"Waaah... waaaahhhhh!!!!"
Lilith suddenly snapped out of her extreme shock.
She looked at her bakery, which had been reduced to an open square, the shattered display windows, the cracked walls, the tables, chairs, and food remnants scattered everywhere... Lilith instantly broke down, plopping onto the ground and weeping uncontrollably, completely losing her composure:
"My shop—!!!!"
"My money—!!!!"
"This shop that my family spent five hundred years across generations saving up to open!!!"
"It's all over! It's all completely over!"
"Wuwuwuwu..."
"The glass! My crystal glass display window! Custom-made from the Fontaine Research Institute!"
"The tables and chairs! Fine wood imported from the Liffey Region!"
"And the best ingredients! Fresh cream! Truffles! All ruined!"
"I have no money left!"
"I'm bankrupt!"
"I'll be a pauper for the rest of my life!"
"Waaahhhhh!!!"
She cried heartbrokenly, tears and snot streaming down her face, all the hope in her life turning into ruins along with her shop.
Lynette struggled to climb up from the ground. His body was still trembling slightly, but his kind nature forced him to brace himself and walk over to Lilith.
He wasn't good at comforting people. He simply pulled out a clean handkerchief with a blank expression, handed it over, and said stiffly, "...Wipe your face."
Lyney also recovered, scratching his ash-blond short hair, his face filled with awkwardness and apology.
He tried to ease the atmosphere in a magician's way. With a flick of his fingers, he conjured a slightly wilted blue iris and held it out to Lilith: "Um... beautiful lady, look, flowers! Life isn't just the ruins before your eyes; there's also a beautiful tomorrow!"
Lilith raised her tear-filled face, looked at the drooping iris that had already lost two petals, and cried even louder: "Beautiful my foot! My shop is gone! Five hundred years of my family's hard work! Wuwuwu..."
Lyney awkwardly retracted his hand. This magic trick had failed, and failed completely.
Just amidst this despairing wailing and awkward silence, a steady, cold female voice with a unique rhythmic quality cut in:
"Regarding the losses here, the Fatui will be responsible for all repairs and compensation, and will pay double the business interruption compensation."
Everyone was startled and looked towards the source of the sound.
They saw a tall figure standing by the shattered door frame of the shop, having appeared without anyone noticing.
She was dressed in a black and red Attendant's Formal Attire, a snow-white cloak draped over her shoulders. Her ash-blond short hair was meticulously combed, and her blood-red pupils, like crystallized ice, calmly swept over everyone present.
Her presence was not ostentatious, yet it carried an invisible authority that made people instinctively hold their breath.
The Fatui Harbinger, Fourth Seat—the knave, Arlecchino.
Lilith's crying stopped abruptly, as if she had been choked.
Compensation?
Then everything is fine!
Lyney and Lynette tensed up and bowed their heads in salute: "Father."
Arlecchino's gaze first fell upon Lyney. Her eyes were profound, showing no emotion, but those who knew her could sense her silent disappointment.
"Lyney,"
Arlecchino's voice was calm and steady, yet every word was clear: "Explain your reason for being here."
Lyney took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady: "Father, I observed the 'fontaines strongest' leaving the Opera Epiclese, and believed it was a prime opportunity to gather intelligence. I wanted to help alleviate your concerns and obtain more information about this suddenly appearing powerhouse."
"Alleviate my concerns?"
"Your so-called 'alleviating my concerns' means bringing Lynette along, trailing a powerhouse—one whom even I am wary of—like a clumsy amateur detective, and then almost collapsing under the aura he unconsciously leaked?"
Arlecchino took a step forward, her blood-red eyes fixed on Lyney: "The magic you pride yourself on is like a child's trick before him. Your supposedly concealed tracking was nothing more than a boring pantomime to him."
"What disappoints me even more is that you placed Lynette in such an uncontrollable danger."
"As an older brother, your primary duty is to protect your sister, not to take her on an adventure with you, to prove your own worth, or to satisfy your insignificant pride."
"Missing intelligence can be compensated for, and flaws in plans can be adjusted, but the safety of family is an absolute, non-negotiable bottom line!"
"Lyney, your actions these past few days have been astonishingly childish. Not only did your actions fail to obtain valuable intelligence, but they completely exposed yourself, adding variables to my many arrangements in Fontaine."
"Now, I even have to personally step forward to handle the aftermath of the consequences you caused. Is this what you call 'help'?"
Every one of Arlecchino's words was like a sharp blade, stabbing fiercely into Lyney's heart.
Lyney's face was pale, and his lips were tightly pressed together.
He wanted to defend himself, to say he was doing it for the Fatui, for the House of the Hearth, but in the face of these undeniable facts, his explanations seemed weak and futile. Especially the point about "placing Lynette in danger," which filled Lyney with deep regret.
Lynette wanted to speak up and defend his brother, but Arlecchino's glare made him swallow his words—
Because that gaze contained reproach, but even more so, fear and relief.
Arlecchino stopped reprimanding Lyney and turned her attention to the orange-haired youth who had been unusually silent since earlier.
Tartaglia lowered his head. His usual flamboyant battle spirit and smile were gone, replaced by a near-deathly calm. Only his fists, clenched until his knuckles were white, revealed the turmoil raging within him.
Arlecchino frowned slightly: "Especially you, Tartaglia."
"Your impulsiveness almost disrupted all the arrangements I made in Fontaine."
"Do you know how many concessions and promises Snezhnaya had to make to the Iudex just so your current 'vacation' trip to Fontaine wouldn't escalate into a new diplomatic catastrophe?"
Tartaglia lowered his head, clenching his fists.
If it were usual, given his rebellious nature, upon hearing such a reprimand, he would have long since been unable to suppress his anger and would have retorted, pushing back with a brilliant smile and fervent battle spirit—or even directly attacking!
Even if the opponent was the Fourth Seat!
As for the difference in Harbinger seating?
When had he ever cared about such things?
Tartaglia only ever cared about clashing with the strong, not the hierarchy of seating. This fact was known throughout the Fatui!
Arlecchino thought Tartaglia would get angry.
But Tartaglia did not.
He slowly raised his head. His cerulean eyes, which usually burned with fire, were now somewhat dim.
Tartaglia did not look at Arlecchino. His thoughts were still fixed on King's vanishing, solitary figure, and on his own crushing defeat where all his attacks were effortlessly crushed by two fingers.
That man nullified all his attacks using only two fingers. He hadn't even moved his feet, nor had his breathing been disturbed.
That kind of overwhelming disparity could no longer be described merely as "vast difference in strength."
It was... a difference in dimension.
Like a human trying to cut down a mountain with a sword, or an ant attempting to shake a great tree.
Tartaglia remained silent for a few seconds. Then, facing Arlecchino, facing his family, and facing himself, he bowed deeply, lowering his head.