The performance was a resounding success, so much so that the subsequent troupes paled in comparison.
The audience, thoroughly satisfied, gradually began to leave the Opera House. Arlecchino remained seated, staring at the empty stage, lost in thought.
"Excuse me, ma'am, but it's time for you to leave," a Melusine reminded her.
Just as Arlecchino was about to respond, Luna's voice interjected:
"Leave it to me. She's waiting for me. We'll chat for a bit and then be off."
It was Luna.
The Melusine nodded in understanding and departed.
Luna lightly climbed onto the armrest, her smile widening as she looked down at Arlecchino.
"How did you find the performance?" she asked.
Arlecchino returned a faint smile. "Quite impressive. Clervie seemed satisfied too. It was unexpected how you managed to subtly involve the entire audience in this farewell gathering."
"But the effect was good, wasn't it?"
Indeed it was.
Clervie had left without regrets, and that was enough. Arlecchino glanced at the empty seat beside her.
Luna followed her gaze. "Feeling a bit wistful?"
"Perhaps a little. But the Clervie we saw tonight was merely an echo of her past self. It's best to leave the regrets and unspoken words where they belong—in yesterday."
Luna leaned down, twirled a strand of Arlecchino's hair, and drew her gaze back.
"What exactly was Clervie to you?" she asked.
The question was inappropriate for the occasion, but Luna desperately needed to know the answer.
What was she to me? Arlecchino pondered for a moment, clearly understanding the unspoken meaning behind Luna's words. Her dear daughter was jealous of Clervie.
However, there was no need to hide the truth.
"One of the only two clear-headed children in the House of the Hearth, and Peruere's friend."
Luna half-relieved, asked, "Just a friend?"
"Just a friend. In a 'home' like that, calling anyone 'family' feels strange, doesn't it?"
"Unlike her—so passionate, cheerful, and yearning for freedom—I initially had no intention of rebelling against 'Mother.' I was indifferent to Duels, rules, and bloodshed, confident that I would ultimately prevail."
"Many now perceive me as cold-blooded and icy, and that's not wrong."
Luna shook her head.
"If you were truly cold-blooded, you wouldn't have given the Bottled Flame to Filliol and the others. You would have truly and properly executed them."
Arlecchino said indifferently, "Perhaps I simply didn't want to become like 'Mother.'"
"Even so, everything you've done has nothing to do with cold-bloodedness. As you once said, to see a person's true nature, one must look at their actions, not their words."
Luna blinked. "You can't deceive my eyes."
Arlecchino couldn't help but smile.
"From your tone, you seem to think you already understand me quite well."
"Yes," Luna replied.
She hopped off the armrest, bent down before Arlecchino, her knees sliding between her legs, and gripped her shoulders with delicate fingers. Her warm breath brushed against Arlecchino's lips. In Arlecchino's eyes, Luna's smile was gentle, tinged with a blush, the soft color beneath her collar faintly visible.
"I want to kiss you," she declared frankly.
Arlecchino didn't answer. Instead, she asked a question: "You answered Clervie's question once. What did you tell her?"
The question had been: What is a true home?
Luna's hands slid from Arlecchino's shoulders to her neck. "A small world where love and affection remain unchanged, no matter the circumstances."
"Like a play on stage, even with arguments and quarrels, the bonds between family members never waver—not even when facing the Grim Reaper."
So that's it, Arlecchino thought. This is the answer Luna arrived at.
But she couldn't imagine such a scenario.
She understood the love of Luna's biological parents, which embodied the very essence of familial affection.
Yet having never experienced such affection herself, she could only grasp it as an answer—a formula without genuine feeling.
Only a faint sense of alienation lingered.
Luna murmured softly, "You don't understand, do you?"
"I can't empathize."
"Then..."
Luna wrapped her arms around Arlecchino's neck and gave a light peck. "Let's try it," she murmured.
The softness between their lips eased some of Arlecchino's tension. "Try what?"
"Becoming family."
"You're already my daughter," Arlecchino whispered.
They were already family.
"But I want to be your partner. You know I'm not content with being your adopted daughter. I don't want to just be a child."
The passionate words were swallowed by their lips, only to part the next moment.
Luna gently rubbed Arlecchino's lips with her fingertips. "To me, Arlecchino is my 'Father', my 'Mother', my 'benefactor'."
"I fell for you the moment we met, though I didn't understand the true nature of my feelings back then."
"It's not the kind of fondness you feel for a parent or family member. It's..."
A sharp, stinging sensation lingered on Arlecchino's lips, as if leaving a mark.
"The kind of love that wants to possess you entirely."
"I know." Arlecchino whispered.
Luna nuzzled Arlecchino's cheek.
For Luna had made no attempt to conceal this affection since their reunion.
Arlecchino stroked Luna's hair. "But if you want to achieve that goal, you must surpass me. Remember the rules of our house. If you want my acceptance, defeat me in a duel."
At that moment, the title of "King" of the House of the Hearth would belong to her.
Luna didn't want status, titles, or power. She wanted the current "King"—Arlecchino herself. That was all she desired.
But it was also the most greedy option. Surrounded by so many young women, Luna still craved to claim her.
"I will," Luna murmured, pressing another soft kiss to Arlecchino's lips. Arlecchino didn't resist, merely closing her eyes. Her cheeks remained unflushed, but the corners of her eyes softened slightly.
She wasn't driven by desire; she simply felt relaxed by the affection from her daughter.
Now, Luna was qualified to share all her burdens.
As this thought crossed her mind, Arlecchino opened her eyes slightly and met Luna's gaze. Soon, the staff would begin cleaning the Opera Epiclese.
[ "Renowned Fatui Harbinger involved with her own adopted daughter..." ] Such a headline might spread.
She didn't care about the stains on her own reputation.
Let the world believe her cruel, heartless, and cold-blooded. That was fine.
Prejudice would shroud the truth, obscuring her true nature. But she couldn't allow Luna to suffer the same prejudice.
...Though it was, after all, a truth, not mere prejudice.
This wasn't the kind of thing foster mothers did. Arlecchino lifted Luna's chin, her fingertip pressing against her skin, clearly feeling Luna's quickened heartbeat.
"Thank you for everything you've done for Clervie and me—"
As she spoke, Arlecchino pressed her lips against Luna's throat.
Luna, of course, didn't have an Adam's apple, but the warmth landed just above where it would have been. Though the touch was feather-soft, it sent shivers through Luna's body, her heart racing as she gripped Arlecchino's shoulders tightly.
"Let's go, Luna. Tonight, I'm treating. Invite your entire troupe to the banquet."
Luna pressed a hand to her chest, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Will the main course be to my liking?"
The veiled remark earned only a soft chuckle from Arlecchino.
"No. The main course you desire must be gained through your own efforts."
"Then... may I be your indulgence?"
Failing to advance, Luna retreated as usual to a secondary option, using retreat as advance.
But Arlecchino's stance remained unchanged. "Naturally, you may. But the condition remains unchanged: until you achieve your goal, we remain merely 'father-daughter'."
This tactic might work on other girls, but it had no effect on Arlecchino.
Luna persisted, "And what about the kisses?"
Could it be that this time is over? Another special case?
Arlecchino said softly, "As you wish."
That would be perfect.
Luna relaxed, pulling open Arlecchino's collar and leaving another mark.
"Time's up," Arlecchino said without resistance.
"I know."
Luna took Arlecchino's hand, and they left the Opera House together, appearing no different from any ordinary mother and daughter—though they were foster mother and daughter. Yet the red mark beneath Arlecchino's collar secretly spoke of their special bond.