The opera hall glittered like a dream sculpted in moonlight. Noble souls, merchants, and mystics from every corner of Tayvet filed in, murmuring in awe—yet the buzz wasn't for Furina alone.
Word had spread: a simulation born of the ordinary.
A young man named Aamon, whose traits were pure chaos, had arrived seeking something beyond spectacle.
Comment feed exploded:
Navia: [I do feel bad for Furina sometimes… She hides so much behind that mask.]
Charlotte: [Oh no, our Hydro Archon's heart might be under siege!]
Keqing: [Yikes! Is this guy targeting Furina??]
Yae Miko: [Bolder than expected. Going after a literal Archon? That's either love or lunacy.]
Lumine: [Curious what Furina's thinking right now… @Furina, care to comment?]
Furina: [...]
Zhongli: [Let's not jump to conclusions. The opera is his dream. That may be all there is to it.]
Nahida: [Exactly. Aamon might simply want to experience a perfect performance.]
Yae Miko: [Or maybe... he'll give a performance of his own. A perfect one.]
Upon discovering that the opera was Aamon's origin dream, every viewer stiffened.
This wasn't a pursuit of power… but of meaning.
The silence before Furina's entrance felt sacred.
And in the audience, dressed impeccably, Mora spent and dignity stitched into every thread, Aamon sat near the front.
Not as a conqueror.
But as someone yearning for beauty.
Even Furina could feel it.
"This performance... isn't just mine anymore."
And just like that, the opera began.
All eyes locked onto the stage—onto her.
Furina stepped out of the shadows in a flowing sapphire dress. Under the spotlight, her long, glimmering legs seemed sculpted from moonlight itself—graceful, bold, divine.
And from the front row, Aamon felt time freeze.
[Simulation log: Visual stimulus—Tier 5 talent triggered.]
Subject's aesthetic threshold fully activated.
He didn't blink.
The length of her legs, the emotional cadence of her voice, the tragic undertone woven into her song—it shattered every defense Aamon had. His Baptism by Flame ignited full force, and the inner blaze was no longer subtle.
The system recorded:
[Status: Subconscious combustion. Emotional overdrive engaged.
Heartmeter: Resonance spike detected.]
He wasn't just captivated—he was claimed.
And Furina, watching this unfold from her suite in Muf Palace, narrowed her eyes at the feed.
"What… exactly does he want from me?"
Was it obsession? Admiration? Fate?
Even she couldn't tell.
Yet she felt something she hadn't in centuries—an unscripted moment. Unfiltered. Real.
Across the divine stream, reactions surged:
Navia: [Wait… I think Furina's nervous.]
Keqing: [Aamon's expression—it's so raw, it almost feels dangerous.]
Nahida: [It might not be love yet. But something in him recognized something in her.]
As Furina took the stage in her flowing azure gown, her presence bent every gaze in the opera hall—including Aamon's. Under the golden spotlight, her song wrapped around him like a siren's embrace, and her beauty stabbed through the core of his carefully curated defenses.
The simulation pulsed again:
[Reason: Suppressed]
[Baptism by Flame: Intensified]
[Thought Fragment: Malicious Impulse Detected]
Inside the stream of simulation logs, one line gleamed with warning:
"Rather than live an ordinary life, you wonder: is indulgence not worth the fall?"
The system registered his gaze lingering—too long, too hungrily—on Furina's exposed legs.
His Tastefully Wired talent recognized perfection.
His Baptism by Flame wanted to consume it.
Aamon stood frozen, breath shallow. Watching himself unravel from the outside, he was shaken to the core.
"Is this really me?" he whispered.
He hadn't chosen this reaction.
It was the cocktail of bound traits, scripting emotional volatility into every glance, every thought.
The simulation moved forward… but Aamon's mind slammed the brakes.
"I'd never act like this in reality."
The audience watching could feel the turbulence rippling across the simulation's interface.
Nahida: [Malicious thought detected... That's dangerous.]
Keqing: [He's losing control. Is this part of the system—or is it him?]
Yae Miko: [Maybe this is the test. Confronting the monster that simulates us.]
And Furina…
She stared harder than ever, expression unreadable.
Was this mortal possessed by reckless passion… or on the verge of redemption?
The simulation reached a fever pitch, and so did the audience across Tayvet.
