Work Text:
It wasn’t unusual for Furina to receive confessions.
Whether in the form of gifts, flowers, sweets, or letters.
Especially letters. There were so many of them they could rival the stack of paperwork that sat on Neuvillette’s desk.
She was used to it, and she had even made sure to request that these letters be thrown away. Whenever her mood leaned toward boredom, she would ask Sedene to bring her one of those letters filled with love and devotion. Knowing what her people thought of her was important, and those people certainly had a talent with words—just as dramatic as their Archon. Furina had no intention of replying to any of them, but the letters were good for killing time.
Those were the only circumstances under which Furina would read the letters. Except that, when she entered the office, the first thing she saw was a letter on the desk.
She frowned. She had no memory of asking Sedene to bring her one. Her mismatched eyes swept across the room where Neuvillette should have been, finding nothing—not even paperwork—just the letter.
She had come here because she had reached her limit with work. She was bored and tired. And what could be more refreshing than spending some time with her good and noble Iudex?
Except her good and noble Iudex wasn’t here.
What remained was that letter.
It would never be as good as Neuvillette’s company.
None of those confession letters ever came close.
While they were all filled with words of blind idolization and passion for her performances, Neuvillette was, in every sense of the word, sincere.
Even if he didn’t know much about the real Furina.
She shook her head.
(Enough thinking about that, Furina!)
(That isn’t important. What truly matters is saving your people from the prophecy. Selfish things like friendship aren’t for you.)
She walked across the room, the sound of her heels echoing loudly, circling the desk to sit where Neuvillette usually sat. Furina leaned her back against the softness behind her and took a deep breath, closing her eyes to steady herself. With that, the scent of beach sand and the sea filled her lungs, the familiarity slowly easing her anxiety away.
When she opened her eyes, the letter was still on the desk.
And it seemed to whisper for her to open it and read.
Neuvillette wasn’t here. What remained was this letter to kill the Hydro Archon’s boredom.
Furina picked up the letter, inspecting its front and back carefully. It was, in fact, very simple. That was unusual. People normally decorated their letters, desperate to leave an impression on the Goddess. Furina usually found that somewhat funny and cute.
She lifted the letter to her nose and sniffed.
As expected, it had a perfume.
They always did.
At first, Furina found that strange, but with time she got used to it, developing the habit of smelling the letters before opening them. Not just to appreciate the variety of perfumes, but also to try to guess which part of Fontaine the person was from. Letters with stronger scents meant the sender lived farther from the Court; the softer ones, closer.
This perfume habit began with a rumor that strong scents bothered the Hydro Archon’s nose. Since the people adored her and always wanted to please her, they decided to use milder perfumes—though they still lingered for quite a while.
Furina hadn’t bothered clarifying that rumor, and things stayed that way.
There were some things, like trivial rumors, that Furina saw no point in correcting. Some worked in her favor, others not so much, and a few—like this one—were so insignificant they didn’t deserve her attention.
Even though she didn’t care, the habit had become so strong that she could tell whether someone was from far or near just by the perfume they used.
As an Archon, it was her duty to know her people well. Even if she couldn’t show much of herself and often failed to do justice to everyone, she tried.
That letter carried a soft scent. So soft that Furina couldn’t immediately identify what it was.
She sniffed again, not pulling the paper away from her nose even after a few moments.
That was when she felt it. The scent vaguely resembled rain. Her brow furrowed, and she pulled the letter back to glance around again.
What she deduced about this person was: they lived close to the Court and weren’t flashy at all.
How boring.
Furina opened the letter, noticing the size of the confession written inside.
She found it reasonable compared to the many others she usually received.
But the moment her eyes landed on the first line, they widened.
Not because the words were shocking, but because of the handwriting.
That handwriting…
…Furina knew it very well.
So well that, if she wanted, she could replicate it from memory after seeing it throughout the past centuries.
She swallowed hard, staring for a long moment before finally gathering the courage to begin reading. She could perfectly hear the voice of the one who had written that confession-letter in her mind—as if he were speaking directly into her ear.
Dear Furina,
I write you this letter because I do not quite know how to express my feelings. Even so, I want to try to convey them clearly. I hope my words will be enough to warm your heart.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Furina’s heart leapt frantically inside her chest. Her fingers curled lightly, nearly crumpling the paper.
This person… what did he mean by “enough to warm your heart”? Did he not understand what that sort of phrasing could do to people? She drew in a breath, mentally reprimanding herself for how she absolutely should not be part of that group of affected people—then exhaled.
Yes. She wasn’t part of that group. She had simply misunderstood.
The letter wasn’t a confession. Neuvillette had only left something for her to read before going on with his duties.
But… if that were true, why had he started the letter with “I write you this letter because I do not quite know how to express my feelings”?
That didn’t sound like work-related matters at all!
Her rational side argued.
She shook her head, feeling her cheeks heat up at the mere thought that this… could truly… be a confession letter. A confession letter from her five-hundred-year-long coworker! Better yet—this said coworker was the Hydro Dragon who barely understood human emotion. If this letter really was a confession, wouldn’t it be like an Opera becoming reality?
Furina’s heart started beating for a completely different reason.
A little smile curled her lips as she muttered:
“Not even the Hydro Dragon is immune to my charms. Hehe.”
