After afternoon tea, Richard didn't linger long at the Palais Mermonia. After all, he was technically still on vacation. Since he had already filed his leave, it didn't make sense to only take half a day off. The afternoon clearly couldn't be wasted.
Before leaving, however, Richard invited Furina to watch the latest musical at the Opera Epiclese that evening. He had already prepared the tickets.
Furina said she never needed tickets for the Opera Epiclese, she could go whenever she wanted, and sometimes people even paid her to attend.
But this time was different. The Hydro Archon's reserved seat at the opera house was far too conspicuous. Richard had arranged for a private business box, perfect for both watching the show and having a serious conversation.
Furina agreed without asking why he'd rather spend so much Mora for a private box instead of simply sitting with her at the free, prime-view Archon's seat.
Because she had already guessed Richard's intention. After his trip to Liyue, he must have found a way to completely earn her trust.
Leaving the Palais Mermonia, Richard went straight to the Opera Epiclese, where a middle-aged man rushed up to greet him.
"Monsieur Richard, you're here."
"Mm. How's the preparation for the musical?"
"Please rest assured, all the actors are ready. Tonight's performance will absolutely satisfy you."
This man was the musical's director. His deference to Richard was natural; Richard was the production's biggest investor. And not the meddling kind.
Aside from providing a story outline and assigning necessary financial supervisors, he left everything else to the professionals, casting, backstage prep, all of it. He gave money when money was needed, connections when connections were needed, and didn't even force advertising placements.
For a director used to being tortured by demanding sponsors, Richard was a once-in-a-lifetime "ideal investor." Naturally, he was treated with utmost care.
Nowadays, most investors didn't understand art and constantly meddled, adding meaningless product-placement scenes and turning noble, pure, elegant theater into glorified product launches. Audiences paid to watch ads, with the musical thrown in as a "bonus."
Richard's story outline was admittedly cliché and unoriginal, but its core theme was solid. With unlimited funding, top talent could be hired, ensuring an excellent final result.
The director was full of confidence, believing this would be a highlight of his career.
"I'll leave it in your hands, Monsieur Michel," Richard nodded.
What he wanted was the best atmosphere possible; sometimes the right setting loosened lips more than any direct questioning.
The musical's story went like this: A princess of the Nation of Water learns of an apocalyptic prophecy. The tale unfolds around three themes: prophecy, destruction, and salvation.
The princess struggles desperately to prevent the world's end, enduring countless hardships. Unlike typical stories where effort is rewarded, all her attempts fail. Defeated, she places her hopes in a distant "god."
But this god warns her: if she reveals the prophecy, no salvation will come, and the nation will drown as foretold.
So she hides the truth, wearing a mask of smiles. She tells her people to enjoy life and festivities, while she alone shoulders the burden. This, she believes, is her "duty."
One day, a capable minister arrives. He notices her strangeness and offers to share her burden.
Though she trusts him, she insists some things can't be solved by trust alone. She tells him to stop asking questions and simply enjoy the present like everyone else.
But the minister refuses to give up. He tries persuasion, heartfelt appeals, even seduction, but the princess resists like a spy in a drama, leading to comedic misunderstandings.
In the end, the prophecy comes true. The capital is swept away, villages drowned, and the Nation of Water erased. The god never appears.
The princess survives only because of the minister's "ark." Unable to gain details from her beforehand, he had built a small vessel for one. When disaster struck, he gave the princess life and perished with the nation.
The story ends there.
A royal road beginning, a romantic comedy middle, and a tragic finale.
Cliché as it was, with top-notch production and funding, the performance turned out surprisingly good.
"It's a fine musical. If only the writer hadn't slipped in so much… bias," Furina crossed her arms.
Having acted in many productions, she easily recognized the metaphors.
Though, could they even be called metaphors?
Princess of Water, loyal minister, apocalyptic prophecy… This wasn't subtle at all!
