensity I don’t think will ever fade. At least, not anytime soon."

Neuvillette listened in silence, his gaze thoughtful as he took in her words. Unlike him, who had been reborn and was still considered young by dragon standards, the Dendro Dragon was truly a relic of the olden days. Apep was one of the last remnants of a time long past, a time when dragons like her had fought alongside their Dragon King Nibelung in the War of Vengeance.

"It can't be helped I suppose. I am bound by my role, just as Apep is bound by hers,” Nahida continued, her voice steady yet reflective. “Sometimes, even with all the understanding in the world, peace is not always achievable. Especially for those of us who have lived as long as we have, it takes time—an immeasurable amount of time.”

💧💧💧

As they arrived at Furina’s chamber, a heavy silence fell over them. The room was cloaked in an unsettling stillness, the air thick with a sense of foreboding. Furina lay on a grand, ornate bed, her once-vibrant form now delicate and ghostly pale.

Neuvillette’s gaze softened as he approached her side, but a sharp ache twisted inside him. He quickly stepped back, allowing Nahida to move forward.

Nahida extended her hand over Furina, her eyes closing as she drew upon her powers. Emerald green tendrils of Dendro energy manifested in the air, swirling around Furina in intricate patterns. The energy wrapped around her like vines of life, pulsating softly as Nahida focused deeper.

Hat Guy stood off to the side, arms crossed, his sharp gaze never leaving Neuvillette. After a moment of observing, he finally spoke, his voice tinged with his usual sarcasm. “You know, while walking around the city, it’s rather amusing how the story gets twisted. After everything she’s done and all the sacrifices she’s made, it’s almost 'poetic' how things get presented to the people.”

Neuvillette, his gaze fixed on Nahida’s work, responded with a hint of defensiveness. “We need to maintain order, after all. Not everyone can grasp the complexities of divine matters. There are reasons behind the decisions made, even if they’re not always visible.”

Hat Guy, his tone dripping with sarcasm, gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Order? Sure, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s a rather convenient way of trying to gloss over past mistakes. It’s not every day you see someone of her stature being reduced to such a state."

Hat Guy leaned back, his expression a mix of cynicism and disdain. “How many months have passed since that so-called prophecy was thwarted? Without a proper explanation, many will only see her as a sinner because of the spectacle you all have made of her. So much for a nation of Justice. And for someone who claims to care about her, I’m rather impressed you’ve done nothing to address it.”

Neuvillette’s jaw tightened, a retort forming on his lips, but Hat Guy cut him off before he could speak, his words laced with a deeper bitterness. “But then again, this seems to be a common trait among you gods and goddesses, doesn’t it? You make decisions from your own perspective, without fully considering the long-term consequences for those affected. It’s as if the gravity of your choices never truly settles in until it’s too late.” There was a hint of personal frustration in his voice, a rare crack in his otherwise doll-like facade.

Just then, Nahida’s eyes fluttered open, breaking the charged silence. Her expression had darkened significantly, her gaze now devoid of warmth and heavy with a grim understanding. Both Neuvillette and Hat Guy ceased their chatter and turned to face her.

“It’s a curse,” she whispered.

Neuvillette felt a cold dread settle deep in his chest. “A curse?” he repeated, the word tasted bitter on his tongue.

“Has she been experiencing nightmares before this?” Nahida asked, her tone probing, though she already seemed to know the answer.

Neuvillette nodded, a shadow crossing his features. He had known about the nightmares—had seen her suffer in silence—but he had never imagined they could have such a sinister cause.

Nahida’s voice was soft but grave. "A curse has slipped into her by masquerading as her nightmares. These nightmares are not just random fears. They are tailored to target the deepest insecurities and traumas of the victim. As the victim becomes more entangled in these dreams, their fear and despair grow, creating a feedback loop. The curse draws strength from this emotional turmoil, gradually sapping their vitality at the same time their will to live. Now, she’s trapped in a form of eternal slumber—not dead, but waiting for death to claim her."

The room seemed to darken at her words, the weight of them pressing down like an unseen force. Neuvillette clenched his fists, struggling to maintain his composure as a surge of helplessness and fury coursed through him.

"Who…" he began, but his voice faltered. His mind raced with possibilities, but one answer loomed above all others. He glanced at Nahida, and in her solemn gaze, he found the confirmation he dreaded.

Celestia.

The unspoken word hung between them, heavier than any spoken sentence could be. The shimmering glow of Hydro energy flared around him, crackling with the force of his barely contained rage. The atmosphere in the room grew oppressive as though the very walls themselves were holding their breath.

The Hat Guy, sensing the shift in energy, tensed, his hand twitching to summon his element. For a moment, he stood on alert, ready to respond to any sudden threat. But Nahida, sensing his readiness, cast him a calming glance. Their silent communication was brief but effective. With a resigned click of his tongue, the Hat Guy relaxed, resuming his indifferent stance against the wall, as though none of this concerned him any longer.

Nahida turned her full attention back to Neuvillette, her demeanor a mix of grave concern and calm assurance. “Thankfully, for now, she is stable,” she said.

“For now?” Neuvillette echoed, the concern in his voice unmistakable.

Nahida nodded, her expression a mix of solemnity and resolve. “Yes, for now. You noticed the two energies protecting her, didn’t you?"

Nahida then continued, "I’m not entirely sure what the second one is, but the first one appears to be the last remnants of her divinity and it seems to have create a sanctuary deep within her sea of consciousness—a place that remains untouched by the curse."

Neuvillette had already knew about the first energy. He had no doubt that it was Focalors who had been protecting Furina at this moment.

Struggling to maintain his composure, Neuvillette’s fingers tightened into a fist, his knuckles white with tension. “Is there any way to remove the curse?” he asked

“At present, I’m too at a loss as there is little I can do directly. Even I cannot breach that sanctuary, which, in this case, is somewhat reassuring. However, it’s evident that this protective energy is gradually diminishing.”

She paused, then continued, a note of cautious optimism in her tone. “But there is a glimmer of hope. If the sanctuary is indeed weakening and if Furina herself has the will to escape, the guide I sent within her sea of consciousness could be a help to her."

Neuvillette’s gaze sharpened, a flicker of hope in his eyes despite the bleak prognosis. “And what are the chances of success?”

Nahida’s face grew somber. “The chances are incredibly slim. It’s a delicate process with only a faint possibility of success.”

Neuvillette’s expression hardened as he absorbed the weight of Nahida’s words. “Ultimately, it will be Furina herself who will determines her own fate. All we can do now is wait,” she said quietly.

💧💧💧

With their hands largely tied at the moment, they could only cling to the hope that things would resolve favorably in the end. After the conversation, Neuvillette escorted Nahida and the Hat Guy to the Palais entrance. As they descended down the lift, Nahida broke the silence with a contemplative tone. 

“When I first heard about her story, I was truly amazed, you know. And perhaps, I empathize with her just a little.” Her voice carried a trace of personal reflection, her gaze distant as if recalling a distant memory. “After all, I understand what it’s like to be bound by duty and was cast aside by those you’ve strived to protect.”

Neuvillette kept silent. He was aware of Nahida’s own troubled past—the tale of the Dendro Archon’s confinement by her own people for 500 long years. It was only recently that she finally escaped from her confinement with the help of the Traveler.

Neuvillette sighed as he looked at the young goddess in front of him. In a way, their stories are intersected, bound by a shared sense of sacrifice and duty. Each had been cast into shadows for the greater good of their nations, both bearing the weight of their roles in ways that few could truly understand.

Nahida continued, her voice imbued with a mix of admiration and melancholy. “That’s why I wanted to see her at least once. The person who dared to defy fate itself, and who, despite all odds, succeeded in saving her nation—her courage is nothing short of extraordinary. It’s a feat that demands recognition, and one that I find deeply inspiring.”

When they reached the front door of Palais Mermonia, Nahida lightly jumped down the staircase, her movements as graceful as a falling leaf. She paused at the base of the steps, turning back to face Neuvillette with a blend of wisdom and childlike innocence in her eyes. “We just have to believe,” she said, her smile gentle and hopeful. “She will wake up. And when that happens, please tell her that I, Nahida, wanted to be her friend.”

For a moment, time seemed to still. The quiet resolve in Nahida’s voice carried a weight that transcended mere words, and Neuvillette found himself deeply moved. He glanced briefly at the Hat Guy who stood beside her, his expression a mix of indifference and cautious watchfulness. Hat Guy’s sharp eyes flicked toward Neuvillette, as if assessing him, before glancing away, uninterested.

Neuvillette closed his eyes momentarily, a deep sense of resolve settling over him. “I will convey your message to her without fail,” he said, his voice steady and unwavering.

💧💧💧

Within her timeless sanctuary, Furina felt as if she existed in a dream—one that was peaceful and even pleasant. But like all dreams, it was fading, slipping away like water through her fingers.

Focalors had explained the nature of the curse to her. While many of the nightmares she had endured were mere manifestations of her own mind, some were curses designed to ensnare her in an eternal slumber. Just as the curse was about to claim its victory, Focalors had swiftly intervened, drawing her into this sanctuary instead.

“So, do you know what is happening now in the real world?” Furina inquired, her voice tinged with both concern and curiosity.

"Currently, you are in a peaceful slumber back in reality and it seems the people on the other side are doing everything they can to help you," Focalors replied, her gaze soft and reassuring. "In the meantime, I’ve been doing my best to sustain your life. Oh and curiously, there is something else assisting as well."

"Something else?" Furina asked curiously.

"Yes," Focalors admitted, her brow furrowing slightly as she shook her head. "I cannot identify it precisely but it has been a great help nonetheless. With my waning strength, my capabilities are limited to merely preserving your existence for now."

As she spoke, her hand began to shimmer, the edges of her form softening, becoming transparent like rippling water.

"I’m reaching my limit now," Focalors said with a soft chuckle, her voice lighter than usual. "It’s getting harder to maintain this form." As she spoke, her skin began to dissolve, melting away into a graceful cascade of hydro. In a matter of moments, Focalors transformed into an oceanid, her body shimmering like liquid starlight, adorned with a regal crown of water.

Furina blinked in awe, her breath catching in her throat. “That form…”

“This is what we looked like before we took on our human form.” Focalors replied, her voice gentle yet resonant, like the lapping of waves. She twirled in her oceanid form, her movements fluid and graceful, like a dance long forgotten but never lost.

“I see…” Furina murmured, her eyes wide as she took in the sight. It was beautiful, strange, and somehow deeply familiar. A part of her longed to reach out and touch the water that made up Focalors’ body, but she refrained, simply watching in awe.

With a graceful spin, Focalors shifted back into her humanoid form, her feet gently landing on the grass. She looked at Furina with an expression that held both warmth and sorrow. "It’s time," she said softly.

Neither of them needed to say it, but they both knew this would be the last time they will face one another. Focalors stood quietly, her gaze steady, patiently waiting for Furina to make her decision. And Furina, like always, understood her intentions fully.

“If I leave this place, will death be the one to greet me?” Furina asked lightly, a hint of a smile in her voice.

"I don't know." Focalors said as she shook her head.

“Then if there’s even a chance that a miracle might happen, will you tell me to live?” Furina’s voice was light, almost teasing, but her eyes betrayed a vulnerability that spoke of deep uncertainty.

Focalors smiled faintly. “I would like that very much,” she replied softly. “But in the end, it’s your choice. Because this time, I can’t promise you that everything will be okay.”

The reflection in the mirror was gone now; there was no more mirror-me to lean on. Furina felt the weight of that truth settling over her, heavier than she expected. She took a deep breath, steadying herself.

“When everything came to an end that day, I truly wished for it all to stop,” Furina admitted quietly. “For the endless hours to cease, for my life to come to an end. And even now… that thought still lingers, hiding beneath the surface.”

Focalors’ eyes softened, an understanding smile tugging at her lips. “I see,” she whispered, no judgment in her tone, only quiet acceptance.

Furina fell silent, lost in her thoughts. She knew the choice before her, the path she could take, but the answer didn’t come easily. The same question kept repeating. Did she want to live? Does she even have the strength to keep going?

“Honestly, I still don’t know,” Furina said slowly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

After a lengthy pause, her breath felt like a fragile promise as she added, “But... I’ll try.” she said, the words a soft yet resolute declaration.

It wasn’t a bold proclamation, nor a grand vow. It was simply a promise—a quiet commitment to herself, to find the strength to keep moving forward, even if she didn’t fully believe in it yet.

This was the same promise she had made to Neuvillette not long ago, though the circumstances then had been different, clouded by the raw emotions of anger and pain. But now, there was no anger, no bitterness fueling her resolve. This time, the promise was born from a place of quiet acceptance—a recognition of her fears and her doubts, but also of her will to keep moving forward, however uncertain the future might be.

Focalors’s eyes widened in response, a look of hopeful surprise crossing her face. “That’s a good start,” she said softly. “I’ll continue to sustain your life for as long as I can. I can’t predict how much longer I’ll be able to, but… I too will do my best.”

Then, Focalors lowered her gaze to her hand. She flexed them slowly, almost experimentally, as though testing the boundaries of her fragile form. A small, contemplative smile played on her lips as she mused aloud, "Hmm… I suppose I still have a little time to spare."

Furina looked up, confused. Focalors’ expression brightened, her smile radiant and warm. “Furina, I have a gift for you,” she said.

“A gift?” Furina asked, puzzled. She watched as Focalors took a few graceful steps back, her movements flowing like water, fluid and ethereal. Then, without warning, Focalors began to sing.

The melody unfurled like a ribbon in the wind, delicate yet powerful, filling the space around them with an ethereal beauty.

Furina stood entranced, the sound wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. It was a song unlike any she had heard before—each note was pure, resonating deep within her heart. The melody seemed to carry with it the warmth of the sun and the coolness of the ocean’s depths. Furina felt lighter, as though the burdens weighing her down had momentarily lifted, replaced by a fragile sense of peace.

The song built slowly to its end, the final notes lingering in the air like the last rays of sunlight before dusk. “If you ever feel lost or sad,” she whispered, “let this song be your guide. Let it lift you up, even if only a little.”

The two stood silently for a moment, absorbing the stillness that followed. There was no need for any more extra words; they both understood the significance of this moment.

“Farewell, Focalors,” Furina whispered, her voice tinged with a bittersweet acceptance.

“Farewell, Furina,” Focalors responded softly, her tone imbued with a blend of warmth and quiet pride.

Divinity and humanity, two sides of the same coin, mirrored each other as they shared a final, elaborate bow. It was a gesture of mutual respect, of understanding the delicate balance they had once shared.

Then, with a graceful wave, Focalors transformed back into her oceanid form, her body shimmering like liquid starlight. For a brief moment, she hovered in the air before dissolving into a single drop of water, disappearing completely.

Furina watched until the last trace of her divine self faded away, leaving her alone in the vastness of her inner world. Silence enveloped her, a deep and profound stillness that seemed to stretch on forever. The duet had drawn to a close, and now only she remained, leaving her solitary in the echo of her own existence.

💧💧💧

Chapter Text

💧💧💧

A grand meeting was convened at the Palais Mermonia. The opulent hall was abuzz with an air of expectation as Neuvillette prepared to address a carefully selected assembly of powerful figures. Among the attendees were the Duke of Meropide, the esteemed President of Spina di Rosula, and even the Fourth Harbinger from the House of Hearth.

To ensure that the story reached every corner of Fontaine and beyond, Neuvillette had also invited journalists from the Steambird, alongside various freelance reporters. The hall was filled with the hum of eager whispers and the clatter of note-taking.

"Without a proper explanation, many will only see her as a sinner because of the spectacle you all have made of her."

What the Hat Guy said to him had been echoing in his mind since then.

The room fell into a hushed silence as Neuvillette prepared to speak. He had meticulously crafted his speech, knowing that some details would remain unsaid. The line between transparency and discretion was thin, and he struggled with the choice of what to reveal.

His heart raced with a mix of anxiety and resolve. It was rare for him to be nervous; he was accustomed to navigating the complexities of governance with steady hands. But today, the stakes were higher than ever. The eyes of the nation, and perhaps even the world, were upon him.

As he prepared to address the assembly, doubts gnawed at him. He wondered if this was indeed the right course of action. In the past, the administration had strived to sidestep conflict, opting instead for cover-ups and diplomatic solutions to avoid stirring public unrest. The truth about the Hydro Archon, about Furina's fate and her immense sacrifice, had been obscured under layers of secrecy and half-truths.

But now, as the Nation of Justice stood on the precipice of a new era, Neuvillette recognized that the time had come to confront these buried truths. Fontaine, renowned for its principles of justice, could no longer afford to perpetuate illusions. The people deserved to know the full extent of the sacrifice made by the God they revered, to understand the gravity of her actions and the true nature of her sacrifice.

This was his opportunity to repair the fractured essence of Fontaine’s justice and to honor Furina’s legacy with the respect she truly deserved.

💧💧💧

Meanwhile, Furina remained alone in her peaceful inner world. The sound of waves lapping gently against an unseen shore and the distant calls of birds filled the air, creating a serene yet haunting atmosphere. She stood still, gazing out at the endless horizon, where the sky met the sea in a seamless blend of muted colors.

( Now then, what should I do? )

The thought echoed through her mind, a question without an answer. But as if the world itself had heard her inner musing, a soft glow appeared before her. An emerald crystalfly fluttered into existence, its wings glistening like shards of precious stone in the dim light.

( Oh? )

Furina’s eyes widened in surprise as she watched the tiny creature drift lazily through the air. It circled her once before flying toward something behind her. She turned to follow its path and gasped softly.

A grand and ornate door had materialized before her, its surface adorned with intricate carvings that shimmered faintly in the ethereal light of her dreamlike realm. The designs were delicate, almost too perfect, as though the door itself had been crafted by divine hands. There was an undeniable allure to it, a quiet pull that urged her forward.

“Am I supposed to open that door?” Furina asked aloud, her voice soft and unsure.

The crystalfly hovered gently in front of the door, its wings beating with a serene rhythm, as if beckoning her forward. Its presence felt almost like an answer, a silent affirmation.

( I guess that's a yes. )

Furina took a deep breath, feeling her heart race beneath her ribcage. The air around her seemed to thrum with anticipation as she approached the door, her footsteps echoing in the quiet void. Her fingers hovered over the golden doorknob, its cool metal grounding her in the moment.

( Whether death greets me on the other side, or something else entirely… )

She closed her eyes. She knew, with a certainty that came from somewhere deep within, that it was time to face whatever lay beyond.

The door creaked open, the sound echoing through the vast emptiness as if the world itself held its breath. Furina hesitated for only a second before stepping forward, her heart pounding in her chest. She half-expected to be greeted by the familiar surroundings of Fontaine or some vestige of the reality she had once known. Instead, what met her eyes was beyond anything she could have imagined.

Around her, the world transformed into a breathtaking vision of beauty—an endless expanse of starry skies. The stars twinkled like distant jewels against a backdrop of deep indigo and purple, their light casting a gentle glow on the translucent path beneath her feet.

The path stretched out before her, winding its way through this celestial landscape, and she couldn’t help but take a moment to marvel at the beauty around her. The infinite expanse was peaceful, almost serene, and for a moment, Furina allowed herself to relish the view, feeling a brief flicker of calm settle within her.

But before long, the emerald crystalfly fluttered in front of her face, its gentle glow pulling her attention back. Its wings beat steadily, as though urging her forward.

( I seemed like it want me to follow it. )

The translucent path beneath her felt firm yet insubstantial, like walking on starlight itself. As she moved forward, she noticed something strange—scattered along the path were other doors, each one different from the next. Some were grand and ornate, others simple and unadorned, yet all seemed to hum with a quiet, hidden energy.

Her eyes flicked from one door to the next, curiosity tugging at her mind, but the crystalfly continued onward, leading her deeper into the starry expanse. After what felt like an eternity of walking, they finally stopped in front of another door. This one was unlike the others she had passed. It was plain—a simple wooden door, weathered and unassuming, with no decorations or embellishments to set it apart. It seemed almost out of place amidst the grandeur of the cosmic landscape surrounding them.

She reached out as her fingers brushed against the rough wood. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Her breath caught in her throat as she was suddenly enveloped in a boundless expanse of white—a vast, featureless void that seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions. The starry sky she had just left behind now felt distant, like a half-remembered dream, and the sheer emptiness of the space around her was disorienting. It was as though the entire world had been wiped clean, leaving nothing but this endless, suffocating whiteness.

Her thoughts swirled, a knot forming in her stomach. The eerie silence around her pressed in, thick and heavy, amplifying her unease. Furina’s breathing became shallow as she took a hesitant step forward, the sound of her footfall swallowed instantly by the surrounding void.

Then, without warning, the silence shattered. A voice—deep, commanding, and ancient—boomed from all directions, its regal tone filling the emptiness with a presence so powerful that it seemed to make the void tremble.

"One sees that thou hast finally come to terms with thyself."

Furina froze, her heart pounding as her eyes darted around, searching for the source of the voice. The atmosphere around her shifted suddenly—what had once been merely empty now felt charged, ominous, and ancient.

Suddenly, a sickening crunch echoed through the void. Her gaze snapped to the source, and she saw the emerald crystalfly that had guided her being crushed within a massive, scaly hand.

She raised her gaze slowly and unwillingly, and her eyes widened in shock. Towering above her, shimmering with a luminous rainbow sheen, was a colossal dragon. Its presence was overwhelming, the sheer scale of it filling her with awe and fear.

Startled, Furina staggered back, nearly losing her balance as the massive creature regarded her with eyes that seemed to see into the depths of her very soul.

( Maybe I should have just stayed and wait quietly in my peaceful inner world. )

The thought crossed her mind, a wistful lament. She had steeled herself for the possibility of death, but she had not anticipated confronting a dragon—an awe-inspiring yet terrifying presence.The dragon's sheer scale and power were overwhelming, its form majestic and imposing, filling the vast expanse with its intimidating grandeur.

In contrast, even the most mundane aspects of her previous world, like Neuvillette's gentle demeanor, now seemed impossibly endearing in her memory.

The dragon raised the hand that had crushed the crystalfly. As he revealed the crushed remnants, Furina’s eyes widened as the colors shifted from emerald to red and black before dissolving into tiny, shimmering cubes that vanished completely.

"Hmph. Those imbeciles never change even if it just an echo," the dragon rumbled, its voice dripping with disdain. He then fixed his gaze on Furina, who was still frozen in fear.

"One supposes this appearance is a bit... inconvenient for a proper conversation," the dragon mused, its voice rumbling like distant thunder. "Very well. Since One is in a rather pleasant mood, One shall adopt a form more suited to thy kind."

In an instant, the dragon's immense form began to shift, its scales rippling like water before shrinking down. Within moments, the towering beast was gone, replaced by a tall, striking man. He stood before her with an air of authority, his features sharp and regal, his presence no less imposing than before. His eyes gleamed with an otherworldly light, and a self-assured smirk played at the corners of his lips.

Out of nowhere, a magnificent throne appeared behind him, as though summoned by his will alone. He lowered himself onto it with effortless grace, lounging with an air of supreme arrogance, his gaze never leaving Furina.

"One shall bow to none," he proclaimed, his voice imbued with divine disdain. "For One is he who once ruled over all of Teyvat." He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing with a perilous glint. "One is the erstwhile Dragon King, Nibelung."

Furina gulped, feeling a cold sweat trickling down the back of her neck. 

( Dragon King? You mean the one who had once warred with Celestia in the past? That one?? )

Though she didn’t know many details, she remembered trying to learn more about the dragons when Neuvillette first came to the Court of Fontaine. Unfortunately, there weren’t many relevant materials, and Neuvillette himself had memory issues, so she hadn’t gained much information. The little she did know was that the dragons, led by King Nibelung, had once ruled the world. 

They had warred with Celestia and had been all but lost as a result. It was after this cataclysmic event that the Archon War began, eventually leading to the crowning of the Seven Archons, with her predecessor, Egeria, being the last to be chosen.

Furina looked at the Dragon King and tried to force a smile, hoping to diffuse the tension in the air.

"Uhh... I think I've entered the wrong place. Haha," she chuckled nervously, her voice cracking slightly. "I'll just… head back now."

She turned on her heel, desperately searching for the wooden door she had come through. But her heart sank as soon as she realized—it was gone. Vanished into thin air as if it had never existed. Panic began to rise in her chest.

Nibelung chuckled darkly, a low, rumbling sound that did chill her to the bone. His eyes shone with a dangerous mirth, reveling in her unease. "Though to witness thee cower in fear is a most entertaining sight, tremble not, child," The dragon king spoke, voice dripping with condescension. "One hath no intention to strike thee down… not yet."

He paused, savoring the spectacle of her rising dread. The smile broadened, cold and predatory. "One sought merely to observe which fool would dare restore the ancient authority to One’s own kind. Verily, the power of dragons is no trifling matter, and its resurgence... well, it hath stirred One’s curiosity."

His eyes flicked down, and Furina followed his gaze, noticing for the first time a single, glowing dark line etched into the ground in between them. It was thin but radiant, pulsating with a strange energy.

“Also,” Nibelung’s voice turned colder, more severe, “It would be wise not to cross that line.” He pointed at it with a slow, deliberate gesture. “This is the boundary between existence and nothingness. And thou, little one, art tethering on the edge, between life and death.”

The Dragon King’s voice was laced with a sinister amusement. He laughed merrily, the sound echoing eerily through the void. "One guess those heathens were the ones who cast this vile curse upon you. A curse of death indeed, one that depletes your life force as you drift into eternal slumber. It appears the one who cast the curse grew impatient and decided to use the echo of that wretched woman to lead you here instead."

Furina’s eyes widened in terror as she realized the truth—the crystalfly she had followed was a mere trick, a deceitful guide leading her to her death.

"One supposes thou hast finally understood thy situation," the Dragon King said, his tone dripping with dark satisfaction. "Just so thou knowest, it was initially a gesture of goodwill. Even the new avatar of the World Tree could not have foreseen such a turn of events. However, someone seized the opportunity to replace that goodwill with malice."

Furina struggled to grasp whoever it is this new avatar of the World Tree mentioned by Nibelung. Yet, as she thought it through, it seemed that the people in reality had been trying to help her just like what Focalors had informed her previously. Unfortunately their efforts had been twisted.

“I suppose I was too quick to trust this time,” Furina said, her voice heavy with resigned acceptance. She had been betrayed by those closest to her before; now, even the small crystalfly had turned against her.

A weary sigh escaped her lips, the sound echoing hollowly in the vast, empty void. She was trapped here, surrounded by nothingness, with no clear way out.

( Hoping for a miracle seems pointless now. Honestly, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I ended up as dragon food. )

Nibelung’s lips curled into a sinister smirk, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oh, giving up so easily?" he asked, his tone mocking and cold. "How unfortunate, especially when thy other self fights so desperately to keep thy feeble existence from fading away." His words dripped with disdain, as if the very idea of struggling to stay alive was a pitiful endeavor.

Furina’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. Frustration and fear warred within her, a storm of emotions she struggled to contain. It wasn’t that she wanted to give up, but she was at a loss, unsure of her next move. Despite the roiling turmoil inside her, she forced herself to meet Nibelung’s gaze, a flicker of defiance sparking in her eyes.

"Did One strike a nerve?" Nibelung purred, his voice darkly triumphant. The shift in his tone was palpable, a predator savoring the fear of its prey. "Tell me, what wouldst thou do if One were to reveal that another path exists—another means by which thou might sustain thyself?"

Furina blinked, her expression a mix of confusion and wariness. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice tight with unease.

"It is as One said," the Dragon King replied lazily, a hint of arrogance in his tone. "There is a way to save thy oh-so-miserable life."

He paused for dramatic effect, his gaze piercing. "From the moment of thy despair and until thy act of saving thy own kind before falling into deep consciousness, all seven elements—the 'visions' thy kind doth revere—have fought valiantly for thee to own."

“Anemo, Geo, Pyro, Electro, Cryo, Dendro, and even Hydro.” Seven distinct visions floated majestically beside Him, each shimmering with its unique essence. The Hydro vision, Furina noticed, bore a subtle distinction from what she used to see, with its case looking like having four throngs holding the orb in the center.

“It is truly fascinating,” Nibelung mused, His voice laced with an enigmatic blend of intrigue and menace, “to think that one own kin would be willing to part a fragment of himself unto the usurper’s creation."

His gaze lingered on the Hydro Vision as he extended a single claw and lightly tapped it, causing the orb to shimmer more brightly for a moment. “Such a curious and rare decision... One suspects thou hadst a hand in this matter, dost thou not?”

Furina instinctively averted her gaze, her heart quickening as a nervous chuckle escaped her lips. She knew exactly what the dragon king was referring to. She hadn’t intended to trick Neuvillette… at least, not fully. Well, perhaps a little. But still, it wasn’t like she had done it out of malice.

“Well...” Furina began, her voice trailing off as she fidgeted under his piercing gaze.

“It cannot be helped, One suppose,” Nibelung continued, His voice dropping to a low rumble, “for our kinds are naturally drawn to things of beauty, and thou, despite thy flaws, seemed to possess such a quality in that child's eyes.” His words, though seemingly a compliment, were laced with disdain as he tilted his head thoughtfully.

He flicked his wrist, and the orbs of light trembled slightly before stabilizing. “One hath been holding them at bay,” He said with a casual shrug, “though One did allow one to slip past One's grasp, just for a moment. Quite the mischievous one.” His eyes glinted with dark amusement as they lingered on the Hydro Vision for a beat longer before shifting back to Furina. "Nevertheless, thou wouldst be drifting lifelessly in reality if One had not allowed it."

“Thank you, I guess,” Furina managed, though her voice wavered ever so slightly as she forced herself to remain composed.

( So, it seems I have what it takes to become a Vision holder, but what does that have to do with extending my life? Also... )

"Holding them at bay?" Furina asked, her curiosity piqued despite herself.

( For what reason? )

Nibelung's expression remained inscrutable as he explained, "If thou were to accept any of these trinkets in the usual manner, it would mean that thy destiny is predetermined, open for others to see and manipulate." His tone was calm, almost indifferent, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper—perhaps disdain or a twisted sense of amusement. "Why dost thou think thou has managed to deceive so many? It is because thou has not yet sold thyself to their system, thy fate remains unbound, unclaimed."

( Was this why Focalors warned me never to wish to become a real god that day? )

Furina’s thoughts raced, and it seemed Nibelung anticipated her reaction. “Shouldst thou wish it,” he said, his voice carrying a tone of calculated patience, “One can reveal a method to utilize these mere trinkets. However, whether it will grant thee the boon thou seek is a matter of chance and fortune.”

A momentary silence followed her words, stretching between them like a taut string, ready to snap at any second. Furina swallowed hard before finally breaking the quiet. “And what’s in it for you? Why reveal this to me?”

A cold smile playing on the Dragon King's lips. “In a way, thou art quite fortunate,” he said, his voice dripping with icy detachment. “Had it been that woman—the so-called Heavenly Principles—who sought to claim thy life, both thee and the nation thou art desperately striving to protect might have been reduced to nothingness.”

His voice carried a sinister edge as he continued, “Such a blatant disregard for their 'rules,' after all. Dost thou truly believe they would remain silent about thy transgressions?” A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest, echoing ominously in the void.

( Definitely not. )

Furina's mind raced as she processed his words, her thoughts colliding with the grim reality of her situation.

( Hmm? If that’s the case, then… )

A chilling realization began to dawn on her, unraveling in the corners of her mind. “Does that mean… that 'they' are currently incapable of delivering judgment upon me for some reason?” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. “Then, the reason why you appeared before me…”

The Dragon King’s smile widened, a gleam of dark amusement flashing in his eyes as if he had been waiting for her to reach this conclusion.

Furina's thoughts crystallized, the pieces falling into place. It was as if a veil had been lifted. What she and Focalors had done, though perhaps initially a desperate gamble, had inadvertently revealed a critical truth to those with the knowledge to see it. Celestia—or more precisely, the Heavenly Principles—were in a state of dormancy. The very forces that governed the world had, for whatever reason, become inactive. This meant that those who harbored ambitions or grievances against the divine now saw their opportunity.

“It’s simply an experiment,” he declared with a chilling calm. “Thou have already defied their rules once; why not tempt 'fate' again?” His voice carried a note of ruthless curiosity. “It’s a win-win proposition, don’t you think? Should you succeed, my curiosity is satisfied, and thou shall gain the power to wield elements. In return, thou dost live to see another day.”

“Doesn’t that seem unfair?” Furina retorted. 

“If fairness is what thou seek,” Nibelung replied with a sardonic edge, “dost thou even possess something that could balance the scales?” His sarcasm was palpable, his eyes glinting with a cruel amusement.

“Well, it is up to thee whether to place thy trust in One’s words,” Nibelung continued, his tone almost indifferent.

Furina’s mind raced. This might be her last chance for a miracle, but the stakes were high. “Are you really going to help me without anything in return?” she inquired, her voice steady but laced with trepidation.

Nibelung’s smile remained firmly in place and his voice remained deceptively calm. “Indeed. However, to test thy resolve, thou must answer One’s query with absolute truthfulness. Regardless of thy answers, One shall bestow upon thee the power to choose which element thou dost desire. Shouldst thou wish to forsake thy current existence, thou may also cross into the void of nothingness.”

"If I were to succeed, you won't suddenly asked me to wage war on Celestia for your sake right?" She asked. It a possibility after all. She had already played a part in challenging Celestia through her and Focalors’ deceptions. And if she were to accept this, she basically adding another crime into her arsenal. If there were any way to sidestep further bloodshed, she would grasp it with both hands.

Nibelung’s smile grew languid, almost bored. “Quite a distrustful child. If thou thinks that possessing these trinkets alone could suffice to challenge those wretched beings, thou art doomed to meet a death most inconsequential, lost and ignorant of what truly befalls thee." 

"Moreover, why would One seek aid from a mere usurper?” He leaned back, the regal air about him unshaken. “There is no hidden agenda here, no obligation or covert demand. Thou art free to live as thou dost wish. If thou deem thyself capable of challenging the order, then that is thine own choice.”

Furina closed her eyes and pressed her hand to her heart, the weight of past decisions heavy upon her. “Just checking. I’ve made deals with gods before,” she said softly, her voice carrying the hint of a painful truth. Though that god was, in fact, herself.

She opened her eyes slowly, meeting Nibelung’s gaze with a renewed resolve. “I’ve learned my lesson. So this time, I refuse to let my story end as a tragedy,” she declared, her voice firm and resolute.

Nibelung’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a contemplative smirk. “Hooo,” he intoned, allowing his words to hang in the air.

“Then, usurper who hath defied the established order, dost thou still wish to cling to thy existence?”

Would she dare to seize this chance, knowing that failure could mean her end? The path before her was shrouded in uncertainty, but the choice was clear: to defy the fates once more or to fade into obscurity, her story ending as nothing more than a cautionary tale.

Furina’s heart raced, and she drew a deep breath to steady herself. The weight of Nibelung’s gaze bore down on her, intense and unrelenting. “...Yes,” she answered, her voice steady but tinged with the rawness of her emotions.

“Then, even with all its flaws, dost thou still harbor love for thy world and its denizens?”

To say her love extended to the world might have been an exaggeration, but Fontaine was undeniably her world. Memories of the city she cherished flashed before her eyes—its bustling streets, its tranquil landscapes, the faces of its people, from her birth to the current generation. Despite the scars and the pain, her love for them remained unwavering. “Yes, I do.”

Nibelung’s eyes narrowed, and a sinister smile twisted his lips as he leaned closer.

“Lastly, should a moment arise where thy sacrifice be required once more to shield this world, will thou embrace that sacrifice?”

The question struck Furina like a bolt of lightning, reverberating through her very core. For an instant, her heart skipped a beat, caught off guard by the weight of the inquiry. But in the next heartbeat, her expression shifted. She met Nibelung’s gaze with unwavering determination, her voice clear and steady. “Definitely.”

Her face softened into a beautiful, serene smile, one that radiated a profound sense of purpose and conviction. The weight of the decision was immense, but Furina’s conviction remained unshakable. If her fate was to be bound by such a sacrifice, so be it. This was the essence of Furina de Fontaine’s justice, an unyielding commitment to her cause. And even now she still believes in that justice.

Nibelung's expression flickered with surprise. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before they gleamed with a complex mixture of approval and intrigue, as if he were seeing Furina through an entirely new lens.

"Thy answer has been heard," the dragon intoned, his voice low and resonant. "The concept of fate, thou see, was established by the usurper who slew oneself and had claimed the right to shape this world."

"Through their dominion, they sought to impose a predetermined order upon all that exists, crafting a narrative of inevitability that binds every being to a fixed path," Nibelung said, his voice tinged with mocking disdain. "Such was the arrogance of those who dared to challenge the natural flow of existence, believing that they alone possessed the power to dictate the course of all life and destiny. They fashioned a rigid framework of fate, as if they could confine the infinite potential of the world within their own narrow vision."

A dark chuckle rumbled from Nibelung as he continued, "They underestimated the fluidity and complexity of the world's true nature, presuming that their constructs could contain the boundless ebb and flow of existence itself."

"No matter how sturdy and well-constructed the ark may be, it remains vulnerable to harm from within."

Seven Visions floated before Furina, each Vision seemed to pulse with a latent power, representing paths and possibilities that she could wield.

His gaze bore into her, as if searching for the depths of her conviction. "Now, choose thy 'fate.' The choice is thine alone."

Furina took a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly as her hand instinctively moved to her chest, feeling the steady rhythm of her heart beneath her palm. The world around her seemed to still, as if time itself waited for her decision. In that moment, she felt the weight of everything—the past, the present, and the uncertain future—all converging into a single point.

It's time to return to the stage—her own stage. This time, she would step into the light not for the sake of others, but on her own violation. The future was uncertain, the path ahead filled with shadows or she might find herself at a dead end with nowhere left to go, but she would face it head-on, with the same determination that had brought her this far.

Because that is what it means to be human: to fight, to struggle, and to continue on, even when the outcome is unknown.

When she opened her eyes again, they sparkled with determination, a fierce fire burning within them. Her voice rang out, clear and strong.

"I choose—"

💧💧💧

In the room atop the Palais Mermonia, Sigewinne carried out her regular checkup with a practiced calm. Neuvillette stood beside her, his gaze fixed on Furina’s serene, but unmoving form.

“Still the same?” Neuvillette inquired softly, his voice barely more than a murmur as he regarded Furina’s peaceful, yet unresponsive slumber.

Sigewinne nodded gravely. A month had passed since Furina’s fall into a coma, and even now, she appeared as though she were merely in a deep sleep, her breaths gentle and rhythmic against the stillness of the room.

In the weeks following the assembly, the atmosphere in Fontaine had shifted. The public’s reaction to the revealed truths had been mixed. Some remained in denial, struggling to reconcile the reality with their perceptions of the Hydro Archon. Others, however, had come to terms with the truth, accepting it with varying degrees of resignation or understanding.

Yet, despite the spectrum of reactions, one thing remained unchanged: the truth was immutable, a reality that no amount of denial or acceptance could alter. It was now a part of Fontaine's history, etched indelibly into the fabric of its society.

Suddenly, without warning, the tranquility of the room was shattered by a powerful tremor that shook the Palais. The sunlight streaming through the windows was abruptly snuffed out, plunging the room into an unnatural darkness that mimicked the blackest night.

"What—" Neuvillette’s instinctive reaction was immediate; his gaze darted towards Furina’s still form, his protective instincts flaring to life.

Neuvillette's heart leaped in his chest, his composure cracking as he rushed to Furina’s side. The sudden disappearance of the protective energies that had cocooned her filled him with a cold, gnawing dread.

He reached out, his hands trembling as they brushed against her chest. Neuvillette's fingers pressed gently against her, seeking the reassurance of a heartbeat—any sign of life.

Thump…

A faint beat pulsed beneath his fingertips, barely there, weak and struggling. His breath hitched, his mind racing as he strained to listen, to feel her heart continue its rhythm.

Thump… thump…

Each beat grew more fragile, as if the very essence of her being was slipping away with every passing second.

Desperate, he called upon his power, the primordial energy that coursed through his veins, summoning every drop of it to surround her, to keep her here. But even as his energy wrapped around her, Furina’s heartbeat remained faint, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

Thump… thump...

