King came to a halt.
Standing at the entrance of the Opera House, he gazed at the magnificent structure in silence.
Brilliant sunlight spilled over the white marble, plating it in a layer of warm gold.
Everything seemed perfectly normal.
Why here?
King frowned and stepped inside.
The interior of the theater was empty.
The massive stage stood silently in the shadows, with rows of seats arranged neatly, awaiting the arrival of the next trial.
A ray of heavenly light filtered through the stained glass of the dome, casting mottled patterns of light and shadow on the floor.
King walked through the audience seating and stepped onto the stage.
That sense of unease became exceptionally clear here.
He stopped walking, his gaze falling upon that massive mechanical apparatus—
The Oratrice Mecanique dAnalyse Cardinale.
The machine that rendered the verdict of 'justice' in every trial stood quietly at the side of the stage. Its gears were motionless and its pointer was at zero, as if it were merely a silent work of art.
King watched it quietly.
The core of Fontaine's judicial system, capable of making the final ruling on every trial based on the principles of 'justice'.
For hundreds of years, it had never made a mistake, becoming the incarnation of justice in the hearts of the people of Fontaine.
In this moment, King understood everything.
Then came the silence.
A long silence.
—
Inside the Oratrice, within a soul space that did not belong to the physical world.
Focalors was curled into a ball, hugging her knees, looking as if she wanted to stuff her entire being into them.
Her long blue hair fell loose, covering most of her face and leaving only one eye to stare fixedly at the water mirror projecting the scene outside.
In the water mirror, the man in the blue trench coat stood motionless in front of the Oratrice, his gaze looking directly toward where she was.
Even though they were separated by a soul space and it should be absolutely impossible for that man to see her.
Focalors just felt like he was looking at her.
That kind of gaze felt as if it could penetrate all disguises and pierce straight into the depths of her heart.
"W-what is he doing here..."
Focalors was breaking out in a cold sweat.
Not physical sweat—as a soul, she didn't have sweat glands.
But that panicked feeling of 'it's all over' made her entire soul tremble, every thread of her consciousness screaming 'run away!'
"Damnable King, I don't want to see you at all right now."
Focalors muttered softly, her voice carrying a hint of a tremble she hadn't even noticed herself.
For five hundred years, she had hidden alone in this dark little box, isolated from the world, her existence known to no one.
She had watched countless trials, seen countless people come and go, watched Furina acting on the stage, and watched Neuvillette frowning in the audience.
She was used to loneliness.
So used to it that she had even forgotten she could feel lonely.
But at this moment, when that man stood outside, looking at her with that sorrowful gaze.
Focalors suddenly felt a bit lonely.
She instinctively hugged her knees tighter.
"Go away... just go away..."
She chanted silently in her heart.
But the man did not leave.
He stood there, and kept standing there, like a statue.
Focalors' heart began to race.
This godforsaken man.
Focalors knew King; of course she did.
Although she had been hiding inside the Oratrice Mecanique dAnalyse Cardinale, she shared the same soul as Furina.
Through Furina's eyes, she had'seen' everything about King.
She saw how he swiftly solved the Serial Disappearances of Young Women, how he calmly dealt with various crises, how he stirred up storms in Inazuma, and how he held the faking-faint Furina, gently tightening his arms around her.
That was how Furina had fallen for him, bit by bit.
But this scumbag!
He clearly flirted and teased Furina every day, making that silly head of hers dizzy all day long, making her as happy as a kitten that had just caught a fish.
Yet he had never explicitly said 'I like you' or anything of the sort to Furina.
In other words, the two of them had never officially confirmed their relationship.
King, you bastard! How dare you string Furina along!
And for so long!
Poor Furina, being played like a fiddle by King.
And she was still happy every day, thinking she was the luckiest woman in all of Teyvat.
Stupid Furina didn't know, but Focalors saw it clearly.
This man was simply a scumbag!
He didn't take initiative, didn't refuse, and didn't take responsibility!
A textbook scumbag!
"Hmph!"
Focalors gave a heavy snort, trying to use anger to dispel that strange throb in her heart.
But it was useless.
King's gaze made her heart flustered and her whole body feel hot.
"What on earth are you here for?"
"At least say something..."
Focalors muttered under her breath.
Standing there for so long without saying a word, just staring at her.
You're making me lose my mind from staring, hey!
...King stood before the Oratrice, silent for a long time.
His gaze rested on the machine, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Focalors.
The girl who had been hiding inside this machine all along.
The other side of Furina.
The woman who had endured five hundred years of loneliness alone, silently planning her own sacrifice.
King had seen the plot; he knew her plan.
Splitting the soul, creating Furina, hiding behind the scenes, collecting Indemnitium, condensing the Sword of Execution, killing herself, releasing the Ancient Dragon Authority, allowing Neuvillette to become the Fully-Fledged Dragon, and lifting the curse from the people of Fontaine.
What a perfect plan.
Except for the part where she herself would die.
King couldn't help but let out a sigh, his brow furrowing.
Focalors' speed was too fast.
According to the plot's progress, Focalors shouldn't have collected enough energy yet; she should have needed at least some more time to gather the power to kill herself.
So King hadn't been too worried.
He thought there was still time.
But at this moment, standing here, that strong sense of unease was telling him—
Focalors had already collected enough.
She was ready to act.
King's sixth sense was trying to tell him exactly this.
A woman he cared about was preparing to commit suicide.
King's gaze became sharp... Inside the Oratrice, Focalors' breathing began to quicken.
King frowned.
When he frowned, those black eyes became even deeper, like an abyss capable of swallowing all light.
Focalors suddenly had a bad premonition.
She looked down at the progress bar beside her—
99.8%.
Just a little bit left.
Just a little bit more and she could gather enough Indemnitium to condense that Sword of Execution and complete her plan.
The progress bar had originally been less than 80%; according to her calculations, it should have taken at least another fifty years.
But after King arrived in Fontaine, the power of the people's faith soared, with countless people spontaneously praying for Fontaine;
Then there was the Serial Disappearances of Young Women, and today's Corrupt Noble Case... In just a few short months, the Indemnitium she received was more than the past hundred years combined!
Now, only the last 0.3% remained.
With just one more trial, she would be able to...
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