And wasn't the minister clearly based on Richard? Self-flattery much?
"I think the writer did well," Richard said, turning to Furina. "It's realistic, isn't it?"
"You think Fontaine will be drowned?" she met his gaze.
"The prophecy will happen. Fontaine will be submerged. I've known this for a long time."
Furina's pupils shrank. Her hands clutched her clothes tightly, crumpling the fabric.
"Your information is wrong. Fontaine won't drown. The prophecy may not happen. And even if it does, I will save everyone. This musical won't play out in reality."
"I believe you, Furina."
"Huh?" She froze. She hadn't expected that. Shouldn't he question her, press for answers? Why say this now? Was he giving up?
"Of course, I believe you. You're not the princess, and I'm not the minister. The future won't end like the story."
He paused. "…But."
'There it is.' Furina thought bitterly. She knew he wouldn't yield so easily. Everything before had only been set up for this "but."
"As long as you don't hide the truth until the very end, like the princess."
'I knew it!'
All of this, dinner, the musical, his words, was just a setup to probe her secret.
"I told you already. Without my absolute trust, I'll say nothing." Furina crossed her arms, turned her head, and shut her eyes stubbornly.
Then peeked with one eye. "And don't think a decent musical is enough to earn my trust. That's far too cheap!"
"Of course not." Richard shook his head and drew out his trump card, the Contract Book.
"What's this?" Furina asked, puzzled by the ancient-looking parchment.
"A book of contracts, personally condensed by the God of Contracts. It contains the power of rules."
"That's why I was so certain, the prophecy will happen, and Fontaine will drown. Because of rules."
"Furina, do you know of the World Tree?"
"Yes. Legends say it records Teyvat's past and present. Everything on Teyvat can be found on it."
For over 400 years, searching for ways to avert the flood, she had learned many secrets.
"But you probably don't know, the World Tree also holds records of the future. Prophecies are simply futures already inscribed upon it."
"That is why I'm so certain."
Furina froze. With those words, her final shred of hope crumbled.
If the prophecy must happen, then what was the meaning of her struggle? Would that "god" in the mirror really keep its promise after 400 years?
Her expression wavered. But now wasn't the time. She steadied herself and asked, "That still doesn't mean I should believe you. What if your information is false?"
"I'm not talking about the prophecy, but this contract," Richard said, shaking the parchment.
"A contract infused with rules binds even the Seven. I can't escape it either."
"You can write any punishment you want to ensure I never reveal your secret. For example, if I break it, I'll become your dog, stepped on every day…"
"Who would write that?!" Furina snapped, flustered.
"As for whether the witness, the God of Contracts, will know your secret, don't worry. He's dead. Even his Gnosis is gone. No one will hear."
Richard placed the contract on the table and pushed it toward her.
"Now you can write our terms."
Furina said nothing, just stared blankly at the contract.
She knew he wasn't lying. He could've easily forced her secret out or exposed her deception publicly.
Under the supreme trial, the truth couldn't be hidden.
But he didn't. Instead, he accommodated her impossible conditions and gave the perfect solution.
Faced with that, even she couldn't think of a reason to refuse.
But the real breaking point wasn't the contract; it was Richard's next words.
"Furina, keeping a secret for four hundred years… you've suffered."
Sometimes, being alone with your pain wasn't as crushing. But when someone acknowledged it, understood, it all came pouring out.
Furina's tears welled.
This time, she felt them falling, desperately wiping at her face with her hands. But the more she wiped, the more they came. Her gloves soaked through, stray tears dripping onto the contract.
Noticing, she hastily pushed it away and dabbed at the parchment with her sleeve, as if afraid the tears might ruin it.
But then something strange happened.
The tears didn't stain, they sank into the contract, coming alive, moving like ink strokes across the page. The empty parchment filled with glowing golden text.
And at the signature line, a name had already appeared:
- Focalors.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
[email protected]/DaoistJinzu