The sound became irregular, a fragile staccato that seemed to falter more with each passing moment. Neuvillette’s chest tightened with an unspoken terror, his entire world narrowing to the faint, fading rhythm beneath his touch.

Thump...

A final, weak flutter, like the last note of a dying song. 

...

Silence.

The world seemed to stop, plunging into a deep, suffocating stillness. His breath caught in his throat as he waited, hoping for something—anything—that would break the unbearable quiet. But there was nothing. The dreadful, empty silence stretched on, swallowing every last shred of hope he had clung to.

And then, his tears fell.

They rolled down his cheeks, tracing the lines of a face that had always been composed, always in control. But now, that control had shattered, leaving behind nothing but raw, unfiltered grief. Neuvillette remained motionless, his hand still clutching hers, unwilling to let go, as if by holding on he could keep her with him just a little longer.

Beside him, Sigewinne stood watching, her small form trembling as she tried to hold back her own sobs. But she could not. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks.

It was then that the door burst open, and Clorinde, Wriothesley, and Navia rushed into the room. They stopped dead in their tracks as soon as they saw the scene—Neuvillette slumped beside the bed, still holding Furina's hand, his usually composed face streaked with tears. The air was thick with sorrow, the gravity of the moment clear.

None of them dared to speak. They didn’t need to—one look at Neuvillette’s devastated expression, and the stillness of Furina’s body, told them all they needed to know. Their hearts sank with the weight of it, each of them trying to suppress the rising tide of grief that threatened to spill over.

💧💧💧

In the boundless expanse of white, Nibelung remained seated upon his regal throne, an ancient and somber figure of immense power. The presence of his recent guest had long since departed, returning to her own reality, leaving him alone in this timeless void.

Aeons had passed since his defeat at the hands of the Heavenly Principle, an era so distant that even his successor had been reborn into the human realm—a realm he dismissed with a casual contempt. To him, humans were nothing more than insignificant insects, scurrying about their fleeting lives. Yet, among them, a select few possessed qualities that defied his disdain. The unwavering conviction in their hearts was something even he could not ignore.

The three questions he posed to that human were but a façade, a mere exercise in curiosity. Initially, he had intended only two queries, but his nature—a being driven by an insatiable thirst for knowledge and an appreciation for the unpredictable—compelled him to ask the final question.

Nibelung’s lips curled into a sardonic smile as he mused over the irony of the situation. His eyes, reflecting the depth of eons, glinted with a mix of curiosity and dark amusement.

"Heh," he chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through the empty space like a distant thunderclap.

With a dramatic flourish, he rose from his throne, which vanished into the void behind him as though it had never existed. His form began to change, the majestic aura surrounding him growing more intense. The dragon king's draconic form reemerged, radiant and resplendent, shimmering with iridescent light and a cascade of colors that danced like a living rainbow.

The transformation was nothing short of spectacular. His immense, serpentine body coiled and shifted, scales glittering like precious gems, wings unfurling with a sound like the rustling of celestial winds.

"Only the person themselves could alter their so-called fate," Nibelung intoned. His gaze, piercing and contemplative. "Shouldst thou truly succeed in rewriting thy destiny, then..."

He, Nibelung, the Erstwhile Dragon King, a spectral remnant of an age long past, would seize the chance to showcase his final, unparalleled display of power.

"Then to thee," he proclaimed, his voice a thunderous echo that seemed to shake the very fabric of the cosmos, "the first to claim the power of our kind—shall One aid thee in crafting a grand spectacle that will reverberate through the heavens themselves?"

💧💧💧

Back in Furina’s room, the silence stretched on, heavy and oppressive. It felt as though time itself had stopped, each second dragging out in an unbearable stillness.

And then—

Thump...

The faintest of sounds.

Neuvillette's breath hitched. His eyes widened in disbelief, his entire body stiffening. He leaned in closer, his heart pounding in his chest as he strained to hear it again, praying that it wasn’t just his desperate imagination.

Thump...

It was there again—weak, but unmistakable. A heartbeat.

His gaze locked onto her. His hand, still clutching Furina’s, tightened. 

Then unexpectedly, a blob of water appeared on top of her. Everyone just watched with bate breath. Above Furina, a hydro vision materialized, its blue coloured light piercing through the darkness. The vision, glowing with an otherworldly radiance, encompassed both pneuma and ousia, its brilliance casting a spectral glow around the room.

Neuvillette stared in disbelief, his mind racing to make sense of the miraculous sight. Memories surged back to him, recalling the first time someone had claimed a shard of his mastery—a moment of profound significance. The realization dawned upon him with sudden clarity.

"Oh..." Neuvillette muttered, his voice tinged with awe and understanding.

“Monsieur! The sky!” Sigewinne’s voice broke through his reverie, a note of alarm and wonder in her tone. Neuvillette, still in shock, moved instinctively toward the balcony, drawn by the urgency in her voice.

He stepped out onto the balcony, his eyes drawn to the celestial tableau above. One by one, the sky was adorned with six luminous stars, arranged in a teardrop pattern that seemed to pulse with a divine light. They adorned the heavens like a cosmic adornment, a symbol of ambition that transcended both the world below and the starry expanse above.

Neuvillette’s heart raced, overwhelmed by a sense of déjà vu. The energy emanating from the stars felt disturbingly familiar, as if echoing something deep within his soul.

The people of Fontaine looked up in awe, their faces illuminated by the fleeting brilliance. The spectacle was brief but unforgettable, etching itself into the collective memory of all who witnessed it.

As the daylight gradually returned to its normal brilliance, a subtle, almost imperceptible movement drew everyone's attention back to Furina. Her hand, previously still, had twitched.

“Furina!” “Miss Furina!” The calls came in unison, a chorus of relief and desperation.

Gradually, Furina’s eyes fluttered open, revealing a blur of anxious faces surrounding her. The expressions of worry and relief were etched deeply into their features. It felt as though she was emerging from a prolonged, surreal dream—a dream that had seemed to stretch on for what felt like an eternity.

Her back throbbed with discomfort as she tried to orient herself. Neuvillette, his face a blend of concern and urgency, rushed to her side.

Despite her weariness, a glad smile spread across Furina’s face as she locked eyes with him. “Neuvillette,” she said warmly, her voice carrying a note of affectionate reassurance, “I hope you always remain as your itty-bitty little self, okay?”

The memory of meeting a colossal dragon in her dream made her appreciate Neuvillette’s current, more manageable form even more. The contrast was striking, and she found herself grateful for his familiar and reassuring presence.

Neuvillette looked at her with a mixture of confusion and concern. “…Pardon?” he replied, his brow furrowing. He then glanced at Sigewinne, silently communicating his uncertainty and a request for her to check on Furina's condition.

Sigewinne, understanding the unspoken request, moved closer with a calm, professional demeanor. But before she could assess Furina, a cool, soothing sensation in Furina's hand captured her attention. Furina instinctively extended her arm, her fingers unfurling to reveal a hydro vision pulsating gently with a rhythmic, almost heartbeat-like glow.

Her eyes widened in astonishment as the vivid memories of her encounters with Focalors and the Dragon King Nibelung surged back with startling clarity.

“So it wasn’t just a dream,” she murmured, her voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and wonder.

Concern rippled through the faces surrounding her. The room was heavy with apprehension as each person watched her intently, their eyes searching for an explanation.

Without warning, a burst of laughter erupted from Furina—a deep, resonant sound that seemed to defy the gravity of the moment. “Pftt. Hahahahaha!” she laughed, her mirth ringing through the room with an infectious exuberance.

💧💧💧

In the expanse of white, just before she returned to reality, Furina stood at the edge of existence, facing the Dragon King Nibelung, who loomed in the void of nothingness.

"The key is desire," Nibelung's voice echoed in her mind. "Thou hast already passed the trial that resonates with the false heavens. That trinket thou possess is proof. Yet, it is a relic of the established order, the very construct the usurper imposed upon this world. The one thing that could overwrite that order is to call upon the original order of the world."

Furina raised an eyebrow, her skepticism palpable. "That's quite abstract, isn’t it?"

A shadow of amusement flickered in Nibelung’s eyes. "Abstract it may be, but it is not beyond thy reach. Thee who hath already deceived those deceitful beings possesses the strength needed." His tone was calm, but there was an undeniable edge of respect. "Desire, the force that compels all creation, lies within thee."

( Desire... )

Furina’s eyes fell to the Hydro Vision in her hand, the orb shimmering with an almost ethereal light.

"Nibelung’s eyes danced with mirth, his lips curling into a toothy grin that held both challenge and amusement. "So break it," he urged, his voice a seductive whisper of temptation.

"Break the sky of the 'Ark' with thy desire."

Without warning, a door materialized behind her, its ancient frame adorned with glowing runes that pulsed with an eerie luminescence. Furina glanced back at the Dragon King, noting his lack of surprise and the almost casual air with which he observed her. This, she realized, was her cue. How many doors would she need to pass through?

With a deep breath and a heart steeled by resolve, Furina stepped through the doorway.

The moment she crossed the threshold, she was enveloped by a stygian darkness, a void so profound that it seemed to swallow all light and hope. The air was thick with despair, and every step felt like wading through an invisible mire. The moment she took a step forward, pain seared through her, an all-encompassing agony that gripped every fiber of her being.

( That Dragon King! He didn’t warn me I’d have to endure this kind of torment. It hurts... it hurts so much... )

Her breath came in ragged gasps, tears streaming down her face, each droplet a testament to her suffering. Why was she enduring such torment? Why was she fighting so fiercely to cling to life?

Furina staggered to her knees, the searing pain radiating through her body like a relentless tempest. Her strength waned, and she collapsed entirely, her eyes growing heavy as the darkness threatened to claim her. Was this to be the end of her struggle?

( No... NO! )

In the murk of her fading consciousness, vivid flashes of those who mattered most to her danced before her eyes—Focalors, Neuvillette, Clorinde, Wriothesley, Sigewinne, and the beloved city of Fontaine.

There were still so many dreams left to fulfill. She longed to share another tea party with Clorinde, to accept Navia and the Traveler's apologies with grace. She yearned to play TCG with Wriothesley once more, to laugh and joke with him. She wished to pore over astrological magazines with Sigewinne. And she had yet to respond to Neuvillette’s heartfelt confession.

“I won’t let MY story end like this!” Furina roared, her voice a fierce defiance that shattered the void, reverberating with the power of her indomitable spirit. The sound of her cry echoed through the empty expanse.

As if responding to her resolve, the Hydro Vision began to glow with a blinding intensity. Trails of elemental energy burst forth, weaving a path through the darkness. With every ounce of her strength, she stood up and followed the shimmering trail, pushing through the pain and the shadows.

At the end of the path, a mirror materialized before her. Its surface was a swirling vortex of light and shadow, reflecting her very own image.

How ironic, she thought. When she first came into being, it was another mirror, another reflection of herself, that had set her on her path. And now, here it was again, confronting her with her own fate.

Nibelung’s voice echoed in her mind, a chilling reminder of his challenge.

“Shatter the ‘sky’ of the Ark with thy desire.”

Furina’s gaze locked onto the mirror, her heart pounding with fierce resolve. “Sorry, Dragon King,” she muttered, her voice a low, determined whisper amidst the swirling chaos. “But desire alone is not enough.” 

She had to act on it with unwavering conviction. As she gathered her strength, an ancient tale from Remuria resurfaced in her memory—the legend of the Lochknight, Erinnyes. Her story was shrouded in romanticism, yet despite claims of divine blessing, Erinnyes had never demonstrated powers beyond those of an ordinary mortal. A reflection of Furina’s own life, in many ways. According to her memory, there was a sword she once wield—Hautenclaire. A scepter around which swirls pure water.

Summoning every ounce of her will, Furina focused on the sword from the tale. Though its exact appearance was a mystery, she trusted her imagination to bring it forth. With a surge of brilliant energy, the sword materialized in her hand—a blade forged from the very essence of Hydro, gleaming with an ethereal glow.

“Your name shall be Splendor of Tranquil Waters,” Furina declared, her voice steady with satisfaction as she beheld the weapon in her grasp.

She raised the sword high, its power crackling with raw elemental force. With a decisive swing, Furina struck the mirror. The impact was like thunder, a shattering explosion of light and energy that engulfed her. The mirror shattered into a thousand fragments, each piece dissolving into the void.

As the shards vanished, a warm, radiant light enveloped her entirely. The world seemed to reassemble around her, a new reality taking shape from the fragments of her shattered past. 

In a heartbeat, the overwhelming light faded, and she found herself back in her own reality.

💧💧💧

The world around her was real again. She, Furina de Fontaine had made her choice and returned to life.

Tears welled up in her eyes, shimmering like the light of the hydro vision. As she clutched the vision to her chest, feeling its soothing energy seeping into her being, the tears fell freely, cascading down her cheeks in a torrent of emotion and relief. She embraced the gift of life with newfound determination and grace, the weight of her choice settling into her heart like a precious, radiant promise.

💧💧💧

Chapter Text

💧💧💧

A few days had passed since that day. The sun shone brightly outside, casting light across the clear blue skies, with the gentle breeze carrying the scent of the nearby sea into the open windows. The world beyond seemed unchanged, yet everything within her felt different.

For the last few days, she had been consumed by fever, her mind clouded by fragments—images, thoughts, and strange, disconnected pieces of knowledge flooding her brain. Some memories, others mere illusions, all swirling together in a hazy, fever-induced blur. 

Now fully awake and recovering in her private quarters on top of the Palais Mermonia, Furina sat quietly, the weight of her own body seemed unfamiliar after the long days of unconsciousness. Her limbs were stiff, her muscles sluggish, and each movement was slow and deliberate, as though she had to remember how to function all over again.

Furina’s gaze drifted across her quarters before she reached for a newspaper lying on the small table beside her. Out of boredom, she had asked one of the Melusines to bring her the latest headlines, curious to know what had transpired during her absence. As she unfolded the paper, the familiar rustle filled the quiet room.

As she scanned the headlines, she wasn’t entirely surprised to find herself still the subject of attention. Even while she had been in a coma, she had remained the focal point of public discourse, the hot topic of every conversation in Fontaine. It seemed as though her very existence demanded attention, even now.

( Being a superstar is hard work indeed . )

Of course, the joke was meant for herself. What she received from the public, however, wasn’t the shallow gossip or idle chatter she might have expected. Fontaine had been shaken recently by two major events. One was the strange phenomena that appeared the day she woke up—a spectacle that could easily be explained away as some divine occurrence.

The problem is the other headlines. Neuvillette—he was the reason she remained in the spotlight in the first place.

Against his usual reserved nature, he had stood before Fontaine and spoken of her, of Focalors, and of himself. She had known him for so long, watched how carefully he walked the line between law and compassion, between human and nonhuman. Neuvillette always strove for coexistence, for balance, for order. It was the foundation of everything he did in the past—even if it means that he had to betray her.

As Furina scanned the articles, reading the shock, confusion, and rampant speculation that Neuvillette’s announcement had caused across Fontaine, she was surprised to find an unexpected sense of calm settling over her. It was odd, really. For the first time, the opinions of the public—whether they whispered behind closed doors or gossiped in the streets—no longer carried the weight they once did. She was no longer bothered by them.

Neuvillette had made his choice, and she could not fault him for it. Just as she had made her own decisions, he had made his. His reasons were his own, and whatever they were, she found herself accepting them. She had spent so many years pretending, wearing the mask of the Archon, living a life that wasn’t entirely her own. Neuvillette had done much the same, hiding who he truly was to fit the role the world expected of him.

In a way, she was almost happy for him. Now, he no longer needs to hide. He had revealed himself, just as she had once been forced to reveal her truth. The weight of pretense had been lifted from both of them, and there was a strange freedom in that.

She lowered the newspaper slightly, her thoughts drifting back to Neuvillette himself. She didn’t have to look far to find him. Ever since she had awoken, his presence had lingered just outside her reach, like a shadow that refused to leave. He had been pacing softly, tending to things she wasn’t quite aware of, his movements always quiet, careful, respectful of her need for space. Yet, no matter how far he kept his distance, she knew he was never truly gone.

They spoke occasionally, brief exchanges that faded into silence after a while, as if neither knew what to say—or perhaps, they both feared where the conversation might lead. Furina could sense the questions Neuvillette held back, the ones that hovered just on the edge of his lips. She saw it in the way he glanced at her when he thought she wasn’t looking, the small crease in his brow. Yet, he never asked. He restrained himself, as he always had.

( I suppose I did treat you quite harshly, didn’t I? )

Furina reflected.

( It’s surprising you still care for me after everything. )

Her mind wandered back to the moments where she had spoken harshly to him, treating him coldly, even though he had also been a victim in 'her' grand plan. Neuvillette had every right to hold resentment, to distance himself from her completely. Surely, only a saint would have the patience to continue caring for someone who had wronged them in such a way. And yet, here he was—always nearby, always watching over her.

( Could it be... don’t tell me you’re leaning that way? )

Her imagination, shaped by centuries of courtroom drama and an obsession with novels, started spinning wild scenarios. It was ridiculous, of course, but her mind ran with it—painting all sorts of narratives where her actions had somehow pushed Neuvillette toward an unexpected affection. The more she thought about it, the more her thoughts veered into the absurd, like something out of a dramatic novel she might read in secret.

And then, a sudden thought struck her, startling her more than anything else.

( Wait... aren’t I the same? )

Her fingers unconsciously tightened around the newspaper, crumpling its edges. Hadn’t she, too, continued to love and care for her people despite everything? Despite their doubts, their whispered criticisms, the way they questioned her every move, her affection for Fontaine had never wavered. If anything, it had grown stronger, more enduring, even when they no longer fully believed in her.

This realization hit her deeply, leaving her momentarily breathless. Perhaps she and Neuvillette weren’t so different after all. Both of them had held onto something, some deep-rooted affection that refused to be shaken by the actions of those around them.

Furina shook herself from the weight of such heavy thoughts, shifting slightly in her bed as she tried to refocus. Folding the newspaper neatly, she glanced over at Neuvillette, a faint smile curling her lips. Her tone was light, but there was an underlying curiosity in her words. "Don’t you have work to do downstairs? You’ve been hovering ever since I woke up, Neuvillette." Her voice carried a note of amusement, teasing him gently. "Do I worry you that much?"

Neuvillette, who had been pacing by the window, paused at her words. He turned slowly to meet her gaze, his expression composed as always, yet there was a softness in his eyes that hadn't been there before. His movements were deliberate, as though choosing how best to respond. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, steady, but filled with an emotion that ran far deeper than his usual reserved nature.

"You do," he admitted, the weight of his feelings laid bare in those two simple words. "More than you know."

His confession lingered in the air, heavier than the gentle breeze wafting in through the open window. Furina's teasing smile faltered, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his voice. She felt her heart skip a beat, her usual composure slipping as a faint blush bloomed on her cheeks.

( I'm amazed you can say that with a straight face... )

She hadn’t expected such an intense response, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to reply. Instead, her gaze shifted around the room. Lavish bouquets adorned the tables, and ornate boxes of sweets and delicate trinkets lay unopened. She was grateful, of course—thankful for the gestures of kindness and support.

Her eyes then landed on the large mirror, half-hidden behind heavy, velvet curtains that had been pulled over it. She stared at it for a long moment and a small smile graced her lips.

( How nostalgic . )

She remembered the countless times she had stood before that mirror, hoping—no, wishing—that one day her reflection would speak back to her. She had spent so many hours talking to her own image, pleading for her 'Mirror-me' to reappear once more. But no matter how many words she whispered, no matter how desperately she longed for a response, there was only ever silence. The mirror remained a mute witness to her loneliness.

With a sudden instinct, Furina reached into her pocket to touch her newly acquired hydro vision, the cool surface grounding her in that moment. The memory of it stung more than she cared to admit.

Neuvillette’s eyes followed hers, and he watched her carefully, his concern hidden beneath his usual calm. His voice, gentle as ever, broke the silence. "If staying here makes you uncomfortable, would you prefer to return to your room at the Fortress?" He asked softly, sensing a slight shift in her mood.

Furina’s eyes lingered on him, and a flicker of amusement crossed her face.

( Isn't that simply an abuse of power? )

Her lips curved into a soft smile. "No, it's fine," she replied lightly. "I've already overstayed my welcome there, after all."

Neuvillette gave a slight nod, his expression remaining neutral, though his eyes betrayed a quiet concern. Just as he was about to respond further, a familiar voice interrupted the moment. "Well, if you ever want to visit, you’re always welcome," Wriothesley’s reassuring tone echoed from the doorway as he entered the room. There was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Beside him, Sigewinne stood, her cheerful demeanor a stark contrast to the solemnity that had filled the space moments before.

"Hello, both of you!" Sigewinne chimed in brightly, waving as she stepped closer. Her eyes sparkled with her usual energy, instantly brightening the room further. She turned to Furina, her voice filled with genuine concern. "Miss Furina, how are you feeling today?"

"Never better," Furina replied, her voice confident, her expression composed.

"That’s great to hear!" Sigewinne nodded approvingly, her smile widening. She hesitated for a moment as if recalling something important before she suddenly perked up. "Oh, right!"

"Monsieur Neuvillette, Sedene told me to inform you that you got a trial in an hour." Sigewinne said as she turned towards Neuvillette.

Neuvillette glanced at Furina for a brief moment before looking back at Wriothesley and Sigewinne. His expression remained neutral, but something unspoken lingered in the air. After a pause, he offered Sigewinne a grateful nod. "Thank you for informing me. I’ll get going."

With that, Neuvillette left the room quietly, his presence still lingering even after the door closed behind him. Sigewinne busied herself with her usual checkup while Wriothesley moved to prepare some tea, filling the room with the soothing aroma.

"It’s good to see our Chief Justice finally cheered up," Wriothesley remarked as he poured the tea, his tone casual but carrying a note of relief. His eyes flicked toward Furina, gauging her reaction.

Furina raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a wry smile. "It was that bad, huh?"

Wriothesley chuckled softly, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "You couldn’t even imagine. Every day felt like it might be our last."

Furina hummed. In the past, the very notion that she could affect Neuvillette to this degree would have seemed laughable. He had always been a sturdy shield she could rely on while she indulged in her whims, flitting from one performance to the next. Yet now, seeing the way he had been visibly shaken by her well-being—or lack thereof—was something she never would have expected.

“Strange, isn’t it?” Furina’s voice softened, almost as if she were talking to herself. “All those years he stayed composed, no matter what I did. And now, only after I’ve fallen so far, does he let his guard down."

Wriothesley handed her a cup of tea, offering her a moment of quiet reflection. “Sometimes, it takes a real scare to show how much someone truly cares,” he said gently.

Furina glanced at him, a small, introspective smile touching her lips. “A real scare, huh…” she murmured, her fingers wrapping around the cup as its warmth seeped into her skin, grounding her in the present. The steam from the tea swirled lazily around her, like a comforting embrace.

Her eyes remained fixed on the tea for a few moments longer before she let out a soft sigh, her expression lightening as she raised the cup to her lips. “Anyways,” she said, her tone shifting to something more playful, “you all don’t have to worry so much. Things are finally settling down… at least for now.”

Wriothesley watched her, sensing the shift in her demeanor, but he played along, letting the conversation take a lighter turn. “So,” she continued, tilting her head with a teasing smile, “has anything interesting happened while I’ve been in my ‘sleeping beauty’ mode?”

Wriothesley considered her question thoughtfully. “The theatre troupe has been quite concerned about you. They’ve been asking about your well-being and have been working even more diligently in your absence.”

"I see," Furina replied, her brow furrowing slightly as she processed his words. “Is everyone okay?”

She hesitated, her heart racing as she contemplated whether to ask specifically about Fourmon. The question lingered on her tongue, but she ultimately decided against it. Wriothesley, ever perceptive, studied her intently, his gaze piercing through her facade. He could sense the underlying concern beneath her carefully constructed calm.

“Everyone is okay,” he assured her, his voice steady and soothing, yet it bore the weight of unspoken truths.

A rush of relief washed over Furina, but it was a fragile thing, quickly tempered by the knowledge of what lay beneath the surface. Although it was only for a period of time, the Tri-Coupon troupe held a special place in her heart.

Just then, Sigewinne, who had been quietly observing the exchange, chimed in, “I’ll be going out for a while.” She shot a pointed look at Wriothesley. “Don’t bully her too much,” she added, her tone teasing but laced with genuine concern.

With a wave, she departed, leaving a slight silence in her wake.

“Hmm… since you are already awake now, I’d like to ask about what happened that day,” Wriothesley said, his tone gentle yet probing.

It was not hard to guess which day he meant—the day Furina had confronted Rien, fallen into the water, and slipped into a coma. Clorinde who had visited her previously told her that it was she and Wriothesley who discovered Furina alone at the place. She remained uncertain about what had happened to Rien afterward, but it seemed the mystery surrounding him was still an unresolved puzzle for everyone.

Wriothesley continued, his voice laced with careful inquiry. “There was someone with you at the time, am I right?”

Furina maintained her composure, the tension in the air thickening like fog. She knew this was the moment to don her mask of oblivion, a familiar guise that had served her well in the past.

“Wow~ going for the interrogation mode,” she teased, attempting to lighten the atmosphere with a playful lilt, though her heart pounded in her chest.

Yet, as expected of the Duke of Meropide—perhaps due to his sharp intuition—he didn’t fall for her act. The air crackled with unspoken challenges, and Furina felt the pressure mounting.

"I'm just doing my job after all." Wriothesley smiled. Furina met his gaze, trying to maintain her facade. Furina then sighed.

"Jokes aside. No there isn't," she finally conceded, her voice firm yet tinged with a hint of uncertainty. It wasn’t that she was defending a criminal; rather, there were reasons that compelled her to keep Rien’s presence a secret. She knew Wriothesley wasn’t a fool, yet she hoped he would let this slip without pursuing it further.

A charged silence enveloped them, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. The tension was thick, each moment stretching as Furina fought to keep her heart from racing too loudly.

"Very well," Wriothesley finally conceded, the acceptance of his defeat evident in his tone. After all, the victim herself had asked him to drop the matter—what choice did he have but to comply?

Just then, a knock on the door and a familiar voice called out, “Furina, it’s me. Can I come in?”

“Sure, sure,” Furina replied, her voice slightly too bright, a hint of relief washing over her as Clorinde entered.

Clorinde stepped into the room, her brow furrowing slightly as she surveyed the atmosphere. “Hmm? Did something happen?” she asked, her perceptive gaze darting between them.

“Ah no, nothing much,” Wriothesley waved dismissively, his smile quick to return. “Ah, Clorinde, can you inform the Spina that there’s no need to continue searching for our mysterious person anymore?”

Clorinde’s eyes narrowed slightly as she caught the nuances behind his request, instantly understanding the unspoken context. She nodded and said,  “Of course, I’ll take care of it.”

As the tension dissipated, they drifted into discussing the recent events in Fontaine—mundane affairs, but a necessary distraction from the lingering mysteries. Furina listened attentively, occasionally interjecting with her own insights and observations.

Then, amidst the casual chatter, Furina suddenly posed a question that caught them off guard.

"Ah right, Clorinde," she began, her voice thoughtful. "Do you think I could hold a tea party?"

💧💧💧

A few days later, Furina, with the help of Clorinde and the Melusines, managed to set up a simple tea party at the Palais Mermonia. She had sent invitations to Navia, the Traveler and Paimon, the three siblings from the House of Hearth, Sigewinne, Wriothesley, and of course, Neuvillette. For a fleeting moment, she considered extending an invitation to the Harbinger but quickly dismissed the idea—some things were just too intimidating.

Before the event, she had sought Neuvillette's permission, though his response had been predictably calm and measured. "Do as you please. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask," he had replied with his usual reserved manner. Yet, there was an unmistakable hint of warmth in his voice, a subtle shift that Furina couldn’t ignore.

In the elegantly adorned parlor, Furina was joined by Clorinde and Sedene as they finalized the arrangements. The room was a feast for the senses, with intricate decorations and the scent of freshly brewed tea filling the air. Sunlight streamed through the tall arched windows, casting a warm glow over the space and highlighting the delicate details of the porcelain teacups and the carefully laid-out pastries.

Navia was the first to arrive, holding a plate of vibrant macarons. "I thought these might brighten up the table," she said with a bright smile as she placed them down with a practiced hand.

Moments later, the Traveler arrived, accompanied by a beaming Paimon, who eagerly took in the lavish spread with wide eyes. "Wow, this looks so fancy!"

Trailing closely behind them were the twin magicians, Lyney and Lynette, their playful banter adding to the cheerful atmosphere. Freminet followed, clutching his mechanical penguin tightly, a look of determination on his face as he balanced a stack of cakes and cookies precariously in his other hand. They presented their treats with pride, contributing to the growing assortment of delicious offerings on the table.

Not long after, Sigewinne burst into the room, practically dragging Wriothesley along in her wake. The Duke of Meropide looked somewhat puzzled, his brow furrowed as he allowed the small, energetic Sigewinne to lead him into the room.

"And may I ask why I'm here?" he said, glancing around the finely decorated room.

"I thought the more, the merrier," Furina responded smoothly, flashing a mischievous grin.

Wriothesley’s gaze flickered toward the empty seat at the head of the table. "Where's our Chief Justice?"

"I invited him, but it seems he's too busy," Furina said, casting a quick glance toward the vacant chair Neuvillette would have occupied. There was a momentary flicker of something unreadable in her eyes before she composed herself once more.

Once everyone had taken their seats, there was a palpable tension in the air. Despite the elegant surroundings, the conversation was stilted, and everyone seemed unusually reserved. Furina silently observed her guests.

Navia, who was normally vibrant and outspoken, fidgeted with her sleeve as though she were choosing her words carefully. The Traveler, too, seemed more quiet than usual, glancing between the others with a look of uncertainty. Even Paimon, usually full of chatter, was uncharacteristically quiet, as if sensing the tension. The kids from the House of Hearth also seemed more reserved.

In stark contrast, Wriothesley appeared completely at ease, casually pouring tea and distributing cups as if the somber mood around them didn’t exist. Nearby, Sigewinne was happily engaged in a quiet conversation with Sedene.

Furina’s mind wandered for a moment, recalling their last interaction and the tension that had marked it. Given their recent encounters, she couldn’t blame them for their caution; their unease was palpable. Still, this wasn’t the atmosphere she envisioned for her tea party. She had accepted their apologies, and this gathering was meant to symbolize a fresh start.

( Now... How should I ease this tension? )

Without realizing it, Furina’s hand reached for a delicate macaroon from the silver tray in front of her. She absently took a bite, her thoughts still focused on the air of awkwardness between them.

But the instant the soft, airy sweetness hit her tongue, her eyes widened in surprise. "Oh! Delicious!" she blurted out, her voice ringing with sudden enthusiasm, cutting through the silence that had settled over the room. Her eyes sparkled with genuine delight as she clapped her hands together, the burst of excitement breaking her earlier restraint.

Then she froze, her heart skipping a beat. She hadn’t meant to let her cheerfulness show so openly. For a moment, a flicker of doubt crossed her mind

( Was this too childish? )

There had been countless times when Furina’s cheerfulness was nothing more than a well-crafted mask—a performance meticulously curated to uphold the image of the lively, carefree Hydro Archon. The laughter, the exuberant gestures, the witty remarks—often, they were just part of the role she was expected to play, the persona that Fontaine had come to know. But there were also moments, rare and fleeting, when her joy was real. Moments when happiness bubbled up from somewhere deep inside, untouched by the weight of expectation.

Slowly, almost cautiously, Furina’s eyes flicked toward her guests, bracing herself for judgment—perhaps a mocking smile, or an awkward glance exchanged between them. Yet, to her surprise, there was none. No mockery. No judgment.

Warm smiles greeted her, not harsh judgment. Navia blinked in surprise at first, clearly taken aback by Furina’s unguarded enthusiasm, but then a small, amused smile crept across her lips. The tension that had weighed on her seemed to melt away, if only slightly, as if Furina’s genuine reaction had given her permission to let down her guard as well.

“I’m glad you like it,” Navia said, her voice soft yet filled with a touch of pride. “I made them myself.”

( Oh... )

Furina thought, taken aback.

For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. But then, her eyes lit up, her earlier self-consciousness forgotten.

"Extraordinaire!" Furina exclaimed, her grin infectious as she looked around the table, the sparkle in her eyes contagious. "Everyone should try one. They're divine!"

The atmosphere began to lighten, the once-stiff air now carrying a hint of warmth. The Traveler, who had been quietly observing, finally relaxed, and Paimon, never one to miss out on a treat, eagerly reached for a macaron. “Well, don’t mind if I do!” she chirped before taking a bite, her face lighting up in delight.

Laughter followed Paimon’s excitement, filling the room and rippling through the group like a refreshing breeze. The earlier awkwardness seemed to melt away as smiles and small chuckles spread among them, and the tension that had hung so heavily over the tea party began to lift.

As time passed, the conversation flowed easily. The twins, Lyney and Lynette, entertained everyone with a series of playful magic tricks, their banter and tricks drawing laughter and applause from the group. However, Furina, despite her smile, remained quiet, her mind clearly elsewhere as she listened to the jovial chatter around her.

After a while, she took a deep breath and slowly rose from her seat. The laughter softened as the others turned their attention toward her, sensing a shift in her demeanor. Her expression had changed—still gentle, but more serious, her usual carefree air replaced with a vulnerability she rarely showed.

“Well, I have an announcement,” she began, her voice clear but holding a note of vulnerability that was rare for her. The room’s attention shifted toward her, and even Wriothesley, who had been lounging comfortably, straightened up.

“Starting tomorrow, I’ll be going back to my own apartment,” she said, her eyes briefly meeting each person at the table. There was a pause, the weight of her words sinking in. It was a significant step forward for her—a signal that she was reclaiming her life and independence.

“I’m sorry to have worried all of you these past few months.” Her gaze dropped for a moment, the usual bravado replaced with sincerity. “I’m okay now.”

The room fell silent, each person processing her words. For a moment, Furina hesitated, as if unsure of how to continue. Her fingers fidgeted slightly with the edge of her dress before she spoke again, her voice carrying a hesitant note.

“Ah, but…” She glanced at the group, her vulnerability laid bare. “There might be a lot of things I don’t know, so… If it’s alright with you all, if I were to stumble… would it be okay if I asked for help?”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, there was only the soft sound of tea being poured and the occasional shuffle of someone shifting in their seat. Furina stood there, waiting, unsure of what the response might be. She had rarely shown this side of herself—open, unguarded, willing to admit she wasn’t perfect.

Navia was the first to respond, her voice warm and reassuring. “Of course, Furina. We’re here for you.”

The Traveler nodded in agreement, a small but encouraging smile on their face, while Paimon added brightly, “Yeah! You can count on us!”

Lyney nodded as well, and Lynette offered a rare, gentle smile. Even Freminet, who usually hid behind his diving helmet, took it off and smiled, a look of support shining through his usual shyness.

Clorinde and Wriothesley exchanged a knowing glance, a moment of silent understanding passing between them. One of them sighed, a hint of warmth softening their demeanor, while the other’s usual smirk faded into a more sincere expression as they nodded quietly. Nearby, Sigewinne offered a supportive smile, her tiny hands clasped together in encouragement.

Furina let out a small breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, relief washing over her.

( Pity Neuvillette isn't here. )

She thought, a faint pang of longing in her chest. But even in his absence, she already knew his answer would be the same.

( Ah~ I'm not alone anymore . )

That realization brought a gentle smile to her lips, a weight lifted that she hadn’t fully recognized until now. The atmosphere in the parlor shifted as the tea party resumed, a newfound warmth enveloping them, filling the space with an inviting comfort that seemed to dissolve the remnants of tension.

As the chatter began to flow again, Furina’s curiosity sparked anew. “You both are still traveling around Fontaine, right?” she asked, her attention turning to the Traveler and Paimon.

“Yep!” Paimon chimed in, her cheeks puffed up with cookie crumbs. “Though we sometimes visit the previous nations too, especially when there’s a festival!” Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she recounted their adventures. “Windbloom in Mondstadt, Lantern Rite in Liyue, Summer Festival in Inazuma, and Sabzeruz Festival in Sumeru!”

Furina laughed softly, shaking her head in disbelief. “Oh my, you guys sure are occupied! It sounds like you’re always on the move!”

“Tis the life of an adventurer!” Paimon declared dramatically, dropping her voice into a deep, theatrical tone.

Their laughter echoed around the room, lightening the mood even further.

Suddenly, a soft knock interrupted their merriment. The door creaked open to reveal a little Melusine, her bright eyes shining with excitement.

“Monsieur Neuvillette told me to deliver this,” she said, beaming up at them. “He apologized for being unable to come.”

“How thoughtful of him,” Furina replied, her heart warming at the gesture"Please, take a slice of cake before you resume your work. And convey my thanks to our lovely judge. Tell him not to worry too much.”

The little Melusine’s smile widened as she nodded vigorously, her little hands carefully balancing a large slice of cake that seemed almost too big for her. “I will! He’ll be so happy to hear that!”

Clorinde stepped forward, her demeanor gentle as she helped take the hefty cake from the Melusine’s grasp, ensuring it didn’t topple over. “Let me assist you with that,” she said, her voice soothing. Navia and Lynette joined in, deftly cutting a few slices for the Melusine.

Paimon fluttered over, her eyes wide with excitement as she leaned in to get a better look at the cake, practically bouncing on her feet. “Wow! It looks amazing!” she exclaimed, her enthusiasm palpable, practically radiating from her as she eyed the delicious treat.

Meanwhile, Sigewinne and Sedene wandered over to the Melusine, their chatter blending into the background as they engaged her in friendly conversation. Wriothesley also had moved to the other side of the room, observing the scene with a faint smile as he talk to Lyney and Freminet.

While everyone busied themselves with the cake, the Traveler, still seated, glanced at Furina with a glint of curiosity in their eyes. “Do you want to travel, Furina?” they asked, their voice filled with a mix of wonder and genuine interest.

Furina leaned back in her chair, her expression turning thoughtful as she considered the question. “Well, why not?” she replied, tilting her head slightly, a playful smile breaking across her face. “I’m not bound to this land anymore, so going on a short vacation once in a while would be nice.”

With a teasing glimmer in her eyes, she added, “Who knows? I might even be able to travel between worlds just like you.”

For a brief moment, surprise painted the Traveler's face, their eyes widening at her playful challenge. Furina’s smile only widened. She knew more than she let on, especially since the day she “broke” the sky.

“There’s still a long way to go until you reach the end of this world,” Furina said, her tone shifting to a more serious note. “It might not be what you’re hoping for, but I hope that when you do reach the end, your wish will come true.” Her voice was soft yet filled with a wisdom that seemed to resonate beyond her years, and the sincerity of her words hung in the air.

A contemplative silence enveloped them, allowing the lively sounds of laughter and conversation from the others to fade into the background.

“Do you know what is at the end?” the Traveler asked, their curiosity evident.

Furina shrugged playfully, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Well, who knows? Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” Her tone danced lightly, but there was a depth to her words that hinted at hidden truths.

A fleeting hint of disappointment crossed the Traveler’s face, and Furina’s heart softened at the sight.

Leaning into her hand, she gazed across the table at her other guests, momentarily distracted by their lighthearted banter. Then, lowering her voice to a gentle whisper meant only for the Traveler, she added, “Traveler, the truth will be laid upon you regardless. So just take your time. The show will not start until all the actors have taken their place after all.”

She sensed the Traveler’s gaze linger on her, and when she glanced sideways, she found them with their eyes closed, seemingly absorbing her words. There was a moment of stillness between them, a shared understanding that resonated in the air.

Just then, Paimon floated over, her cheeks still dusted with crumbs from her earlier indulgence, the remnants of cake highlighting her excitement. “Hey, you two! Stop whispering and come join us!” she urged, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “We’re about to try the cake! It looks amazing!”

Furina chuckled softly, shaking off the gravity of their conversation. “Alright, alright! I wouldn’t want to miss out on such a delicious creation.”

