"..."
In the House of the Hearth in Fontaine, Arlecchino silently closed the light novel in her hands.
Her expression was unreadable.
So this was what the so-called "Genius" had been talking about?
When Su Ran first mentioned his… "research," she had thought he was referring to something dangerous, some grand, world-shaking experiment.
But after reading these light novels from Inazuma, she could only come to one conclusion:
"He's insane."
There was no other explanation.
He'd left Columbina and Sandrone alone— yet for some reason, she had caught his attention?
Even as a woman herself, Arlecchino was painfully aware that she didn't exactly ooze "feminine charm."
And this was the person who had supposedly piqued Su Ran's interest?
How desperate was that man?
"Father," a soft, cat-eared girl beside her spoke up timidly, "should I… bring you more of those?"
Three young boys and girls were seated nearby— the children of the House of the Hearth.
The one who had spoken was Lynette, her calm, doll-like face framed by silver hair and feline ears.
Compared to her brothers, she had more curiosity about such things.
After all, girls were naturally more drawn to stories of love and emotion.
"No need."
Arlecchino shook her head firmly.
She had seen enough.
In fact, she now had a new label for these books:
Corruptive trash literature.
"From now on," she said coldly, "light novels like these are banned in the House of the Hearth.
They'll only corrupt you."
The children froze.
Lynette's expression went blank.
She had thought that sharing these novels with "Father" might give them something to bond over— that maybe, for once, she'd found a common hobby.
But now…?
Why had reading them only made Father angrier?
And what did "corrupt" even mean?
"But… Father, those stories—"
"If you have objections, speak them," Arlecchino said softly.
She wasn't unkind with her children.
Her tone carried the firmness of a strict but loving parent.
To the children of the Hearth, Arlecchino was both a protector and a figure of awe.
They all firmly believed:
Father can't be wrong.
"Why was Father interested in these books to begin with?"
Though she didn't say it aloud, Lynette silently vowed vengeance on whoever had introduced such nonsense to her Father.
"It was the Genius," Arlecchino said.
The moment she uttered the name, the room went still.
"You mean… the new Second Harbinger?"
Now Lyney was intrigued.
To the children of the House of the Hearth, the Fatui Harbingers were near-mythic figures to be admired— even the lowest-ranked Childe.
But the Second?
He had become legendary almost overnight.
Lynette's ears drooped.
"Yes," Arlecchino said quietly.
"A very… peculiar individual."
When he'd gone quiet for a while after leaving for Inazuma, she'd assumed he was focusing on his duties.
But lately, rumors about him had exploded again— this time, all centered on Liyue.
"He's dangerous," she warned.
"Not mad like the Doctor, but dangerous all the same.
If you ever meet him—stay away."
Su Ran was unlike any Harbinger she'd ever known.
Even Childe seemed more normal by comparison.
The reports she'd heard from the Captain still chilled her to this day.
The man who could crush a Harbinger in three blows… and only spared him because the Tsaritsa herself had begged for mercy.
Even the Captain, who feared nothing—not pain, not death— had spoken of him with a trace of unease.
"So," came a voice from the door, "is that fear I hear… or have you even lost the courage to be afraid?"
The large double doors of the Hearth swung open.
All four inside—the Harbinger and her three wards—instinctively tensed.
Someone had entered without knocking.
An intruder?
Unthinkable.
And yet the voice was… oddly familiar.
As the door creaked wider, their gazes dropped toward the sound of tiny footsteps.
A small, doll-like figure stepped into view.
"You…"
Arlecchino's composure faltered for the first time in years.
It was her.
Or rather— a miniature version of her.
Ever since that ill-fated visit to the Genius's workshop— a visit she had only taken because Signora had insisted—
Arlecchino had been… unsettled.
Because she had discovered that the Genius had recreated, in painstaking mechanical form,
every female Harbinger— and even the Tsaritsa herself.
Each doll's personality eerily matched the original.
And now, one of those dolls—Arlecchino-chan— was standing right here.
"Father?"
The youngest boy, Freminet, blinked in confusion, gazing back and forth between the real Arlecchino and her pint-sized duplicate.
"I thought you never left the workshop," the real one said, her tone clipped and wary.
"As long as I report my movements, it's fine," the tiny doll replied cheerfully.
"A mature father doesn't need to chain his children down."
She hopped onto the tea table, then leapt gracefully onto a chair, crossing her legs with the poise of an aristocrat.
Lynette's eyes sparkled with admiration.
Small Father is so cute…
I want to hold her… and pet her…
"What are you here for?"
Arlecchino's voice hardened again.
The doll's presence could only mean one thing— the Genius was meddling in Fontaine's affairs.
And she wasn't sure if that was good or bad.
"For this," the doll said simply.
She raised her hand, and a small, sky-blue chess piece floated above her palm.
Arlecchino froze.
"A… Gnosis?"
She had weathered countless storms during her time in Fontaine— but this… this was different.
"Why do you have that?"
She had spent years in Fontaine, working toward that very goal, yet progress had been painfully slow.
And now this miniature copy of her had waltzed in holding the prize in her hand.
"A little coercion, a little persuasion," the doll said airily.
"And Focalors handed it over herself."
"You of all people should understand, right?
She wouldn't want her secrets getting out."
Arlecchino stared at her, utterly dumbfounded.
"You… used the same trick he used on me?"
The doll smirked.
"After reading so many light novels, surely you've learned something about leverage?"
Arlecchino: "..."
She wanted to scream.
She knew those novels were a mistake!
"And how do you even know Focalors's secret?"
"That," the doll said, with a smug little smile, "is classified."
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