Her eyes moved on to the next lines.
I cannot pinpoint when this stopped being mere admiration and grew into something more. But I would say it was on that summer afternoon—the one when the sun burned too strongly and forced us to pause our work.
Furina smiled at the memory.
The heat had been unbearable to the point that they both removed a few layers to cool down. She remembered thinking how handsome Neuvillette looked with his slightly flushed face.
Her heart hammered, and the smile fell as the implication behind “stopped being mere admiration and grew into something more” hit her.
It really was a confession letter.
Her cheeks burned hot.
Confusion mixed with fear, and Furina exclaimed to the empty room:
“You idiot Dragon! If you’re going to confess to your Archon, at least try to remain anonymous!” She sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead and glaring at the letter as though looking at Neuvillette himself. “Anyone who reads this would know it’s you.”
I remember how tired you looked and how my chest burned with something like relief at sharing the same weariness. I felt so distant from you the same way I feel distant from humans. But that day, something inside me shouted that it was safe to trust you. And as you drank from the glass I offered, my chest twisted with another feeling, and my cheeks burned for a reason unrelated to the summer heat.
Furina dropped her head against the letter, squeezing her eyes shut.
Why did it feel like she was reading one of those Inazuma romance novels?
A confession from her coworker… what was she supposed to say to him after this? Ignore it and pretend she never saw it? Or pretend it didn’t affect her and tease him for falling for her?
The latter didn’t feel right. Hurting Neuvillette’s feelings would be too much. Even if she faked many things, and even if he didn’t see her as a friend, what she felt for him was real.
Reading that he had felt safe trusting her did wonders for her confidence. Even more because that moment hadn’t been one where she displayed authority or power—but a fragile, human side…
She let out a small groan.
Pride struck her in every corner.
It meant Neuvillette connected with her.
And that was wonderful.
Furina lifted her head to keep reading.
A soft smile rested on her lips as she did.
It took me a long time to understand what that feeling meant, and when I finally did, I lost the courage to tell you.
Is love something meant for me? Could someone like me understand and live love without fear? I have no idea how to handle such matters. But then I realized we are similar in that regard.
Could someone like you understand and live love without worries? With that in mind, selfishly, I felt relieved. And for that, I must apologize.
Her smile faltered, and her grip on the paper tightened.
He wasn’t wrong.
They were alike in that matter.
But unlike him, she had already reached her conclusion.
Love was not meant for someone like her. Furina wasn’t even sure she would still be when her task ended.
Her fingertip traced the apology.
She understood. In the world they lived in, having someone similar in position and doubts was comforting. Neuvillette was a constant in her life just as she was in his.
“I don’t know what love is either, my Iudex,” Furina murmured, melancholic.
I have come to understand the phrase ‘ignorance is bliss,’ for if I had not grown curious about the subject of love, I would not be searching for it everywhere.
And, Furina, I see it everywhere. Even in places I shouldn’t. It is beautiful. Although thinking too much gives it a bitter taste, it remains beautiful. Seeing it everywhere and having you at my side for so long made it difficult not to fantasize about us.
So I apologize again. Even trying to ignore it, I could not hold on for long. It took three centuries for my limit to break. I sought help, and the final decision was a letter. I do not expect you to return my feelings. I simply need to take them off my chest.
Ass, N.
She struggled to finish the letter.
Several emotions hit her hard and threatened to spill through her mismatched eyes. Furina stared at the letter with a complicated expression. The realization that Neuvillette had romantic feelings for her seemed unreal. But the handwriting proved otherwise.
Furina couldn’t deny she had thought of Neuvillette before—and in a few rare moments, those thoughts involved the two of them together.
But the moment her mind went down that road, she would retreat immediately. He had the same thought and had allowed himself to go further.
Curiosity rose.
What kind of scenarios had he imagined?
Furina had a vast repertoire of romantic scenarios thanks to the novels she read, but Neuvillette? He didn’t seem like that type. He barely showed interest in humans, let alone romance.
Had he turned to romance novels at some point or resorted to observing human interactions?
That last thought made her lips twitch.
Perhaps it was neither. Perhaps Neuvillette followed Dragon instinct. She didn’t know how that worked, but being chosen like that was… interesting.
“What am I even thinking,” she muttered, embarrassed.
It was too much for her to process right now.
She had come here to relax after hours of work—not to break her head over matters of the heart.
Furina rested her head on the desk, holding the letter before her face and rereading the words repeatedly.
What was she supposed to do about this?
She brought the letter to her nose and sniffed.
Yes, this was just like him. Simple and not flashy at all.
Her heart twisted as she realized one thing: although they were similar in some ways, they were completely different in others.
For example, while he allowed himself to feel and fantasize about the possibility of them being something, Furina had never done that. In this, he had more freedom. And for that, she felt envy.
“How could you fall in love with me?” she whispered, fragile.
The scent of the sea filled her lungs, as if he were right beside her.
Then she understood.
It wasn’t her he had fallen in love with—it was her performance.
A forced smile tugged at her lips, and her heart felt pricked by a needle.
In the end, he was no different from the others.
Furina closed her eyes, refusing to let tears fall.
Exhaustion got the better of her, and slowly, with that familiar scent surrounding her, she allowed herself to relax and forget the situation for a while.