As she stood, she turned to the Traveler, beckoning them to join the lively gathering. “Come on!” she encouraged, her smile lighting up the room like a beacon. The Traveler nodded, their expression shifting to one of eagerness as they rose from their seat. Together, they walked toward the others.

💧💧💧

As night fell, the soft glow of lanterns illuminated the Palais Mermonia, casting delicate shadows across the elegant furnishings. In her old room now, Furina glanced at the time, her heart fluttering slightly. There was still one more person she needed to connect with.

Wrapping herself in a warm shawl and her Hydro vision in her pocket, she stepped out of her room, the fabric enveloping her in comfort. Knowing Neuvillette’s habits well, she easily anticipated where he would be at this hour.

As she turned a corner, she spotted him, just as she expected—standing near the balcony, his silhouette framed against the moonlight. The gentle breeze tousled his hair, and the serene expression on his face spoke of deep contemplation. He already changed from his usual Iudex outfit to something simpler.

Approaching him, Furina felt a rush of warmth at the sight of him in this tranquil moment. “Enjoying the moon, Monsieur?” she teased, her voice light and playful, breaking the quiet spell.

Neuvillette turned his gaze slightly to acknowledge her presence, a small smile appearing as he nodded. “It’s hard not to be captivated by such a sight.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the night wrapping around them like a comforting blanket, punctuated only by the distant sound of water.

“I heard from Sedene. So you’re going back to your apartment tomorrow,” Neuvillette finally said, his voice steady but tinged with an undertone of concern.

Furina nodded, her heart fluttering at the thought. She turned her gaze to the vista before her, taking in the view of the Court of Fontaine bathed in silvery moonlight. The night wind danced around them, playfully tousling their hair. “Yes, it feels like the right time,” she replied thoughtfully. "I can't keep on running away."

( I have to take the first step myself. )

Neuvillette’s expression shifted slightly, concern flickering in his eyes. “Are you sure you’re ready?” he said, his brow furrowing slightly.

"I'll be fine this time," Furina said, her voice firm, the determination evident in her gaze. She could sense the unspoken doubts he held but wanted to reassure him.

He studied her for a moment, the weight of his gaze acknowledging her resolve. “I see... You should get some sleep,” Neuvillette said softly, his tone filled with concern. "Tomorrow is your new beginning after all."

Furina glanced sideways at him, her expression unreadable. “How about you? Compared to me, it seems like you need it more than I do, Neuvillette.”

She could see Neuvillette hesitate, his brow furrowing slightly before he offered a small, dismissive smile. "I'm always fine."

A knowing glimmer flickered in her eyes. "Hmm… I suppose witnessing someone executing themselves—especially in the image of someone you knew—must have taken a toll on you," she said, her tone laced with quiet understanding.

( Not to mention my own attempt... )

The thought hung heavy in the air, adding weight to the silence that enveloped them.

💧💧💧

Neuvillette's gaze slowly shifted to her, his voice lower. "So you knew." He paused, his expression darkening as memories stirred. "As far as I remember, I don't think I ever told you that I witnessed her death myself."

"Focalors told me," Furina replied softly, turning to face him fully.

"I see..." His voice trailed off, his expression darkening with the memories he often kept hidden, even from himself. The melancholy in his eyes deepened.

Neuvillette understood more than anyone how kind Furina was. It was precisely why he had never told her in detail about Focalors' death—he couldn’t bear to add to the weight she already carried. She had enough of her own struggles; worrying about him would have only burdened her further.

But before he could retreat into his thoughts, Furina, without warning, reached out to him. Her fingertips brushed against his cheek. The simple touch felt like a lifeline to Neuvillette. Sensing her intentions, he instinctively leaned into her hand.

"Look at you," she murmured, her thumb gently caressing the dark circles under his eyes. "You look terrible." The warmth of her concern enveloped him, a balm for the weariness that had settled into his bones.

Neuvillette closed his eyes under her touch, his defenses lowering for just a moment. "A Sovereign like me doesn’t need to sleep."

Furina hummed softly in response, a sound that held both affection and exasperation. "Even Sovereigns have their limits."

Neuvillette remained silent, his chest rising and falling with a quiet steadiness. For all the power he held, there was a fragility to him in this moment—one that only Furina could see.

She tilted her head, studying him thoughtfully before continuing, her voice softer, more vulnerable. "You know... There was a time I thought I’d never be able to move forward. Not after everything that happened. But I realize now... even if it was a clumsy attempt from you, it’s because of you—because you took all those steps to make sure I stayed alive—that I believe it’s possible for me to live, to keep going."

Her words lingered in the night air, raw and honest, a confession that bared her soul. Neuvillette shook his head, a note of self-deprecation creeping into his tone. “I have done nothing.” His brow furrowed as he grappled with the truth of her words. It seemed so undeserved to him, a man who believed he had failed her in more ways than he could count.

Furina’s eyes flickered with a tenderness he hadn’t seen in so long. "Do you really think it was ‘nothing’?" she began, her tone soft but steady. "Do you remember when I was too scared to even look at your eyes, and you hid them from me? Or when you tried so hard to feed me, even though I didn’t have the strength? When we read those stories together, and you never left my side?" Her voice wavered just slightly before she added, almost teasingly, “And when you kissed my hand while I was asleep… I know about that too.”

At that, Neuvillette’s composure faltered. He looked away for a brief moment, the slightest hint of embarrassment touching his usually stoic features. But Furina wasn’t finished. She took a small step closer, her words cutting through his defenses with undeniable truth. “Is that really ‘nothing,’ my dear judge?”

He turned back to meet her gaze, his heart stirring painfully as he saw the quiet determination in her eyes. Furina’s lips curved into a small, wry smile, her gaze never wavering from his. She stepped back slightly, allowing the pale glow of the moon to bathe her in its silvery light, making her look almost ethereal—fragile, yet unbreakable.

“Neuvillette,” she said, her voice unwavering yet gentle, “I’ve decided to end my grievance. With everything—the mistakes, the regrets, the pain—I’m choosing to let it go.” Her words lingered, heavy with meaning, a solemn promise. “So, you don’t have to suffer from that guilt anymore.”

Furina’s eyes softened as she stepped closer once more, her hand finding its way back to his cheek, a gentle caress that sent warmth flooding through him. “For all this time... for always believing in me, thank you, Neuvillette.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the sincerity in it cut through the air like a clear note. “The guilt you carry and the guilt I carry... let’s clean the slate. Let’s move on from the past.”

She took a deep breath, her fingers slipping into her pocket. Slowly, she withdrew the love letter he had written, the one he never intended for her to see. She held it up, her expression unreadable. "And... I’m aware of your feelings for me," she said, her tone softening. "Your letter, I've read it."

Neuvillette stiffened, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. He braced himself for rejection or ridicule, his mind racing through every possible worst-case scenario. But as he looked at her, he was met not with scorn but with the warm, reassuring smile that spread across her face. "To be honest... I’m quite happy that you like me."

Neuvillette eyes widened. But before he could respond, Furina held up a hand, stopping him. "But I want to take things step by step." She lowered the letter, folding it carefully before tucking it away. Her eyes met his, steady and clear. "So, Neuvillette, can we be friends again? Not as the Hydro Archon and the Hydro Dragon, but just as Furina and Neuvillette?"

She extended her hand towards him, palm open. Neuvillette glanced down at her hand, hesitant. As he lifted his gaze to meet hers, he found himself lost in the soft glow of moonlight that framed her silhouette, her features illuminated with an ethereal radiance.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, her voice steady but warm, " I am Furina. Furina de Fontaine.”

A delicate silence settled between them, stretching longer than either anticipated. Furina didn’t rush him, her hand outstretched, palm open, waiting. She knew better than to force this moment. Whatever this connection between them was, it needed to grow naturally, unhurried, like the gentle ripples in Fontaine’s waters.

As the quiet deepened, Neuvillette’s gaze lingered on her extended hand. It was then he noticed the slight tremble in her fingers, betraying the calm exterior she worked so hard to maintain.

“Neuvillette,” he finally replied, his voice low but steady as he reached out to take her hand. “Nice to know you, Furina.”

They stood there for a moment, simply gazing at each other, the world around them fading into the background as they savored the tranquility of the night.

Then a fleeting realization crossed Neuvillette's mind, a wave of uncertainty crashing over him. “Hm? Does this mean I don’t have a chance?” His voice faltered, and his face instantly fell. Dark clouds starting to gather.

Furina's laughter broke the tension, a bright, clear sound that filled the night air with lightness. "Pfft, hahaha. No, silly. It means your chance is the highest of them all." Her smile radiated warmth, dispelling the shadows of doubt that had crept into Neuvillette's heart.

Neuvillette’s eyes widened in surprise, disbelief mingling with a flicker of hope. "I see. Wait, who 'them'? Does this mean there are others courting you as well?"

Furina laughed again, a carefree sound that seemed to echo through the quiet night. "Hahahaha! Oh, Neuvillette, you really are something."

As their laughter echoed into the quiet night, a gentle warmth wrapped around them like a comforting embrace. Neuvillette felt the tension drain from his body, the heaviness of the past lifting just a little. Neuvillette couldn't help but smile.

Both he and Furina knew the past would never be fully erased. The weight of their shared history, the mistakes, the pain—it would always linger, woven into the fabric of who they were. But even so, what happened tonight would be remembered just as deeply, not as another scar, but as a moment of healing and hope.

As the cool night air whispered around them, Neuvillette glanced up at the sky, the dark clouds retreating to reveal a blanket of stars. Perhaps, for the first time in a long while, he would finally sleep peacefully. And when he did, he would like to dream of the future—one where he and Furina could walk together, hand in hand, toward whatever lay ahead.

With a final, lingering gaze at her, Neuvillette allowed himself a quiet sigh of contentment. Yes, tonight was the beginning of something new. He will do better in the future.

💧💧💧

Chapter Text

💧💧💧

It was the day she returned to her apartment. Though there wasn’t much to begin with, most of her belongings—especially all the get-well gifts—had already been sent ahead. As she tidied up the last of her things, she paused in front of the mirror. For a long moment, she studied her reflection, carefully adjusting her signature blue hat, tilting it just so.

Satisfied, she smoothed the brim one last time and walked toward the door. She cast a final glance around the room, now quiet and empty.

( It feels strange. )

She thought. When she’d left the Palais back then, she had been exhausted, worn out, and aimless. But today, there was a sense of resolution, of closure. It was a real goodbye to the place that had been both her sanctuary and her cage for so long.

With a small, almost formal bow to the room, she turned and gently closed the door behind her.

Descending in the private lift, the hum of the machinery filled the silence, offering a quiet backdrop to her thoughts. When the doors opened on the ground floor, Clorinde, Navia, Neuvillette, and Sedene were already waiting. Their faces brightened as she stepped out.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Furina said with a gentle smile.

Clorinde and Navia immediately stepped forward, offering to accompany her to her new place. At first, Furina hesitated, wanting to go alone and prove her independence. But their insistence, the warmth of their concern, wore her down, and she relented.

Neuvillette, standing quietly at the side, also offered to join her. But before he could say more, Sedene intervened, her voice firm as she reminded him of the many duties still waiting for him. Furina caught the stern glance Sedene gave him, and with a soft sigh, Neuvillette withdrew his offer, though the reluctance in his eyes was clear.

Furina smiled gently. "Well then, I’m off," she said as she stepped ahead. The sky was bright, a clear blue stretching overhead. She looked up, breathing in the fresh air.

( Truly a perfect weath— )

But before she could finish the thought, a light drizzle began to fall. She instinctively held out her hand, letting a few drops land on her gloved palm. Her smile softened as she looked toward Neuvillette, the drizzle telling her everything she needed to know.

“My dear judge...” she whispered, slowly turning back to face him.

Neuvillette, however, averted his gaze, his expression carefully neutral. Furina sighed, shaking her head lightly.

"Neuvillette, my apartment is only a few minutes away," she said, her tone teasing but affectionate.

Still, he said nothing, his silence telling her more than words could. Around them, the others exchanged knowing glances.

Furina sighed softly, more to herself than to him. 

"Oh well. A little drizzle never hurt anyone," she said, trying to lighten the mood. She glanced up at the now overcast sky. "Besides, it's quite nice in its own way."

Yet, deep down, a familiar unease lingered. She remembered the days when the rain had been relentless, when it seemed as though Fontaine might drown beneath the weight of its own sorrow. That fear, though faded, had never entirely left her.

To shift the moment, Furina waved goodbye to Neuvillette and Sedene before turning her focus to the streets ahead.

💧💧💧

As they walked through the bustling streets of Fontaine, the scent of flowers mixed with the gentle drizzle, filling the air with an almost nostalgic fragrance. It had been a long time since Furina had walked these streets, and she couldn’t shake the sensation of countless eyes following her every step.

( They staring even more than before... ) 

She thought, trying her best to ignore the eyes that lingered on her as she passed. After all, this was her first public appearance after awhile since the prophecy passed, and their interest was expected. Besides, healing doesn't happen overnight, she reminded herself. Even so, the weight of their gazes made her stomach twist with unease.

Noticing her discomfort, Clorinde and Navia, who had been walking quietly beside her, exchanged a glance before Navia broke the silence. "You know, Furina, there a new design by the Chiyori-ya Boutique," she said, attempting to shift the mood. She then add in some lighthearted talk about the latest gossip in Fontaine, steering the conversation away from Furina's evident discomfort.

Soon, they arrived at her apartment. Furina stepped inside, she was surprised to find the place in a better state than she had anticipated. The sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the room, and there was hardly any dust despite it being unoccupied for a while.

"It's cleaner than before," Furina remarked, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

"I did a bit of tidying up earlier," Clorinde admitted. "I hope you don’t mind."

Furina turned to her and smiled. "No, not at all. In fact, thank you."

Clorinde hesitated for a moment before asking, “Are you sure you're okay with this place? If the stipend from the Palais wasn't enough, I could help—"

Furina waved the offer off with a light chuckle as she moved deeper into the apartment, heading towards her bedroom. "I don’t see any problem with it. I'm not sure what kind of place you imagined I’d choose, but if it’s too big, it'll be a nightmare to clean. I prefer something more manageable."

It was true. Despite her once-grand position, Furina had never been particularly picky. Her chambers at the Palais had been extravagant, of course, but that had been more out of necessity than desire. Now, she appreciated the simplicity of this smaller space. As she scanned the room, her eyes lingered on where the broken mirror had once been, now cleared away. Her journal sat neatly on the small cabinet nearby.

For a moment, she stood in thoughtful silence, her gaze resting on the journal. Then, without a word, she turned and headed toward the kitchen. Clorinde and Navia had already made themselves comfortable on the sofa, watching her with quiet concern.

"Oh," Furina said, breaking the stillness. "It seems I’ll need to stock up on a few things."

Navia smiled, getting up from the sofa. "Why don’t we head out to a café first? We can take care of the groceries afterward."

Furina glanced over her shoulder, a small but genuine smile on her lips. "That sounds like a plan."

💧💧💧

At the café, Furina, Clorinde, and Navia found a quiet corner table, away from the bustle of the afternoon crowd. The soft clinking of cups and hum of conversation filled the air, creating a soothing backdrop that allowed Furina to finally relax. She leaned back into her chair, letting the warm, lively atmosphere wash over her as they waited for their meals.

Just as the comfortable silence settled over them, an excited voice pierced through the air.

"Ah! It’s the Lady Archon!"

Furina looked to the side, her eyes widening slightly as she saw a young boy, no older than seven, pointing at her with wide eyes. He rushed over, followed by a small group of other children, each one more excited than the last.

"Did you read my letter?" the boy asked eagerly, bouncing on his toes.

"Are you feeling better now?" another child piped up, her large eyes filled with concern.

For a moment, Furina blinked, caught off guard by the sudden attention. Then, a soft laugh escaped her. Children had a way of cutting through the formalities and complexities of the world, their innocence refreshing and unpretentious.

Leaning down slightly to be closer to their level, Furina smiled, the kind of smile that reached her eyes and softened her usually poised demeanor. "I did read your letter," she said to the boy, her tone warm and gentle. She leaned in just a little, as if sharing a secret between them. "It was very sweet. And yes, I’m feeling much better now."

The children crowded closer, their faces lighting up with admiration and relief. One of the girls, her hair in neat pigtails, hugged a small notebook to her chest. "We were so worried when you got sick!" she said earnestly, her tiny brow furrowed with concern far too big for someone her age.

Another child, a boy clutching a small toy hydro slime, spoke up next, his voice filled with awe. "But we knew you'd be okay. You're the strongest, Lady Archon!"

"Of course," Furina replied with mock confidence, standing a little taller as if to play along with their words. "But I’m not the Lady Archon anymore, remember?"

The children looked puzzled for a moment, exchanging curious glances. "Then what should we call you?" one of the girls asked, her head tilted as she awaited Furina's answer.

Furina thought for a moment, then her expression brightened. "How about ‘Big Sister Furina’?" she suggested with a playful smile.

The children erupted in laughter and cheers at her suggestion, clearly delighted by the new title. "Big Sister Furina!" they repeated, their voices filled with glee.

As Furina laughed with them, Clorinde and Navia watched the scene unfold, exchanging amused glances from across the table. They weren’t the only ones captivated; nearby customers and passersby looked on with warm smiles, sharing in the joyful atmosphere.

Furina spent a few more minutes with the children, answering their questions and playing along with their games. Her formal tone had all but disappeared, replaced by an easy warmth that only children could draw out of her. She teased them gently, made them laugh, and even humored their endless questions.

Soon, a café server approached their table, carefully balancing trays of food. As the meals were placed before them, the children, sensing the end of their impromptu meeting, began to say their goodbyes. One by one, they waved enthusiastically, their voices echoing with bright, innocent joy.

"Goodbye, Big Sister!" they called, their words filled with affection as they scattered back into the bustling streets, still brimming with energy.

As the last of the children left, Furina leaned back in her chair, watching them run off with a faint but lingering smile. For the first time in a while, she felt a little lighter.

Navia shot her a teasing grin. "Big Sister Furina, huh~" she drawled, clearly enjoying the moment.

Furina rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile that formed in response. "It just slipped out," she muttered, though the soft blush on her cheeks betrayed her embarrassment.

Clorinde, who had been watching quietly, took a slow sip of her coffee, her gaze thoughtful as it rested on Furina. "It’s good to see you like this," she said, her tone quieter but filled with sincerity. "It suits you."

Navia nodded in agreement, her grin widening. “It’s nice seeing you like this.”

Furina’s eyes flickered with surprise at the compliment. She shrugged it off, a bit awkwardly, as her blush deepened. "They’re just children," she replied. She glanced down at her plate, poking at her food absentmindedly. "And besides, I’m a responsible adult. It’s natural to be good with kids, right?"

Navia and Clorinde exchanged glances, clearly amused. Navia set her cup down and leaned forward, grinning. "Eh~"

Furina shot a mock glare in their direction, though her eyes betrayed her with a playful glint. There was no real irritation behind her look; in fact, she found herself enjoying the banter. Surprisingly, the awkwardness that once hung between them—especially with Navia—had softened considerably. It still there but it's getting better.

“I am responsible!" Furina insisted, straightening her posture and puffing out her chest in exaggerated indignation. "I was the Archon of Fontaine, after all. Surely that counts for something?" She then added, with a mischievous smirk, "And for the record, I’m much older than both of you combined."

"Of course," Clorinde replied, her usually stoic expression softening with the faintest smile. "How could we possibly forget?"

Furina, satisfied with their response, lifted her chin with mock grandeur. “I’m glad both of you understand now,” she said with an air of playful superiority. Her eyes sparkled as she leaned forward slightly. "Well then, as your responsible adult, I think it’s time we ordered dessert."

Navia laughed, clapping her hands together. Clorinde shook her head, but there was a soft smile on her lips as she waved over the server. “Dessert it is.”

💧💧💧

Over the next few days, Furina spent her time at home, practicing with her Hydro Vision. She had learned to summon small orbs of water, even a sword similar to the one she’d wielded in her other realm. Though her powers weren’t fully defined yet, she could feel her strength growing. Her confidence returned slowly but surely.

Then, an idea suddenly sparked in her mind—an opportunity for some light-hearted revenge. She had once challenged the Local Legend north of the Court of Fontaine, Vivianne of the Lake, and lost rather embarrassingly. But now... things were different.

A spark of determination ignited within her as the idea took hold—what better way to test her newfound strength than to face the creature who had once bested her? This time, she would show Vivianne what the former goddess who once have dominion over the high waters was truly capable of.

“Vivianne!” she called, her voice echoing across the water. “I challenge you!” She felt a thrill run through her at the thought of proving herself, her Vision glowing at her side in anticipation of the battle.

However, reality hit her like a cold splash of water as the confrontation unfolded. Furina had forgotten one very important detail: Hydro is immune to Hydro.

As she unleashed a torrent of water, hoping to overwhelm Vivianne, the local legend stood unfazed, her own watery form absorbing the attack without a hint of struggle.

“Uh... Maybe this was a bad idea…” Furina muttered to herself, a wave of panic washing over her as Vivianne’s expression shifted from surprise to anger. With a powerful hydro blast, Vivianne retaliated, sending a torrent of water surging toward Furina.

“Eeek!” Furina shrieked, instinctively cowering down to shield herself

Just as she thought she was done for, a sudden gust of wind swept her up, carrying her away from danger. The harsh cries of the Local Legend faded behind her as the wind cradled her in its invisible arms, lifting her effortlessly to safety.

She landed gently on a grassy hill, far from the fray. Catching her breath, Furina whispered to herself, "That was a close call." She brushed the dust from her dress, her heart still racing from the near-miss, and added with a smirk, "I owe you one, Barbatos."

Behind her, the wind stirred, swirling with a gentle force as the air seemed to shimmer. Out of the very currents, a figure materialized—a bard cloaked in vibrant green, his braided hair swaying lightly in the breeze. His lyre was slung casually across his back, an extension of his carefree demeanor. 

With a flourish, he bowed low, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "Greetings, milady," he said, his tone light as the wind itself. "I go by Venti nowadays."

Furina didn’t need to turn to recognize him, the identity of the bard having come to her in a moment of clarity. She knew why he had come. "I suppose you’re here because something changed," she said, her voice steady. "Something that didn't happen in the previous loop happened, didn't it?"

Venti tilted his head slightly, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "So you knew." His gaze flickered with a hint of sadness, masked by his usual playful tone.

"Of course," Furina replied, closing her eyes for a brief moment. "Wind is timeless, rock is unmovable... Water," she continued, her eyes reopening with a sharper glint, "retains memories."

The realization of who stood before her dawned slowly but surely, as if the knowledge had always been buried deep within her, just waiting for the right moment to surface. This was what Focalors had hinted at—the memories would come to light when the time was right. Yet, it seemed that her defiance of fate had accelerated their resurfacing.

"A single drop can change the whole fate," Furina murmured, her voice almost a whisper. "All 'my' previous attempts have failed. I’ve watched as everything dissolved into nothingness each time."

"And yet," Venti's voice broke the silence, gentle but firm, "even after all of that… you still continue to find a way. You press forward." There was no judgment in his tone—just quiet admiration for her persistence.

Furina’s gaze softened, her eyes glimmering with the light of unspoken truths. A faint, genuine smile broke across her lips. "Isn’t that true for both of us? We are both bound to the tides of fate, yet we dare to swim against them."

The breeze around them grew gentler, almost like a sigh of understanding, as if the world itself was listening intently to their exchange.

“Whether it was intentional or not,” Furina continued, her voice imbued with sincerity, “I still thank you. For giving me these chances to redo—to try again.”

Venti’s expression shifted, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he turned his gaze toward the distant Court of Fontaine.

Venti’s expression shifted subtly, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips as he turned his gaze toward the distant Court of Fontaine. "You're welcome, I suppose." There was a depth to his tone now, layered with relief and something far more profound. "And, before I forget... congratulations for winning the gamble this time. You truly did win, against all odds."

Furina hummed softly in response, her eyes drifting toward the sky. The horizon seemed endless, yet always out of reach. "Do you think that child will make a different choice this time?" she asked, her voice quiet but filled with a heavy expectation.

Venti followed her gaze, his eyes distant and thoughtful. "I’m not sure," he admitted, the smile fading as his expression turned serious. "All we can do is hope."

Furina didn’t press further. There was nothing more to say about that—at least, not now.

The wind around them began to shift, growing more insistent, carrying with it the subtle weight of fleeting time. Venti glanced at the horizon, sensing the change, and took a small step back, his playful grin returning—but there was a hint of urgency behind it now. "Well, I should get going before your dragon lover realizes I’m here," he quipped, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement.

Furina raised an eyebrow at his remark, but before she could respond, the bard chuckled, his form beginning to lift from the ground as the air around him seemed to carry him effortlessly. The wind curled around his figure, playful and free, matching his demeanor.

"As long as the wind still blows, may we meet again, Eternal Muse of High Waters" Venti said with a dramatic flourish. "Oh! Next time, perhaps we can share the stage together."

Just as Venti began to fade into the wind, she called out, her voice carrying on the breeze, "May we meet again, Windborne Bard. And this time... I hope you find the freedom you’ve always desired."

For a moment, Venti paused mid-flight, a genuine surprise crossing his face. He turned slightly, his expression softening as if those words had struck something deep within. "I hope so too," he murmured, his voice almost lost in the wind. With an ephemeral smile, he vanished completely, leaving only the faintest ripple in the air where he once stood.

Furina remained still for a few moments longer, her eyes lingering on the empty sky. The wind brushed against her cheek like a parting caress before it, too, faded into silence. Alone once more, she allowed a soft sigh to escape her lips.

"Hmm... maybe I should pay the others a visit," Furina mused aloud, her thoughts drifting to the remaining Archons.

She met the Anemo Archon. Next, she would need to give her thanks to the Dendro Archon, Lesser Lord Kusanali. Neuvillette had mentioned that the young goddess had expressed a desire to befriend her, a notion that had surprised Furina. The avatar of Irminsul that Nibelung mentioned was actually her, it seems.

Then there was the Geo Archon. Furina found it hard to believe that Rex Lapis was truly dead, as rumors suggested. His presence still lingered, silently watching over both gods and mortals.

As for the Electro Archon... The storms of Inazuma had quieted, the tension of the Vision Hunt Decree long resolved thanks to the Traveler. Meeting with the Raiden Shogun, the once-isolated deity, seemed feasible now.

Meeting the Tsaritsa is definitely a bad idea for now. The Cryo Archon herself might be manageable, but her harbingers were a different story. Two of them were already a headache, and she had no desire to encounter the others any time soon.

As for the Pyro Archon, the wheel of fate would soon turn for Natlan, heralding a time of upheaval. It was best to keep her distance from that impending storm until the air settled.

But she would think more on these matters later; there was no reason to rush. For now, her attention returned to the present. Her Hydro Vision glows. There was still much to learn, and much to accomplish. The Local Legend that had nearly bested her would not be so lucky next time.

"I’ll defeat it," she murmured to herself, her eyes hardening with determination. "But not today."

With that resolve, she turned her back on the windswept hill and made her way home.

💧💧💧

Days had passed and she still trying to learn how to properly used her Hydro vision. However, her efforts often resulted in chaos; at one point, she accidentally flooded her entire living space. The landlord had promptly issued a warning letter, which left her feeling utterly embarrassed and frustrated.

Furina plopped onto her bed, her mind whirling with frustration. Around her, everyone seemed to wield their Visions with effortless grace. Neuvillette and the Traveler didn’t even need theirs, their power  is something they naturally handled.

Clorinde was different, her electro vision manifesting in sharp bursts, every move precise, like a lightning strike cutting through the night. Navia, with her Geo Vision, summoned a cannon that could blown away her enemy instantly. Wriothesley’s fists were his weapon, his Cryo Vision turning each punch into a storm of ice, freezing his enemies in place with sheer force.

And then there were the twins, Lyney and Lynette, whose Visions conjured their signature mascots, the embodiment of their magician’s charm and mischief. Even Freminet could summon his little companion, perfectly suited to his quiet, contemplative nature. Every one of them used their Vision in a way that was so intrinsically tied to who they were, it was as if their souls had shaped the power itself.

The realization gnawed at her. Where did her Vision fit into all of this? What was her power meant to reflect?

A sudden thought jolted through her, igniting a spark of hope. Rising from her bed, Furina crossed the room and stood before the new mirror she had recently acquired. It was ornate, reflecting the soft, pale light of her chambers. She stared at her own reflection

Tentatively, she touched the mirror’s cool surface and closed her eyes. The energy within her stirred. When she opened her eyes, the change was immediate.

Her hair flowed down her back in twin, luminous strands, cascading like liquid silver. Her attire transformed as well—her top and shorts shifting seamlessly into pristine white garments.

“It works,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

She touched the mirror again, her gaze meeting that of her Archon self. “Hello again… me.”

This part of her, this persona, had always been there, lurking beneath the surface. It wasn’t something she could run from, nor something she could simply discard. It was her—part of her identity, intertwined with every aspect of who she was. As she stood there, staring into her own eyes, a profound sense of acceptance washed over her, like a gentle wave smoothing out the rough edges of a weathered shore.

She accepted it. She accepted herself.

A soft, hesitant knock on the door abruptly disrupted her moment of introspection. Shaking off the lingering haze of self-reflection, Furina made her way to the entrance and opened the door.

Neuvillette stood there, his eyes widening in surprise as he took in Furina's transformed appearance. "Furina, I thought I should... drop by..."

"Neuvillette," Furina said, her voice gently snapping him from his reverie.

"Would you like to come in?" she offered, her tone warm yet composed.

"... Yes. Sorry for the intrusion," Neuvillette replied, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness.

Furina stepped aside to let him in and led him to a comfortable sofa in her living room. She then made her way to the kitchen, her movements graceful and purposeful.

"Uh..." Neuvillette began, his gaze shifting awkwardly around the room. Before he could continue, Furina anticipated his needs.

"Plain water, right?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of familiarity.

Neuvillette nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yes, thank you.”

As Furina moved to the kitchen, Neuvillette settled onto the sofa, his thoughts clearly absorbed in contemplation. The room was quiet except for the faint sounds of Furina moving about, a soothing backdrop to his reflective state.

When she returned with a glass of water, she handed it to him. “Kinda nostalgic, isn’t it? Even though it’s barely been a year since then,” she remarked, her tone carrying a hint of playful nostalgia. “So, which version of me do you prefer? This ‘me’ or the other ‘me’?”

There was a glimmer of mischief in her eyes, a subtle challenge wrapped in her lighthearted query.

Neuvillette took a sip of the water, his gaze lingering on Furina with a thoughtful expression. “I think both versions of you are equally beautiful and lovely,” he replied, his voice earnest and sincere.

Neuvillette’s heartfelt compliment, the warmth of his words stirring a flurry of emotions within her. But as she studied him more closely, something seemed off. His usual composure, though present, appeared tinged with an unusual weariness. His face, though still handsome and serene, seemed flushed.

A sudden wave of concern washed over her, urging her to close the distance between them. She stepped closer, her brow furrowing with worry.

"Pardon me—" Furina said softly, reaching out instinctively. She hesitated for just a second before her fingers brushed against his forehead. The heat radiating from his skin startled her. “Wait, you’re burning up.”

Her heart raced as she realized he was unwell. Furina took a step back, her playful demeanor replaced with genuine concern. “Neuvillette, you should have told me! Are you feeling alright?”

Neuvillette’s expression didn’t shift. He simply shook his head, brushing it off with a quiet murmur. “I'm fine Furina. Dragons don’t catch colds."

Furina stared at him, her lips pressing into a thin line. There was an obvious contradiction between his words and the heat radiating from his skin. Clearly, something was wrong, and his typical stoic denial wasn’t helping matters.

For a fleeting moment, her mind wandered, her thoughts dipping into absurdity.

( Should I hit him with a pan to make him unconscious? I just bought a new one... )

She mused to herself, half-serious. But she quickly shook the thought away realizing how ridiculous that would be.

Furina knew that he had been working non-stop since she left the Palais Mermonia that day from the Melusines. Despite his busy schedule, he still found time to buy her some gifts. Regardless, it isn't far-fetched to say that she also may be one of the reason he in this state now.

With a sigh, she placed her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowing with determination. “Lay down,” she ordered softly, her voice firm yet caring. “You need to rest, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

He hesitated for a second, but he complied in the end, reclining on the nearby sofa. Furina moved quickly, retrieving a damp cloth from the basin nearby. She knelt beside him and gently placed the cool cloth on his forehead. Neuvillette’s eyelids fluttered shut as the cold cloth met his overheated skin.

"Rest," she said, her voice quieter now, softer. She watched as his breathing evened out, a quiet relief settling in her chest.

Once she was satisfied that he was settled, Furina stood and walked over to the sofa across from him. She sank into the cushions, leaning back as she turned her gaze to him, observing the peaceful rise and fall of his chest.The only sound was the faint rhythm of his breathing, a soft melody that filled the silence.

As she sat there, lost in her thoughts, memories of their past surfaced like echoes in her mind, vivid and haunting. She recalled a conversation that had lost in time yet lingered in her memory.

"If you could understand humanity, would you be willing to save them?"

"Perhaps, but that is a fantasy. I would never save the creations of the Usurper King."

Furina whispered softly to herself, “A fantasy, huh…”

💧💧💧

When did it all begin?

Perhaps it started when the first true timeline unfolded. Back then, she had been the epitome of a good ruler—no deceit, no theatrics, no false promises. She was a genuine Archon, sworn to protect her people with every ounce of her divine power.

Yet, even then, the prophecy that foretold the fall of Fontaine was unchanging. No matter how virtuous her reign, fate had already written the end. As destiny had foretold, her people were consumed by the rising floodwaters, and only the Hydro Archon remained.

She sat upon her throne, motionless, a silent witness to the destruction of all she held dear. Then, the bell of destruction rang, signaling the end of their world. She stayed there, above her beloved nation, waiting for oblivion to claim her. Yet, instead of an end, something far stranger occurred. Time rewound itself, and she found herself standing at the moment of her ascension to godhood once more.

At first, she believed it to be a gift from the heavens—a second chance to rewrite the fate of her nation. With renewed determination, she crafted countless plans, each designed to avert the calamities that had once befallen her land. But one by one, her efforts failed. The outcomes remained the same, or worse, twisted further out of her control.

Desperate, she sought counsel from the other Archons. Some were too absorbed in the struggles of their own nations, while others was hidden somewhere, nowhere to be found.

So she turned her gaze to Celestia itself. But when she finally reached out, she was met with a bitter revelation. The gift of time she had believed to be divine intervention had not come from Celestia. They, too, were unaware of the world’s reversal; they had not orchestrated this phenomenon.

It was only recently when she broke the fake sky that she uncovered the truth—it had been an attempt by the God of Freedom, an effort to escape Teyvat’s tragic destiny. The reversal of time was not a blessing, but a desperate bid for survival.

Back then, regardless how the reversal came to be, she did not lose hope—not at first. She continued to try, each time believing that somehow, she could change the outcome. But as the cycles repeated and her efforts proved futile, her hope began to dim. Each failure drained her spirit, until one day, she simply gave up.

She withdrew from the world, sinking into the depths of Fontaine’s waters, where she lay motionless on the seabed. She let the currents carry her, her body slowly withering away, consumed by the weight of her failure.

It was there, in the deep, that she caught sight of something unusual—a creature unlike any she had seen before, gliding gracefully through the water. Curious, she stirred from her lethargy and followed. As she drew closer, she realized it wasn’t just any creature but a handsome man, moving effortlessly through the currents like a part of the sea itself.

Perhaps sensing her presence, the man suddenly sped up, slicing through the water with a speed that left Furina momentarily stunned. His movements were effortless, powerful, as though the very sea obeyed him. She took it as a challenge.

With a burst of energy she hadn’t felt in years, the goddess surged after him, determined not to lose sight of this mysterious figure. The chase led them upward, through the darkened depths and into the sunlit surface. As they broke through the water, the sea spraying around them, the man finally slowed, and they emerged near the seaside, where the waves lapped gently at the shore.

He turned to face her, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. His expression was one of caution, his brow furrowed in suspicion. The air around him was thick with tension, and when he spoke, his voice carried a low growl. “Who are you?”

The goddess found herself momentarily speechless, her eyes widening as she got a closer look at him. There was something about him, something that tugged at her memory. It was a feeling both nostalgic and unsettling. Then, it clicked.

Egeria.

Her mind raced. Egeria had been the former Hydro Sovereign, the one who had ruled before Furina's time. Sovereigns were unique, ancient beings, and only one could exist at any given time. If Egeria was gone, that meant this man, standing before her with his accusing glare, must be the new Hydro Sovereign—the true ruler of the waters.

( This is bad... )

Her heart sank.

( Bad. Very bad. )

She knew well the bitter history between Celestia and the dragons, from the knowledge Egeria had passed to her. The Sovereigns, especially, held deep grudges against Celestia and its representatives. If this man realized who she truly was—the Hydro Archon, Celestia’s envoy to Fontaine—there was no telling how he might react. He could very well see her as an enemy, as nothing more than a usurper who had stolen what was rightfully his.

She needed to be cautious. Swallowing her rising fear, the goddess offered him a disarming smile, her mind racing for an explanation.

“Hm. Would you believe me,” she said, her voice light, almost playful, “if I told you I was a water fairy?”

Technically, it isn't a lie. Before she was a goddess, she was a human—albeit a fake one. And before she was a human, she was one of the oceanids.

The Hydro Dragon regarded her with narrowed eyes before letting out a snort, clearly unimpressed. Yet, to her relief, he didn’t question her further. Perhaps he didn’t know the intricacies of Celestia’s Archons or was simply too young and inexperienced to sense the divine aura that surrounded her. Whatever the reason, Furina found herself safe—for the moment.

With an impatient flick of his hand, he dismissed her, his presence commanding and cold. “Go away.”

But the young goddess, ever persistent, could not be shooed so easily. Despite the danger, despite the tense first encounter, she found herself returning. Something about the dragon intrigued her, pulled at her in a way she couldn’t quite explain. Perhaps, it was simply the quiet company she craved, someone who didn’t ask anything of her, someone who wasn’t a part of the endless burdens she bore and someone who would not be dissolved by the waters.

Despite their rocky beginning, the Hydro Dragon eventually grew accustomed to her visits, though he was never exactly welcoming. For the goddess, though, his aloofness wasn’t a deterrent. Whenever she sought respite from her duties, she would find him, and they would sit in silence by the water, the quiet sounds of Fontaine lapping at the shore.

Mostly, it was the young goddess who did all the talking. She would chatter about anything that came to mind—mundane occurrences from her day, fleeting thoughts that flitted through her mind like butterflies, and even the frustrations that weighed heavily on her heart. Sometimes, she would break into song, her voice ringing clear and bright, filling the air with melodies that danced on the breeze. On other occasions, she would perform little skits and one-woman shows, delighting in the fact that he was her only audience.

The Hydro Dragon listened, though he rarely spoke. He didn’t seem to care for conversation, but he tolerated her presence. And somehow, that was enough for young goddess. In those moments, they didn’t even share their names. It was simply two beings in each other’s company.

However, meetings between them had become rare, and now, the time of prophecy had arrived. Seated upon her crumbling throne, the Hydro Archon wept once more. 

How many times had she witnessed this same tragic scene? Her people, swallowed by the flood, vanished as though they had never existed. Not one had survived. Not one had escaped.

This time too, her divine power was spent. She had nothing left to give. Cracks began to form across her porcelain skin, spider-webbing outward with each passing second. She knew it wouldn’t be long now before she too would crumble.

Then, unexpectedly unlike the previous loops, the soft sound of rippling water echoed through the silence. The young goddess lifted her head, and through blurred vision, she saw the Hydro Sovereign walking across the floodwaters toward her, his steps light as if he floated above the devastation.

"So, you are the Hydro Archon," the dragon spoke, his voice calm and deep as he stopped before her fractured throne.

"Are you disappointed?" The goddesss asked, her voice a faint whisper, her fragile form slumped in defeat. A lie is still a lie afterall.

The dragon said nothing, merely gazing down at her in silence.

"Why do you struggle so much?" he finally asked, his tone carrying a tinge of curiosity, though his reptilian eyes betrayed no understanding of her pain. This was perhaps the first time he had posed such a question since the day they had met.