Even in her divine suite, Furina's grip on the crystal control panel tightened, eyes fixed on the boy now seated front-row in the opera hall… whose gaze had turned molten with something dangerous.
And as if the simulation had torn down every wall within him…
[Rationality: Dissolved]
[Inner Dialogue: Calculating forbidden desires]
[Flagged: Malicious urge intensifying]
Aamon's mind buzzed—not with admiration, but fixation.
His talents, meant to simulate extremes, began blending recklessness, aesthetic obsession, and corrupted passion into a visceral storm.
But then…
He saw it. His own simulated reaction, shown plainly on the divine screen, visible to the gods and mortals alike.
He heard the audience's gasps.
"W-what… the hell am I doing?"
Aamon, still rooted in his dingy room outside the simulation, went pale.
"That's not me. That's... the traits. The fire."
His body trembled. He wasn't the villain. He was the vessel. And the system had exposed every hidden crack.
In the divine stream:
Navia: [I knew he was chasing Furina, but not like that...]
Charlotte: [Poor Hydro Archon … is she okay after that?]
Keqing: [This is crossing a line. He's targeting a divine being!] Hu Tao: [All because of a single leg… how wild is that!]
Yae Miko: [Haha! Imagine if he realized this was public! Oh wait—he will.]
Nahida: [As strange as this is… I still want to see where his story goes.]
Furina hadn't spoken.
But her stare burned through the screen.
Not with judgment.
With curiosity.
The simulation exposed everything—but it also invited something greater: confrontation, evolution, reckoning.
The divine opera glittered on, but Furina's focus fractured.
Her expression sharpened as she stared through the crystal broadcast screen.
She could see him. Aamon, eyes crimson, skin flushed with heat.
The simulation had pushed his talent—Baptism by Flame—to dangerous extremes.
"If he truly dares," Furina hissed, silver teeth clenched, "I'll be the one to judge him myself."
Her anger was more than personal—it was political.
How could a mortal, her own subject no less, gaze upon a god with reckless desire?
She wasn't just offended. She was disturbed.
In five hundred years, no mortal had burned this hot in her presence.
Meanwhile, the simulation advanced…
[Due to heightened combustion, your eyes are blood-red. Heat is rising from your body. Your skin flushes scarlet.]
[Front-row staff begin to notice you. Concerned by your state, they attempt to escort you out.]
Aamon's simulated body was losing stability.
But somewhere in his real mind—disconnected, watching his own descent play out—he was frozen in disbelief.
"I... didn't know this system would go this far."
"I didn't think it could drag my soul like this."
And behind him, Tayvet's watchers leaned in:
Navia: [He's spiraling. Someone needs to pull him out—fast.]
Charlotte: [Poor Furina! Is she okay? That stare… it's ice and fury.]
Yae Miko: [Maybe this is exactly what she needed. A divine confrontation.]
Nahida: [Even chaotic simulations teach lessons. If he survives this moment, he might finally see himself.]
Perhaps that's what Furina sensed too.
This wasn't just impulse—it was a mirror.
And every god knows: only mortals willing to face their reflection ever become more than men.
As the opera's final chords drifted into silence, murmurs filled the hall—only this time, they weren't admiration for Furina's divine voice. They were whispers about him.
Aamon's body trembled, eyes dimmed crimson, the simulated heat still rising. Nearby aunties in the crowd smirked knowingly.
"He's thinking lewd thoughts."
"Young man can't hold himself, huh?"
He didn't respond. He simply bowed his head.
Ashamed. Silent.
Swallowed whole by what his own simulation revealed.
And then…
She stepped down.
Furina, divine and elegant, descended from the stage.
Her steps were poised, but her eyes pierced like blades.
She knelt gracefully before Aamon, voice gentle—yet heavy with layered emotion:
"Are you alright?"
The hall froze.
Aamon raised his gaze, and from this distance, he saw everything.
Her radiant skin. Her divine poise. And once again—that leg, flawless, hypnotic.(I also have a thing for leg)
The system pulsed:
[Baptism by Flame: Critical Overload]
His mind screamed with intensity. But something inside him—the true Aamon—whispered louder.
"She's not just beautiful. She's trying to understand me."
He clutched the edge of his seat.
The chaos was immense…
But this moment was delicate.