The divine chat burst into chaotic disbelief.
Nahida: "Oh my… a calculating creep?! He's actually scheming?"
Keqing: "He's developing a plan… just to make a move on Furina. That's terrifyingly focused!"
Hu Tao: "I mean… couldn't he use that brainpower for something normal?"
Ningguang: "Unlikely. His mind's completely flooded with divine legs and disturbing fantasies. What room is left for logic?"
The feed rippled, blushes clashed with laughter.
The audience didn't know whether to panic or applaud—because for the first time ever…
Aamon was planning his life.
Not for success.
Not for fame.
But entirely to pursue the Hydro Archon.
A Calm Thinker mixed with Aesthetic-obsessed madness made him unnervingly methodical.
He's not rushing the stage…
He's waiting. Plotting. Strategizing every emotional angle.
Furina? Still unaware.
The crowd? Breathless.
The system? Thrilled to see its talents creating unpredictable chaos.
[Simulation Thread: Schemer LSP Route Activated]
[Timer: 17 Minutes until contact protocol begins.]
---
Inside Murphine Spire, deep in Fontaine's regal chambers...
Furina's dainty hands clenched with trembling rage.
Her silver teeth nearly cracked under pressure.
"Unbelievable… utterly unbearable!"
Staring at the livestream replay, her thoughts tumbled.
That mortal—Aamon—was scheming. Not swooning, not flailing, but calculating.
"He's planning to upend my world. Strategizing like a tactician… but for perversion!"
She felt it in her core: the sick sensation of being targeted, not adored.
As if she were a prize—something to be manipulated and claimed.
"This simulation's turned into a crime drama! Someone call the Marechaussee!"
---
Meanwhile, in his rented room...
Aamon groaned, palms over his face.
"What is wrong with the simulated version of me?! A scheming creep?! Really?"
He saw the comments, the chaos, the divine horror.
And yet...
Somewhere beneath the embarrassment... a flicker of curiosity sparked.
What if this calculated version could survive longer?
Could earn Furina's attention through brilliance, not obsession?
---
Divine Chat Scroll:
Nahida: "Even mortals with calm minds can be terrifying when they lack boundaries…"
Keqing: "He's not rushing this time—and that's more dangerous."
Yae Miko: "Watch closely. This arc might just crack Furina's shell in ways brute passion never could."
Furina: "If he tries this again… I will drown him personally."
---
As the simulation continued, Aamon chuckled under his blanket, eyes wide, grin unmistakably twisted.
"Wow… this version of me is intense."
He didn't recognize the simulated self anymore—not really.
Because this Aamon was bold, calculating, dangerously fixated.
And yet… kind of entertaining?
"I'm not really like that," he muttered. "But damn if it isn't fun to watch."
He felt a strange mix of embarrassment and satisfaction.
Because no one else could see it—not Furina, not the public, not even the boss from the restaurant.
It was his secret.
But deep down, there was a tiny sting—
"If anyone saw this... especially Furina... would she think I'm some twisted creep?"(I don't know why don't ask her)
He squirmed, rolled deeper into the covers, and tried not to dwell.
Because in this moment, Aamon wasn't just watching a simulation.
He was watching himself unravel—truth, ego, impulse—with popcorn in hand.
---
That night, as the opera house closed its grand doors, Aamon walked home alone under the starlit Fontaine sky.
His boss had tried again—inviting him to her place with familiar flirtation—but he coldly declined.
He didn't want distractions.
Not when his mind was overflowing with thoughts of Furina's elegance, and… that dangerously perfect leg.
Tier 5 Bathing in Flames surged within him.
It didn't matter that he didn't sleep—his energy was volcanic.
His soul, set ablaze, wanted one thing: proximity to Furina.
---
He didn't fantasize about comfort or companionship.
He dreamt about standing beside her—touching her world, imprinting himself on her divine sphere.
Every inch of his brain now spun with plans:
- How to get close to Furina?