"Because I love them," the goddess replied softly. "I was born to love them." Her gaze drifted over the lifeless landscape, the once-vibrant cities now drowned beneath a sea of water and sorrow. Her heart, fragile and worn, beat with a love that had always been too vast for the world to comprehend.

The dragon's stare remained cold, unyielding, as though her words were beyond his grasp. He could not fathom why she would fight so fiercely for mortals, beings so fragile and fleeting.

A single thought emerge in goddess head.

"If you could understand humanity, would you be willing to save them?" she asked, though her voice was heavy with doubt. She did not expect an answer.

"Perhaps," the dragon replied after a long pause, his tone dismissive. "But that is a fantasy. I would never save the creations of the Usurper King."

"Is that so?" The goddess chuckled, a brittle sound that cracked in the still air. “I see…” Her body trembled as more of her form crumbled away, small pieces of herself falling like sand through an hourglass.

And then, a single drop of rain fell on her shoulder, followed by another, and another. A gentle drizzle began to fall from the sky, mingling with the floodwaters below.

"Are you crying for me, O Hydro Dragon?" The goddess asked, her lips curling into a sad smile.

"Dragons do not cry," the dragon replied, his voice unchanging, devoid of emotion.

So he said. But to goddess, this moment felt like the first time someone was beside her, standing witness to her final breath. Perhaps, for the first time, someone was mourning her passing, even if he would never admit it.

And then, a rhyme—a simple, childlike rhyme—formed in her mind, escaping her lips in a cracked, broken voice.

"Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon… don't cry…"

Her vision blurred, her strength fading rapidly. The world around her dissolved into hazy shadows, and she could no longer make out the dragon’s expression. She didn’t need to. His presence alone was enough.

( Next time... If there is a next time... I hope... that we could properly be friends. That would be nice... )

The thought flickered in her mind like a fragile flame, a spark of yearning that contrasted sharply with her bleak surroundings. The image of them together in their usual meeting spot, filled her with a bittersweet ache

And with that thought lingering in her mind, the goddess’s form began to crumble away, her once-brilliant essence fading into the surrounding waters.

💧💧💧

Chapter Text

💧💧💧

The Hydro Dragon was the "beating heart" that ruled over the Primordial Sea.

When he first became aware of himself, the only certainty he had was that he was the Hydro Sovereign, ruler of the seas and master of all water. Yet, an overwhelming sense of loss enveloped him; a vast portion of his memories had slipped through the cracks of his consciousness like water through his claws. Though he was a dragon in essence, he found himself reborn in the form of a human.

Despite the confusion, there was one thing that stood out—a melody that constantly echoed in his mind, as if it were imprinted on his very soul. It wasn’t a song he could recall hearing before, but it calmed him still. He wondered if it was a key to understanding his origin. So he clung to it, letting the melody guide him as he swam aimlessly beneath the endless ocean.

Day after day, this was his routine—drifting through the deep, silent waters, lost in thought, his heart tethered to the melody that never faded. Time became a blur, as the currents carried him through forgotten ruins and vast underwater landscapes. It was a solitary existence, with nothing but the song in his head to keep him company.

Then, one day, everything changed.

A letter appeared before him, floating impossibly in the water. There was no courier, no obvious explanation for how it had arrived, but it was there, pristine and dry. The envelope bore no name, only addressing him bluntly as "you." The tone was oddly personal yet detached, as if the writer knew him but chose to remain aloof.

A special you. A unique you.

The Hydro Dragon felt neither offense nor approval. It simply was. Yet, as he skimmed through the letter, it became clear who the sender was: the God of Justice, Focalors was inviting him to Fontaine.

What could the Archon of Justice possibly want with him, a being who had no interest in the affairs of mortals, let alone the politics of gods? The Hydro Dragon dismissed it without a second thought. What went on in Focalors’ mind was a mystery, and he had no desire to uncover it.  Without hesitation, he dismissed the letter. He had no reason to care for the whims of a goddess he never met, no need to set foot on the human lands.

He returned to his familiar routine, the melody still echoing in his mind as he swam through the depths. The ocean was vast, and so was his solitude.

But fate had other plans.

One day, while moving through a distant stretch of ocean, he found himself near a human settlement. It wasn’t intentional—he rarely ventured close to human territories—but something had pulled him in that direction. He was about to leave when, all at once, the melody—the same melody that had echoed endlessly in his mind since the day he became aware of his existence. Only this time, it wasn’t just in his thoughts. It was real, resonating in the air above the water. The song was unmistakable, but now it came from the surface. Intrigued, he swam closer, silently rising to where the ocean met the land.

From his hidden vantage beneath the waves, he saw her—a figure, standing at the edge of the sea, singing. She was beautiful, in a way that felt connected to nature itself, as if the very tides and winds responded to her voice. The melody that had haunted him for so long flowed effortlessly from her lips, and he was struck by how perfectly it matched the one etched into his soul.

He remained still, mesmerized. Who was she? How did she know the song that had been part of him since his beginning?

Then, a man approached from the shoreline, his voice cutting through the harmony. “Lady Furina,” he said, bowing slightly in respect. “There you are. The trial will be held soon. It cannot begin without you, the Hydro Archon.”

( Hydro Archon? Focalors? )

The Hydro Dragon's thoughts faltered. His gaze sharpened, locking onto the woman. She was the Hydro Archon? He studied her carefully now, suspicion mingling with curiosity. At first glance, she appeared light-hearted, her demeanor playful and carefree—nothing like the powerful force he would expect from a god. She radiated none of the overwhelming authority he imagined a deity should command. But he could feel it now, the faint pulse of energy around her. It was subtle, hidden beneath the surface, yet unmistakable. She was indeed a goddess, though not in the way he had envisioned.

With his acute hearing, he caught every word exchanged between them, his focus unbroken.

The melody stopped as the woman—the Archon—turned to the man who had addressed her. Her expression shifted to one of cheerful amusement. "Oh my?" she said in a voice that was light and playful, "I suppose I was too occupied with my divine thoughts. Let's go now."

His gaze remained fixed on her as the two began to walk away, their conversation fading into the distance. But just as he prepared to slip back into the ocean’s depths, she suddenly paused and quickly turned in his direction. His heart raced as he instinctively ducked beneath the surface, disappearing into the water’s embrace. He waited in tense silence, his senses on high alert.

"What’s wrong, my lady?" the man asked, his tone concerned.

Furina’s eyes scanned the horizon for a brief moment before she shook her head lightly. "No, it's nothing," she replied, her cheerful tone returning, though slightly more subdued. "Probably just my imagination."

She lingered for only a moment before they continued toward the city, their figures disappearing from view.

The Hydro Dragon remained hidden beneath the waves. He told himself to stay away. Nothing good could come from getting involved with mortals or the gods of their cities. He was a being of the ocean, untethered by the world above. And yet, despite this resolve, he found himself returning to the very place where he had first seen the Hydro Archon.

It became a routine—he would come to the shoreline at the same time each day, hidden beneath the waves, watching her. She was always there, standing by the sea, her voice lifting in song, sometimes with a smile on her face, sometimes with a sadness that seemed far older than she appeared. He was her only hidden audience, silently observing her private performances from afar, a ghost in the water.

Weeks turned into months, and months into years. For over a decade, he watched her. He observed her in her moments of joy, when her laughter seemed to blend with the gentle breeze, and in her moments of melancholy, when the weight of some unseen burden seemed to cloud her gaze. He wondered if this was the nature of divinity—if all the gods of Celestia wore their carefree masks to hide the sorrows buried deep within.

But then, something changed. She began to appear less and less often. Days passed without her showing up at the familiar spot, her absence unsettling him in a way he didn’t fully understand. Still, he waited and returned each day. He didn’t know why, but he lingered, hoping she would return. But she never did.

And then, one day, drawing upon his hydro abilities, he summoned a small whirlpool, and from its depths, he pulled out a letter that had been long forgotten.

It had been years since the invitation from Focalors had come to him, and he had kept it all this time, tucked away in the currents of the sea. He had dismissed it back then, refusing to be drawn into the affairs of the Archon. But now, with the melody echoing in his head and the empty space where she once stood, he found himself holding it once again.

The thought lingered in his mind—a place for him.

A sigh escaped his lips, reverberating through the water. He slipped the letter back into the currents and dove deep into the sea, farther than he had ever gone. But this time, it wasn’t to retreat into the comfort of the ocean’s embrace. No—this time, he swam away to prepare. A decision had been made.

The next time he came to Fontaine, he did not hide in the ocean’s embrace. He emerged from the waters, walking on land with purpose. The city of justice stretched out before him, vibrant and bustling, its streets teeming with life. People laughed, argued, and went about their lives. He paid them no mind. For all the noise and chaos of the city, only one presence mattered.

The sky above was a perfect shade of blue, birds wheeling lazily in the sky. The air hummed with the energy of the city, but all of it seemed distant, as though the world itself held its breath in anticipation. The wheel of fate had turned once more, bringing him to this moment.

Finally, he arrived at the Fountain of Lucine, where they said all water converge. There, she stood—the one they called Lady Furina, the Hydro Archon, in all her radiant beauty. She was exactly as he had remembered her from those years of silent observation. But this time, he wasn’t watching from afar. He was face-to-face with the goddess who now ruled the very waters that was supposed to belong to him.

He held up the letter. “Your letter,” he said, his voice steady but laced with the weight of the years that had passed. “I accept it.”

💧💧💧

A ray of sunlight pierced through the window, warming his face. Slowly, Neuvillette blinked awake, his eyes adjusting to the unfamiliar ceiling above him. He sat up, rubbing his temples as the last remnants of sleep clung to him.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," a familiar voice called out, light and teasing.

He turned to see Furina standing by the door, her usual playful smile on her lips. Neuvillette blinked, disoriented for a moment as he tried to piece together his memories. He had just completed an intense week of non-stop work, clearing the backlog of judicial duties that had piled up. After bidding farewell to Sedene, he had debated whether or not to visit Furina.

And somehow, here he was. He remembered standing in front of her doorstep, intending a brief visit. But then Furina had declared, quite dramatically, that he had a fever—an absurd suggestion, as dragons, especially one like him, did not fall ill. The thought had amused him, but the cool touch of her hand against his forehead was enough to let him relax. The next thing he knew, he'd fallen asleep right there.

"I fell asleep…" he muttered, more to himself than to her. His head throbbed lightly from exhaustion.

Seeing him glance at the clock, Furina spoke again, her tone unusually soft, though still carrying her characteristic cheer. “Don’t worry about the time. I’ve already contacted Sedene and told her you needed a break. So, just relax today.”

“I see…” he murmured.

Furina walked closer, the faintest hint of concern hidden beneath her playful demeanor. “This nation won’t collapse just because our Iudex is taking a day off, you know,” she teased. “In fact, I think it might do everyone some good.”

Neuvillette couldn’t help but smile faintly at her words.

“Would pasta be okay?” Furina asked, her eyes brightening as she changed the topic with ease. “I can whip something up for us. In the meantime, why don’t you go take a bath? It'll help clear your head."

Neuvillette nodded. “That sounds fine,” he replied softly, rising from the sofa. The domestic simplicity of the moment struck him. It wasn’t often that he experienced such warmth and normalcy. For a brief second, he wondered if this was all a dream. The mundane, paired with Furina's comforting presence, felt oddly surreal. But it was real, and it was enough for now.

Furina hummed lightly, the tune playful as she turned to prepare their meal, leaving Neuvillette to his thoughts.

💧💧💧

After finishing his bath and changing into more comfortable clothes, Neuvillette emerged and made his way toward the table near the kitchen. The soft clatter of utensils and the warm smell of food greeted him.

"Sorry, it's a bit burnt," Furina said with a sheepish grin, placing a plate of pasta in front of him. The edges of the dish were a little crispier than they should’ve been. "I'm still getting the hang of this cooking thing, but it should taste okay."

She set her own plate across from him and sat down, her smile unbothered by her minor mishap.

"Well then, dig in!" she said brightly, eager for them to share the meal together.

Neuvillette looked down at the slightly burnt pasta, his lips curling into a small smile. The imperfections didn't bother him—instead, he found them endearing, a testament to her efforts. "Thank you for the meal," he said sincerely, his voice gentle. It had been a long time since they'd shared a moment like this, just the two of them.

As he took a spoonful, he noticed Furina watching him intently, her eyes full of anticipation.

"How is it?" she asked, her voice lighter but tinged with a nervous curiosity.

Neuvillette paused, savoring the bite before offering a small, genuine smile. "It’s delicious," he said warmly.

Furina’s face lit up at his words, her earlier nervousness melting into a bright, satisfied smile. "I’m glad you like it!" she beamed, immediately digging into her own plate with newfound confidence.

As they ate, a gentle peace settled over them, the quiet clink of silverware and soft hum of the city outside adding to the warmth of the moment.

Neuvillette found his mind wandering amidst the tranquility. There were so many things he wanted to ask her. About the melody that led him to her. About what had truly happened while she was trapped within her inner world. But above all, he was consumed with curiosity about the odd and unfamiliar energy that seemed to swirl within her, like a storm lying dormant. He could sense it—something had changed.

“Furina…” he began, his voice careful as he searched for the right words, feeling the weight of his unasked questions pressing on his chest.

She looked up from her plate, her attention immediately drawn to him. "Yes?" she replied, tilting her head slightly, waiting for him to continue.

He hesitated, the questions he had on the tip of his tongue suddenly feeling too heavy for the moment. Instead, he chose a different route. "Ah… I heard you've been practicing with your Vision, right?"

Her expression brightened. "Yep," she replied. She sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I can change my appearance now, which is amazing, but I still want a really awesome attack. Something dramatic, something flashy, you know?"

She rested her chin on her hand, her eyes wandering as she mused aloud. "Maybe I should ask Clorinde for a spar later," she muttered, half to herself.

"She would definitely be happy if you asked for her help. Now that you mention it," Neuvillette said as he ponders, "is there any particular reason you decided on a sword as your weapon?"

Neuvillette studied her in silence for a moment. Furina paused for a moment, her fork twirling absentmindedly in her pasta. "Not really," she replied, her voice softer than before. Her lips curved into a melancholic smile, her usual energy dampened. "I just thought it was pretty cool to wield one. That’s all."

Though it was commendable that she was learning to defend herself, a part of him couldn’t help but worry. The thought of her in battle, risking injury, made him uneasy. There had to be a way for her to fight without putting herself in unnecessary danger. Then, an idea took shape in his mind.

"Hmm," he began thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. "What if you tried something different? Maybe you could take inspiration from the Oceanids and how they fight."

"Oceanids?" Furina looked at him quizzically, her brows furrowed. After a brief pause, realization dawned on her. "Oh! You mean how they summon little creatures to fight alongside them, right?"

With that, Neuvillette could see her mind beginning to churn with ideas.

As they finished their meal, Neuvillette helped clean up, rinsing the dishes while Furina moved to the living room. She had settled herself into a meditation pose on the floor, her face unusually serious, as if lost in deep thought. He didn’t disturb her, content to quietly observe from the kitchen. There was something calming about simply watching her, even when she was absorbed in her own world.

Suddenly, Furina’s voice shattered the peaceful quiet. "I KNOW!" she exclaimed, her excitement palpable as she jumped to her feet.

Neuvillette turned to see her eyes shining with determination. Closing her eyes, she focused intently, her Vision glowing softly at her side. The energy in the room seemed to shift, and before long, three shimmering hydro mimics materialized around her.

"Neuvillette! I did it!" she cried out, pride radiating from her. "Behold, I, Furina de Fontaine, am a genius!" She struck a triumphant pose, gesturing to her new hydro companions with a flourish.

Neuvillette, who had been quietly watching her with growing amusement, couldn’t help but smile. He clapped his hands together, offering her an encouraging round of applause.

"Ahem," Furina cleared her throat dramatically, her playful attitude returning in full force. "Let me introduce you to my Salon Solitaire."

With a flourish, she gestured toward the first mimic—a small, octopus-shaped creature wearing a miniature top hat. "Gentilhomme Usher!" she declared proudly. The hydro mimic straightened up, raising its hat and giving a graceful bow in Neuvillette’s direction.

Next, Furina waved to a bubbly seahorse-shaped hydro mimic that twirled gracefully in the air. "And here we have Surintendante Chevalmarin!" she announced, as the mimic joyfully blew bubbles into Neuvillette's face. He blinked in surprise, wiping the droplets from his cheek as Furina snickered.

Finally, she gestured toward a larger, armored crab-shaped hydro mimic that seemed full of energy. "And last but not least, Mademoiselle Crabaletta!" she shouted with glee. Without warning, the crab mimic charged at Neuvillette. But Neuvillette, ever graceful, sidestepped the attack with ease, watching the creature scuttle by with a faint smile.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Furina’s laughter filled the room, her joy infectious as she beamed at her hydro companions.

💧💧💧

As the day wore on, the sky outside darkened, casting long shadows across the streets. Neuvillette, though reluctant to leave, knew it was time. Standing by the door, he adjusted his coat, casting one last glance at Furina.

"Thank you for the hospitality," Neuvillette said, his voice soft but sincere. "It was truly enjoyable."

Furina gave him a playful salute, still grinning. "Come visit whenever you like. Also, don't overworked yourself."

With a nod and a small smile, Neuvillette turned and made his way out into the night. The moment he stepped onto the cobblestone street, raindrops began to fall. He paused, feeling the cool touch of the rain on his skin. But this time, unlike so many other moments in his life, the rain wasn’t his. It was a natural downpour, heavy and sudden, as if the skies themselves were marking the end of a wonderful day. Around him, people rushed for cover, darting under awnings and into doorways.

Neuvillette, however, stood still in the middle of the street, allowing the rain to wash over him. His mind lingered on the events of the day.

"It was truly enjoyable..." he murmured to himself, his voice almost drowned out by the sound of the rain. His smile softened as memories of the day filled his heart.

He had known his desire for a long time.

He wanted her—not just in the fleeting, special moments they shared, but in the everyday. He wanted to be there for her in all the small, quiet ways that mattered. Now that she was mortal, time had become even more precious, a commodity that could no longer be taken for granted. 

Yet, he respected her deeply. If slow steps were what she needed, then slow steps were what she’d get. His desire wasn’t for grand displays of affection or overwhelming gestures. Instead, he wanted to be a quiet, unwavering presence in her life—subtle, steady reminders that he was there for her, always. So, he made a plan. A series of small, thoughtful moments to show her his intentions without pressing too hard.

💧💧💧

The following weekend, he invited her to a performance at the Opera Epiclese. At first, he was hesitant, afraid that it might trigger her trauma. But when he asked her, Furina’s face lit up with excitement, her eyes sparkling in a way that made his doubts disappear. She was eager to go, and in that moment, he was glad he had taken the chance.

Sitting together in a special VIP box, Neuvillette found his attention torn between the performance on stage and the woman seated beside him. The opera’s music and the actors’ voices flowed around them, but for Neuvillette, Furina’s laughter was the most captivating sound. She watched with childlike wonder, her eyes gleaming with amusement, and he couldn’t help but steal glances at her, admiring the way the soft light from the stage illuminated her features. Her joy was contagious, and he found himself smiling, not at the opera, but at her.

When the show ended and they stepped out into the cool evening air, he didn’t push for anything more. They walked together through the dimly lit streets of Fontaine, the city lights casting a gentle glow around them. The silence between them was comfortable, their steps in sync as they made their way to her home. He walked her to her door, said goodnight, and left without fanfare.

Patience, he reminded himself.

💧💧💧

Another week passed, and Neuvillette invited her to play TCG together. He had heard from Wriothesley that Furina had once played the card game with him and seemed to enjoy it. Initially, Neuvillette hadn’t paid much attention to the game. But when Wriothesley mentioned that winning could earn him his opponent's cards, Neuvillette was intrigued. If he could win, perhaps her card would be his most cherished prize.

Determined, he stayed up late the night before, poring over the rules, understanding the strategies. He didn’t intend to hold back when they faced off. 

When the day finally arrived, they sat across from each other at a small table in a quaint cafe. Furina leaned back in her chair, a playful smirk dancing on her lips, indicating her confidence and expectation of an easy victory. "Prepare to be defeated!" she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

However, Neuvillette had come prepared and he played with a focus that surprised her. Furina, for her part, was equally skilled; she wasn’t the type to go easy on anyone. They exchanged banter and laughter throughout the match, the air thick with playful competition. In the end, to Furina’s astonishment and frustration, Neuvillette emerged victorious. 

He could see the competitive spark in her eyes, and he relished the moment. Of course, he already made a mental note that the next time they played, he would subtly let her win his card.

In the days that followed, they enjoyed each other's company more and more, exploring the city, avoiding the tabloids, watching performances together, sharing meals, and simply being together. 

During this time, Furina also made the decision to step back from the spotlight and become more of an advisor, focusing on behind-the-scenes work rather than performing on stage. Neuvillette once more  admired her resolve, recognizing her desire to carve out a new path for herself. He could see her gradually piecing back her life as Furina, no longer defined solely by her past but embracing her identity anew.

The things that had happened in the past few months felt like remnants of a bad dream, fading into the background as she moved forward. She was reclaiming her narrative, crafting a story that was distinctly her own, and Neuvillette felt profoundly honored to be part of that journey. He often found himself reflecting on the simple yet powerful words he longed to say:

Thank you for being alive.

As seasons changed and time passed, the bond between them deepened, and before they knew it, another year had passed.

💧💧💧

Chapter Text

💧💧💧

A year had passed, and much had changed. Furina had grown more skilled in combat and acquired a variety of new talents over the past year. The people of Fontaine had gradually grown accustomed to their former Archon living among them as one of their own, no longer seeing her as an untouchable figure but as a part of their daily lives.

Seeking a new challenge, Furina decided to come up with a play for the upcoming Fontinalia Festival. The previous year, she had assisted a local director, Xavier, in staging The Two Musketeers, a production in which she served as director. However, this time, she had no interest in competing. Instead, she wanted to create a charity play, one where everyone could enjoy regardless of their stature.

The Fontinalia Festival was still two months away. Yet, amid the impending festivities, Furina sat in her room hugging Surintendante Chevalmarin, grappling with a relentless writer’s block that refused to budge. Her script lay unfinished, the words mocking her as they remained stubbornly unformed.

In the background, Gentilhomme Usher moved about silently, floating just above the floor as he prepared tea in the hopes that the warm drink might inspire their beloved mistress. Meanwhile, Mademoiselle Crabaletta diligently picked up the crumpled pieces of discarded paper strewn across the floor.

“Aghh!” Furina’s exclamation burst from her lips as she crushed yet another sheet and hurled it away. The force of her frustration startled the Salon Solitaires hovering near her, their wispy forms flickering in sympathy. She fell back into her chair, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if searching for divine intervention within the ornate plasterwork.

Her three Salon Solitaires, hovering nearby, seemed to share her sentiment, their collective sighs echoing in the stillness of the room.

“Let’s tidy up,” Furina said aloud, her voice tinged with resignation. 

With the assistance of her Salon Solitaires, she began to organize the clutter. Her hands moved almost mechanically, pushing aside books and shuffling papers. She also wiped bits of dust on the wooden box filled with Neuvillette letter proclamation of love he sent time and again. Who would have thought there was more after the first one.

Her fingers then brushed against a book that jogged a distant memory. It was the one she brought back from Meropide. She opened the book and as she flipped through them, a thin, white slip of paper fluttered out, drifting gracefully to the floor. Furina picked it up, curiosity piqued, and examined the address written on it.

“Oh... this is…” she murmured, recognition washing over her. It was the address Wriothesley had given her last year, the location of the old toymaker’s grave.. A wave of guilt surged within her; she had never found the time to visit him, never paid her respects.

Furina glanced at her unfinished script, the words still stagnant on the page, and then back to the slip of paper.

"I suppose it’s long overdue,” she whispered to herself, folding the note once more before tucking it into her coat.

💧💧💧

The hill was quiet, save for the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Furina together with her salon solitaire walked slowly along the narrow path that wound its way toward the top. The scent of damp earth and rainbow roses filled the air as she approached the towering oak tree that stood sentinel over the graves below. Just beyond, nestled into the hillside, the silhouette of an old house stood in the distance — a quiet, solemn presence. But Furina's focus remained on the grave in front of her.

Her voice was a fragile whisper carried on the breeze. “I’m glad you finally returned to your family.”

Kneeling before the gravestone, Furina closed her eyes. Her fingers brushed lightly across the cool stone. She offered a quiet prayer—a simple expression of gratitude and remembrance. The encounter with the old toymaker had been brief, yet it had left an indelible mark on her soul.

A gentle wind tugged at her clothes as she rose to leave. But just as she turned, a voice drifted to her ears.

“Lady... Furina?” The voice was frail, as though it had weathered many winters, much like the branches above that creaked in the breeze.

Startled, Furina turned to see an elderly woman in a wheelchair a short distance away, watching her with quiet curiosity. Her silver hair was pulled back in a neat bun, and though her face was lined with age, there was a warmth in her eyes that softened her features. Around her neck hung a pendant that gleamed faintly in the afternoon light, catching Furina’s gaze.

"Oh... You must be his daughter," Furina said softly, the realization settling in.

For a brief moment, the old lady looked taken aback, her expression shifting from surprise to warmth as a smile spread across her face. "I see. So, the kind person who helped bring my father back home was you, my lady."

Furina regarded the old woman carefully. How many years had passed for the toymaker's daughter to finally find peace and resolution to her father’s absence? Time had always fascinated and pained Furina—a force both fleeting and relentless. While humanity bore its marks, changing with its passage, she, once caught in an endless stillness, could only watch from the sidelines, untouched and unchanging.

"I didn’t do much,” Furina replied, her tone is quieter now. "It was just a chance encounter. He was... a lively person."

The elderly woman chuckled, the sound rich with fondness. "Hoho. I never thought my father would acquaint himself with our goddess.”

Furina’s expression shifted slightly, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I’m not a goddess anymore,” she said in acceptance. “That part of me has long faded away.”

Before the old woman could respond, another cheerful voice rang out from behind the trees.

"Grandma, are you here again? I made some pie—" Furina stiffened. That voice—it sparked something in her, a memory she'd nearly buried. Her heart quickened as she turned toward the source, her eyes widening in disbelief as a young man appeared from the shadows of the trees.

It was him. Rien.

The recognition was instant, sharp as a blade. Both of them cried out in unison, their voices overlapping in shock.

"Ahhhh!"

"You—!"

The elderly woman, seemingly oblivious to the sudden tension thickening the air, chuckled softly from her wheelchair. "Oh my, oh my," she laughed, amused.

Rien stood frozen for a second, the shock evident in his wide eyes. But he quickly gathered himself, masking his surprise with a nervous smile. "Lady Furina... fancy meeting you here," he said, though his voice wavered with discomfort, the words strained.

( Ohoho. Didn’t want Grandma to know, eh? ) 

Furina thought, her mind racing but a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Ah yes," she said, her voice dripping with irony. "A year has passed, hasn’t it?"

"It has," Rien laughed awkwardly. "Um, Grandma, it’s getting cold out here. You should head inside. I’ll just... have a li~ttle chat with our esteemed former Archon." The sarcasm in his last words wasn’t lost on Furina.

"Take your time, darling," the old woman said, completely unbothered by the undercurrents of tension. "Afterward, do come join us for tea, my lady."

Furina gave a polite nod. "Of course. Wouldn't want to miss it," she said happily.

💧💧💧

After ensuring the old woman was safely inside the house, Furina and Rien walked a short distance away from the grave. Once they were far enough, Furina crossed her arms, her gaze sharp. "So this is where you've been hiding since then. You sure know how to disappear."

Rien exhaled slowly, glancing up at the sky as if it could offer him some reprieve. "Just so you know, I really thought I was done back then. It’s not every day you get swallowed by a dragon made of water."

( Hmm? Dragon made of water? ) 

Furina’s brow furrowed at the words, confusion flickering in her mind before something clicked.

"One hath been holding them at bay, though One did allow one to slip past One's grasp, just for a moment. Quite the mischievous one. Nevertheless, thou wouldst be drifting lifelessly in reality if One had not allowed it."

The voice of the Dragon King Nibelung echoed in her mind, and suddenly, the pieces fell into place. Instinctively she touches the Hydro Vision hanging on her waist.

Rien caught the shift in her expression. "Yeah, seems like you’ve got an idea what that was. Me? I don’t want to know. All I knew was that I was in over my head." His voice grew quieter. "One could say, I got what was coming to me. And it was actually quite fun."

Furina raised an eyebrow, still scrutinizing him. She wasn't about to let her guard down just because of a few 'humble' words.

"After getting swallowed by that thing," he continued, "I was washed up on the shore near the Opera Epiclese. Got hit with a nasty fever that almost finished me off for good. Then I had both the Government and the Spina out hunting me. Laying low was my only option."

Furina gave a small, sarcastic smile. "Wow. Should I offer my condolences for your terrible luck?"

"Tch," Rien clicked his tongue, half-amused, half-irritated by her cutting remark. But before he could say anything else, Furina's Salon Solitaire appeared just in front of Furina, standing protectively between her and Rien.

Rien raised his hands in mock surrender. "Easy there. Ugh. Things really sucks when I'm involved with you." Then, his tone shifted. "Anyway, why are you at my great-grandfather’s grave?" He asked.

Furina hesitated for a moment. "Well, I kinda... stumbled upon him back then," she said carefully, glossing over the more supernatural details. Telling people she had encountered the spirit of the old toymaker didn’t seem like the best idea. "So, I'm just here paying my respects."

Rien studied her for a moment but decided not to press further. "Huh. So you're the one." His expression softened slightly. 

"Anyway, now that you’ve found me... what’s your next move?" His tone was casual, but there was an edge of curiosity and caution in his eyes. "Are you going to turn me in to the authorities?"

Furina tilted her head, considering him with a playful glint in her eyes. "Hmm. I don’t know," she said slowly, drawing out the tension. "Maybe I should. After all, I only promised not to tell my friends about you. I never said I wouldn’t tip off the authorities that isn't my 'friends'."

"Touché," Rien replied with a wry chuckle, though there was no real fear in his voice—just acceptance. He sighed, glancing over his shoulder toward the house. "Well, we’ve been out here long enough. It wouldn’t be good if my Grandma waited too long."

Furina’s playful smirk softened, and without another word, the two began walking back toward the house.

💧💧💧

Inside, the warmth of the cozy little home contrasted sharply with the weight of their earlier conversation. The scent of fresh baked pie and herbal tea filled the air, creating an inviting atmosphere. The old woman, comfortably seated in her chair by the fireplace, greeted them with a soft smile, her eyes twinkling with quiet amusement as they entered.

Rien, shifting to a more cheerful persona, beamed at his grandmother. "Grandma, we’re back!" he declared, his voice infused with enthusiasm that felt almost jarring after their tense exchange outside.

Furina shot him a puzzled look, bemused by the stark difference in his demeanor. The rapid shift from solemnity to cheeriness felt disconcerting, almost unsettling in her opinion.

The old woman, however, seemed utterly charmed by the act. "You both seem to be such good friends," she said with a lighthearted chuckle, her voice full of warmth. "That's good, that's good."

"We aren’t..." Rien began to protest.

"You must be very happy, my boy," the old woman teased gently. "Weren’t you always such a fan of our lady?"

"Grandma!" Rien’s cheeks flushed red, and he tried to wave her off, clearly embarrassed.

Furina raised an eyebrow, relishing the moment. "Oh? A fan, you say?" Her voice was teasing, the playful tone only adding to Rien’s discomfort.

"Tch, don’t get ahead of yourself. Back then it was only because Grandma liked you," Rien muttered under his breath, his voice low but laced with a hint of irritation.

Before Furina could press him further, the soft chime of the oven echoed from the kitchen.

"Oh, the cookies are done," Rien said, almost too quickly, and he hurried off to the kitchen, grateful for the distraction. His hurried retreat left Furina smirking behind him.

The room fell into a quieter rhythm after his departure, the crackling of the fire filling the space between them. Furina let her gaze wander, taking in the details of the home.

"I’m not sure what it is between you two," the old woman said suddenly, her voice warm and tinged with amusement. "But I hope he didn’t offend you, my lady." Her eyes softened as she looked toward the kitchen, her smile tinged with something deeper, almost reverent. "He’s a good child. A good child."

Furina didn’t respond right away. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, letting out a soft hum as if lost in thought. Her eyes wandered across the cozy living room, taking in its inviting warmth. The house had a charm to it, filled with the subtle, lived-in details that spoke of years of memories.

Her attention drifted to the walls beside her, where an eclectic collection of framed photographs and memorabilia hung in careful arrangement. She stepped closer, curiosity piqued. The wall was a gallery of stories frozen in time—arrays of pictures, some in monochrome and others in warm sepia tones. They captured moments from different eras, showcasing actors and actresses from generations past.

As she studied them, a flicker of recognition crossed her face. A few of them, Furina realized, she had met in person—back when she still held the title of Archon.

Then, her gaze finally settled on a particularly striking photograph, standing out even among the impressive collection. The sepia-toned image depicted a young woman in an elaborate costume, her expression vivid and full of life. Her eyes sparkled with passion, radiating the essence of a performer in her prime.

"Belladonna..." Furina whispered, the name slipped from her lips before she even realized it.

The old lady, sitting quietly across from her, raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise lighting her tired eyes. “Oh my, I didn’t expect you to recognize that,” she said softly, a nostalgic smile curving her lips. “That was my first debut.”

Furina’s heart tightened at the revelation.

Belladonna. The title alone was enough to stir old memories. It had been one of the most famous—yet tragic—plays of its time. 

The play told the tragic story of Lady Belladonna, a noblewoman whose beauty was as captivating as it was dangerous. From the moment she was born, admiration and envy followed her like shadows. Men fought for her affection, seeing her as nothing more than a trophy, while women whispered cruel rumors, seeking to tarnish her name.

Despite her kind heart and gentle nature, Belladonna’s life unraveled under the weight of these negativities. Her husband, once devoted, turned cold and mistrustful, poisoned by gossip and doubt. In desperation, she sought solace in alchemy, crafting a potion—belladonna—to protect herself from those who wished her harm.

But the elixir, meant to be her salvation, became her undoing. Misunderstood and accused of poisoning her husband mistress, Belladonna found herself isolated, and betrayed by the very people she had had truly love. In a final act of despair, she drank the poison she had created, sealing her fate and leaving her name forever tied to tragedy.

The play’s haunting climax saw Belladonna’s ghost return to the ruins of her once-proud home, now surrounded by delicate Belladonna flowers. In the end, she was left alone, the stage silent and still, the haunting beauty of the flowers contrasting with her solitude. The curtain fell, leaving the audience in quiet reflection.

But the tragedy of Belladonna did not end when the curtain fell.

Back then, Furina had always kept a keen ear for gossip and rumors—Fontaine’s social circles were rife with intrigue, and she made it her business to stay informed. The tale of the lead actress of Belladonna was one of the most sensational stories of the time.

The actress had been a rising star, hailed as a talent destined for greatness after her dazzling debut in the titular role. Her portrayal of Lady Belladonna had captivated audiences, her performance so raw and emotive that it seemed she was the character brought to life. For a time, she was the talk of the city, celebrated in both the arts and society.

But then came the whispers, the scandal that consumed her. The actress lost everything—her marriage fell apart, her only child was taken from her, and she was shunned from the theater world, her once-bright future darkened by the cruel aftermath. After that, she simply disappeared. No one knew where she went, though the rumors followed her like ghosts.

Some claimed she fled Fontaine, seeking to escape the disgrace that had consumed her life. Others whispered darker tales—that she had fallen into despair and taken her own life, much like the character she portrayed. There were even those who believed the curse of Belladonna had claimed her soul, binding her to the tragic legacy of the play forever.

"Sorry," Furina said softly, breaking the silence, though she wasn’t sure why she felt the need to apologize but she felt like it was something she still needed to say.

The old lady chuckled softly, the sound laced with both warmth and sadness. “Oh my lovely Archon, there’s nothing for you to be sorry about,” she replied, her voice light.

She hesitated for a moment, her expression softening into a smile that seemed to carry a memory from long ago. "In fact," the old woman continued, "it was you, my lady, that gave me courage all those years ago. I went to one of your performances. Ah, it feels like only yesterday and I was utterly mesmerized. It was like watching a bright star in the sky, and I thought, perhaps I could shine like that too." Her chuckle was quieter this time, touched with a wistful longing.

She heard it before from the Old Toymaker. But listening to it directly from his daughter who thought of her like this brought warmth to Furina's heart. A pause lingered between them before Furina, unable to hold back her curiosity, asked, “Have you regretted being an actress?”

( You did lost everything back then... )

The old woman’s eyes dimmed slightly as she looked past Furina toward the picture frames on the wall. Her gaze distant, as though peering into a different time. 

“There were bleak moments, yes,” she said softly, her voice tinged with a quiet sorrow. “My father vanished when I was just starting my career. And then, when the scandal broke, my husband left me... taking my little boy with him.” Her eyes fixed on a particular picture, a portrait of a young man standing confidently on stage, his face full of ambition and pride. "I remember the world feeling like it was collapsing in on me, every part of my life breaking apart piece by piece"

She paused, her voice faltering as she glanced toward the wooden door, a wistful look passing over her face as if expecting it to open at any moment. "My only hope—my only dream—was that maybe, just maybe, one day my father would return, knock on my door, and tell me everything would be all right. That somehow, everything would go back to how it was before.

"But… he never did.” she said as she fiddled the her pendant.

Her voice wavered for a moment, then steadied. “I wonder if he was disappointed in me. I spoke so boldly of becoming a star, of lighting up the world with my performances just like you. And yet…” She gestured vaguely to the room around her, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “This is what I’ve become.”

Furina watched the woman’s sorrow unfold, each word striking a chord deep within her. The old woman’s pain mirrored parts of her own — hopes deferred, paths that never seemed to lead where one expected.

But Furina couldn’t allow her to dwell in that shadow of doubt. She knew, beyond any uncertainty, what the toymaker had felt.

"You know... Your father would never be disappointed in you," Furina said softly, her words both gentle and firm, as though trying to reach the heart of the matter.

Slowly, Furina approach and knelt in front of the old woman, her usual playfulness gone, replaced by an earnest sincerity. "I may not be a goddess anymore," she began, her voice soft but steady, "but I can tell you this with certainty."

"Until the very end, even after death," Furina said gently, "your father had never stopped thinking about you. You were the best thing that ever happened to him. You are his precious star."

For a moment, the elderly woman sat in stunned silence, her eyes searching Furina’s face. Then, slowly, her expression softened, the sadness in her gaze giving way to something warmer, something lighter.

"Is that so...?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, a small, trembling smile forming on her lips. "He never stopped thinking of me..." A soft, almost childlike laugh bubbled up from her throat, fragile yet filled with an unfamiliar sense of peace. "Hehe..."

Rien, who had been watching the exchange from the side, stood silently, his eyes softening as he gazed at his grandmother. 

💧💧💧

After some time, Furina sensed it was time to leave. The old lady had already drifted into a peaceful sleep in her chair, her breathing steady and light. Furina rose carefully, not wanting to disturb the tranquil scene, and Rien followed her to the door.

Once outside, a quiet stillness settled between them, broken only by the soft sounds of the evening breeze.

"Thanks," Rien said softly after a long pause, his voice unusually sincere. "It's been a while since I've seen her that happy recieving visitor."

Rien exhaled, his breath visible in the cooling air. “Anyway, I guess I still have some time before the authorities show up to drag me off.” His tone was dry, but there was a quiet resignation beneath the surface.

She raised an eyebrow, a faint hint of amusement in her voice. “Oh? You’re not planning to run?”

He shook his head, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t want to cause any more trouble for Grandma. Best to spare her the worries.” The casualness of his words was undercut by the tightness in his jaw, a tension that spoke volumes.

"Anyway, you should probably get going. Wouldn’t want to keep you here longer than necessary." Rien added.

Furina raised an eyebrow. "Wow, someone’s eager to get rid of me."

Rien flashed her a sly grin, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Yeah, well, it’s not you I’m worried about." He nodded subtly in the direction behind her, his posture relaxed but alert.

