Not to mention this off-topic remark, when it comes to the role of a father, one cannot avoid Arlecchino.
Orphans, father—such a story is hard for the people of the House of the Hearth not to relate to.
At the long table in the House of the Hearth, the children's tears became the "language" of communication.
The children silently exchanged glances. Would that eternally elegant and composed "Father" ignite a blaze that burns everything to ashes for someone?
Perhaps only for the girl from the story they had seen before.
After crying, their emotions gradually stabilized, and reason once again took over their minds.
By common reason, their "Father" seemed unlikely to do such a thing again.
If one had to say, was the House of the Hearth perhaps closer to the camp of the remnants of the divine king...
Perhaps yes, the only difference being that Arlecchino was willing to return freedom to the children.
"Choose your own path from now on"—these were actually the words Arlecchino wanted to say to the children.
Even for Lyney, whom she had raised as her successor, Arlecchino could let go.
Just like Gendou Ringo from the previous story, she had now chosen her own path.
Speaking of choosing one's own path, Chasca, who had always walked her own road, was at this moment gently wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes.
She had thought they only resembled each other in their approach to "mediation," but unexpectedly, their experiences were also similar.
Chasca had a "mother"—not her biological mother, but she loved her, and Chasca loved her too.
She also had a "father"—not her biological father, but he loved her, and she loved him too.
When she was injured while hunting, her mother would worry and scold her.
When she was driven away, her father would protect her and bear the pressure.
And she seemed to always be the "willful" one.
Her "mother" told her not to hunt, but she didn't listen; her "father" told her to behave, but she didn't listen either.
Yet they never abandoned her. Even though they were not her biological parents, they always protected her, just like Kusayla.
So when Chasca read this story, she couldn't hold back her tears—including Chuychu beside her.
"Sister..." Chuychu hugged Chasca, unsure whether she was comforting herself or comforting Chasca.
Chasca felt Chuychu's embrace and had no intention of struggling free.
So warm... just like that night when she "ran away from home." It was the warmth that drove away the cold night, the kind that seeped into her bones like the embers of a campfire.
Chasca closed her eyes and savored Chuychu's embrace, just like that night when she was on the verge of death.
When it came to family, it was hard for Mavuika to say she wasn't heartbroken; she was simply better at restraining her emotions. Aside from the creases on the book, nothing else seemed to record her feelings.
A fairy tale... My little sister loved listening to them too... It's been so long since I last told her one...
Mavuika put down the book and looked at the sunset outside. The sun at this moment was not glaring—only a faint warmth that evoked memories.
Recalling the past, everything had seemed like the "perfect" choice, so why were there always regrets?
Many people thought Mavuika was a "perfectionist"—not only did she have to succeed, but she had to do it beautifully.
But this was forced upon her. If she wasn't perfect enough, what would happen to Natlan?
She sacrificed herself; she couldn't witness her sister's future—all because she was a "perfectionist."
Only coming five hundred years later was an even more "perfect" choice.
Only then could she protect the futures of more people.
But sometimes, she really wanted to choose a less "perfect" option.
If it had been a different choice, she would probably be telling stories to her sister under a sunset like this, instead of sitting here alone reading one.
Looking at Kusayla's letter in the book, Mavuika stared blankly for a long time, unable to calm down.
A letter... How wonderful... I really want to receive a letter from my sister, telling me what path she took in the future.
I really want to experience it... this longing that spans centuries and time.
She really wanted to watch her sister grow up and care for their parents as they aged.
But she couldn't only protect her family's future—because she wasn't just a sister or a daughter; she was also the Archon— Haborym!
Sitting in this position and bearing this responsibility, she couldn't be the sister who only told fairy tales to her little sister.
Once, her sister had asked her: "Even the Pyro Archon is just an ordinary person. How can you guarantee that every person who becomes the Pyro Archon will be willing to protect everyone?"
At the time, Mavuika didn't answer; she just hugged Ini and stroked her hair.
Now, everything Mavuika was doing was the answer: precisely because they are ordinary people, they want to protect the happiness that belongs to ordinary people.
Mavuika took out a paper frog, gently stroked it, and said no more.
The "Captain" sat upright and properly while reading the story, his mask covering his face and hiding his emotions.
Closing the book and placing it on the shelf, the "Captain" lightly tapped the book twice with his fingers, as if patting a man's shoulder—well done.
The former Fatui Harbinger "Scaramouche" had also finished the story. Miraculously, there wasn't a pile of ashes on the ground; this story made it impossible for him to act.
A picked-up "orphan"—he was one too, only the person who picked him up had also hurt him deeply.
Actually, the current "hurt" was due to a misunderstanding. When the spoilers reached his story later, that would be the real heartbreak.
It hurt Scaramouche so much that he didn't want to live anymore. He'd rather rush into the tree and delete himself completely to get the other person back, but unfortunately, failure always defined his life, like a curse.
Speaking of failure, one had to mention Hu Tao. Her father caused a huge accident because of a "failure."
That accident took her father away and caused her grandfather to be tainted with deathly energy, eventually passing away from illness.
But in truth, Hu Tao never hated her father. If anything, she was just very angry and wanted to complain to him a bit, then... throw herself into his arms.
So when Hu Tao read this story, her eyes were filled with tears because of that "letter from the father."
If only her old man had left behind a letter like this.
Hu Tao looked at the drawing in her hand. He had "abandoned" her too suddenly. How annoying...
Hu Tao wiped her tears and shook her head. Emotions and lingering attachments were great taboos; this Hall Master couldn't make the same mistake as her father.
It's just that Little Lucian has been in Sumeru lately, which is really frustrating. He should come back so this Hall Master can "get close" to him properly.
No, thinking carefully, in a few days she has to go to Sumeru to help him with work anyway, so she'll see him then. Hu Tao was a bit excited.
Kaveh was similarly excited. After finishing the story, he went to find Lucian but discovered Lucian wasn't there. But you'll be there when everyone works together, right?
Several sentimental Lucian part-timers were looking forward to meeting Lucian in a few days, their enthusiasm for "work" so surging—including Scaramouche.
By then, he had to let Lucian experience the feeling of the "flower carriage bouncing along."