- How long could he remain near her without being noticed?
- How could he approach her leg—strategically?
But each plan felt flawed.
Reckless. Risky. Destined to fail.
So he did what a calm thinker must:
He rejected each draft.
And waited.
"I know I'm not ready. Not yet."
---
Divine chat, quietly reopening, hummed beneath the surface:
Nahida: "He's resisting again. Suppressing obsession for precision."
Yae Miko: "Still terrifying… now the leg is his religion."
Furina: "I swear… if he moves one step toward me, I'll drown the entire opera."
---
Furina was Fontaine's divine sovereign.
Her court shimmered with elemental brilliance, surrounded by loyal champions—every one of them chosen, marked, powerful.
And Aamon?
No Vision. No status.
Just a heart brimming with obsessive affection… and a brain consumed by that leg.
"Aesthetic maxed out… strategic thinker… but still, just a nobody."
He read the simulation's reminder and winced beneath the covers.
"Three lines in, and we're back to the leg again. Come on, system!"
He scratched his head, half-embarrassed, half-invested.
Because the truth?
The system wasn't wrong.
Furina wasn't just beautiful—she was adored. A symbol. A star.
Her very existence demanded distance.
Beside her loomed Neuvillette, that silent hydro dragon and guardian judge.
Around her swirled champions with Visions and accolades.
Aamon had… none of that.
Just an unholy drive.
And a simulation that refused to let go of her elegance.
---
Divine Chat:
Nahida: "Sometimes even a mortal's focus is scarier than their strength."
Yae Miko: "Three lines about legs. I'm convinced his Heartmeter's broken."
Furina: "I'm being hunted by someone with no resume and far too much ambition."
---
No fancy schemes. No magical ascensions. Just reality—and the ache that twisted inside Aamon.
---
[Furina is a divine sovereign of Fontaine, surrounded by warriors wielding Visions.]
[And you… have nothing. No power. No title. Only a heart obsessed with her. And that flawless, maddeningly beautiful leg.]
Aamon groaned under his blanket, half laughing, half dying of shame.
"This simulator has no chill. Three sentences in, and we're back to the leg again…"
He wasn't proud.
But he was intrigued.
It was true, after all—Furina wasn't just a deity. She was a spectacle. A symbol. An untouchable queen blessed with popularity and protected by titans like Neuvillette, Fontaine's draconic sentinel.
How could an unranked, unknown mortal even dream of catching her attention?
"I need more than obsession. I need precision."
So he stopped thinking about the leg (well, he tried), and started plotting deeper.
- How to bypass Neuvillette's gaze?
- How to turn the opera into a message?
- How to prove he wasn't just another fan—he was the variable the system hadn't accounted for?
---
Suddenly, a strange sensation prickled in Aamon's palm.
His right hand—once empty—now trembled with an unfamiliar weight.
[You feel something. You look down.]
[In your hand is a Vision.]
He froze.
"A Vision...?!"
"What in the actual Tayvat—when did this happen?!"
---
The simulation pulsed.
Not from randomness, not from divine charity... but from something inside him.
This Vision wasn't gifted for heroism.
It was born from obsession. Precision. Strategy.
Divine Chat trembled:
Nahida: "He… he actually manifested one?"
Yae Miko: "From pure emotion? Or focused madness?"
Keqing: "If Furina finds out the reason behind that Vision, she might vaporize him on sight."
Furina: "No. No. NO. This mortal is escalating. I demand a divine audit!"
The simulation had changed.
Aamon was no longer an unknown.
With a Vision, even a Water Dragon might hesitate.
And Furina?
She'd sense the shift.
Because next time they locked eyes, he'd no longer be just watching her…
He'd be eligible to stand beside her.
---
(Well I tried to keep it in the jar but those damn legs are too much for a jar)
(Oh by the way it is midnight don't do the same, just go to sleep. Stay safe and happy)