Furina turned, her expression shifting instantly from curiosity to exasperation. Peeking out—poorly—from behind a tree was Neuvillette. His towering frame made his attempt at stealth almost comical.

“...Just ignore that,” Furina muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Rien leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed as he smirked. “He’s too big to ignore, unfortunately.”

Furina sighed in agreement, casting a fleeting glance at Neuvillette before her eyes drifted towards the grave of the old toymaker.

“Well then,” she said with a theatrical wave of her hand, clearly amused, “enjoy your time in coupon town.” She emphasized the words with a wink before turning on her heel to walk away.

Rien replied with a casual shrug, the smirk never leaving his face. “Let’s hope our paths don’t cross again.”

After a brief pause, Furina made her way toward Neuvillette, who was still standing by the tree, his attempt at subtlety long abandon.

"So," Furina began, her tone light and teasing as she approached him, "may I ask why our esteemed judge is lurking behind trees like a child playing hide-and-seek?"

Neuvillette’s calm demeanor remained unshaken, though there was the faintest flicker of something—embarrassment?—in his eyes. “You haven’t returned home yet,” he replied evenly, “and I grew concerned.”

Furina arched an eyebrow and glanced at the sky, where the sun still shone brightly. “Concerned, hmm? At this hour?”

Neuvillette met her gaze without flinching, his voice steady. “Ensuring your safety is always a priority.”

Furina let out a soft laugh, stepping closer. “Oh, come on, just admit it—you missed me.” She leaned in slightly, a playful glint in her eyes. “Don’t you think it’s a little late for excuses?”

Neuvillette simply gave a quiet hum, the barest hint of something unspoken in his gaze.

"Let's go back," Furina said with a laugh, deciding to let him off the hook—for now.

The journey back to Fontaine was quiet but comfortable. The soft rhythm of their footsteps filled the air as Furina began recounting the day’s events. She spoke of her visit to the Toymaker’s grave and meeting his daughter, carefully omitting certain details about Rien and his troubled past.

Neuvillette listened attentively, his occasional hums and nods reassuring her that he absorbed every word no matter how trivial it may seem.

"Some people do like a tragedy," Furina remarked, her voice quieter now. "Though I suppose I can understand the feeling—choosing death after a series of misfortunes."

Neuvillette’s steps slowed ever so slightly. “Furina...” he began, his voice carrying a note of gentle concern.

"I know, I know," she interrupted quickly, waving a hand to dismiss his worry. “Don’t worry. The thought did come once in a while, but I’ve learned how to handle it now.” She smiled then—bright and warm, as if to chase away the shadows of her words. “I’m really enjoying life now, Neuvi. Trust me.”

Neuvillette’s gaze softened at her words, though he remained silent for a moment longer before offering, “The Lady Belladonna in that play... even if she's merely a fiction, it would be nice if she, too, had found her happiness in the end.”

Furina paused, his words lingering in the air. “I hope so too,” she said, but even as the words left her lips, something shifted within her. An idea—fragile and fleeting at first—began to form in her mind, slowly gaining shape and clarity. Her steps quickened, and her eyes sparkled with renewed determination.

“That’s it!” she exclaimed suddenly, startling Neuvillette, who turned to her with a quizzical expression. But Furina was already lost in thought, her mind racing as inspiration struck.

By the time they reached home, inspiration had struck. Furina barely paused to remove her coat before rushing to her desk. With practiced urgency, she seized a pen, her fingers moving swiftly as ink began to flow across the parchment. Neuvillette watched her for a moment, sensing her shift in focus, and quietly excused himself, leaving her to her work.

As night fell, the room was wrapped in a gentle hush, broken only by the steady scratching of Furina’s pen against the parchment. The soft glow of the lamp casts long shadows across the walls, its flickering light dancing in rhythm with her movements.

The next morning, with dark circles beneath her eyes but a determined glint in her gaze, she sent a request to Fontaine’s archive. She asked for the preserved film of "Belladonna"—the only recorded performance of the play, an irreplaceable relic of its time, given that the play had been performed only once in history.

When the film arrived, Furina treated it with reverence. She watched it in silence, her breath catching at moments where the actress’s performance seemed almost too perfect, too raw. The emotions woven into each scene lingered long after the reel ended.

It was, without question, a masterpiece.

But as Furina stared at the darkened screen, a flicker of dissatisfaction stirred within her. She turned toward her desk, her gaze falling on the scattered drafts she had written over the past few days.

Remaking the play—was that truly enough?

No.

The thought pierced her mind, sharp and unyielding. Furina couldn’t settle for merely recreating something that had already been achieved. She longed for something more. Something that would carve its own mark in history. Something that would be hers.

( Ah~ I suppose this too is human greed. )

Furina mused. Whether it’s a tragedy or a comedy, what people are drawn to most is a good story. A story that captures the heart, stirs the soul, and makes them see the world through a different lens. It doesn’t matter if it’s filled with sorrow or joy—what truly matters is how that story is delivered to the spectator.

Time seemed to dissolve around her. Hours blurred into one another, and then days slipped quietly by, unnoticed. Furina barely paused, her focus unshaken as ink flowed endlessly, giving life to the thoughts swirling in her mind.

The moon rose and fell, its glow replaced by the soft blush of dawn filtering through the heavy curtains. Neuvillette often dropped by, quietly ensuring she ate well and rested, though his gentle reminders often fell on deaf ears. Furina remained at her desk, her quill gliding across parchment with unwavering purpose. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep, her fingers ached, yet she pressed on, unwilling to stop until the last piece of the story was laid bare.

At last, as the final line dried and the ink settled, Furina set her pen down. A long, shaky breath escaped her lips as she leaned back in her chair, her stiff fingers trembling slightly from the effort. The golden morning light poured in through the windows, bathing the room in warmth and painting the papers scattered around her in soft hues.

Her gaze fell to the first page, and there it was—the title she had written with deliberate elegance at the top—Camellia.

💧💧💧

Chapter Text

💧💧💧

Furina awoke late in the afternoon, sunlight streaming through her window and casting a golden glow over the scattered pages of Camellia on her desk. After a full day of sleep, the exhaustion had lifted, leaving her energized and ready.

Today was the day.

She carefully tied the pages together with a ribbon, smoothing the cover as if it were a treasured masterpiece. With the script held tightly in her arms, she set off toward the theatre troupe’s rehearsal hall, her heart light and hopeful.

When she arrived, the troupe was already deep in rehearsal. The hum of voices, the shuffle of footsteps, and the rustle of costumes filled the room. Furina paused in the doorway, smiling as she watched them work—their movements full of life and passion.

She stepped forward, her heels clicking against the wooden floor. “Good morning, Leader,” she called out as her gaze landed on the man standing at center stage. He was dressed in a princely outfit, the velvet and embroidery catching the light, as though he’d stepped straight out of one of the scripts he always clutched.

The troupe leader looked up from the script he was holding, his sharp eyes warming the moment they landed on her. He spread his arms wide in greeting. “Ah! Miss Furina! You finally emerge from the shadows and grace the world with your brilliance.”

“Already in character I see” Furina chuckled, her voice light. But there was a flicker of nervous energy beneath her composure. She held up the script, carefully bound and pristine. “Anyway—I’ve finished my script.”

“That’s amazing, Miss Furina!” he said, but there was something uncertain in his tone. The warmth in his expression shifted, and Furina felt the first flicker of unease. “But…”

Her smile wavered. “But?”

The director hesitated, glancing at the others before continuing. “We really want to help bring your play to life. Believe me, we do.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But we already made a commitment two years ago—before you joined us.”

Another actor stepped forward, her voice gentle. “We’re locked in, Miss Furina. We can’t break the contract, even though we’d love to help you with your play.”

Furina’s chest ached, but she refused to let her disappointment show. With a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and offered a graceful smile. “It’s fine. I understand,” she said firmly, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

“I know how much this troupe means to all of you, and I know how hard you’ve worked to prepare for the festival. I’d never ask you to risk that.” Her voice rang out with confidence, though her heart still ached beneath it.

She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “And don’t worry about me.” Her smile sharpened with determination. “My play will happen. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll come up with something—something spectacular.”

The sincerity in her voice left the troupe in awe. A ripple of admiration passed through the room, and the leader’s regret softened into pride.

“Good luck with the festival,” Furina added, stepping back toward the door. “I’ll be rooting for you all.”

“And we’ll be rooting for you too,” the leader replied earnestly, his tone filled with encouragement. “If there’s anything we can do to support you later, just say the word. Okay?”

Furina’s expression softened. “Thank you, everyone. Truly.” With a final nod, she turned and exited the hall, holding her script tightly.

💧💧💧

Furina sat alone on a weathered bench, gazing up at the afternoon sky streaked with fading sunlight. Her confident act back at the theatre lingered in her thoughts, but now, the cracks beneath it began to show.

She had spoken so boldly—yet reality quickly settled in. Where was she supposed to find actors to bring her play to life? She let out a sigh, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on her shoulders.

Lost in thought, she was pulled back to reality by raised voices nearby.

“Hey! I’m not lending you anything, you hear me? So unless you’re here to pay up, then scram!”

Furina turned toward the commotion just in time to see an old man shove a younger one to the ground.

Normally, she would’ve ignored it—petty disputes were none of her concern. But something about the scene made her pause. The younger man pushed himself up, brushing dirt and gravel from his clothes with an air of practiced irritation, and as he adjusted the round glasses perched precariously on his nose, recognition struck her like a bolt of lightning.

It's him again. Rien.

It took her a moment to process. She had meant to inform the authorities about him the moment she went back to the Court of Fontaine a few day back. That was the plan. But in the frenzy of finishing her script, she had completely forgotten about him. And now, here he was again, looking just as disheveled and unlucky as before.

“Should I say I’m glad I’m not the only one having a bad day?” Furina called out as he passed by.

Rien slowed and turned to face her, raising an eyebrow. “Ugh. It’s the old hag again. No wonder my luck’s rotten today.”

He didn’t even look surprised that she could see through his disguise anymore. If anything, he seemed resigned to it, like he’d long accepted that there was no hiding from her gaze.

Furina shot him a sharp glare, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “Ex-cuse me?” She straightened up, placing a hand firmly on her hip as her voice rose a notch. “Who are you calling an old hag, you ungrateful brat?”

Rien smirked, clearly unbothered by her outburst. He leaned back against the bench with an air of practiced indifference, though the faintest hint of amusement danced in his eyes. “Relax, grandma. You’ll get wrinkles if you keep scowling like that.”

Furina gasped, her free hand dramatically clutching her chest. “Wrinkles?! How dare you!” She jabbed a finger in his direction but stopped short, letting out an exasperated huff instead.

Rien’s smirk deepened as he shifted to the other end of the bench and let out a weary sigh. “You done?”

“Hardly.” Furina snapped before flopping back down onto the bench with far more force than necessary. She crossed her legs, her movements sharp, and pointedly turned away from him. But after a moment, her curiosity got the better of her.

She cast him a sideways glance and softened her tone—just slightly. “So,” she began, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the old man who had stormed off earlier, “what was that all about?”

“Trying to hire someone decent to take care of Grandma’s been more expensive than I thought,” Rien replied, leaning back against the bench. “And with the possibility of getting hauled off to prison soon, I figured I’d try taking out a loan.”

He gestured vaguely in the direction of the argument. “Turns out, you can’t ask for more money when you still haven’t paid back the last time you borrowed. Who knew?”

Furina tilted her head, giving him a sideways glance. “You really love your grandmother, don’t you?”

Rien gave a slight shrug, though the movement was less casual than his words. "Well, not all villains were born villains," he muttered casually.

“Villains, huh?” Furina echoed, her brows knitting together. It wasn’t often someone labeled themselves so willingly. Her voice was curious, but not unkind. “I didn't get to ask this before but why do you actually 'hate' me?"

Rien paused, his expression unreadable. For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t answer. Then, he let out a soft snort and leaned back against the bench.

“My, aren’t you a curious incarnate,” he said, his words laced with sarcasm. But there was no real bite behind them, and Furina didn’t flinch. Instead, she waited, patient and steady.

Looking at her, Rien exhaled, as though letting go of something heavier than air. “It’s not really hatred, per se,” he admitted at last, his voice quieter now. “I guess you could say… it’s just easier to blame a greater power in this case a goddess for the misfortunes in life. Especially one as insufferable as you.”

Furina blinked, momentarily taken aback by the bluntness of his words. But before she could retort, his tone shifted, growing sharper.

“Tell me,” Rien said, leaning forward slightly, “when you were at the top of this nation—when everyone sang your praises and treated you like a deity—did you ever really look at Fontaine’s problems? Did you see what was happening beyond the old prophecies and your theatrics?”

His words struck harder than Furina expected. She opened her mouth to respond but faltered, her gaze flickering away. For once, she had no sharp retort, no clever defense.

“It’s disgusting,” Rien went on, bitterness creeping into his voice. “How much the people in this nation prefer a spectacle over actual humanity. They cheer for a show while ignoring the suffering happening right in front of them.”

Furina remained silent, the distant laughter of children playing nearby filling the pause. After a moment, Rien’s gaze drifted away, the fire in his tone fading. His voice softened, taking on a raw, almost fragile quality. “I was three when my parents left me.”

“Just dumped me in the streets of Fontaine and disappeared to another nation. Didn’t even give me a proper name. Yet innocently, I waited—waited and waited, thinking they’d come back. I didn’t understand I’d been abandoned back then.”

He then closed his eyes and looked down.

"While scurrying around, scraping for food, I was caught by some noble," he said, his voice colder now. "He owned a freak show, and I ended up being one of the freaks—just another thing for people to gawk at. Aside from being hit every day, it was also the place where I learned a lot—makeup, disguises, and acting."

His words were steady, but Furina caught the cracks beneath them—the bitterness that had seeped so deeply it could no longer be separated from the person he’d become.

“After a while, I managed to escape.” He exhaled slowly, the tension in his frame easing just a fraction before he continued.

“So when I saw her—this stranger—in front of a stall one day, I grabbed the hem of her clothes without thinking.”

“Actually, I didn’t even know my grandmother at all back then,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “But I’d seen her picture once—in my father’s room. It was that passing memories that ended up being my saviour.”

A faint, almost bitter laugh escaped his lips. “I don’t even know what I expected. Maybe I thought she’d just push me away like everyone else had. But instead, she looked at me—really looked at me—and she asked if I was hungry.”

He looked down, a faint smile crossing his face. “She didn’t ask who I was or where I’d come from. She didn’t demand answers. She just… fed me. This dirty, nameless brat who had nothing to offer. And then she gave me a name, took me in, and raised me."

He paused, his eyes growing heavier as his voice dipped. “She probably never realized I was her grandson by blood. Not that it matters.”

“Unfortunately, a few years ago, her health started failing.” His voice hollowed out, carrying the kind of emptiness that lingers after watching someone you care about slowly slip away.

“Things got worse, and I was desperate. I tried applying for loans, but it wasn’t enough.” He let out a bitter chuckle, though there was no humor in it. “And, well... you know what came next.”

Furina finally spoke, her voice quieter than before but tinged with curiosity. “So, you stole to pay for her treatment?”

( Which is probably why the crime is only for a certain period. )

"That was half of it," Rien admitted, a rueful smile crossing his lips. "Yeah... there’s nothing in this world that can repay what she’s done for me. I don’t mind being a sinner if it means the one person who’s ever cared about me can live a little longer in peace."

( So that’s your story... and your justice. )

The two sat in silence for a beat, the weight of the conversation settling around them like a calm after a storm.

"Just so you know," she said, her tone shifting to something more serious, "even with that backstory, you still need to answer for your crimes."

Rien laughed lightly, though there was no real humor in it. "Aww, so my tragic backstory didn’t win you over? How disappointing."

Furina rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched as if she were suppressing a smile. Then her gaze flickered to the script resting beside her, and she let out a small sigh.

( I really should be focusing on finding actors right now instead of sitting here on the ‘unlucky people’ bench… )

But just as she was about to stand, a sudden thought struck her. Her eyes darted sideways, landing on Rien, who was busy fiddling with the hem of his sleeve.

( Oh, right. Personality quirks aside, he really is a good actor… )

Furina’s lips curled into a sly smirk as an idea began to take shape.

“Hehehe…” The soft, mischievous laugh escaped her before she could stop it.

Rien, catching the shift in her demeanor, turned to face her with a wary expression. “What?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “Why do I suddenly feel like I should be concerned?”

Furina ignored the comment, too caught up in her idea to be fazed. Instead, she held up her script, the pages slightly crumpled from being carried around.

“Let’s just say I might have a solution for both of our problems,” she said, her voice practically dripping with excitement.

Rien raised an eyebrow, his suspicion only deepening. “I don’t like where this is going.”

Furina leaned forward, her expression turning serious. “Listen to me, Rien.” She paused, as if making sure he was paying attention. “Let’s make a deal.”

Rien blinked, caught off guard. “A deal?”

“Yes.” Furina grinned, holding up the script as if it were a prized treasure. “Help me with this.”

She pushed the script into his hands. “You act in my play, and in return, I’ll cover the costs of your grandmother’s care—every expense.”

Rien froze, staring down at the script as though it might burst into flames in his hands. Slowly, his eyes flicked back up to meet hers.

“You’re serious?” he asked, his voice quieter this time.

“Completely. I never break a promise.” Furina extended her hand, her expression unwavering. “What do you say?”

Rien stared at her for a long moment, clearly weighing his options. His fingers brushed over the edges of the script, and something flickered in his eyes—hesitation, hope, and perhaps just a hint of admiration for her audacity.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, he reached out and shook her hand. “Deal. At least let me choose who I'm gonna play then.”

Furina’s grin widened. “Perfect! You won’t regret this!”

“Oh, I already regret this,” Rien muttered under his breath, but Furina was too busy celebrating to notice—or maybe she simply chose to ignore it.

She clutched the script to her chest, her mind already racing with possibilities. Sure, it was just one person so far—hardly enough to stage an entire production—but it was a start. And to Furina, any start was better than none.

💧💧💧

The warm, comforting aroma of toast drifted into her room, and Furina knew that her beloved Salon Solitaire was already busy preparing breakfast in the kitchen. Moments later, Crabaletta slipped into her room, noticing their lady was awake, and moved gracefully to help her get ready for the day.

As Crabaletta arranged her attire, Furina’s mind wandered back to the last few days. She had been tirelessly searching for people in the theater industry to help with her production, but nearly everyone she reached out to was already tied up with other plays for the Fontinalia Festival. It seemed the entire city was buzzing with preparations, leaving few free hands for her project.

( Worst comes to worst, I might have to ask Navia or Clorinde for help. )

But the idea left her uncertain. Navia, as the President of Spina di Rosula, was likely swamped with work, and Clorinde, as Fontaine’s Champion Duelist, had an equally demanding schedule. Neither role was particularly forgiving, especially not during the festival season.

Her train of thought was interrupted as Gentlehomme Usher entered the room, his quiet elegance preceding him as always. He carried a small silver tray with a fresh cup of tea and several sheets of neatly stacked notes—her schedule for the day carefully prepared, as expected.

“Oh, right. I promised Neuvillette that we’d go for lunch together today,” Furina remarked, nibbling leisurely on a warm slice of toast. Gentlehomme Usher, ever the stickler for decorum, cast a subtle look, reminding her that talking with her mouth full was hardly fitting for a lady of her station.

Furina caught his glance and grinned back unapologetically, swallowing quickly before taking a sip of tea. “Don’t give me that look,” she teased. “I’ll be perfectly proper when it counts.”

Once breakfast was over, she began preparing herself. Just as she finished, the doorbell rang, and Furina smiled, knowing it could only be Neuvillette.

They walked side by side through the bustling streets, enjoying the atmosphere, grabbing lunch, and strolling leisurely. People noticed them immediately—some greeted them openly, while others whispered behind their hands. By now, Furina had grown accustomed to the attention; she already accepted it as simply part of her life. 

Despite the relaxing day, a thoughtful look crossed her face from time to time. Her mind drifted back to the idea of her charity play and how the casting was coming along.

( Well, at least Rien is confirmed... but at this rate, it might end up being a one-man show... )

“Ahhh!” A familiar high-pitched squeal snapped her out of her thoughts. Turning, Furina spotted a group of familiar faces gathered at a quaint café nearby. A grin slowly spread across her face as a playful glint sparkled in her eyes.

( Perfect. A whole group of potential cast members right there. )

She tugged Neuvillette’s sleeve, her eyes sparkling as she gestured toward the merry gathering. “Shall we say hello?”

He nodded in agreement, and together they approached the group. Clorinde was the first to spot them, waving warmly. Soon, Paimon’s cheerful voice rang out.

“Furina! Neuvillette! It’s been ages! How have you both been?” Paimon said. 

“Never better,” Furina replied with a grin. "I see almost the whole gang is here, even our great duke who rarely went to the overworld. When was the last time you even went up again?"

Wriothesley crossed his arms, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Just so you know, I do come up here from time to time.”

"Yeah, for work I supposed." Furina said. Furina leaned in, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Oh, let me guess. You came up to the Palais just to drop off some documents, as always. Then, while heading out, you conveniently bumped into Clorinde, and the two of you decided to grab some coffee. And after that, you just happened to stumble upon Navia, who was with the Traveler and Paimon.”

Paimon’s eyes widened. “Wow, Furina! You nailed it!”

Furina flipped her hair back with exaggerated pride. “Of course, mon chéri! I possess the unparalleled deductive skills of a great detective, after all.”

Navia chuckled, crossing her arms. “Well, Detective Furina, how’s that script of yours coming along? My men mentioned you’ve been wandering all over Fontaine lately. Searching for inspiration, perhaps?”

Furina’s bravado faltered for a split second. She quickly straightened up, but the way she rubbed the back of her neck betrayed her sudden nervousness. Her usual confidence gave way to a sheepish smile as she tried to recover.

“Aha! About that...” She cleared her throat, her voice softer now. “Actually... the script is ready! Completely finished! A masterpiece, if I do say so myself.” She forced a bright smile, but it quickly faded as her shoulders slumped. “But... there’s a small problem.”

Furina took a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “The theater troupe I usually work with were completely tied up with other commitments for the festival. I’ve been trying to recruit replacements for days, but so far... my luck hasn’t exactly turned around.”

Her voice grew quieter, the uncertainty creeping in. “So, um... if it’s not too much trouble...” She hesitated, her fingers tightening around her sleeve. “Would you guys be willing to act in my play? Of course, I wouldn’t ask for free labor—I’ll make sure you’re properly compensated!”

She forced a small, awkward laugh, trying to mask her nerves. “I mean, if you’re busy, it can’t be helped, of course... haha...” Her words trailed off, and for a moment, Furina looked uncharacteristically small, fidgeting as if bracing herself for rejection. Her usual confidence had slipped, replaced by a rare and fragile vulnerability.

Navia’s eyes lit up with excitement, and she clapped her hands together. “Sounds interesting! Count me in!”. A ripple of enthusiasm spread through the group, with each of the ladies nodding their support.

Furina blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the quick response. “W-Wait, really?”

“Really,” Navia said firmly, flashing a grin. “It’s not every day you get asked to perform in a play. And besides—how could I say no if it was a masterpiece from Fontaine greatest star?”

Before Furina could process her relief, the ripple of excitement spread.

“I’ll help too!” Paimon chimed in, practically bouncing in place. “Ooh! Do I get to wear fancy costumes?”

The rest of the group followed, each voicing their agreement and offering their support.

Furina’s eyes widened as she looked around at them, their enthusiasm lifting the weight that had been pressing on her shoulders. 

( I suppose, as people often say, sometimes all you need to do is ask... )

Slowly, a genuine smile broke across her face—a smile that was warmer and more grateful than her usual theatrical expressions.

“Thank you,” she said softly, the words carrying more sincerity than she expected.

“Good luck, everyone!” Wriothesley said with a hint of amusement, crossing his arms.

Navia turned to him with a sly smile. “Oh, don’t think you’re getting out of this so easily, Duke. We could use someone with your presence on stage.”

Wriothesley blinked, suddenly uncertain. “Wait, am I included in this?” He cast a glance at Furina, who avoided his gaze, suddenly fascinated by the cobblestones beneath her feet.

“If you’re busy, it’s okay. I don’t want to bother you,” she murmured, twisting a lock of her hair.

Wriothesley sighed, a fond smile playing on his lips. For better or worse, he knew he had a soft spot for her. “Alright, fine. I’ll do it.” Then, with a mischievous glint, he added, “But only if our esteemed Chief Justice joins in as well.”

Furina’s head snapped up at that, her brows furrowing. “That’s quite a far stretch, don’t you think?” She crossed her arms but couldn’t completely hide the nervous edge in her voice. “Aren’t you usually busy during the festival, Neuvillette?”

Neuvillette inclined his head, his expression calm as always, but there was a softness in his gaze as it rested on her. “Yes but if Furina wishes it,” he said gently, “then I’d be honored to participate.”

Furina’s eyes widened in surprise, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no words came out at first. Instead, a warmth blossomed in her chest, catching her off guard.

Wriothesley gave an exaggerated groan. “That was too easy.”

Clorinde smirked, patting Wriothesley on the shoulder. “Give it up. You’ll never win against a man so obviously smitten.”

The group erupted into laughter, the playful jab causing Furina’s cheeks to flush a delicate pink. She quickly turned away, clearing her throat as if to brush off the comment. But the slight smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

Gathering herself, she tapped her chin thoughtfully, determination returning to her eyes. “Thank you, everyone. Really.” Her gaze swept across the group, lingering briefly on Neuvillette before she clapped her hands.

“Oh! Have you asked Lyney and Lynette yet?” Paimon piped up, hovering closer. “I’m sure they’d love to help out!”

Furina paused, her eyes lighting up at the suggestion. “Not yet,” she admitted. “But it would be wonderful if they could join us.”

“Then leave it to us!” Paimon declared, puffing out her chest proudly. The Traveler gave a small nod of agreement, his calm demeanor contrasting with Paimon’s enthusiasm.

Furina hesitated for a moment, glancing between the two of them. Finally, she smiled, her confidence growing with each gesture of support. “Alright, I’ll count on you two then. Thank you.”

With that, the planning truly began in earnest.

💧💧💧

It wasn’t long before word came back that Lyney and Lynette had gladly accepted to be part of the play. Furina’s cast was now more impressive than she had dared to hope—alongside the Traveler, Clorinde, Navia, Wriothesley, and Neuvillette, she had also secured several people who are interested thanks to the Spina di Rosula’s connections.

Chevreuse, though unable to take a role due to her duties, generously offered to assist backstage, ensuring security and logistics were handled smoothly. Chiori had already started sketching costume designs, while Charlotte enthusiastically volunteered to handle publicity, promising headlines that would captivate all of Fontaine.

Reflecting on her progress, Furina swam lazily beneath the gentle waves of the Fontaine sea, an old habit she’d taken up once more. Floating in the serene stillness, she allowed her mind to wander. A small blubberbeast glided past her, and she playfully poked its side, chuckling softly as it spun in response.

( I have the cast, but now comes the harder part—who’s playing who? )

For the lead role, she had always envisioned someone with an innocent look—someone whose face could convey both vulnerability and strength. As her mind worked through the possibilities, she mentally reviewed her cast.

Her thoughts were interrupted when a small otter swam up beside her, its round eyes shimmering with what almost seemed like urgency. It nudged her arm insistently.

“Hm?” Furina arched an eyebrow. “What’s got you all riled up?”

The otter swam a short distance ahead, then turned back as if beckoning her to follow. With growing curiosity, Furina trailed after it—and that’s when she saw him.

Freminet.

At first, she thought he was simply waving to her, but as she moved closer, her stomach dropped.

( Wait… That’s not waving! )

Her eyes widened as she realized he was struggling with his diving gear, unable to free himself. Without wasting another second, Furina shot forward, cutting through the water with practiced ease. She grabbed hold of him, careful but firm, and guided him swiftly toward the surface.

As they broke through the water’s surface, she began helping him with his helmet, which was jammed tightly around his head. With one last pull, the helmet came off with a soft pop.

"Uwahh… thank you, oh! Miss Furina!" Freminet gasped, his cheeks flushed as he caught his breath.

Furina started to reply with a casual wave of her hand. “No prob—!” But the words caught in her throat as she took a good look at Freminet’s face.

His innocent eyes, clear and hesitant, stared back at her, a slight furrow in his brow as he tried to make sense of the situation. There was something about his pure, almost fragile expression that sparked an idea—an idea that curled into a mischievous grin on Furina’s lips.

( This face! )

Her eyes gleamed with sudden excitement as a sly smile spread across her face. “Perfect,” she murmured, almost to herself, her mind already racing with possibilities.

Freminet shifted uncomfortably under her intense gaze. “Miss F-Furina?” he stammered, tilting his head, his confusion growing.

“Freminet~” she cooed, her tone almost sing-song, leaning closer to him. “How would you like to be my star?”

“Huh?” His eyes widened, his voice breaking slightly in his surprise. “W-What?”

Furina immediately realized how intense she must have seemed, and a tinge of embarrassment crossed her features. Okay, maybe I got carried away. She took a step back, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “Uh, sorry about that,” she said, her voice softening. “I should explain things from the start, shouldn’t I?”

Freminet blinked, still a bit dazed but willing to listen.

“I’ve written a script for a play for the upcoming Fontinalia festival,” Furina explained, her tone a little more composed now but still filled with excitement. “It’s a charity performance, and I’m putting together a cast. I think you’d be perfect for the lead role!”

She saw the hesitation in his eyes, so she quickly added, “Lyney, Lynette, and the Traveler are all joining too! It’s going to be a fun experience, and you won’t be alone! Everyone will be there!”

Freminet, still unsure, looked away slightly, his fingers playing nervously with the straps of his diving gear. “Are you sure you want me to be the lead?” he asked, his voice quiet and hesitant.

Furina gave him a firm, reassuring nod, her voice confident. “Yes. One hundred percent sure.”

After a long moment of silence, Freminet sighed, clearly weighed down by uncertainty. “Uh… well…” He glanced back at her, clearly reluctant but softening. “Okay…”

💧💧💧

During the first rehearsal, the grand rehearsal room buzzed with energy, the wooden floor polished to a shine and the rich velvet curtains framing the space with dramatic elegance. Yet amidst all the excitement, Freminet found himself backed into a corner, clutching Pers—his little mechanical penguin—like a lifeline.

“Why am I here…” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He squeezed Pers tighter, hoping the little penguin could somehow offer him the comfort he desperately needed. 

Across the room, Furina was a whirlwind of energy, orchestrating the rehearsal with theatrical gestures and a level of enthusiasm that was almost overwhelming. It was clear she was in her element, but Freminet couldn’t help but feel completely out of his depth. He sighed softly. 

( She did help me, and she seemed so excited… how could I say no? )

Lyney approached, his steps light and theatrical. He bent down slightly, his warm eyes full of encouragement. “Cheer up, Freminet. We’re here to support you.” He placed a reassuring hand on his little brother’s shoulder.

“To think that our adorable little brother is finally stepping onto the stage of his own accord,” Lyney continued, his voice growing theatrically emotional. He wiped his eyes dramatically with a handkerchief. “I’m so proud, I could cry!"

Meanwhile, Lynette, standing just behind Lyney, sipped her tea with her usual impassive expression. She side-eyed Lyney’s antics, then turned her gaze to Freminet, her tone calm and measured. “He’s being ridiculous. Just focus on what you need to do.”

Freminet sighed, his grip on Pers loosening just a little. “I’ll try…”

Lyney leaned closer, his grin softening into something more genuine. “You’ll be great, little brother. Trust me.”

A small smile crept onto Freminet’s face. He wasn’t sure he was ready for the spotlight, but with his siblings by his side and Furina’s faith in him, maybe—just maybe—he could do this.

As Furina’s voice rang out, calling for everyone to get into position, Freminet took a deep breath, stood up, and whispered to Pers, “Okay… let’s give this a shot.”

With that, the script was handed to him. His eyes scanned the lines, but then he froze, his expression shifting from mild anxiety to confusion. “Miss Furina…” he began hesitantly, raising the script as though it might bite him. “This role I play… it’s a girl.”

Furina turned to him, completely unperturbed. “Hmm, yes, what of it?”

Freminet stared at her, speechless. He glanced toward Lyney and Lynette for support, but Lyney erupted into laughter while Lynette quietly sipped her tea, utterly unfazed. Pers, meanwhile, flopped sideways in Freminet’s arms as if it, too, had given up.

💧💧💧

To Furina’s surprise, things went much smoother than she had expected. The cast, many of whom were newcomers to acting, were picking up their roles faster than she could have hoped. Freminet is a nervous wreck but when it came to it, he was doing pretty well. There was raw talent in every corner of the rehearsal space, and Furina found herself brimming with excitement as she watched them. She couldn’t wait to see how they'd perform on stage.

As the actors worked through their scenes, Furina double-checked the script, making small adjustments to better accommodate the strengths of each performer. It was a delicate balance between what was written and what could be done on stage, but she was confident that the final result would be something special.

"I must say, I didn't think you'd actually manage to gather so many people at the last minute," Rien said, strolling over to Furina with his usual nonchalance. "Though this is probably the most expensive team I ever seen."

Rien's eyes flicked over the group around the hall. The President of Spina di Rosula, the Strongest Champion Duelist of Fontaine, the Duke of Meropide, the Celebrated Magician of the Court of Fontaine, the Renowned Diver of the Court of Fontaine, the famous outlander and the most unexpected of all the Iudex of Fontaine. Even the outfit is prepared by the Chioriya Boutique.

Rien couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, "Is this country okay?"

“As you should have admitted by now, I’m awesome after all,” Furina replied with a playful grin. She glanced back at the stage where the actors were running through their lines and added, “Anyway, since most of these people are amateurs, I want you, Rien, to help oversee some of them. You’re the expert, after all.”

Rien smirked and raised an eyebrow. “I guess I could lend a little wisdom here and there. But I’ll say this—it's best you use my real name, Johann, unless you want a scandal where one of your actors turns out to be a crook.” He said the last part with a dramatic flair.

Furina gave him an exasperated look. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

Rien leaned back casually, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “My true identity is squeaky clean, so it won’t pose a problem.”

Furina raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a half-smile. “Oh, so that’s why you're not in disguise today.”

“Exactly,” Rien replied with a smug grin. “No need to hide my handsomeness.”

"Unfortunately our lovely judge is far more handsome than you." she said with a touch of pride.

Rien continued, his tone shifting slightly. “Ah yes, your boyfriend. I can feel his eyes boring to me right now.”

Furina rolled her eyes and sighed. “You’ll get used to it soon. And for the record, he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Huh? Isn’t it obvious the Monsieur likes you? You two have been seen together all the time lately. Not to mentioned, he’s visited your house almost every day, and you even went to his office without any official reason. If that's not enough, Monsieur Neuvillette—the Monsieur Neuvillette, agreed to act in a charity play?” Rien’s face twisted in amusement. “All that, and you’re still ‘just friends’?”

Furina crossed her arms, clearly exasperated, but her cheeks flushed slightly. “I suppose the tabloids have been writing a lot about us. But yes, we are merely friends.”

Rien’s expression was one of genuine surprise. "Seriously? What are you two? Old people? Wait… You are old, huh?"

Furina's eyes narrowed playfully. "One more word, and I’ll have Crabaletta pinch your ears, you brat."

Rien held up his hands in mock surrender, grinning. "Welp, that’s my cue to get out of here," he said, swiftly retreating as Furina gave him a light-hearted scowl.

💧💧💧

During the rehearsal, Rien observed everyone closely. Despite his initial reluctance, he was taking his role as an acting coach seriously—after all, if he was going to commit to something, he might as well do it properly. Furina's script was actually quite impressive; she had written something with genuine depth, and the raw talent in the cast was encouraging.

As his gaze swept the room, something—or rather, someone—caught his attention. Standing amidst a group of actors was none other than Wriothesley, the Duke of Meropide himself. The sight of the prison warden delivering lines with surprising charisma was almost surreal. His movements were fluid, his delivery natural—far better than Rien had expected.

Rien hesitated. He wasn’t thrilled about interacting with Wriothesley, not when the future loomed ominously ahead. After all, it was only a matter of time before Rien found himself behind the walls of the Fortress of Meropide as one of its prisoners. But avoiding him was pointless; Wriothesley had already noticed him.

"Hey there, Duke," Rien called out, striving to keep his tone casual. He crossed the hall toward Wriothesley, his hands shoved into his pockets. "How’re things going for you?"

Wriothesley tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable but his tone light. "Oh, Johann, isn’t it? I’m doing well enough, I suppose." He gestured toward the stage with a faint smile. "Though if you’re checking on progress, I think you’d better ask that guy."

Following Wriothesley’s gesture, Rien’s eyes landed on Neuvillette, who was stationed in a quieter corner of the hall. The Chief Justice looked every bit the part of the stern, dignified judge—but when it came to acting, it was clear he was struggling.

He too is someone Rien wasn’t too keen on talking to—especially not since Neuvillette would be the one to pass judgment on him once this whole thing was over. But as he watched the Chief Justice struggle, he decided it wouldn't hurt to offer a little help.

"Uh, Monsieur," Rien called out, walking over to Neuvillette, who paused and looked up. "How are you doing with your role?"

"I thought I was getting the hang of it," Neuvillette replied, his voice a little strained. "I must admit, actually acting is quite difficult." His gaze shifted briefly, and he added, "Seeing how Furina trusts you, I suppose you're a good actor. Could you oversee my acting?"

( Oh? )

Rien wasn’t expecting this development, but he couldn’t deny that it was a welcome one. He nodded, a slight smirk on his lips. "Sure."

Neuvillette then proceeded to demonstrate his acting. It was clear he was trying, but his stiff, almost mechanical movements didn't quite match the scene he was attempting.

"What do you think? Where should I improve?" Neuvillette asked, his voice laced with genuine curiosity.

Rien paused, assessing Neuvillette's performance. "...First, I suppose you should fix that stoic, handsome face of yours," Rien said with a dry smile. "I know it’s kind of your selling point, but it won’t work if you’re trying to act as the... maniacal evil stepbrother."

He wanted to laugh. Honestly, with such an exquisite face, Neuvillette would have been far better suited to play the lover or the tragic hero, not a crazy madman. Whether Furina did this intentionally or not, it was clear that she didn’t want the "Supreme Judge" to come across as anyone’s lover—even if it was just an act.

“Try smiling more, at least,” Rien suggested, tapping his own fingers to the corners of his mouth in an exaggerated gesture.

Neuvillette gave it a shot, but the smile that emerged was so stiff and unnatural that Rien almost laughed.

"Okay, let’s try this," Rien said with a shrug. "How about thinking of something that actually makes you happy? It might help bring some naturalness into your performance."

Neuvillette looked away for a moment, as though pondering the suggestion. His gaze softened as he watched his Melusine daughters scurrying about, and a gentle smile tugged at his lips. But then his eyes shifted, focusing on someone sitting at a table with a bit of cake cream near her mouth. Furina.

Rien’s gaze followed Neuvillette’s, and he instantly understood. The Chief Justice was smitten—his affection was clear in the soft, almost adoring way his gaze lingered on her.

Rien couldn't suppress a quiet sigh, watching the entire scene unfold. The obvious affection between the two was almost painful to witness, considering their endless, unspoken tension.

"Seriously, how are the both of you not a couple by now?" Rien muttered under his breath, almost to himself, shaking his head.

To his surprise, Neuvillette heard him. He turned his head slightly, as if considering his words, before responding with a matter-of-factly tone. "I guess she's just not ready for it. I will wait quietly, regardless of whether I'm by her side or from afar."

Rien raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling on his lips at Neuvillette’s almost unnervingly composed response. The stoic Chief Justice didn’t seem to flinch at all, and it irritated Rien in a way he couldn’t quite explain. "Yeah, quietly," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Say that when you tone down the jealousy. I swear, my neck felt like it was burning from your stares from times to times." The words slipped out before he could stop them, his sharp tongue getting the better of him as usual.

To his surprise, Neuvillette didn’t flinch or retaliate. Instead, he maintained his usual stoic demeanor, his gaze steady and calm as ever. “I see. I apologise for my behaviour then. I suppose I was a little envious of how she is unrestrained toward you, someone she’s only recently met, compared to when she’s with me.”

