Fontaine. Palais Mermonia. Furina's chambers.
After a long conversation, Furina had finally, reluctantly, accepted Lucien's existence. At the very least, she no longer believed him to be a hallucination.
And ever resourceful Furina had already managed to piece together a few key traits about this mysterious "Lucien."
Lucien possessed his own consciousness. He could think for himself. He could speak. In almost every way, he resembled a normal human being. The only differences were that no one else could see him, and he could not touch anything in the physical world.
His movements weren't constrained by anything he could perceive, yet his range was inexplicably tethered to her. He couldn't wander far; he could only remain by her side.
Secondly, Lucien was remarkably innocent. Yes, innocent was the word.
It was the only adjective Furina felt truly suited him.
With no memory to speak of, he knew nothing beyond basic common knowledge and his own name, Lucien. As a result, he was curious about everything. He loved asking questions. He delighted in observing the world around him.
Like... a child?
Furina glanced at Lucien, noting how he towered over her, and the gentle, almost ethereal aura that constantly radiated from him. She quickly dismissed the thought.
More like someone who had genuinely lost all memory and, through some inexplicable twist, ended up by her side as an invisible stalker. How suspicious.
Caught between doubt and vigilance, exhaustion finally claimed her. She burrowed completely under her quilt, pulling it over her head and curling into a tight ball.
In that small, enclosed space, Furina finally relaxed. The tension she had suppressed for so long began to ebb away. Her eyelids grew heavy, her gaze unfocused. Though darkness surrounded her, for this fleeting moment, she had a world that was entirely her own, didn't she?
Closing her eyes, she cupped her cheeks with both hands and massaged gently, easing the fatigue from a face that had performed all day. After a long moment, she opened her eyes again and whispered to herself, a soft encouragement meant for no one else:
"Furina... keep going. For Fontaine... for everyone... keep going."
Thus fortified, she reached out from under the quilt, grabbed the pillow from beside her, and hugged it close. Sleep. She needed sleep. Tomorrow would demand everything from her again.
Suddenly, a thought struck her. She peeked out from beneath the covers, her expression a mix of wariness and confusion as she looked at Lucien.
"Aren't you going to sleep?"
Lucien shook his head. "I'm not tired. I can't sleep."
"So what have you been doing these past few nights? Just... sitting there?"
"Mm. More or less."
"More or less?"
"I was waiting for you to wake up."
His voice was calm. Those deep blue eyes held no particular emotion. His tone was simply stating a fact.
"..."
Furina froze. Then, hesitantly:
"So... after I fell asleep, you've just been standing there by the bed? Watching me? Waiting for me to open my eyes?"
"Yes."
It should have sounded utterly perverse. But coming from this young man, it didn't feel that way. As if! Staring at a girl all night! If that wasn't perverse, what was!
And don't use that matter of fact tone! Furina wanted to scream. But looking at Lucien's slightly dazed expression, the anger wouldn't come.
Seeing her speechless, Lucien seemed to realize something. His voice softened.
"Did I make you uncomfortable?"
"...No. I'm fine."
Furina fell silent and pulled the quilt back over her head, effectively ending the conversation.
Lucien watched her disappear beneath the covers, then quietly looked away.
He supposed he had been staring. There was little else to do. For reasons unknown, his existence was confined to the space near this young lady.
He couldn't wander far. He could only follow.
He couldn't touch anything. On that first day, he had reached for a book on her shelf, only to watch his hand pass through it without the slightest resistance.
He was like a projection. A ghost tethered to Furina's side, unable to influence the world, only able to observe as a silent witness, never to make contact. The reason he watched her was simple: he was thinking. Trying to understand why he was bound to her. But with no memories, he had no clues. So he simply gazed at her sleeping profile and thought.
And now... Furina must hate being watched, mustn't she? At times like this, he should apologize.
Lucien thought this silently. This time, he didn't look at her. He was being obedient.
He walked slowly to a spot a meter or two from the window. The very edge of his invisible leash.
There he sat down, and through a gap in the curtains, he stared blankly at the night beyond.
What was the outside world like, he wondered.
---
Morning came. Furina stirred awake. Truth be told, she had slept terribly.
The thought of an invisible presence watching her through the night had lodged itself in her mind like a splinter, making rest nearly impossible.
She opened her eyes, still groggy, and instinctively glanced at the clock. Finding it was still early, she prepared to indulge in a rare lie in.
But just as she settled back down, she bolted upright, her gaze snapping to the bedside.
Nothing. Where... where was Lucien?
After days of being watched, waking up to find him gone was... unsettling.
She scanned the room. The young man hadn't vanished. He was sitting quietly on the carpet a few meters from the window.
A beam of sunlight, slipping through the curtain's gap, fell perfectly upon him. It gilded his silver white hair, turning it to spun gold.
A pale hand was raised, shielding his eyes from the light. Those deep blue eyes, usually so calm, were impossibly bright in that moment, lit with the wonder of a child discovering a beloved toy.
For some reason, Furina couldn't move.
She simply stared at him, caught in the tranquility that radiated from his figure. Watching the sunlight bathe him in warmth, seeing that expression of pure, unfettered freedom... she felt an inexplicable pang.
Envy.