Rien blinked, momentarily taken aback. He hadn’t expected such a candid admission, let alone an apology. The composed and dignified Chief Justice of Fontaine admitting to jealousy? That was new.

“Uh-huh,” Rien muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, that’s… surprising.” He let out a sigh, suddenly feeling too tired to bother untangling the mess of emotions radiating from this whole situation. “Look, whatever.  Just don’t overthink it.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Anyway, don’t worry. My relationship with the ha—I mean Miss Furina is simply one of mutual benefit—both of us take advantage of each other, no more, no less,” Rien said, shrugging as if to downplay any deeper implication. “Also, I have my own tastes, mind you.”

Neuvillette seemed to have more he wanted to say, but before he could speak, Rien moved swiftly, placing the script in Neuvillette’s hands with a deliberate action. The abrupt shift in focus left little room for further discussion.

Rien leaned in just a little, his voice dropping to a more playful tone. "And besides... If you think about why she gave you this part, I gotta say, you two are well-matched."

With that, Rien flashed him a smirk, then turned on his heel, leaving Neuvillette to stew in his thoughts.

💧💧💧

At the table on the other side of the theater hall, Navia, Clorinde, Lynette, and Furina sat gathered, enjoying a brief snack break amidst the flurry of rehearsals. Plates of colorful macarons, fruit tarts, and freshly brewed tea adorned the table, courtesy of Navia’s impeccable hosting skills.

Furina, however, looked less than relaxed. She let out a dramatic groan, slumping against the table with her cheek pressed to the surface. “It would be nice to have an experienced producer,” she grumbled. “Being the playwright, director, and producer is absolute overkill. Who even does this to themselves?”

Clorinde quirked an eyebrow, setting down her cup of tea. “What about that producer you worked with last time?”

“Xavier, you mean?” Furina sat up slightly, brushing crumbs from her sleeve. “I did consider it, but unfortunately, I don’t even know where he is right now. Heck, I’m not even sure if he’s still in Fontaine.” She punctuated her frustration by popping another macaron into her mouth and slumping again.

Navia leaned back with a confident grin. “Aha, my friend, it seems you’ve forgotten who I am.” She flipped her hair, her golden curls bouncing lightly. “With 99 percent certainty, Spina di Rosula can track him down for you.”

“And,” she added with a playful wink, “since you’re my special friend, I’ll even give you a discount this time.”

Furina straightened a little, her expression lifting. “Really? Well, I’ll be counting on you then.”

But just as her spirits began to rise, her gaze wandered across the room and landed on Neuvillette, who was still deep in conversation with Rien. Seeing them reminded her of the earlier talk she’d had with Rien about her complicated feelings. Her smile faded, and her fingers absentmindedly poked at a half-eaten tart.

“Hey, you guys…” Furina began hesitantly, drawing the attention of the others at the table.

Navia tilted her head. “Hmm? What’s up?”

Furina fidgeted, her voice unusually soft. “Do you think I’m… the worst? For, you know… keeping things hanging between me and Neuvillette?”

Navia and Clorinde exchanged looks, and Lynette paused mid-sip, her cat-like eyes zeroing in on Furina.

“Oh? You mean how you’ve been avoiding giving him a clear answer to his very obvious declaration of love for the past year?” Clorinde said, her tone sharp but not unkind.

“When you put it like that…” Furina groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I am the worst.”

“Why did you hold off, anyway?” Navia asked, her curiosity piqued as she poured herself another cup of tea.

“You do love him, right?” Lynette added quietly, her soft-spoken question hitting right at the heart of the matter.

Furina froze, her face growing warmer. She pressed her forehead against the cool surface of the table, mumbling something incomprehensible.

“Hm?” The others leaned in, barely catching the faint muttering.

“I’m embarrassed,” Furina finally admitted, lifting her head slightly but still refusing to meet their eyes. “I didn’t expect so much time to pass! It’s been a year already, and now it feels too late, but also not late enough, and I just—gah!” She slumped dramatically again, her words spilling out in a flustered rush.

Navia bit back a laugh. “You’re overthinking this, Furina. Just talk to him. You’re making it harder than it has to be.”

Clorinde smirked. “Honestly, considering how patient he’s been, I doubt he’d mind waiting another year if it’s for you.”

“That’s not helping!” Furina wailed, burying her face again as the others exchanged amused glances.

Lynette sipped her tea quietly before adding, “I think he’s already made up his mind to wait, no matter how long it takes. You should probably just focus on what you want instead of worrying about the timing.”

Furina peeked out from behind her hands, her cheeks flushed pink. “You guys make it sound so easy…”

Clorinde leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she arched an eyebrow. “Sometimes a little push is all that’s needed,” she said, her tone as calm and direct as ever.

Navia leaned forward, her grin mischievous. “Exactly. And if you’re still too nervous, maybe we can all set up a scene in this play to help you confess dramatically. Imagine—spotlights, roses, and an audience hanging on your every word!”

Furina shot her a glare. “Don’t you dare.”

Navia only laughed, clearly enjoying how flustered Furina had become.

Despite her protests, Furina let out a soft sigh, her hands dropping to the table as she reached for another macaron. “I guess you all have made your point,” she admitted, though her voice still carried a hint of hesitation. “I’ll… think it through later.”

Lynette, however, leaned in one last time. “Just don’t take another year, alright?”

Furina groaned but couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at her lips. She stood up abruptly, brushing crumbs from her skirt and clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright! Break’s over! Let’s get back to rehearsal, shall we?” Furina declared, her voice regaining its usual theatrical flair.

The others exchanged amused glances before standing up to follow her lead, leaving the conversation behind for now.

💧💧💧

Chapter Text

💧💧💧

Rehearsals had been progressing smoothly, Rien proved to be a better coach than she expected, though the mountain of paperwork Furina faced was far greater than anything she’d dealt with as an Archon. Drafting scripts, managing schedules, and overseeing costumes and set designs left her desk perpetually buried. Yet, through the Spina di Rosula’s vast network of information, she finally received some good news—Xavier was indeed in Fontaine. Specifically, he had returned to his hometown, Petrichor.

Determined to secure an experienced producer, Furina decided to make the trip.

It had been years since Furina last set foot in Petrichor. The small town carried echoes of a past she couldn’t fully piece together—fragments of memories that slipped through her grasp like water. Some memories made sense, while others felt like they belonged to someone else entirely. And as she gazed at the familiar cobbled streets, the sight stirred images of the once-proud Kingdom of Remuria, floating above the high seas—a time now long gone.

Upon arriving in Petrichor, it didn’t take long to track Xavier down. The locals knew him well, and soon enough, she stood before his workshop—a quaint building cluttered with tools, sketches, and half-finished props.

“Miss Furina!” Xavier exclaimed the moment he saw her, nearly dropping the wooden frame he had been working on. “What did I do to deserve the honor of your presence at my humble abode?”

“You’re just as dramatic as ever, I see,” Furina replied, crossing her arms but unable to hide a faint smile. “It’s been a while, Xavier.”

They exchanged brief pleasantries before Furina explained her circumstances and the need for a skilled producer to oversee her play.

When she finished, Xavier’s eyes lit up with excitement. “That’s... That’s incredible!” he said, barely containing his enthusiasm. “Of course, it would be an honor to be the producer for your play! I’ll pack my bags and head to the Court of Fontaine later this evening.”

“Well, then, it’s settled,” Furina said with a nod. “Meet me at the Opera Epiclese. And if you have any trouble finding me, you can always ask the Traveler for help. They seem to have a knack for being in the right place at the right time."

With that, Furina bid Xavier farewell and turned to leave.

But just as she approached the sea, a sudden chill prickled down her spine. The Salon Solitaires manifested beside her, their translucent forms hovering protectively, their presence a silent warning. Furina’s gaze sharpened, instinctively scanning her surroundings.

That’s when she saw him.

A figure lingered at the edge of the water—a man with striking purplish-blue hair and eyes that glimmered faintly, like light reflecting off the ocean’s depths. He approached slowly, his movements deliberate but unthreatening.

“I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of curiosity. “But no... it really is you.”

A surge of memories rushed through her mind like a tidal wave, and in that moment, recognition struck her. She knew exactly who he was.

"Oh, it's you," Furina murmured after a pause, her voice soft but edged with recognition.

( Scylla )

Back when Remuria was still above the sea, he had been a guard in the depths of that somber place where their mistress, Egeria, had been imprisoned. Back then, Furina's visits were an act of defiance and devotion, though she never got to see Egeria before the end. Yet through those clandestine visits, she had become, in some small way, acquainted with this dragon who patrolled the shadows.

Now, standing under the shifting light of the waves, she looked at him—this once-majestic dragon now wrapped in a human guise. His purplish-blue hair seemed to shimmer like the twilight depths of the ocean, and his eyes held the same ageless watchfulness she remembered.

"So you're still here," she continued.

"I am. And so are you," Scylla replied, a faint smile curving his lips.

Furina shrugged lightly, a playful glimmer in her expression that belied the depths of emotion in her eyes. “It is how it is.” She paused, her gaze flickering over him. “Centuries had passed since then. I never thought I’d see you cloaked in a human form.”

Scylla's smile faded into something more reserved. “It makes it easier to avoid conflict,” he explained, his voice calm but laced with weariness. “I’m no longer in the mood for those kinds of battles.”

She nodded, a hint of understanding passing between them. “That’s so,” she murmured.

Then Scylla spoke again, his tone tinged with curiosity, "So it turns out you’re the one who was chosen as the successor to the Mistress of Many Waters? Though I suppose, compared to the other one, you are much more sensible, in a way.."

At the mention of the other one, Furina’s brows knit for a moment, and the faintest flicker of memory crossed her face. The other one he referred to was none other than Rhodeia—the greatest and strongest Oceanid scout, fiercely loyal to their former mistress. Many believed Rhodeia would be chosen as Egeria’s successor.

Yet, when the time came, it was Furina who had been chosen as Egeria’s successor. And after Egeria’s death, Rhodeia too had vanished without a trace.

In fact almost all of the Oceanids had left Fontaine waters then, seeking refuge elsewhere. It was a sad departure, but one that made sense—Fontaine had become a land of change, and the waters no longer pure. It was safer, in a way, for the Oceanids to disappear into the vast expanse of the world.

"I was," Furina acknowledged, her tone turning wistful. "Though I've since stepped down from that role. Now, these waters belong solely to your king—the Hydro Sovereign."

"Yes, I've heard of him," Scylla nodded, his eyes glimmering with interest. "The Traveler also spoke of him back then. I’ve been meaning to pay my respects to our king one of these days."

Furina hummed softly, her gaze drifting to the shimmering expanse of the sea. The gentle rhythm of the waves seemed to echo through her thoughts.

"Since you're still lingering here," she mused, "I suppose his eternal melody still resonates in these depths."

"It does," Scylla agreed, his eyes following hers to the endless horizon. "It was chaotic before, but with the Traveler's help, everything was set right in the end."

"That's good to hear," Furina whispered, closing her eyes as if savoring the stillness.

For a brief moment, they stood side by side, two figures suspended between past and present, the rhythmic crashing of the waves the only sound between them. Then Furina's eyes fluttered open, and she smiled as if recalling something.

"There’s a festival later in the Court of Fontaine," she said, her tone lightening. "Why not take a breather and enjoy the festivities? Also I’m putting on a little theatre performance, actually. It may not be as grand as the Remus Symphony, but I assure you, it will be a fantastic show."

Scylla's eyes glimmered with curiosity. "A festival?" he mused. "Hmm. Perhaps I’ll take you up on that offer."

The corner of Furina’s mouth curled upward. “That’s great,” she said, a note of genuine pleasure in her voice. She took a step back, the sunlight casting a radiant glow over her form. “Well then, I should be going. Drop by whenever you like and see you at the festival.”

Just as she turned to leave, she glanced over her shoulder, her voice softened. “Goodbye, old dragon.”

A flicker of amusement passed across Scylla’s face, mingling with something deeper—an echo of centuries gone by. “Yes, see you. And fare thee well, little Oceanid”

Furina paused for a moment, her gaze lingering on him before she turned and began her trip back to the Court of Fontaine. The sound of waves followed her, a soft melody carrying whispers of the past.

💧💧💧

That evening, as twilight bathed the Court of Fontaine in shades of deep blue and silver, Neuvillette arrived at Furina’s residence, as was his custom. The soft glow of lamplight greeted him as he stepped inside, the familiar surroundings offering a sense of calm.

Furina sat curled up on the sofa, papers and notes scattered across the table in front of her. She looked up as he entered, her expression brightening. “Ah, there you are. Was it a hard case today?”

Neuvillette removed his coat and draped it neatly over the arm of the chair before settling into his usual spot opposite her. His posture was as composed as always.

“Not particularly,” he replied, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. “Just the usual cases.” Then, tilting his head slightly, he added, “And how about you? You went to Petrichor this morning, right?”

“I did.” Furina straightened, her voice lifting with excitement. “And Xavier agreed to help with the production. He’s already packing his things and should be here by tomorrow.”

“That’s promising news.” Neuvillette nodded approvingly. But before he could comment further, Furina leaned back and added, almost offhandedly, “Oh, and I ran into an old acquaintance while I was there.”

Neuvillette’s gaze sharpened slightly. “An acquaintance?”

She met his eyes with a playful glint. “A dragon, actually.”

The word seemed to hang in the air for a moment. Neuvillette’s fingers stilled against the armrest, his expression unreadable as his gaze fixed on her.

“A... Dragon...” he echoed, his tone carrying a weight that Furina immediately picked up on.

Her confidence faltered—just for a moment—as she registered his reaction. She paused, quickly running over what she had said and how it might have sounded. Then, realization dawned, and a soft, knowing laugh escaped her lips.

“Ah~” Furina waved a hand, dismissing the tension. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

Neuvillette blinked, his composure momentarily slipping. “I beg your pardon?”

“Relax.” Furina leaned back, a teasing smile playing at her lips. “The old dragon is really just an acquaintance. We share some history, but it’s nothing scandalous, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Neuvillette’s brows furrowed, though the faintest tinge of color brushed his cheeks—so faint it could easily be missed. “That’s not what I—"

Furina cut him off with another laugh. “You’re adorable when you try to deny it.”

He exhaled slowly, clearly trying to compose himself. “I merely found it unexpected. Dragons do not often linger among mortals.”

“Well, he didn’t linger much either,” Furina replied, leaning her chin on her hand. “But I invited him to the festival. He seemed interested, and” She grinned. “He mentioned he plans to meet you.”

Neuvillette’s expression shifted, curiosity flickering behind his eyes. “I see. Then I suppose I’ll look forward to this meeting.”

Furina gave a satisfied nod. “Good. But don’t overthink it,” she teased, her tone light. “He’s not nearly as intimidating as he tries to appear. If anything, he’s a bit dramatic—kind of like you.”

Neuvillette raised an eyebrow at her playful jab but let it slide without comment, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

As their conversation drifted into a comfortable lull, Furina’s gaze softened. Her thoughts wandered back to the chatter she’d had with the girls a few days ago.

She really didn’t doubt Neuvillette’s feelings. The way he showed up without fail, the gentle concern in his voice when he asked about her day, and the small gestures—like bringing her favorite pastries or fixing the uneven stack of papers she always left lying around—all spoke volumes.

And yet… Furina exhaled quietly, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the cushion beside her. She loved him—of that much she was certain. It wasn’t the loud, overwhelming kind of love she’d once imagined but something quieter, steadier, like the way the tides returned to the shore without fail.

But was she ready?

Her heart wavered at the thought. Love was one thing—commitment was another. It wasn’t doubt about him; it was doubt about herself. Could she handle something so grounded after living a life defined by theatrics and expectations?

Neuvillette’s voice gently broke through her thoughts.

“You seem lost in thought.”

Furina blinked, realizing she had been staring at nothing for a moment too long. She quickly straightened up, masking her uncertainty with a practiced smile. “Oh, just thinking about the festival,” she said, brushing it off. “It’s coming together faster than I expected.”

He didn’t press further, though his observant gaze lingered for a beat longer than usual.

“Well,” he said finally, standing and smoothing out his coat. “If you need help with anything, you only need to ask.”

Furina’s heart gave a small, unexpected flutter at his words, but she simply nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

💧💧💧

The Fontinalia Festival had officially begun. The streets of Fontaine were alive with color and music, streamers fluttering in the breeze, and laughter echoing through the squares. The Court of Fontaine bustled with excitement, and anticipation filled the air. At the Opera Epiclese, preparations for the Camellia play were in full swing—until disaster struck.

Their lead actor, Freminet, was nowhere to be found.

Panic rippled through the group as they scrambled to search every corner of the opera house. Scripts were flipped through hastily, costumes rustled as cast members rushed about, and whispers of concern traveled like wildfire.

Furina, maintaining her usual air of composure—albeit with a slight twitch in her eye—volunteered to check the backstage area. Her heels clicked softly against the wooden floors as she moved past props and set pieces, scanning every nook and cranny. Finally, a familiar sight caught her eye—a glimpse of Freminet’s long coat peeking out from behind a stack of crates.

Furina folded her arms and leaned against the opposite side of the crates, speaking in a deliberately light tone. “So, here you are,” she said softly.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then a faint voice responded, barely above a whisper.

“Miss Furina… I’m sorry,” Freminet murmured, his voice trembling. “I thought I’d be fine. I practiced and memorized everything, but… there’s so many people out there.” His words faltered, and it was clear he was teetering on the edge of panic.

Furina let out a soft chuckle—not one of mockery, but one meant to ease the tension. “Ah, my reputation drawing crowds is one thing. But with a cast as remarkable as ours, I suppose the excitement was inevitable,” she replied, her tone playful yet soothing.

Leaning against the opposite side of the crate, she continued gently, “Freminet, when I cast you, I didn’t expect you to be perfectly flawless. Even for me it took centuries to polish my own performances, after all.”

“What if I mess up?” he whispered.

Furina grinned. “Then we improvise. Trust me, the audience loves a bit of drama.” She winked. “And if you trip, just make it look like it was part of the act. Half the time, people won’t even notice.”

"Just have fun," Furina then gestured subtly to Lyney and Lynette, who were waiting just around the corner. “Remember, you’re not alone,” she added softly.

At that moment, Lyney and Lynette appeared at Freminet’s side, each placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, little brother,” Lyney said, offering a warm smile. “As the miss said, we’re all in this together.”

Lynette gave a small, encouraging nod, her calm demeanor a steadying presence. “You’ll do wonderfully, Freminet. You’ve done harder things before, haven’t you?”

Freminet blinked, his eyes darting nervously between the two of them before settling on Pers, who rested in his hands.

"Lyney… Lynette…" Freminet muttered, his voice trailing off. The tension in his shoulders eased just a little.

“Come on,” Lyney said, straightening his hat with a theatrical flourish. “You’ve got this—and if all else fails, just follow my lead.”

Freminet took a deep breath, managing the faintest smile as he nodded.

Leaving the siblings to comfort their brother, Furina stepped back and quietly excused herself. She smoothed out her dress as she made her way toward the grand reception area of the Opera Epiclese. Relief settled over her. It wasn’t a disaster after all—just a small hiccup.

But as she passed through the opulent hallways, her sharp gaze swept over the bustling crowd, and her attention snagged on a familiar figure in the distance.

Scylla.

Even dressed in civilian attire, the purplish-blue-haired man stood out like a shadow among the bright and cheerful crowd. Without hesitation, she moved toward him, weaving through the sea of finely dressed festival-goers.

However, just as she was about to reach him, her path was abruptly blocked. A sharp click of heels against the marble floor made Furina stop in her tracks. She looked up—and there, in the dim glow of the chandelier, stood The Knave.

It had been some time since their last encounter, but a faint, instinctive surge of discomfort tightened in her chest, recalling the day the Knave had once attacked her. Furina kept her expression calm, forcing herself to mask any sign of unease.

Despite the coldness she exuded, Furina knew that The Knave’s affection for her children was genuine. In the countless cycles Furina had remembered, she had watched as The Knave descended into complete madness. Each time, it happened in the same tragic way—the children of Hearth, her beloved children, slowly dissolved before her eyes, consumed by the relentless Primordial Sea.

During those cycles, The Knave had tried to kill Furina several times, her grief and anger manifesting in violent outbursts. But Furina, as an immortal Archon, had always returned. No matter how many times The Knave struck, Furina could not be truly harmed.

In the end, it was the madness that broke The Knave. Unable to bear the pain of losing her children nor to exact revenge on the Goddess who suppose to protect her people she spiraled into despair. With no other escape, she took her own life.

The Knave broke the silence. "Do you have anything you want to say?"

Furina shook her head. "No. It's nothing. Oh, and thanks for the cake."

The Knave brushed off her words. "It was the children's wish to give it to the theatre troupe. It has nothing to do with me."

Furina’s hum of acknowledgment was soft but knowing, a delicate note that lingered in the air. Her eyes gleamed with subtle amusement, catching the Knave’s raised eyebrow.

Furina said.  "Well then, I hope you enjoyed the show. I'm sure they were very excited to perform in front of their 'Father' after all."

A flicker of something—something fragile and deeply hidden—passed across the Knave’s stoic features. For the briefest moment, her cold mask slipped, and a hint of warmth touched her eyes before she swiftly concealed it beneath her usual icy demeanor.

Satisfied, Furina gave a graceful nod and turned on her heel, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

💧💧💧

Outside the opera house, in a secluded corner bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, Furina finally found Scylla. His unmistakable figure stood out even in the dim light, but she soon noticed that he was not alone. Standing beside him was Neuvillette.

“Oh?” she called out, her voice playful yet warm as she approached them. “I see that you two have met.”

Scylla turned toward her, a subtle smile curving his lips, while Neuvillette’s gaze softened, a quiet warmth in his eyes as they met hers.

"Well, you did invite me. And my king was kind enough to lead me the way as he sensed my presence when I entered the Court of Fontaine." Scylla said.

"I'm glad you both hit it off." Curious, Furina tilted her head slightly. “So, how is the Court of Fontaine?” she asked, her tone genuine but with a hint of mischief.

Scylla’s expression turned thoughtful for a moment before he responded, his eyes distant as if he were recalling something from ages past. “I must say, humans never cease to amaze me with their creations,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet reverence. “Back then, and even now, their ingenuity is… remarkable. Such fleeting yet grand things, yet somehow they endure.”

Furina couldn't help but smile at his words. "Well, I’m glad to hear that," she said. "It’s a good thing I managed to catch up with you. Since I personally invited you here, I already reserved a spot for you."

At this, Neuvillette gave a slight nod, his expression unchanged but his voice gentle. "I’ll show him the way," he said, pulling out his pocket watch. The gleam of the glass was faint but noticeable in the moonlight. "You should go and see how things are going backstage."

Furina raised an eyebrow, nodding in acknowledgment. “Alright then. See you backstage, Neuvillette.” She flashed him a playful smile before turning to Scylla, her voice carrying a teasing note. “And, old man, be prepared to be wowed by this play of mine.”

Scylla gave a soft laugh. "We shall see, little one," he replied. "After all, you did promise a fantastic show."

Furina’s smile grew. With a graceful turn, she began making her way toward the backstage area, her steps light and purposeful, the excitement of the night ahead bubbling just beneath her composed exterior.

💧💧💧

As Furina stepped backstage, the bustle of activity hit her immediately. Actors adjusted their costumes, stagehands moved with purpose, and the air was thick with a mixture of excitement and tension. The costumes crafted by Chioriya Boutique were nothing short of breathtaking, each piece a work of art, designed to bring the characters to life in the most vivid way.

But despite the beauty of the scene, Furina’s gaze was drawn immediately to one person—Freminet. He was pacing nervously, his posture tense, his gaze flickering anxiously to the stage every few moments. It was easy to see the unease that gripped him.

“Nervous?” she asked, stepping up beside him. Her voice made him jump, though he managed a shy nod in response.

( I guess, he’s always been a little reserved… )

“Y-Yes,” Freminet admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That’s natural," she assured him. "Over my long history on stage, I’ve learned countless tricks to calm nerves." She shifted the edge of the curtain slightly, revealing the filled seats beyond it. The audience was a sea of faces, from local townsfolk to dignitaries.

She stepped closer, her voice gentle but firm, offering him a quiet reassurance. “For you, instead of focusing on the entire crowd, try concentrating on a few specific people—the ones you most want to reach. The ones you hope will see you.”

Freminet swallowed, glancing out into the audience as Furina stepped aside. In the front row, seated directly in his line of sight, was the Knave. She sat composed, her attention fixed on the stage, her expression softening as her gaze met his.

"The people I want to see me the most…" he murmured to himself, his voice barely audible. His grip on the script steadied, the trembling that had once gripped him fading as he found a new focus.

"Fremi, come over here for a second." Lyney's voice cut through the air, pulling Freminet’s attention back to the present. "We gotta do a final check on your outfit."

"Oh, okay," Freminet replied, his nerves visibly easing as he stood a little taller. Before he left, he turned to Furina with a quiet sincerity. "Miss Furina... thank you."

Furina nodded, her smile warm and knowing. She watched him walk toward Lyney, his steps more confident now, his shoulders relaxed.

Just then, Paimon and the Traveler appeared beside her, no doubt having overheard her conversation with Freminet. Paimon blinked and hovered closer, her eyes wide with admiration. “Wow, Furina, you sure know your way with words.”

Furina chuckled softly, her eyes still following Freminet as he joined his siblings. “Well, Paimon,” she said with a playful grin, “a friend of mine once told me that sometimes a little push is all that’s needed."

💧💧💧

The lights of the opera house dimmed, casting a shadow over the grand theater as the audience waited in hushed anticipation. The stage, bathed in a soft, ethereal glow, beckoned the audience to enter the world of Camellia. The opening notes of the orchestra swirled through the air like the first breath of wind, signaling the beginning of a journey—a story of resilience, love, and quiet strength.

As the curtains rose, the audience was introduced to Lady Camellia, portrayed by Freminet. Her life was a tangled web of betrayal, jealousy, and family conflict. Much like the camellia flower, her beauty was matched by an inner strength—one that didn’t rely on grand gestures, but rather on her quiet resolve.

Freminet’s voice, fragile yet resolute, brought Camellia’s struggles to life. His portrayal was a stunning mix of grace and turmoil, capturing the character's battle between loyalty and self-preservation.

💧💧💧

Backstage, Furina couldn’t help but smile at how well everything was unfolding. The young performers were finding their rhythm, and Freminet’s confidence was growing by the moment. She felt a deep sense of pride in their progress.

Footsteps approached, and Furina turned to see Neuvillette walking toward her. His calm presence, in stark contrast to the energy of the performance, fit seamlessly into the whirlwind around them. Dressed in his costume, he appeared even more striking—his natural handsomeness, already undeniable, was amplified by the regal attire.Furina felt a brief, appreciative glance flicker across her face before she masked it with a focused expression.

"You’ll be up next," Furina said lightly, her tone playful but edged with seriousness. She gave him a small, encouraging smile, her eyes locking with his. "Good luck."

Neuvillette gave a single nod, his eyes briefly studying the stage where Freminet stood at the center, no longer as nervous as before. He looked at Furina, his expression thoughtful.

“You told that boy to focus on the person he most wants to be seen by,” Neuvillette remarked, his voice calm, as though reflecting on her words.

Furina raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. “Oh? Eavesdropping, are we?” she teased, her smile widening. "Is there anyone like that to you, Neuvi?"

Neuvillette’s gaze softened, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. "What an odd thing to ask. Of course, the person I most want to be seen by is the one standing beside me now." His voice was low, warm, and his words sent a soft shiver down Furina’s spine.

Furina’s heart skipped a beat at his words, and instinctively, she turned her head to the side, her gaze lifting to meet his. And there they were—his lilac eyes, deep and searching, filled with an unspoken tenderness that took her breath away. Her pulse quickened, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to vanish, leaving only the two of them in a quiet, charged space.

Before she could gather herself, Neuvillette’s voice broke the silence, his words carrying both affection and command. "Please keep your eyes on me."

The weight of his words lingered in the air, and with a glint in his eyes, he leaned closer. Furina’s heart fluttered as he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary.

Stepping back, Neuvillette gave her one last lingering look, a knowing smile curling on his lips before he turned to walk toward the stage.

Furina stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest, her breath caught in her throat. The world seemed to spin around her, too much to process all at once. Her thoughts were consumed by him—by his words, his touch, the way he looked at her. Her pulse still raced as she watched him walk away, a quiet storm of emotions swirling within her.

Only when Paimon called her name did she finally snap out of her daze. "Furina! Are you okay?"

Blinking rapidly, Furina cleared her throat and straightened, forcing herself to refocus. Her gaze shifted, landing on Paimon, the Traveler, and Xavier, all of whom were watching her with varying degrees of concern.

She nodded, trying to shake off the lingering effects of Neuvillette’s presence. "Yes, yes... everything is fine," she murmured, though she knew her cheeks were still flushed with warmth.

With a quiet breath, Furina redirected her attention back to the stage.

💧💧💧

"Camellia, your beauty is nothing but a weakness," Neuvillette, portraying the ruthless elder brother, sneered, his voice cold and cutting. "This family’s legacy will be mine, not yours. Go ahead and wither—like the fragile flower you are."

The tension crackled, leaving the audience holding their breath. Yet Camellia stood tall, her posture unwavering despite the venom in his words.

"Even the most delicate flower can bloom anew," she retorted, her voice sharp yet steady. "And I will not let you bring ruin to what our family has built. You may see fragility, but I will show you strength."

Her defiance hung in the air, a declaration that rippled through the theater.

As the scene shifted, Rien, portraying Camellia’s childhood friend, stepped forward, his voice trembling with longing and guilt.

"Camellia... Oh my dearest friend... is it cruel of me to yearn for you, knowing I was never meant to?"

Meanwhile, Wriothesley, in the role of the Prince, knelt before Camellia, his gaze unwavering as he spoke with quiet reverence and longing.

"Fate has crossed our paths once before," he said softly, "but will it allow us to meet again? Or will it be too cruel to grant me that grace?"

The story progressed, and in the royal palace, Wriothesley turned to his mother, the Queen, for permission to host a grand ball in hopes of seeing Camellia once more. Navia, portraying the Queen, regarded her son with wisdom in her eyes. After a pause, she gave her approval with regal composure.

"Very well, my lovely child," she said, her voice smooth as silk. "If this girl has truly captured your heart, then let us give her a stage worthy of her beauty. But remember this—love is both a gift and a gamble. Do not mistake infatuation for devotion, and do not take what you cannot keep."

The royal ball arrived, as spectacular as the Queen had promised. Here, all eyes were on Camellia. The music swirled and the lights shimmered, but even amidst all the attention, Camellia’s heart remained still. She waited, not for the admirers, but for the one who held her heart.

However, lurking in the shadows was Lynette, the jealous noblewoman who had become consumed by envy over the Prince’s fascination with Camellia. Every glance, every sneer she directed at Camellia dripped with resentment. 

"You may wear your beauty like a crown," Lynette spat, her voice thick with bitterness. "But I see the cracks beneath your mask."

Her envy grew unbearable, and when a shadowy figure appeared in the crowd—a mysterious peddler played by Lyney—she saw an opportunity.

"Looking for something to... level the playing field?" Lyney asked, his tone sly, as he produced a small vial from within his coat. The liquid shimmered ominously. "Even a single drop is deadly, my dear," he whispered with a mischievous grin. "Use it wisely—or foolishly. The choice is yours."

Unbeknownst to Camellia, Clorinde who played the Prince’s devoted knight, watched the unfolding events with a sense of duty. Though she harbored her own feelings for the Prince, her loyalty to her code of chivalry remained unshaken. 

"My heart may belong to him," she murmured, her voice quiet yet steely, "but my duty lies in protecting the innocent. I am a knight, bound by honor, and I will not falter—not even for love."

Meanwhile, when the clock strikes midnight, the Traveler—Camellia’s lover appeared before her as promised. He danced with her as though the world belonged to no one else. Their steps were light but sure, moving as if the storm around them could not touch their bond.

"We are not defined by the storms that test us," the Traveler declared, their voice resonating with unshaken conviction. "But by how we rise and bloom again."

Camellia, emboldened by the strength of those who loved her, turned the tides of fate with grace and cunning. She outwitted her brother’s schemes, exposing his treachery for all to see. Lynette’s jealousy, once a weapon against her, became a tool in her favor, a mirror reflecting her own insecurities back upon her.

Her childhood friend, overcome by remorse and love, stepped forward with trembling hands to confess his crimes, his voice cracking as he begged for forgiveness. His admission shattered the web of lies, leaving Camellia standing tall amidst the ruin of deceit.

As for the Prince, clarity came like the breaking dawn. Witnessing Clorinde’s unwavering loyalty and the quiet love that had always burned in her eyes, he saw the truth he had been blind to for so long. His love for Camellia had been admiration, but his love for Clorinde was something far deeper—a bond forged in trust, devotion, and time.

And so, as the final act drew to a close, the stage bloomed with camellias, their petals soft and vibrant, symbols of strength, love, and renewal. They were not flowers of defiance but of quiet celebration—of love that had endured, of loyalty unbroken, and of the unyielding power Camellia had found within herself.

💧💧💧

The show concluded with thunderous applause. The audience, enchanted by the tale, lingered briefly before departing with warm smiles and eyes glistening with emotion. The air buzzed with praise and admiration, yet Furina remained apart from the celebration. Instead, she stood at a secluded VIP balcony overlooking the vibrant stage. Beside her sat a lone elderly woman, her frail figure poised with quiet dignity as she gazed at the final bow.

The old toymaker's daughter chuckled softly, breaking the silence. "It was a wonderful play. If I were in my prime, I would have loved to be a part of it."

Furina turned toward her, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." Her voice, however, held an edge of formality. "I received your message. Do you wish to speak with me about something?"

The elderly woman’s eyes didn’t waver as she replied, “I assume you’ve made some kind of a deal with my grandson.” Her words hung in the air, heavy with implication. “It might just be a guess, but if it’s about his past crime… can you postpone informing the authorities? At least until a few days more.”

Furina hummed softly, tilting her head as her gaze fell to the crowd below. "So you knew," she said at last.

The woman chuckled softly, “I may be old, but I’m not senile. How else could a boy with no stable income possibly afford the cost of my treatments?"

Furina’s lips parted as if to speak but then closed again. After a moment, she leaned back, folding her gloved hands neatly in her lap. “Alright then,” she said softly.

"Aren't you going to ask me why?" The old woman’s voice was calm.

Furina hesitated, then drew in a quiet breath. “I’ve seen many farewells in my life,” she said, her voice breaking just slightly before she steadied it again. “Too many.”

A hush fell between them, broken only by the faint murmurs of the lingering crowd below.

“You don’t have much longer… do you?”

The old woman’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment before opening again, filled with a quiet acceptance. "Would you care to hear a story?"

Furina inclined her head. “I’m listening.”

The elderly woman sighed, her gaze drifting back to the stage. "My dear boy... Although we never spoke after his father and I separated, he too found his way into the theater, following a path I’d left behind long ago." Her voice wavered, but her smile held steady. "From the shadows, I watched every one of his performances, sitting quietly amidst the audience."

A long sigh escaped her lips as she continued. "When that boy—my child—announced he was moving away, I thought it was the end of that chapter. I assumed I’d seen the last of him. Yet, on an ordinary day, I found myself wandering the city aimlessly, until a small hand reached for the hem of my shirt."

Her gaze drifted to the stage, her eyes softening as she watched her grandson performing under the spotlight. "A frail, young boy, all too familiar. I recognized him immediately even though I had only seen him from afar." Their eyes met across the distance, and the boy, her grandson Rien, held up two fingers in a playful peace sign. She felt a pang of pride and nostalgia.

The old woman chuckled, a sound both bitter and fond. "Why my son abandoned his own child to the streets, I’ll never understand. Nor do I care to hear his excuse."

Her voice hardened for a moment, but then softened again as her gaze returned to Rien. "I was worried about what would happen to him if I were gone. What kind of life he’d have without me."

She paused, her voice growing quieter. "But seeing him now, seeing how happy he is these days... I realized it was never him who couldn’t let go. All along it was me."

She turned then, facing Furina with a wry smile.

"I know it’s selfish of me," she admitted. "And I know it’s wrong to withhold information about a crime." Her hands trembled slightly as she clasped them in her lap. "Even so, I will protect my grandson. Even if it means defying the justice of this nation."

Furina’s expression softened as she studied the woman’s face. "Fair enough," she replied quietly, though her voice carried a trace of melancholy.

The elderly woman blinked in surprise, then let out a weary chuckle. "I suppose even you have changed with time," she said, though her smile trembled at the edges. "If it were the you I admired before, you wouldn’t have hesitated to throw this old woman into prison as an accomplice."

"I guess you could say my age has finally caught up with me," She said lightly.

“Is that so…” The elderly woman’s words lingered, her voice trailing into thought. She turned toward Furina then, her tired eyes filled with something between curiosity and sadness. “Milady,” she said softly, “why do you show such kindness to a broken old woman like me?”

Furina’s eyes sparkled with a mix of humor and sincerity. "Oh, a whim, perhaps," she replied lightly. “Your father once told me that I was the one who inspired you to pursue the stage.”

Furina continued, her voice quiet, almost as though she were speaking to herself. "I suppose, to someone who once admired me, I simply wished to give something back in return for that devotion."

“Also, there’s nothing wrong with protecting the people you love,” Furina added, her lips curling into a faint, almost self-deprecating smile. “In fact, I think it’s one of humanity’s greatest sources of both fortune and misfortune.”

"Is that the wisdom of a goddess?" the elderly woman asked, half-teasing.

"No," Furina replied with a gentle chuckle. "Simply advice from one old woman to another."

The old woman looked at Furina, her expression shifting from curiosity to something deeper, almost reverential. "When we first met, you told me that you no longer see yourself as the Archon."

""But to us who have lived our entire lives here in Fontaine, you have always been our Archon.""

Furina’s eyes widened. For a moment, the image of the old woman overlapped with that of her father, the old toymaker. Furina's lips softened into a smile as a thought crossed her mind.

( Like father like daughter. )

Furina leaned back, crossing her legs and folding her gloved hands in her lap. Her tone turned contemplative. "You know stories," she said, "rarely end in a single way. Each ending simply opens the door to another beginning."

Furina allowed herself a small, wistful smile. "At first, I thought to recreate Belladonna," she admitted. "But I realized that if I did, it wouldn’t be truly mine. Some stories,” she paused, “should remain untouched.”

"Belladonna belonged to a different time—a different voice. Since its creation, only one actress has ever played her." She paused, glancing at the woman beside her. "And I didn’t have the heart to cast another."

The elderly woman’s gaze softened, the weight of unspoken memories hanging between them.

"So instead," Furina said, "I chose to create Camellia—a hopeful story for a hopeful ending."

She allowed the words to hang for a moment before adding with a soft smile, "And you are a great actress."

The elderly woman’s breath caught slightly, her lips trembling as they curved into a smile that was both grateful and nostalgic.

With that Furina rose to her feet, her movements slow and deliberate. As she turned to leave, the elderly woman called out to her, her voice fragile yet steady.

“Thank you… my Archon.”

Furina paused mid-step. For a moment, it seemed she wouldn’t reply. But then she turned her head just slightly, looking back over her shoulder.

"No," she replied gently, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Thank you—for the story."

With those parting words, Furina stepped away and left the old lady alone.

💧💧💧

As she walked through the corridor, Furina’s footsteps echoed softly, her mind still lingering on the conversation she had just had. At the far end, she spotted Rien approaching, his gait purposeful but relaxed.

"I saw you were with Grandma just now," Rien said casually, his voice breaking the silence as he closed the distance between them.

"Yes, we just shared our thoughts on a few things," Furina replied coolly.

"That’s so. The after-party’s already started by the way. They’re looking for you." Rien’s voice held a hint of casual observation, as if he were merely reporting a fact. "Since I’ve done my part, I’ll be heading home."

Furina gave him a quick, thoughtful look. "You’re not joining?"

Rien met her gaze for a moment, and in his eyes, there was an unreadable flicker. "Nah," he said, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I’ve seen enough of you people lately. Besides, with this, I’ve fulfilled my end of the deal." There was a trace of pride in his voice.

"Of course," Furina said, acknowledging the completion of their agreement. "I wouldn't break a promise after all."

Without another word, Rien stepped past her, his footsteps fading into the corridor. Furina hesitated, then called out softly—

"Rien. Or should I say Johann?"

Rien slowed to a stop, his back still turned as if weighing whether to respond.

"Of all the afflictions in this world," Furina began, her voice quieter now, laced with an unusual gentleness, "old age is the one no mortal can escape. It is inevitable."

Her words hung in the air, heavy yet tender. She could sense his shoulders tense slightly, though he said nothing.

"Spend time with her while you can," Furina continued, her gaze softening. "You may not get another chance."

For a long moment, Rien remained silent before finally walking away, his pace slower than before. Furina stood there for a moment longer, then turned and continued down the hallway.

💧💧💧

When Furina stepped backstage, the atmosphere shifted, alive with energy. Laughter and conversation wove through the space, mingling with the lingering notes of music and the rustle of costumes. It was a scene of celebration—a merriment well-earned after the final curtain call.

“Furinaaa! There you are!” Paimon’s voice rang out, cheerful and bright as she floated toward her, practically glowing with excitement.

Furina turned, her gaze falling on the ever-enthusiastic Paimon and the Traveler, who followed closely behind, calm yet quietly observant.

“The after-party’s already started, you know!” Paimon exclaimed, her eyes scanning the crowd. “Oh! And where’s Johann? Shouldn't he be with you!”

"He's already gone home," Furina replied evenly.

"What?! He left already?" Paimon pouted, puffing up her cheeks. "The party was just getting to the best part! Let’s go drag him back!"

"Now, now, Paimon," the Traveler said, placing a hand on her shoulder with a knowing smile. "I’m sure he had his reasons."

"Traveler. Paimon." Furina looked at them both, her gaze unusually tender. "It's best to let them be."

Paimon blinked, her usual chatter fading as she picked up on the sudden change in Furina’s tone. Even the Traveler seemed to sense it but chose not to press. Instead, they offered Furina a reassuring nod.

Still, Paimon couldn’t help but speak up again, though her voice was softer this time. “Well... he’s gonna regret missing this feast, that’s for sure!"

Furina’s lips curled into a faint smile, “You’re right, Paimon. He’ll regret it when he hears about how much fun we had.”

Paimon brightened, her usual cheer bubbling back to the surface. “Exactly! And speaking of fun—come on! Let’s eat before all the food’s gone!”

Before Furina could protest, Paimon grabbed her hand, practically dragging her along as the Traveler followed with an amused shake of their head. Furina let out a laugh, the sound lightened the air, and allowed herself to be pulled along, the night far from over but the echoes of the performance—and everything it had stirred—still resting gently in her heart.

💧💧💧

As the group made their way deeper into the celebration, Furina found herself slipping away from the boisterous crowd. She leaned against a wall in the corner, her gaze sweeping across the room as she took in the scene unfolding before her.

Navia was in full party mode, surrounded by her people from the Spina. Laughter filled the air as she effortlessly commanded the attention of her people, her vibrant presence matching the vibrant energy of the gathering.

Clorinde, Wriothesley, and Sigewinne stood nearby, deep in conversation. Their heads leaned together, watching Navia with a mixture of admiration and perhaps a hint of concern. 

Across the room, Xavier seemed to be caught in a lighthearted banter with Chiori, both of them smiling. At the side, Lyney and Lynette were seen pampering Freminet, who seemed to be thoroughly embarrassed by their over-the-top attention. His face flushed as the twins fawned over him, their teasing lighthearted but sincere.

Paimon, of course, was stuffing her face with food, her enthusiasm for the feast unwavering as she happily devoured every bite. The Traveler, ever the observer, stood to the side, content to simply enjoy the festivities, watching their friends and companions with a quiet smile.

Amidst all the chatter and the laughter, a cool touch brushed against Furina’s cheek. She turned, and there, standing beside her, was Neuvillette. With a calm grace, he handed her a glass of refreshment, his expression as composed as ever, though there was a glimmer of understanding in his eyes.

“I thought you might need something to drink,” Neuvillette said softly, his voice barely rising above the hum of the party.

Furina smiled, a subtle warmth spreading through her. “Thank you,” she replied, taking the drink from him. The cool glass was a welcome sensation against her skin, and she let herself savor the moment of calm.

Her gaze continues to drift over the room, once more taking in the laughter, the lighthearted chatter, and the sense of unity that filled the air. It was a good night—a well-earned reprieve for everyone involved.

Finally, after a long pause, Furina turned to Neuvillette, her expression softening further. Her voice lowered, barely above a whisper, as if to keep their conversation a secret from the world. “Hey, Neuvillette,” she began, the words gentle and inviting, “Want to go for a walk?”

💧💧💧

The soft hum of the after-party still lingered in the air as Furina and Neuvillette stepped outside the grand doors of the Opera Epiclese. The night sky above was clear, the moon casting a gentle silver glow over the cobbled streets of Fontaine, and the faint echo of music from the party faded as they walked away, leaving them in peaceful solitude.

For a moment, they walked in silence, the only sound being the soft rustle of the breeze and the distant lapping of water. The weight of the decision she’d been avoiding hung in the back of her mind. She knew it was time.

The place were nearly empty, save for a few late-night wanderers, and Furina found herself glancing at Neuvillette with a small, thoughtful smile.

“You know,” she began casually, her voice light, but her heart a little heavier with the words she was about to speak, "I had been gathering my thoughts for a long while now."

Furina slowed her pace slightly, turning toward him as she walked. The smile on her lips remained, but there was a deeper, more sincere warmth in her eyes now. “And I think I’ve been dancing around it for too long, haven’t I?” she continued, her tone light, though a hint of self-deprecation laced her words. “We—or rather, I—spent so much time thinking, talking, even second-guessing what could be between us. But honestly…”

Her voice trailed off for a moment, and she paused, gathering her thoughts. Neuvillette stopped too, his gaze softening as he watched her, waiting for her to continue.

“Honestly, I think I’m ready,” she said, her words slipping out more easily than she’d anticipated. “Ready to stop wondering, ready to see what this is—whatever ‘this’ is. Ready to take a step forward, with you.”

Neuvillette’s expression remained still for a beat, and then his lips curved just the faintest bit. He didn’t need to say anything at first—he was still absorbing the change in her tone, the sudden clarity in her words.

But Furina wasn’t finished yet. I know what you’ve been feeling. You’ve shown them to me, so openly, so honestly. That’s how I know how much you care.” She chuckled softly, a little embarrassed but too relieved to care. “And to be honest… I care about you, too, Neuvi. More than I’ve been willing to admit. So,” she tilted her head, her voice playful but genuine, “how about we stop dancing around it? You and me. Together. A couple. What do you think?”

Neuvillette’s eyes widened slightly, his usual calm expression betraying a flicker of surprise. For a moment, he stood there, taking in her words, the weight of them finally settling in. Then, slowly, his lips curved into a smile—a real one, soft and sincere.

“I think,” he began, his voice steady but thick with emotion, “that I’ve been waiting for you to say that for a long time.”

Furina laughed, the sound light and genuine, her shoulders relaxing with the relief of it all finally coming together. “Well, I can’t leave you hanging forever, can I?” she teased, feeling a giddiness rise up within her, as if the decision had lifted some invisible weight from her chest.

They stood there, smiling at each other, the quiet night stretching out around them. The decision had been made, and for once, Furina felt a peace settle over her.

Neuvillette took a step closer, his hand reaching out, his expression soft but full of meaning. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice low and filled with a quiet yearning.

Furina’s heart skipped a beat, her smile widening as she nodded, the words coming effortlessly. “Of course, my love.”

And with that, Neuvillette closed the distance between them, gently cupping her face in his hands, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that felt like the culmination of everything they’d silently shared. The night air swirled around them, but in that moment, there was nothing but them—together.

💧💧💧

A few days later, news arrived—soft and gentle, like the rustling of leaves in a quiet breeze. The old toymaker’s daughter had returned to the earth.

It was a small funeral, quiet and intimate, held under the shade of an ancient willow tree near the outskirts of Fontaine. Her grave rested beside her father’s, a silent reunion of a parent and a child. Hanging from the tombstone was a delicate pendant.one she had worn eversince she had it.

Rien—or Johann, as Furina had come to call him—stood at the forefront, his head bowed as he delivered a few heartfelt words in memory of his grandmother.

Furina’s gaze lingered on him, her thoughts drifting to their last conversation. 

"Spend time with her while you can." 

She had meant those words then, but now they carried the weight of a finality she wished he hadn’t had to face so soon.

Afterwards, Furina approached Rien quietly. He was seated on a weathered wooden log beneath the willow tree, his shoulders slightly hunched as if the weight of the world had settled upon them. The dappled light filtered through the branches, casting soft shadows across the earth. Furina lowered herself beside him, the soft rustle of her gown the only sound between them for a moment. 

“Thanks for coming,” Rien said casually, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness. 

Furina didn’t respond immediately. Instead, they sat in shared silence, the kind that spoke louder than words. 

Finally, Rien broke it with a forced laugh. "Well, with this, I don’t have anything holding me up now."

His words lingered in the air, brittle yet resigned. “I suppose it was her wish that you delayed telling the authorities about me yet again?”

He let out another short laugh, though it sounded hollow. “Well with how much you have been postponing it, might as well don’t do it all together.”

As if suggesting he might run away, he then adds, “I’ll turn myself in.”

Furina hummed softly in acknowledgment, her gaze steady but unreadable.

“You’re not surprised?” Rien asked, a hint of curiosity mixed with skepticism.

Furina turned her gaze to him, her expression calm but reflective. “You once told me that not all villains were born villains.”

Rien glanced at her, waiting for her to continue.

“Aside from your personal vendetta against me, almost everything you’ve done so far has been for your grandmother,” Furina said. “Now that your anchor is gone, the choice of how you wish to live your life is entirely yours.”

Rien scoffed, leaning back slightly. “Wow. That’s a pretty boring response.”He smirked faintly. “But I suppose it’s true. Only someone smart could pull off acting like an idiot as convincingly as you.”

Furina smirked back but didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she added, “And honestly? That theft you committed—it’s understandable.”

Rien raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Furina’s tone shifted, becoming more measured. “When I read your case file,” she began, “I took note of the victim’s name.”

Rien’s smirk faded slightly, his eyes flickering with realization.

“It wasn’t hard to connect the dots,” she continued. “You stole from the very people who abandoned you, didn’t you?”

Her words weren’t accusatory—just factual, but they carried weight, as if testing whether he would flinch.

Rien didn’t. Instead, he exhaled slowly, his hands clasped together. “Yeah.”

His voice dropped lower. “He came back to Fontaine around that time.”A bitter edge crept in. “I asked him for help—just once. But he wouldn’t even look at me, wouldn’t even listen.”Rien’s lips twisted. “Not even for his own mother."

Furina leaned back slightly, her gaze drifting toward the grave. “I see.”

There was a pause before she added, “As the God of Justice—once—I acknowledge that there are different kinds of justice in this world.”

Rien let out a faint chuckle. “But?”

“But that doesn’t mean I condone what you did.”Furina’s voice grew firmer. “Unauthorized entry into the Fortress of Meropide. Identity fraud. Theft.”

Rien laughed dryly. “As expected of Miss Justice.”

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a neatly folded envelope. “Oh, and before I forget—here.”

Furina raised an eyebrow. “A letter?”

Rien nodded. “I’m still a courier more or less, in case you forgot. A few days ago, someone paid me to deliver this to you. Said it’s only for your eyes.”

Furina took the letter, examining the seal carefully before tucking it into her pocket. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Neuvillette standing near the entrance to the cemetery, waiting for her. Rising from the log, she smoothed out her gown and looked back at Rien.

"I hope you’ll do well with whatever comes next in your life.”Her voice carried both finality and sincerity. She turned to walk away but then hesitated.

“Oh, one more thing.”Furina glanced back over her shoulder, her gaze steady. “You’re an incredible actor.”

For the first time, Rien’s mask slipped, revealing something raw beneath his usual bravado. A faint, bittersweet smile touched his lips, and his eyes shimmered slightly.

“What can I say?” He shrugged. “I am my grandmother’s grandson, after all.”

Furina offered him one last nod before walking toward Neuvillette. As she neared, Neuvillette’s expression softened, his presence grounding her after the weight of the conversation.

Together, they stepped away from the graves and went back to the Court of Fontaine.

💧💧💧

Later that evening, in the privacy of her bedroom, Furina leaned at her windowsill. Her fingers carefully unsealed an envelope, the paper inside smooth and crisp. As she unfolded the letter, she began reading, her eyes narrowing slightly as they scanned the words.

For a split second, a faint glow flickered in her gaze, an ethereal light that seemed to pulse with something deep and knowing.

"I see..." Furina murmured to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. "No matter how this story ends, it will be a happy ending for some and a sad ending for someone else"

Her fingers tightened around the letter, and before she could stop herself, the paper turned to dust in her grasp. It crumbled away, leaving no trace of the message or the words that had stirred her heart. She stared at her palm for a moment, the remnants of the letter swirling away, lost to the air.

"Furina?" Neuvillette's voice broke the silence. She turned toward the door, finding him standing there, his usual calm demeanor unchanged but with a hint of concern in his eyes.

"Oh, Neuvillette," Furina replied, her voice instantly shifting back to her usual poise. Her expression softened, and she stood up from her desk, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face as she met his gaze. "I didn’t hear you come in."

"Are you okay?" Neuvillette asked, his voice steady, yet there was an undertone of worry that betrayed his concern for her.

Furina smiled faintly, her eyes clear once more. "Yes, I’m fine."

Neuvillette seemed to accept her response, though he still watched her closely for a moment longer. "Okay then," he said softly, his voice laced with quiet concern. "I’ve already plated our lunch. It’s ready whenever you are."

"Thank you, Neuvillette. I’ll be there in a moment," Furina replied, her tone warm, though her mind still felt distant.

She walked over to the window, gazing out at the serene view of Fontaine beneath the light of the day.

"I guess it’s about time I, too, need to make my move," she murmured to herself, her words almost lost in the stillness of the room. She closed the curtains, shutting out the view of the city outside.

( Sorry Neuvillette. )

For better or worse, the game had already begun, and there was no turning back now.

💧💧💧

Chapter Text

💧💧💧

"Milady, are you absolutely sure you’ll be okay here? We can still take you to Port Ormos if you change your mind," the sailor said, his tone laced with worry as he glanced at the desolate expanse of the Samudra Coast.

Furina waved off his concern with an airy gesture, her gaze sweeping the golden sands and the distant shimmer of the desert. "Yes, here is fine. Thank you for the trip," she said, hopping lightly down from the boat. Her boots landed softly on the sand, and she adjusted her hat, the faint trace of a smile on her lips.

The sailor hesitated for a moment longer, clearly unconvinced, but Furina's demeanor left no room for further debate. With a reluctant nod, he returned to his boat, casting one last glance over his shoulder as he set sail. Furina stood on the edge of the coast, the endless dunes of the Sumeru desert stretching before her, their heat radiating like waves in the air.

Hm? How she ended up here? Well let's rewind back a week ago.

💧💧💧

One fine morning, Furina awoke to the familiar scent of breakfast wafting through the air. At first, she assumed it was her Salon Solitaire dutifully preparing breakfast as usual. However, when she stepped out of her bedroom, she was greeted by an entirely different sight.

There, standing in her kitchen, was Neuvillette, donned in an apron, carefully plating a dish. The sight was so unexpectedly domestic that Furina paused for a moment, taking it all in.

( It amazes me how quickly I’ve grown used to this view... )

"So, the Chief of Justice is now a permanent resident of this humble abode, it seems," Furina teased, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. Her arms crossed as she leaned against the doorframe, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

Neuvillette glanced up from his work, his expression calm but touched with amusement. "Well, you’ve made it clear you don’t want to return to the Palais," he replied smoothly. "And I thought I’d prepare breakfast for you today. You really need to eat properly, you know."

( Even his nagging has become more frequent. )

It was true—since their relationship had officially begun, Neuvillette’s visits had become less formal and far more frequent. Sometime he would stay the night as well. When he didn't, he had always held a spare key to her apartment anyway. But now his appearances would be accompanied by small surprises like this once in a while.

Furina rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. She knew he was simply trying to make the most of the time they had together. Still, there was something she had yet to tell him—regarding her lifespan that is.

( I’ll tell him when the time is right. )

After brushing her teeth and rinsing her face, Furina joined him at the small dining table. The aroma of freshly cooked food greeted her warmly, and as she took her seat, she couldn’t help but notice how much Neuvillette’s cooking had improved. Gone were the days where his culinary repertoire had been limited to extra watery soups, he now plated dishes with surprising finesse.

“Thank you for the food,” Furina said, her tone light yet genuine, as they began their breakfast.

Halfway through, Furina set her utensils down and spoke, her tone casual but carrying an undercurrent of purpose. "Ah, right. I’ve decided to go on a trip soon."

Neuvillette’s hand paused mid-air, his fork hovering above his plate. He looked at her, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. "A trip? Where to?"

"To the other nations," Furina replied, her voice light but resolute. "If I’m lucky enough, I might even meet the other Archons."

"Why do you even... No I'll go w—" Neuvillette was clearly confused and afterwards an objection clearly forming, but Furina moved first. She leaned forward, pressing a single finger gently against his lips, her touch silencing him.

“I just wanted to. Also I know you want to come,” she murmured, her voice softer now, almost reluctant. Her hand slid to cup his cheek, her palm warm against his skin. “But this is something I need to do on my own. Besides…” She offered a faint, wistful smile, her gaze dropping for the briefest of moments before meeting his again. “Though I’d prefer you take a break every now and then, if the Iudex were to vanish for an extended period, wouldn’t that cause problems?”

Neuvillette’s expression hardened slightly, though his hand moved instinctively to cover hers, his touch steady. “Are you sure you want to go alone?” he asked, his voice quieter now but still tinged with reluctance.

“Yes,” she replied calmly.

“Really, really sure?” he pressed, his tone somewhere between gentle teasing and quiet desperation.

“Neuvillette,” Furina said firmly, though her gaze softened as if apologizing for her resolve.

Neuvillette sighed, leaning into her touch as his hand came up to rest over hers. His expression was serious, his gaze piercing as he spoke. "If you ever find yourself in trouble, call my name," he said firmly, his voice carrying a weight of unspoken promises. "No matter where you are, even if it’s the depths of the Abyss, I will come for you."

Furina’s lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile, her thumb brushing lightly against his cheek. "I know you will," she replied, her voice a gentle whisper. "And if I get in over my head, I’ll count on you to pull me out. But I promise, I’ll be careful."

"Careful by your standards or by reasonable standards?" he deadpanned, raising an eyebrow.

Furina chuckled softly, withdrawing her hand to pick up her utensils again. "You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?"

Neuvillette sighed once more, leaning back in his chair as if bracing himself for their short separation. "Don’t blame me if there’s another flood when you’re gone," he muttered, half-joking but with a tinge of truth.

Furina smirked. "Please rein it in, my dear. I’ll send you letters as often as I can. That too is a promise."

In the end, the poor dragon could do little but concede to his lover's wishes. Later that day, Furina broke the news to the others, receiving a variety of reactions. But with her unparalleled skill in persuasion, she managed to calm their concerns—well, mostly.

💧💧💧

Back in the present, Furina stood near the edge of the Samudra Coast, the soft sand warm beneath her boots as a gentle breeze carried the scent of salt and life. She held a detailed map of the Sumeru region, her gloved fingers tracing the borders of the Realm of Farakhkert.

Before heading to any of the cities, Furina's destination had been decided long before she even stepped out of Fontaine’s borders. Her gaze lifted to the vibrant, glowing tree that dominated the heart of the Vourukasha Oasis. Its translucent, water-like branches and leaves shimmered with an ethereal blue light, casting a tranquil glow across the oasis.

Harvisptokhm.

This huge tree bore the essence of Egeria, the Hydro Archon who once was. During the cataclysm, Egeria had perished, her divine remains transfigured into the water of Amrita. It was from this sacred water that the Dendro Archon had nurtured Harvisptokhm into existence. This tree had since anchored Egeria’s consciousness, a tether to the world she had left behind.

In truth, gods could never be fully destroyed. Though their physical forms may fall, their consciousness erodes and is considered 'dead' their emotions, power, and essence will still linger in this world.

After the cataclysm, many of her Oceanid kin had chosen to abandon Fontaine altogether. Some refused to acknowledge the new Hydro Archon, while others were driven away by the bitter, corrupted waters of Fontaine—waters tainted by grief and despair. For beings born of pure water, the corruption was unbearable. Survival demanded a search for untouched, untainted sources elsewhere, and so they scattered across Teyvat, leaving behind a fractured nation and an imperfect successor.

Furina knew all of this intimately. How could she not? As the Sumerians say, knowledge is power. And in one of the many cycles she had lived, she had tried—desperately—to cleanse Fontaine’s waters. She had succeeded. She had restored their clarity and purity. Yet, in the grand design of fate, it was ultimately futile. The cycle still ended, as it always did, in sorrow.

( When I return to Fontaine, I should be able to restore some parts of it. Though I might need Neuvillette’s help for that… )

The thought lingered as the tree loomed larger before her, its glow growing brighter with every step. A single droplet of water echoed in the stillness. Furina stopped mid-step, her head tilting slightly as her gaze swept the area. She remained motionless, listening. Then, as if in response, a path of hydro flowers unfurled before her, their luminescent petals lighting the way.

The energy they radiated was unmistakable. Familiar. Furina’s lips curved into the faintest smile, tinged with bittersweet understanding.

With calm steps, Furina followed the path, her movements purposeful yet unhurried. Along the way, a subtle sensation pricked at her awareness—eyes. She could feel unseen gazes upon her, curious and watchful, but not hostile.

( Those must be the Pari. )

She mused as she recalled the tales shared by the Traveler.

Deciding they were of no concern, she paid them no further heed, her focus remaining on the path ahead. The trail wound through the cave, leading her to a secluded spring inside, where the water shimmered with a mesmerising brilliance.

Pausing at the edge of the spring, Furina crouched and extended her hand, letting her fingers graze the surface. The water rippled, and in an instant, the world around her shifted. She stood now at the center of a colossal blue lotus, its petals unfurling around her in a luminous embrace. Below her feet, little hydro flowers bloom slowly.

The atmosphere thickened, charged with an unseen presence.

"You didn’t even show yourself when the others came here?" Furina’s voice was even, devoid of sharpness. It held a quiet curiosity, as though she were asking a question she already knew the answer to.

She stood there for a moment, her gaze steady, her poise unshaken. "Have you been waiting for me, then? Egeria."

The name left her lips with the weight of a sacred invocation. The air seemed to stir in response, the floor beneath her breathing as the glow of the hydro flowers pulsed briefly, growing brighter before dimming once more.

For a moment, Furina’s sharp features softened. She let out a quiet breath, her thoughts heavy with the weight of eternity. In all the countless cycles she remembered, this was the first time she had come to this place. Despite her mistress’s lingering presence etched into her soul, this place—this confrontation—had always been beyond her reach.

Reverence. Respect. Adoration. Sadness. Anger. Disappointment. Acceptance. Every emotion 'she' had ever felt for the Mistress of Many Waters swirled within her like the slow, deliberate churn of a deep ocean current.

"■■■■..." A hauntingly beautiful voice echoed from nowhere and everywhere at once, filling the place with a sound like rippling water.

Furina closed her eyes, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. "That’s not my name anymore," she replied, her voice firm but laced with melancholy. "I am Furina now. Furina de Fontaine."

The place grew silent, the echoes fading into the background like whispers carried away by the wind. With deliberate ease, Furina summoned a shimmering bubble, seating herself atop it as though she were presiding over a court of one.

Furina tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into the faintest smile. "You are merciless, my mistress." Her voice carried no malice, only a calm observation. "Everything was chaos after you died here. But you knew that, didn’t you?"

She let out a quiet, almost wistful chuckle, the sound tinged with an edge of melancholy. "What was it you always said? Ah, yes. You had hoped to achieve universal equality by connecting all things through love." Furina’s voice softened, and her expression grew pensive, the weight of ancient memories pressing against her mind. "It probably works somewhere, my lady... but here isn’t that somewhere."

Her gaze flicked upward, her tone unwavering. "Everyone left, except for me. And so, I carried on. Because I was, in the end, your creation, bound to your purpose."

Her voice dipped, quiet but unbroken. "I became the Hydro Archon."

( Even when it was a mantle I never desired. )

"I followed your wishes."

( Even when they seemed absurd and broke me in places you never imagined. )

"And in time… your wishes became my own."

( But unlike you, who believed fate could never be defied… 'I' refused to surrender to it. )

Furina’s gaze grew sharper, a flicker of steel in her eyes. "I tried to save our people. I tried to save Fontaine."

( Because someone had to. You chose me not because I was the strongest or the wisest, but because someone had to bear the weight you left behind. )

She paused, her eyes closing briefly as if replaying the endless cycles in her mind. When she continued, her voice was softer but no less resolute. "And after countless cycles of despair... I won."

Her eyes opened, their clarity like the surface of a still lake. She lifted her chin, her bearing regal and unyielding. "Fontaine didn’t drown. The sin that plagued us was absolved."

"The price was steep," she continued, her tone sharpening with a quiet edge of pain she refused to show on her face. "But I paid for it."

"My role is done. That’s why..." She straightened her posture further, her voice firm and unyielding now. "This will be the last time I stand here as your familiar."

"Egeria, your original sin was the recreation of humanity. But to me, your greatest sin was your negligence." She paused, letting the words settle in the quiet atmosphere. "And in a way I too bore that sin."

Another droplet fell, its sound reverberating through the stillness.

Furina rose from her seat, the translucent bubble dissolving into nothingness as she stood tall. "I won’t see you again, my lady…" she said, her voice quiet but resolute. "But I forgive you."

( I'm thankful of the life you gave me. I'm thankful that you willing to grant our wish to become human. )

Her gaze softened for a fleeting moment, a flicker of emotion breaking through the façade of poise she wore so well. 

( My beloved creator, my lovely mistress. The choices you gave me were truly unfair... )

A bitter, almost broken smile tugged at her lips, an aching sorrow hidden beneath it.

( ...But in the end, it was my own decision to accept them. And I will carry that choice with me, always. )

She turned, her boots splashing softly against the hydro flowers, the faint ripple of water accompanying each step as she moved toward the exit. Then, as if the world itself hesitated, a voice broke through the quiet—a soft, beautiful whisper.

"...I’m sorry..."

Furina froze mid-step, her breath catching for the briefest of moments.

The voice continued, softer now, but no less sincere. "Thank you..."

For a long moment, Furina stood frozen at the edge of the lotus flower. Her lips trembled, but she did not turn. Instead, she adjusted her hat once more, her hand steady now. With a deep breath, she straightened her posture and resumed her stride.

The Gaokarena fell silent once more, its solemn tranquility undisturbed save for the faint rustle of its leaves. The distant echoes of Furina's departing footsteps grew fainter, like the receding tide. Behind her, the hydro flowers lining the path dimmed one by one, their radiant glow extinguishing as if bowing in farewell, leaving behind only the memory of her presence.

💧💧💧

As Furina exited the cave, she sensed someone was waiting for her, standing patiently in the shadows.

Before she could react, the sudden grip on her arm made Furina freeze mid-step. She turned sharply, her gaze locking with a woman whose presence was both haunting and achingly familiar. The figure's blue eyes burned with a desperate intensity, her expression a tempest of conflicting emotions.

"That energy just now," the woman said, her voice trembling with a mix of hope and anguish. "It’s the Mistress, isn’t it? She’s still here."

Furina’s breath caught for a moment, the weight of recognition sinking into her chest. She had seen this face before, a long time ago, during a life that felt more like a story than a memory.

( Erinnyes? No... You are... )

"Daeira," she said softly, the name falling from her lips like a whisper into the wind.

Daeira—one of the Oceanids who had left after Egeria's death. But more than that, she had been one of Egeria’s most devout and fervent followers, perhaps even more intense than Rhodeia ever was, if Furina’s memory served her right.

They had once started on better terms, back then. But when the heavens punished Egeria for her sins, Daeira had been among the Oceanids who harbored deep hatred toward those who had demanded that Egeria transform them into humans. Furina, of course, was one of those she despised. And the fact that Furina had been chosen as Egeria’s successor only added fuel to the fire.

Daeira’s grip tightened, her fingers trembling as though holding onto the last thread of hope. "Focalors," she whispered, urgency sharpening her tone. "Tell me—how is the Mistress? Is she… she’s still here, isn’t she?"

Furina carefully pried the trembling hand from her arm. She sighed, her composure steady, but her eyes betrayed the faintest flicker of sorrow. "She’s not what you think she is, Daeira," Furina said evenly, her voice carrying the weight of harsh truth. "You already know that."

( What remains is her power and maybe a small part of her consciousness. No more no less. )

The words landed like a thunderclap, and Daeira’s eyes widened in shock. She staggered back, shaking her head as if denying the truth would rewrite reality. Her voice cracked under the strain of her emotions.

"No... no, no, no!" Daeira’s denial spilled from her lips, desperate and raw. "I felt her—just now. That energy—it was her. She’s—"

"Five hundred years have passed," Furina cut in, her voice sharper, firmer. "It’s time to accept it."

Daeira fell silent, her hands dropping limply to her sides, her gaze fixed on the ground as if searching for answers in the swirling sand. Tears cascaded freely down her cheeks, carving paths through her grief.

Then, as though struck by a sudden realization, her head snapped up, and her voice sharpened with bitter accusation.

"Ah… so she said goodbye," Daeira murmured, her words trembling with pain. "But only to you? Only to you?"

It had been Furina who said her farewell, actually. But the truth lingered unspoken, suspended between them in the thick, suffocating silence.

"Why..." Daeira’s voice broke, her anguish spilling out as tears streaked down her cheeks. "Why must it always be you? Why were you the one she chose? The one she spoke to? The one she trusted?"

In a surge of grief and rage, Daeira’s blue eyes flared, and her form blurred as she lunged at Furina, water and fury coalescing into one.

Furina moved with calm precision, sidestepping the attack effortlessly. The months of training under Clorinde had served her well. She sighed, almost pitying the spectacle before her.

"If you’re still acting like this," Furina said coldly, summoning her blade, Splendor of Tranquil Waters, its gleaming surface reflecting the waning light of the desert sun, "don’t force my hand."

The tip of the blade rested just above Daeira’s neck, its presence a silent warning.

Daeira froze, her breath hitching as recognition flickered in her eyes. "That sword..." she whispered.

Furina’s expression remained placid, but her words cut like glass. "It’s not the prototype I created back then," she said coolly. "The one I gave to you—the one you handed to that pitiful Lochknight, whose form you now wear."

Daeira flinched at the words, her composure fracturing. That 'pitiful Lochknight' Furina referred to is none other than Erinnyes. She was the ruler of the tribe Aremorica during the final years of the Remurian Empire. Back then, she united the tribes of Fontaine to form a resistance force against Remuria.

Daeira had once lied to Erinnyes, a descendant of the transformed Oceanids, about the existence of the Pure Grail—a miraculous object said to redeem their sins. It was a lie born of resentment, yet Erinnyes had believed her. When Egeria revealed the truth of the prophecy, Erinnyes’ faith was shattered. She discarded her sword and stumbled away from the valley, never to be seen again.

Furina’s voice remained steady as she continued, "That bloodstained prototype lies beneath the lake you once called home. I doubt it will ever surface again."

Daeira’s shoulders slumped, her fury ebbing like a tide retreating from the shore. Was it regret that dimmed her eyes? Furina couldn’t tell, nor did she care to probe further.

Furina lowered her sword, letting the moment stretch in silence before she spoke again. "If you wish to have a conversation, I will oblige. But if you insist on this boorish display..." She turned, her expression as calm as a still lake. "I have no reason to remain."

Daeira hesitated. Then, her voice wavered as she asked, "How is Fontaine?"

Furina paused, a faint smirk curling her lips. "Considering you’ve exiled yourself to the middle of nowhere, I’ll forgive your ignorance," she replied lightly. "I won. The sin that plagued us is no more—thanks to 'my' unparalleled genius, of course."

Daeira’s gaze darkened. "So the Mistress was right after all..." she muttered bitterly.

"Then there’s nothing more to discuss," she said, turning her back to Furina. "Leave. I don’t want to see your face again."

( I was planning to, but you were the one who stopped me in the first place... )

"Don’t worry," Furina replied, her voice tinged with irony. "I’ve no intention of setting foot here again."

"Good riddance then," Daeira spat, her once-imposing presence now diminished, her steps faltering as she retreated.

Furina watched her retreating form, noting the fragility in her movements. Time and obsession had worn her down, leaving behind only the faintest shadow of the once-proud Oceanid. A faint pang of something akin to pity stirred within Furina, but she dismissed it.

"Are you planning to wait here until you lose yourself entirely?" she asked, her voice softer.

Daeira stopped, glancing back with weary defiance. "I will live and die with the Mistress of Many Waters. Even if you begged me to return to Fontaine, I wouldn’t. That place means nothing to me anymore."

Obsession, Furina mused, was a frightening thing. It consumed, corroded, and left nothing behind. Trying to free someone from it? A futile endeavor.

"Very well then," she said softly, turning away. The desert wind howled, carrying both women toward their separate fates.

💧💧💧

Amidst the relentless sandstorm of the Desert of Hadramaveth, a pair of large, watchful eyes gleamed brightly, filled with an overwhelming essence of Dendro. The eyes narrowed, tracking a lone figure—a young woman clad in a striking blue ensemble. With her three Hydro familiars by her side, she stood in stark contrast to the barren, windswept desert.

What captured the observer's attention most, however, was the peculiar trinket hanging from her waist. It pulsed faintly with an energy unmistakably familiar to the watcher, as though it bore the echo of a memory long buried in the sands of time.

"... Nibelung..."

💧💧💧

Furina shielded her eyes against the blinding grains of sand. Her gaze fell on the swirling heart of the desert.

"Hm?" she murmured, her voice carried away by the howling winds. Squinting into the distance, her sharp eyes scanned the shifting dunes, but there was nothing remarkable—just the endless, barren expanse of the desert.

( I thought I heard something... Perhaps just the wind. )

Brushing aside her musings, she cast her gaze over the vast expanse of golden dunes, an unrelenting wilderness that stretched endlessly before her.

( Really... )

"What a wild and desolate sight..." Furina mumbled to herself, gazing out over the vast expanse of sand that stretched endlessly before her.

Her Salon Solitaire fluttered around her, diligently fanning their mistress as they moved through the harsh desert heat. The dry wind carried with it a sense of weariness, yet Furina remained composed, her expression thoughtful.

( Maybe I really should just use the sea route to go to the greener side of Sumeru. )

She had heard whispers of the Dendro Sovereign’s presence somewhere in this area. Not wishing to disturb the dragon’s den or cause unnecessary trouble, she’d chosen the longer path across the desert.

After hours of trudging through the arid wasteland, Furina paused, consulting her map. Her sharp eyes traced the lines and markings until they settled on a path branching toward the west—toward Natlan.

"Natlan, huh..." she mused aloud, her voice laced with curiosity and a touch of amusement.

The Nation of Fire had been a topic of much discussion lately. The conflicts that once plagued Natlan had reportedly subsided, and its people had begun to emerge from the shadows of war. Visitors from the land had become a common sight in other nations nowadays.

( So, the Traveler was tangled up in Natlan's turmoil too. Just as expected. ) 

Furina smirked faintly, her expression tinged with knowing amusement.

( Though this time, it seems things went smoother than before. Well, that's good then. )

"I suppose I could take a peek," she said softly, her voice almost a whisper to the desert winds.

She adjusted her path, heading west toward Natlan, her steps lighter with renewed curiosity.

As she crossed into the borderlands between Sumeru and Natlan, the landscape shifted subtly. The scorching heat of the desert softened ever so slightly, and soon she stumbled upon the welcome sight of a slightly wide stream. Its crystalline waters shimmered beneath the golden rays of the sun, offering a brief reprieve from the harshness of her journey.

"Finally, some nice, cool water," Furina sighed in relief. Without hesitation, she slipped off her shoes and stockings, dipping her feet into the soothing waters. The contrast between the heat of the desert and the coolness of the water sent a shiver of satisfaction up her spine.

For so long, she had been regulating her hydro energy to keep herself cool, but they said the weather in Natlan was even hotter. She should savor this coolness while she could. With nightfall approaching, it seemed a perfect place to set up camp.

She leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment of peace—until the distant rumble of an engine broke the stillness.

The sound grew louder, accompanied by the spray of sand kicked up by something moving swiftly toward her. Furina squinted against the sunlight, her gaze locking onto the figure of a massive motorbike barreling her way.

Her Salon Solitaire darted around her, positioning themselves protectively between her and the oncoming vehicle.

As the bike neared, it came to a sudden halt just beside her. Furina's eyes widened slightly as the rider dismounted, removing their helmet to reveal a striking woman with fiery red hair, her bright eyes gleaming with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

"Oh my," the woman said, her voice smooth and warm, "A traveler, I see." She smiled, her presence radiating a fierce yet welcoming energy. "Hey there."

💧💧💧

Chapter Text

💧💧💧

The world dissolved into color.

In her dream, Furina found herself standing in the middle of a room, its walls stretching out like a boundless canvas. The air shimmered with a surreal, almost magical light, and in front of her stood a young girl, her back to Furina. The girl’s hands moved with deliberate grace, holding a brush that danced across a vast canvas. Each stroke she made brought life to the room, painting not just the surface, but the very world around them—mountains, rivers, skies—woven with the artist’s quiet, gentle will.

Around them, scattered across the floor and walls, were countless drawings, all pieces of worlds in varying stages of creation. Some were unfinished, others vibrant with life, and all of them held an odd sense of significance. The girl never looked up, her focus entirely on the brush as she painted with a patience that transcended time itself.

"The decision is all yours"

The girl said softly, her voice like a melody. Before Furina could make sense of them, the dream began to fade, slipping through her fingers like sand, the girl’s presence slowly dissolving into the colors of the room.

Furina awoke with a soft breath, the warm light of the morning stretching across her bed. She blinked, momentarily disoriented, her mind still tracing the hazy edges of the dream. The room around her was quiet, foreign in its stillness. Slowly, it came back to her—she was in Natlan now, far from the familiar shores of Fontaine.

The moment passed, and Furina sat up. She moved to the window, her gaze drifting over the view. As the landscape unfolded before her, the events of yesterday crept back into her mind.

💧💧💧

The wind whispered through the air, its warm touch stirring the sand along the path, carrying with it the scent of the desert. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that stretched over the dunes.

Mismatch blue, droplet-shaped eyes had met with golden, sun-like ones as Furina’s gaze locked with that of a stranger.

“Sorry if I startled you,” the woman said, her voice smooth and warm, her tone carrying a hint of concern. “I was just riding around here when I saw you. It’ll be dark soon, so it might be dangerous to be alone, regardless of whether you’re a man or a woman.”

The red-haired woman took a few more steps forward, her presence commanding yet welcoming. Furina looked at the woman standing before her—her posture dignified, yet there was something playful in her eyes. “I am Mavuika, by the way,” she added, her voice carrying a warmth that matched the fiery intensity in her golden gaze.

Furina’s eyes widened in recognition. She had heard it before, but now it clicked. "Mavuika... the Pyro Archon?" she asked.

Mavuika’s smile widened, the sound of her laughter light and genuine. "Hahaha. I guessed you had heard of me."

Furina lightly chuckled. "The news of how Natlan overcame the Abyss has spread far and wide. And recently, there’s been an influx of visitors from Natlan in Fontaine."

"Ah, I see," Mavuika replied, nodding with understanding. "Since the war had ended, many of our people—merchants, adventurers, and the like—have begun traveling to see the world beyond this land."

Mavuika paused for a moment, studying Furina. “So, you’re from Fontaine?”

Furina blinked, then smiled sheepishly, realizing she had yet to introduce herself. "Ah, right. I should introduce myself. Ahem. I'm Furina de Fontaine, uh, former Hydro Archon of Fontaine."

She bowed lightly, though she hesitated just for a moment, unsure how much her name carried beyond the borders of her nation. Still, speaking to another Archon made her feel the need to offer her full introduction.

"Oh?" Mavuika’s golden eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing her face.

"Is something wrong?" Furina asked, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

“No, not at all,” Mavuika replied quickly. “I was just a little surprised. I didn’t know that the Hydro Archon was also a human?”

Furina tilted her head slightly, an amused expression crossing her features. "Well, it's a bit complicated after all. Eh? 'Also'?"

“Oh, you see—” Mavuika began, about to explain further, but was cut off by the unmistakable growl of Furina's stomach.

Furina blushed slightly, a sheepish grin spreading across her face. She had brought some food with her, but with the wind howling across the desert, there was a high chance it would end up tasting more like sand than anything else.

Mavuika’s laughter filled the air, the sound light and genuine. “Hahaha, how about we continue this conversation back at the Stadium.”

Then without waiting for Furina's answer, she motioned toward a sleek, mechanical contraption nearby, its metallic frame gleaming faintly under the setting sun. It looked foreign with intricate designs of flames etched along its sides. Without hesitation, Mavuika casually pulled a helmet from thin air. With a single fluid motion, she slid it over her fiery hair, the snug fit emphasizing her confidence.

“Hop on,” Mavuika said, patting the seat behind her.

Furina blinked, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of what was happening.

( Uh? Hop on? )

She glanced at the strange contraption, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of what was happening.

Mavuika leaned back slightly, her teasing grin widening. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little ride.”

Furina’s lips pursed, her pride unwilling to let her hesitate any longer. With a dramatic flick of her wrist, she composed herself, brushing nonexistent dust from her sleeves. “Afraid? Me? Absolutely not,” she declared, though her tone lacked its usual conviction.

Mavuika extended her hand, her voice softening. “Come on. I promise, it’s perfectly safe. Hold on tight, though—you’re in for a treat.”

Hesitating for only a moment, Furina reached out, allowing Mavuika to guide her onto the contraption.

As the vehicle roared to life, Furina wrapped her arm around Mavuika's waist, her eyes widening at the sudden rush of energy. The wind began to pick up, tousling her hair as they sped forward. It was an exhilarating sensation.

The warm wind kissed her face as they ascended a hill, and suddenly, the landscape shifted before her. With each second, the world around her seemed to transform, and then it happened—Natlan revealed itself in all its fiery splendor. Furina’s breath hitched, her gaze drawn to the horizon. It was a land alive with unbridled energy, the air thick with the scent of embers, wildflowers, and something distinctly primal.

Along the way, Furina spotted creatures she had only read about in reports and stories.

Dragons. The Dragons of Natlan.

Not the kind she was used to, either. Neuvillette, with undeniably beautiful humanoid form, was far from what most would envision as a dragon. The closest thing to one in Fontaine was probably Scylla or perhaps Elynas, for all his enormity, though it seemed like an anomaly rather than the norm. Neuvillette had once mentioned that the Melusines, too, could be considered descendants of dragons, but that felt worlds apart from what her eyes beheld now.

Small brown dragons with earthy, rock-like scales burrowed into the ground, their tiny heads poking out occasionally with curious tilts as though inspecting the passing visitors. Furina couldn’t help but smile faintly at their playful antics. Further ahead, nimble green dragons darted among the dense trees, their forked tongues snapping out to latch onto branches and vines, swinging effortlessly between them like acrobats. By a clear spring they passed, blue-scaled dragons swam gracefully, their movements fluid and serene, the sun glinting off their iridescent scales as they glided through the water like living jewels. They also passed an incredibly huge one with a very long neck.

Mavuika glanced back over her shoulder, her voice carrying easily over the steady hum of their ride. “We call them Saurians,” she explained, her tone filled with an unmistakable fondness. “You may have heard of them in passing—they’re common here in Natlan. We live alongside them, and they’re as much a part of our culture as the flames themselves.”

Furina nodded absently, her gaze fixed on the view around them as they continued their journey. The raw, untamed beauty of Natlan was unlike anything she had ever known. Where Fontaine was elegant, cool and pristine, Natlan was chaotic and wild, bursting with an energy that felt almost overwhelming.

💧💧💧

After arriving at the Stadium of the Sacred Flame, Mavuika guided Furina to a quaint establishment known as the Weary Inn. The inn exuded a warm and welcoming atmosphere, its interior lit by flickering lanterns that cast a golden glow across the polished wooden floors. The faint hum of cheerful conversations and clinking glasses filled the air.

Mavuika led Furina to a private corner table, ensuring they had space to talk without interruption. As they settled in, a server approached to take their orders.

"Anything you can't eat?" Mavuika asked, sliding one of the menus across the table to Furina.

Furina glanced at the menu briefly before offering a small, reassuring smile. “I can accept most food, so don’t worry.” She set the menu aside as Mavuika nodded and placed their orders.

Once the server left, Mavuika leaned back in her chair, her red-golden eyes glinting with a casual ease. “Want some wine?” she asked, her tone light and friendly, though there was a playful edge to her smile.

Furina hesitated for a moment before shaking her head politely. "It's okay, I'll pass. I’ll just take juice." She offered a small, apologetic smile.

Mavuika raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Furina glanced away briefly, remembering her past experiences in Fontaine. She had occasionally joined gatherings with friends where wine flowed freely, but her alcohol tolerance had always been less than ideal. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass herself here—and especially not in front of the Pyro Archon.

Once their food arrived, Mavuika leaned forward slightly. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes. You asked about humans being Archons, didn’t you? Well, you see, in Natlan…”

Mavuika began to recount the unique traditions of Natlan, explaining how the position of Pyro Archon had been passed down over generations, not tied to a single being, but to the strongest and most capable leader of the time.

Furina listened intently, her mismatched eyes widening slightly in surprise. She occasionally paused to take small bites of her food, savoring the flavors that were distinct to Natlan.

“Oh, so Natlan has been changing who holds the title of Pyro Archon all this time?” Furina remarked, her mismatched blue eyes widening slightly. “That’s actually quite news to me.”

She took another bite of her food. Her thoughts wandered as she processed this revelation.

( To think there are human Archons—and that it’s a normal thing here. )

"Fontaine is totally different I guess." Furina said.

Mavuika’s golden eyes flickered with interest, but she remained quiet, giving Furina the space to continue.

“I was originally an Oceanid, you see,” Furina began, her voice softening.

Furina hesitated briefly before recounting her past—the journey that had brought her to where she was now. She spoke of how the people of Fontaine were originally Oceanids, transformed into incomplete humans by Egeria, the first Hydro Archon. She explained the prophecy that loomed over Fontaine and her unexpected ascension as the Hydro Archon. Her tone grew heavier as she described the trials she faced, the destruction of the Hydro Thrones, and the events that ultimately led to her decision to step down from her divine role.

The words flowed easier than she anticipated, perhaps because she was speaking to another Archon or maybe it was the comforting atmosphere of the inn.

Regardless, Furina felt a sense of relief as she told her story. It was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. The warmth in Mavuika’s gaze wasn’t judgmental or pitying, but one of quiet understanding.

“...And so, here I am now,” Furina concluded, a faint smile playing on her lips. “No longer an Archon, but still navigating what that means for me.”

Mavuika leaned back in her chair, nodding thoughtfully. "That’s quite the journey," she said softly. "Fontainians must have been deeply impacted by your choice."

Furina hesitated before shaking her head gently. "It’s not as dramatic as it sounds. The people of Fontaine are resourceful and back then, I don't really do much when it comes to the administrative stuff. Anyway, they’ve adapted well, which is a good thing." She said calmly.

"I see," Mavuika nodded thoughtfully before asking, “By the way, why are you traveling alone? Did they..."

Furina blinked, then quickly shook her head. “Oh no, it’s nothing like that!” she said, waving her hands slightly. “It’s just... for five hundred years, I never stepped outside Fontaine. I wanted to see the other nations with my own eyes. Everyone insisted on accompanying me, but... I wanted to do this journey alone, you see.”

( Well there's another reason as well... )

“Ah, I understand,” Mavuika said with a small smile, the relief in her voice subtle but noticeable. “Well, I’ve already booked a room for you here at the Weary Inn. So, take your time and enjoy everything Natlan has to offer.”

Furina was deeply surprised at the gesture. “You didn’t have to go out of your way like that,” she said softly, though her tone was tinged with gratitude.

Mavuika waved her hand dismissively. “Nonsense. As a fellow Archon—former or not—you’re an honored guest in my land. Besides,” she added with a teasing smile, “I couldn’t let you sleep in the middle of the desert, could I?”

That evening, the two hit it off surprisingly well. They continued to share stories about their respective nations, from Natlan’s fiery traditions to Fontaine’s grand theatrics. By the time they retired for the night, the air between them was filled with a newfound camaraderie.

💧💧💧

And thus, this was how she found herself here now.

Back in the present, Furina washed and prepared for the day, her thoughts drifting as her as Madam Craballetta combed her hair. Today, she planned to visit the Adventurer’s Guild to request a guide for exploring Natlan. 

However, as she exited the inn, she was met with an unexpected sight. Mavuika stood near the entrance, her arms crossed casually and a warm smile on her face.

“Good morning,” Mavuika greeted her, her tone bright.

“Good morning,” Furina replied, tilting her head slightly in curiosity. “What’s up?”

Mavuika straightened and shrugged lightly. “After thinking it through, I figured you might be in need of a guide. So, what do you say? Want me to show you around?”

Furina blinked, surprised by the offer. “Are you sure? I’m not interfering with your work, am I?”

Mavuika chuckled softly, waving away the concern with an easy motion of her hand. “It’s fine. Things have been calm lately, and besides, it’s a good excuse for me to check in on everyone and see how things are going. Consider it a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

( I guess luck is on my side... )

Furina smiled, her mismatched eyes lighting up. “Well, if you’re offering, then I’d be happy to have you as my guide.”

💧💧💧

Riding on Mavuika’s Flamestrider, they made their way toward the People of the Springs. As they areived, the air was thick with the mingling scent of saltwater and earth, the vibrant atmosphere buzzing with energy. The rhythmic sounds of distant drums and laughter echoed in the air. Along the path, Mavuika was greeted by the friendly voices of her people.

“Oh, Archon. What brings you here today?” a tan white haired young woman with blue eyes called out, standing near her stall. Beside her stood a petite brown haired girl with shy blue eyes and a black-haired young man in green. Floating next to the man was a peculiar flat-like mascot that fluttered with the breeze.

Mavuika approached with her usual poise and ease. “I’m just showing around Natlan to a new friend of mine,” she said with a casual smile, gesturing to Furina.

"Hello, I'm Furina," Furina said, offering a friendly wave to the group.

The young woman blinked for a moment, as though surprised, before her face lit up in a warm smile. “Oh, hi there! I’m Mualani. This here is Kachina,” she said, nodding toward the petite girl. “This guy here is Kinich and—”

Before Mualani could finish, the paper-like mascot cut her off with a loud, theatrical voice. "I am the Almighty Dragonlord of Natlan, K'uhul Ajaw! You insignificant insects, bow down before the almighty me—”

Everyone groaned in unison as if used to the antics. Kinich flicked the mascot away with a light motion, sending it tumbling back with an annoyed squeak. “Sorry about that,” he said with a sigh.

Furina unsure whether to laugh or remain polite. She settled for a polite smile, though her mismatched eyes flicked toward the strange creature with curiosity.

Mualani shook her head, grinning. “Don’t mind Ajaw. He’s harmless, really—just a bit… dramatic.”

“Dramatic is an understatement,” Kinich murmured, while the little mascot is spitting quite a colourful choice of words behind him.

Mavuika chuckled and afterwards began chatting with the group. In the middle, Furina’s gaze wandered, drawn to the vibrant items on display at Mualani’s stall. Her eyes landed on a stack of surfboards resting near the corner, their colorful designs glinting under the warm sun. Mavuika, noticing the subtle shift in Furina’s attention, raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Anything catching your fancy?” Mavuika asked casually.

Furina tilted her head, gesturing toward the surfboards. “I noticed you sell surfboards here. Is surfing common here?”

Mualani’s grin widened with enthusiasm. “Oh, absolutely! Surfing is one way of life here. The waves are perfect for it. You should give it a try if you’re interested!”

Furina’s lips curled into a confident smile. "I’ve done my fair share of surfing before back home. I dare say I’m quite good at it."

Mavuika chuckled, crossing her arms. “Oho~ Is that so? Then why don’t we make it interesting? A friendly surfing bout. You and me.”

Furina’s mismatched eyes glinted with excitement. “A challenge? Very well, I never back down from one of those.”

Mualani clapped her hands together. “Now this, I’ve got to see! Come on, let’s get you both geared up.”

Minutes later, Furina and Mavuika stood side by side at the edge of the surf, boards in hand. Furina’s board was sleek and ocean-blue, while Mavuika’s was a bold crimson with fiery patterns. A small crowd of locals had gathered, buzzing with excitement at the unexpected event.

Furina raised an eyebrow, glancing at the gathering crowd. “Oh my, it seems this has turned into quite the spectacle.”

Mavuika chuckled, shrugging with a wry grin. “Apologies for the attention. Being an Archon, people’s interest tends to follow.”

Furina nodded with a playful smirk. “Ah, yes. That is understandable.”

“Rules are simple,” Mualani announced, acting as the judge. “Catch the biggest wave and ride it all the way to the shore. Points for style and control! May the best surfer win!”

With a final nod from Mualani, the bout began.

The two women charged into the surf with surprising speed, their boards cutting through the water as if they had always been one with the ocean. Waves rose and crashed around them, but neither seemed daunted. Furina’s movements were fluid, her form perfectly aligned as she danced upon the crest of a massive wave, her laughter carried on the wind. Mavuika, equally graceful but with a fierce intensity, matched every move, her crimson board leaving streaks of fire in her wake.

The crowd cheered, their voices rising in a harmonious chorus as both women seemed to push the limits of what was possible on the waves. As the bout came to a close, both women returned to the shore, their laughter and smiles still fresh from the exhilarating ride.

“That was incredible!” Mualani exclaimed. “You’re both naturals out there. Honestly, I can’t even decide who won!”

Furina, standing tall with her hands on her hips, caught her breath, her cheeks flushed from the exertion. “I must admit, that was fun. You’re quite the surfer, Mavuika.”

Mavuika laughed softly, her golden-red eyes sparkling with mirth. “And you’ve got more skill than I expected, Furina.” Her tone was teasing but warm, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “While we are at it, shall we try something else?”

“Oh, be my guest,” Furina replied with a sly grin, shaking her hair free of seawater. “I won’t lose.”

And so, they moved from one activity to the next—racing along the shore, scaling rocky cliffs, dancing to the rhythmic beat of the drums, singing alongside the villagers, and even playing music. Furina, as always, threw herself into each challenge with dramatic enthusiasm. But when it came to the more physically demanding events, well… let’s just say grace was not exactly on her side.

Mavuika, on the other hand, was effortless. Every movement, every action, carried an inherent precision—fluid, controlled, natural. It was as if she had mastered everything long ago.

After several matches and challenges, Furina finally collapsed onto the soft ground, arms spread wide as she stared up at the blue sky. Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths, her exhaustion evident.

"You really can do everything, huh?" she muttered between gasps. "Quite the hard worker, aren’t you?"

Mavuika, who had been watching the ocean waves roll in and out, turned her gaze toward Furina, her expression unreadable.

Furina noticed the silence and frowned, shifting onto her elbows. "Hm? Did I say something wrong?"

Mavuika’s lips curled into a small, teasing smile. "Well," she mused, tilting her head slightly, "don’t people usually say things like, ‘Oh, what a genius,’ or ‘It must be nice to have such talent,’ when faced with someone like me?" Though her tone was playful, there was something else beneath it—something almost... distant.

Furina blinked, caught off guard by the shift in the conversation. But then, a slow, knowing smile spread across her lips. She pushed herself up, brushing the dirt off her sleeves, and looked at Mavuika with a glimmer of something unreadable in her ocean-blue eyes.

"Talent alone isn’t enough," she said, her voice softer now, more thoughtful. "Even with natural skill, you still need effort, discipline, and the will to improve. I’ve lived long enough to see the difference." A pause. Then, her lips quirked upward as she added, "And you, mon chéri, are far beyond mere talent."

Mavuika’s golden-red eyes widened just slightly. For a moment, she seemed taken aback, as if no one had ever said such a thing to her before. Then, something shifted in her expression—a flicker of something warm, something unguarded.

A soft, rich laugh escaped her lips. It wasn’t her usual amused chuckle, nor the sharp laughter of competition. This was lighter, freer—like the sound of a flame crackling softly in the night.

💧💧💧

As the friendly competition came to an end, the people of the Springs decided to throw an impromptu celebration. Laughter filled the air, and music and dancing blended altogether.

Furina, having changed into lighter, more casual Natlan attire, stood to the side, momentarily lost in thought as she watched Mavuika interact with her people. There was an unspoken admiration in their eyes—genuine respect for their leader and their Archon. Mavuika spoke to them casually, but it wasn’t just her words that captured their attention. It was the way she carried herself, poised, confident, and grounded, even among the warmth of the crowd.

( You held your head high and became a good leader, even when you, too, are just human. )

The thought crept into Furina’s mind like a whisper, gentle but insistent. Her gaze softened as she studied Mavuika’s charisma, and for a fleeting moment, a sense of envy stirred within her.

( I wonder if I were to be as charming as she is—if I put aside the childish act I’ve worn so long—could I be more useful to Fontaine? )

Just as she was about to lose herself further in the thought, Mavuika’s voice, calm yet imbued with concern, broke through her musings. “Furina, are you alright?”

Furina startled to realize how lost in her thoughts she had become. Her gaze snapped back to Mavuika, who was standing just a few feet away, watching her with a soft but inquisitive look. The moment of vulnerability disappeared as quickly as it had come, replaced by the familiar, unshakable composure Furina had crafted over the years.

( Ah, right. I’m not her. I’m just me. This is me. I’m Furina de Fontaine. There’s no need for ‘what-ifs’ anymore. )

Furina shook her head lightly, as if to dismiss the fleeting doubt that had crept into her mind. “No, it’s nothing,” she said, her voice steady now, but there was a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I’m just going to step away for a moment. Need to use the restroom.”

Mavuika nodded, her eyes lingering for a moment as if she might say something more, but instead, she simply gave a warm, understanding smile and returned to her conversation with the others. Furina, grateful for the reprieve, walked away from the crowd, the echoes of the celebration still ringing in her ears.

💧💧💧

As Furina’s silhouette faded into the distance, two figures approached Mavuika from the side. The first was a tall, ocelot-like woman with golden blonde hair. Beside her stood another woman with flowing pastel purple hair cascading down her back like a lavender waterfall.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself more than usual, Mavuika,” the blonde said, her voice teasing yet laced with curiosity.

“Xilonen. Citlali,” Mavuika greeted them with a slight nod, her tone warm but steady.

“Finally found your match, have you?” Xilonen grinned, crossing her arms and leaning slightly to the side.

Citlali tilted her head, studying Mavuika’s expression. “So, how is she?”

Mavuika’s gaze flickered briefly in the direction Furina had gone. “So far, she doesn’t seem like someone who would cause trouble,” she said thoughtfully.

Citlali’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Honestly, I would’ve thought the same. But, Mavuika… you noticed it too, didn’t you?”

A brief silence stretched between them before Mavuika finally responded. “Yes. Looking back, her scent is similar to that of The Captain.” Her voice was calm, but there was a weight behind her words. “The scent of death.”

Citlali and Xilonen fell silent, their expressions unreadable. The sounds of music and laughter around them filled the gap between them, yet an unspoken understanding lingered in the air.

After a moment, Citlali exhaled, breaking the quiet. “Well, it’s only been a day since you met her. Better to keep a close eye on her.”

Mavuika gave a slight shrug, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. “I know. Though, honestly, I hope this all ends with the Wayobs simply being curious about another nation’s former Archon.”

“Yes. That would be the best outcome,” Citlali replied with a sigh, her expression softening just a touch.

Xilonen tapped her chin, her gaze drifting toward the festivities. “Either way, we shouldn’t let our guard down. But since it’s you, I doubt we have much to worry about.”

Mavuika’s tone remained light, but there was quiet certainty beneath it. “Of course. Don’t worry. I’ve got it under control.”

💧💧💧

After her brief respite, Furina stood outside the restroom, ready to return to the festivities. Yet, as her feet moved toward the vibrant noise of the gathering, something felt... off. An icy sensation crawled up her spine, as if the very air had thickened with tension.

Suddenly, the air around her shimmered, and a radiant white light engulfed her, pulsating with an almost living energy.

Sensing an eerie chill crawl up her spine, Furina quickly summoned her Salon Solitaire and materialized her sword in a swift, fluid motion. Her voice cut through the silence like a blade, sharp and demanding.

"Who's there?"

The luminous energy swirled around her, twisting in a hypnotic dance, as if weighing her presence. Then, the very air seemed to hold its breath. A deep, resonant female voice emerged from the light, its tone ancient and knowing.

“People in this land revered me as their god. I have been watching you ever since you set foot in this land, child of water. Tell me—what is your true purpose here?”

( God? Other than the Pyro Archon... Could it be one of the Wayob? )

Furina remember Mavuika's explaination regarding the faith of the people of Natlan. Though personally, she didn't expect to meet them heads on. 

( Hmm... Why are the Wayobs went after me though? Did they sense something about me? )

Then again, when she think about it, it does make sense since Furina knew she was somewhat of an abnormality.

Neuvillette had once mentioned that as she woke up after the incident back then, there was something odd about her constitution. He had dismissed it as a lingering effect of Focalors or her Vision’s unique nature, tied to a sovereign’s influence. But Furina wasn’t convinced. Not after reading that letter Rien had given her.

She took a steady breath, schooling her features into calm regality. Despite the tension thrumming beneath her skin, she kept her voice even and polite.

“I am merely here to explore,” she said smoothly. “If you fear I may bring harm to this land, rest assured, that is not my intention. However, if I have overstepped in any way, I offer my sincerest apologies.”

The light flickered, almost playfully, as if amused.

“Hmm…”

Furina’s grip on her sword tightened slightly—just enough to be ready, but not enough to betray uncertainty. The voice spoke again, its cadence deliberate, savoring the moment.

“Very well. I will accept your reasoning. But before you go, tell me—can you guess what I am?”

Furina’s brows furrowed slightly. The way the entity spoke… it was neither hostile nor entirely welcoming. It was testing her.

After a brief pause, she responded, her voice steady and confident.

“You are neither a Shade nor a Dragon,” she said carefully. “And you do not carry the taint of the Abyss. That leaves only one possibility—you belong to an ancient race… perhaps the Angel race?”

A beat of silence. Then, a low, rich chuckle rippled through the air, reverberating with an almost melodic depth.

“Very astute indeed."

Furina barely concealed her surprise, though she quickly masked it behind composed indifference. She hadn’t expected her guess to be correct. To think such a being still existed—preserved through time, hidden in the folds of history.

“Yohualtecuhtin,” the voice intoned, the syllables flowing like ancient poetry. “In the lands of Natlan, I am known as the Lord of the Night, the one who rules the Night Kingdom.”

“Normally, I do not present myself in such a manner,” the Lord of the Night continued. “Yet your very existence piqued my curiosity, child of water.”

Furina remained silent, her eyes reflecting the faint flicker of the white light.

“Tell me,” the voice continued, its tone heavy with knowing, “You have walked in realms similar to my Night Kingdom, have you not? A liminal space—between life and death, between body and soul.”

Furina shrugged, masking her unease. "Maybe I have," she replied nonchalantly. But her thoughts betrayed her: she knew very well the only one place that fit such description.

The Lord of the Night chuckled, deep and knowing. “You reek of death… yet it is peculiar. Your soul is wrapped in a way that not even the Ruler of Death can influence you. Quite fascinating.”

Furina arched a single eyebrow, her posture unwavering. “And yet, you don’t seem particularly surprised by that."

“Hmm… I have witnessed much in my time,” Yohualtecuhtin admitted, her voice taking on a distant, thoughtful quality. “Even before the wars of old, there were mysteries beyond my reach.”

“I see,” Furina murmured, her tone softer but no less sharp. Her grip on her sword loosened, though she remained watchful. Then, after a brief hesitation, she tilted her head slightly. “And yet… you’re still letting me go?”

She knew she was contradicting herself, but the question slipped out before she could stop it. A part of her couldn’t help but ask.

The white light flickered, almost as if it were laughing. "I have no interest in interfering with your affairs. Even if your motives remain... unclear to me."

"Hmm," Furina murmured thoughtfully. She unsummoned her sword and folded her arms. "In that case, may I ask you a question?"

“Ask, and I may answer,” The Lord of the Night replied.

Furina's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "What are your thoughts on Natlan's Pyro Archon?"

💧💧💧

The sun was dipping low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The sounds of the ongoing festivities echoed through the air—a lively blend of laughter, music, and celebration. Even as the day waned, the energy of the revelers showed no signs of fading.

With two cups of wine in hand, Furina wove through the crowd. Her eyes scanned the vibrant scene, searching for someone in particular. Finally, she spotted her—Mavuika, slightly apart from the festivities, her silhouette framed by the glowing sunset.

There she was, radiant and commanding, her posture relaxed but exuding the effortless charisma of a leader. Framed by the glowing horizon, Mavuika looked like a piece of the sun itself.

With purposeful strides, Furina approached. The clamor of the crowd faded into the distance as she drew near.

"Care for a drink?" Furina extended one of the cups toward Mavuika, her voice light but tinged with an underlying warmth.

Mavuika turned to her, amber eyes sparkling with surprise and mischief. “Oh? No juice today?” she teased, accepting the cup with a playful grin.

"I changed my mind." Furina shrugged nonchalantly, though a subtle smile played at her lips.

The two women stood side by side in silence, watching as the sun continued its descent. The moment was tranquil, almost sacred, as the golden light bathed the world around them.

Furina finally broke the silence. "So… you reincarnated yourself after 500 years, huh?"

Mavuika let out a thoughtful hum, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “Ah, and now it's you make it sound so dramatic,” she said, her tone lighthearted. “But yeah, it was a bit of a... creative solution, you could say.”

( To kill oneself, to leave all who love her, all for the sake of the nation... Well, I can't say I can't relate... )

Furina thought, her expression was unreadable.

“It must have been hard,” Furina said, her voice quieter now, the words carrying a rare sincerity. “But you’ve done well.”

Mavuika let out a low chuckle, shaking her head lightly. “Hard? Maybe. But what’s the point of dwelling on it?” She took a sip from the wine in her cup, her voice steady but distant. “We all fought for something. Whether it was to protect someone we loved, or to exact revenge on the divine, everyone lost something in that war—pieces of themselves they can never get back. Even people from lands far removed from ours paid the price.”

She swirled the wine in her cup, watching as the light refracted through the liquid. Her amber eyes glimmered with a mixture of pride and melancholy. “In the end, though, it was worth it. Every choice, every sacrifice… it led us here. To the future we have now. To the peace we’ve earned.”

Furina tilted her head, studying her with a slight smile. “My, spoken like the blazing sun.”

( Too idealistic for your own good perhaps. )

Mavuika’s grin spread, her amber eyes flashing with both warmth and defiance. “I am Natlan’s sun,” she replied, her tone unwavering. “And this is who I am. Besides, what good is a victory if you don’t celebrate it?” She raised her cup slightly, the gesture casual, yet full of unspoken confidence.

Furina allowed herself a small laugh. “Fair point,” she conceded, her tone lighter now. “A victory is still a victory, no matter the cost.”

Mavuika turned to her fully, her radiant smile softening into something more genuine, more intimate. “Exactly. So then,” she said, lifting her cup higher in a playful toast, “shall we drink to the peace of each of our nations?” She winked, a flicker of mischief in her gaze. “To peace, to victories, and to whatever comes next.”

Furina hesitated for only a heartbeat before raising her own glass, her expression softening as she met Mavuika’s gaze. “To peace,” she echoed.

Their cups clinked gently, the soft sound ringing out as the last rays of sunlight kissed the world in gold. 

( To peace, huh... )

Furina glanced at her cup for a moment, the words lingering in her mind. Then, with a quiet exhale, she took a sip.

💧💧💧

To my most charming and one-and-only judge,

Though I mentioned I’d be heading to Sumeru, I decided to make a detour to Natlan first. And oh, it’s scorching here! I thought the Sumeru desert was unbearably hot, but Natlan certainly gives it competition. Still, it has its own kind of beauty.

I had the pleasure of meeting the Pyro Archon, Mavuika. She’s truly a stunning lady—both in appearance and in presence. Surprisingly, she’s quite easygoing too. She was kind enough to show me around Natlan, and I got to learn so much about the tribes here.

Oh, and you won’t believe this—I even learned how to breakdance! Can you imagine me, Furina de Fontaine, spinning and twisting like one of their dancers? It was exhausting but exhilarating. I’m not sure I’ll ever be as good as the locals, but I gave it my best shot, and Mavuika even laughed when I almost fell on my face. It was so much fun!

I’ll be staying here for another two days to enjoy more of what Natlan has to offer, and then I’ll resume my journey to Sumeru. I really missed the cool air, but for now, I’m soaking in the fiery spirit of this place.

I hope all is well back home. Please don’t overwork yourself, my dear. Make sure to take breaks, rest, and, dare I say it, indulge in something fun once in a while. I miss you terribly already.

Love you always,
From your most beautiful and stunning lady.

P.S.: The Saurians here are absolutely adorable! I’ve attached a photo of myself with a precious little blue Saurian, a Koholosaurus. Isn’t it the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?

💧💧💧

Neuvillette smiled softly as he read the letter, his eyes lingering on the elegantly penned words. His lips curved further as he reached the attached photo: Furina, her expression brimming with joy, hugging a small blue Saurian—its wide, curious eyes seemingly reflecting her delight.

A knock at the door drew his attention away from the letter.

“Come in,” Neuvillette said, his voice carrying a measured calm.

Sedene entered the room, a stack of files balanced neatly in her hands. “Monsieur Neuvillette, the next trial is approaching. Here are all the documents you’ll need.”

“Thank you, Sedene,” Neuvillette replied, setting the photo aside carefully.

Noticing the softened expression on his face, Sedene tilted her head slightly. “You seem in good spirits today, Monsieur. Was it a letter from Miss Furina?”

“Yes,” he replied, his smile lingering. “She’s enjoying herself in Natlan at the moment.”

“I see," Sedene said with a knowing nod. Then, after a pause, she added with a hint of teasing, "You must have missed her terribly, Monsieur.”

Neuvillette let out a quiet hum, neither confirming nor denying—until, at last, he admitted with a wry smile, “I am, Sedene.” His tone was composed, yet there was something unmistakably genuine in those simple words. “But let’s focus on the trial for now.”

Sedene nodded. With a small, hidden smile, she gracefully stepped out of the office, leaving him to his thoughts.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Neuvillette exhaled softly. His fingers brushed against the edges of the letter one last time before he carefully folded it, tucking it into his desk drawer.

💧💧💧

Two days had passed quickly in Natlan, and it was time for Furina to continue her travels.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Furina said as she adjusted her hat, her voice carrying its usual theatrical charm. “If you ever decide to visit Fontaine, I would be delighted to show you around.”

Mavuika smiled softly, her expression calm and composed. “You know, after spending time with you, I must say—you’re far different from the rumors.”

“Rumors, you say?” Furina chuckled. “Well, even a single day can change someone a great deal.” Her smile softened as a thought crossed her mind. “Oh, now that I think about it...”

She tilted her head slightly, her ocean-blue eyes locking onto Mavuika. "I haven't met many of the gods yet, but compared to those I have encountered, you act far more divine and perfect than any of them," Furina said, her voice thoughtful but tinged with admiration. "You embody the idealized image of a god that humanity has always envisioned—a paragon of how a god should be."

"I suppose that’s a compliment then," Mavuika replied with a soft smile, her calm demeanor unwavering.

"It is," Furina affirmed, her gaze lingering on Mavuika as though studying her.

( And it’s even more remarkable that you achieved this just by being yourself. No masks, no grandiose displays—just authenticity. )

“Such is the marvel of humanity,” Furina chuckled to herself, the sound echoing faintly like the ripple of waves.

“Hm?” Mavuika tilted her head slightly, curious.

"Humans," Furina began, her tone shifting to one of contemplative musing, "know they are imperfect beings. That knowledge compels them to strive for perfection, even knowing it may be unattainable. The divine, however..." She trailed off briefly, her voice growing quieter but no less impactful, "...the divine sees no need to fix themselves. They are proclaimed perfect, regardless of their flaws, by virtue of being gods."

Mavuika’s golden-red eyes shimmered with quiet understanding as she listened, her expression thoughtful.

"Perhaps," Furina continued, her voice carrying a subtle bitterness, "that is why gods can afford to err so often without reproach. Even in my most egregious blunders, while I played the role of an archon, no one truly questioned me. Not because I was without fault—but because they simply assumed I must be right. After all, I was their 'Goddess.'"

Mavuika’s brows furrowed, her expression softening as she considered Furina's words. She could feel the raw humanity beneath the depths of Furina's eyes, a flickering vulnerability that blended the complexities of humanity and divinity.

Before Mavuika could respond, however, Furina’s tone shifted abruptly, her theatrical air returning like the crash of a tidal wave before settling into something more solemn. “Well, enough about me!” Furina declared, her voice resonating with purpose. “Now then…”

Furina took a step forward, her mismatched blue eyes glowed with an ethereal light, piercing yet inviting. Her right hand rested upon her chest, and she gave a slight, graceful bow, the act as dignified as it was profound. For a fleeting moment, the air around her shifted as if the essence of her former divinity shimmered in the air.

"Before we part ways, I have one question to ask you," Furina said, her voice steady but imbued with an undertone of solemnity.

Mavuika straightened instinctively, her golden-red eyes narrowing with focus. "Ask."

"As the God whose ideal is 'War,'" Furina began with a smile, her words measured and deliberate, "what do you think will happen when the flames of humanity burn out?"

Mavuika’s gaze drifted for a moment, her expression unreadable. The stillness stretched, as though the world held its breath. Finally, she spoke, her voice calm yet carrying the weight of centuries of thought.

"The flames of humanity cannot burn out," she said, her voice steady. "They may flicker, they may dim, but as long as even one ember remains, they will reignite. War, in its purest form, is not only the clash of weapons—it is the clash of ideals, of desires, of futures. As long as humanity can still struggle, still dream, there is hope. But if there were one in a million chances where that flame dies, so too does the spark that makes them... human."

Furina tilted her head, her tone soft but curious. “And if that one in a million chances would happened—that flame ever did burn out, what would you do then, Mavuika?”

“Then it would be my duty to reignite it,” Mavuika replied without hesitation, her golden-red eyes blazing with resolve. “Not through divine commands or grand displays of power, but by walking among humanity—by reminding them of the spark they already possess. I would become the ember that rekindles their fire, even if it meant extinguishing myself in the process.”

Furina regarded her silently for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she asked, “So, such is your stance then?”

“Without hesitation,” Mavuika replied, her voice ringing with certainty.

The two locked eyes—Furina’s mismatched blues, like twin teardrops of the ocean, meeting Mavuika’s golden-red irises, burning like twin suns at dawn.

Looking at Mavuika, Furina saw a reflection of someone she had once been—a version of herself that had walked onto the stage after the split, naïve yet determined, willing to put the greater good above herself.

( Then again, it’s not like I’ve changed that much… Some part of me is still trapped in that same mindset. Calling her out would be like the pot calling the kettle black. )

She let out a quiet breath before closing her eyes, a small smile gracing her lips. The tension in the air softened, the heavy atmosphere giving way to something lighter and more amicable.

“Well then,” Furina said, clasping her hands together with theatrical flair, “I’ve kept you here long enough. May we meet again, Mavuika.” She extended a hand, her smile now warm and sincere.

For a moment, Mavuika seemed as if she wanted to say something, hesitation flickering in her golden-red eyes. But in the end, she simply exhaled and took Furina’s hand, shaking it firmly.

As their hands clasped, Furina’s voice softened, dipping into something almost tender.

“And I hope,” Furina added, her voice dropping into something almost tender, “that the flame within you will always burn brightly—even when the world plunges into darkness.”

Mavuika held her gaze, her expression unreadable at first. Then, with a small nod, she replied, her tone just as sincere,

“Yes. May we meet again, Furina de Fontaine.”

💧💧💧

As Furina’s petite silhouette disappeared into the distance, Mavuika stood quietly, her golden eyes lingering on where the Hydro Archon had just been.

She traced her steps back to the first time she encountered the former Hydro Archon. The meeting hadn’t been a mere chance. The shamans from Masters of the Night-Wind had warned her of something peculiar approaching the borders of Natlan, stirring the Wayobs into unease.

Who could have guessed that something would be the former Hydro Archon herself? And to add an unsettling twist, she hadn’t expected to sense the same yet somewhat different ominous energy surrounding the former Hydro Archon that reminded her of The Captain—the First of the Fatui Harbingers.

When the war ended, she did gather information about the other nation as she wanted to form an alliance with them. And because of that, she somewhat knew about the Hydro Archon who stepped down after using her power for the sake of the nation. 

Furina de Fontaine. 

Rumors surrounding her were widespread—whispers of a dramatic, unpredictable goddess who thrived on theatrics. Some called her a mere “mascot” of her nation, an empty symbol to be paraded about for show.

But reality, as she now understood, was far removed from the rumors.

While Natlan defied fate with raw power and passion, Fontaine defied it through calculated deceit.

( A mascot, huh? )

The memory of Furina’s gaze resurfaced in her mind.

( That gaze isn’t one of a mere mascot... ) 

Her fingers tightened around the beautiful object in her hand—a crystalline teardrop, glinting faintly in the fading light. Attached to it was a small note. Unfolding it carefully, Mavuika read the simple message written there:

“A token of our friendship.”

She turned the teardrop in her hand, watching as the crystal caught the last rays of sunlight. At first, a small smile tugged at her lips, but then something in the light caught her attention. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second.

“I guess things are about to get busy again,” Mavuika murmured, a sigh escaping her lips.

Summoning her Flamestrider, she glanced one last time in the direction Furina had gone.

Without another word, Mavuika mounted her bike and started the engine. The roar broke the evening stillness as the Pyro Archon sped away, heading back to the heart of Natlan where her people awaited her return.

💧💧💧

After parting ways with Mavuika, Furina pressed forward on her journey toward Sumeru. Once again, the endless sea of sand stretched before her.

( If I keep this pace, I should arrive by tomorrow... )

She traced the route on her map, but then, without warning, something coiled tightly around her legs.

Her breath hitched. Before she could react, a violent force yanked her downward. The world twisted—sand rushed up, swallowing her whole.

Darkness. A crushing weight.

Then—silence.

When Furina’s eyes snapped open, she found herself lying on her back, staring at a jagged stone ceiling. The air was thick, damp, and carried a faint, earthy scent. She sat up quickly, heart pounding.

She was in an underground cavern.

The walls shimmered faintly with strange, bioluminescent fungi, casting eerie green hues across the space. But what truly set her nerves alight were the creatures coiling around her.

Snakes. Dozens of them.

Their scales gleamed in the dim light, forming a shifting, sinuous mass. They circled her slowly, their movements soundless against the cold ground. Then—one lifted its head.

Its eyes gleamed an unnatural green as a voice, smooth and layered with an ancient weight, slithered through the air.

"Hello there."

Another pair of glowing eyes emerged from the darkness.

"You look so… ordinary up close."

Then another.

"And yet… the scent of the Hydro Sovereign clings to you."

Furina stiffened. A cold sweat prickled at her skin.

“P-Pardon?” she managed, keeping her voice as steady as possible. “Who… who are you?”

One snake swayed before her, its tongue flickering.

"Who am I indeed?"

Another curled closer, its glowing gaze unwavering.

"Who do you think I am?"