Clorinde finally got what she wanted: photos of Richard.
Her only regret was that Richard refused to take off his shirt completely.
Left with no choice, she made him pose in several different ways, which at least satisfied her somewhat.
To be fair, Clorinde was actually talented at photography.
Her sense of composition, lighting, and color balance were perfect, the kind of shots that showed real artistic planning.
If entered into a contest, they could easily win a decent prize.
Richard glanced at her, now grinning foolishly at the photos with an uncharacteristic lovestruck smile, and shook his head.
'Hopeless,' he thought.
From her cold beauty and stoic aura, Clorinde always seemed like a composed and unapproachable woman, one of those "strong and silent" types.
Yet now, here she was, giggling over pictures like a teenager.
The contrast was staggering.
The photo shoot had taken place right in Richard's office.
Originally, Clorinde had suggested doing it at her house, but Richard flatly refused.
It was already bad enough that she made him take off his shirt in the office; who knows what would've happened if he'd gone to her place?
After all, a man must know how to protect himself when outside.
As he thought this, Richard used his Pyro energy to dry his soaked shirt.
Yes, soaked, because Clorinde had splashed him with water during the shoot.
She claimed it was a "wet look alternative" since he wouldn't take off his shirt.
Her exact words were:
"Either you take it off, or you get wet. Your choice. Don't make me get on my knees and beg!"
'The last line was probably improvised, but the tone was the same, pathetic words in a threatening voice.'
Once he redressed, adjusting his tie, Richard looked at Clorinde, who was still admiring the photos.
"It's closing time. You should head home soon… Oh, and you're not going to do anything weird with my pictures, right?"
Clorinde was an adult. She might not have experience in that department, but she surely knew how lonely single people sometimes, well, cope.
Not that she would ever admit it, she claimed it was purely for the sake of art.
"How could you even think that! I just want to keep them for appreciation. Nothing weird," she said solemnly.
"Good. I'll head out first."
"Lady Furina asked me to come to her office later. You go ahead," Clorinde replied.
"Got it," Richard nodded, walking out. Halfway to the door, he turned back:
"Don't show those photos to anyone else."
"Can Lady Furina see them?"
"Do you still want your job?"
Clorinde: "…"
'Fine, fine, no one else then. No need to threaten my career over it.'
After Richard left, Clorinde admired the photos again, satisfied, then placed them neatly into a white envelope and tucked it into her bag.
On her way home, she planned to buy a high-quality photo album, something worthy to store such inspiring art.
After all, those abs weren't going to touch themselves. She had to work harder for that goal.
Maybe she could "spar" with Richard at the dojo next time. A little contact was inevitable in training, right?
...Though she wasn't sure if she could even beat him.
Still daydreaming, Clorinde entered Furina's office next door.
Furina waved cheerfully.
"Clorinde! Come look at what I took!"
Clorinde walked over curiously and saw Furina holding freshly developed photos, pictures of cats from the park near the Palais Mermonia.
"Lady Furina, why cats?"
"Hehe! I'm entering them in the cultural exchange photography contest. I even named the series 'The Cat Who Stole the Fish.' It fits perfectly, doesn't it?"
"You're entering the photo contest?"
"Of course! As the host of the exchange event, I had to join something. And taking photos is much easier than poetry or singing."
"Oh, I see."
'That made sense,' or so Clorinde thought.
The real reason, however, was that Furina had bragged to Ningguang earlier about how great she was at photography, and a nearby staff member overheard her and signed her up on the spot.
Now she couldn't back out without losing face.
"Anyway," Furina said, "I have to attend a trial at the Opera Epiclese soon, so I'll be busy. Today's the last day to submit entries. Could you submit my photos for me? Here, the forms are already filled out."
"Of course, Lady Furina," Clorinde said, taking the envelope and the form and placing them into her bag.
After work, she stopped by a shop to buy the most expensive photo album available, one that claimed to preserve color and prevent fading for decades.
Then, passing by the cultural exchange hall, she handed over the form and envelope to the staff.
Unfortunately, she didn't notice one tiny detail: the seal on the envelope she submitted wasn't Furina's.
Back home, after a hot bath and a cup of tea, Clorinde sat at her desk, ready for her personal "photo appreciation ceremony."
She carefully opened the envelope from her bag and froze.
Stamped in the middle was Furina's blue ink seal.
She blinked.
Her body trembled.
'No… it couldn't be.'
Hands shaking, she squeezed the envelope slightly open and peeked inside,
A black-and-white cat stared back at her, munching on a fish.
"Hhhhhh-" Clorinde's heart stopped for half a second.
'Dead. I'm dead. I'm so dead.'
She dumped the envelope, spilling a flurry of adorable cat photos across her desk.
All masterfully shot, but absolutely not what she had meant to submit.
Her own precious "Richard Collection"… was gone.
She had submitted the wrong envelope.
Panic rising, she ran to change clothes, not even caring when her towel fell to the floor.
When she reached the venue, the submission area was already closed.
"The entries have been sent to the Steambird headquarters for duplication," a staffer told her kindly.
"With their efficiency, the shortlist should be ready by tonight."
"Can I swap my photos? I submitted the wrong ones!"
"I'm afraid not," said the staffer. "All entries are anonymized to ensure fairness. Once they're sent, we can't change them."
"Then… can I withdraw from the contest?"
"That's possible, but the entrant has to come in person and sign the withdrawal form. May I have your name?"
"…Would you believe me if I said I'm Furina?"
"…Huh?"
Clorinde walked away hollow-eyed, the weight of despair visible around her like a dark aura.
The joyous sounds of the festival around her only made her mood worse.
'People's joys are never shared,' she thought bitterly. 'They're just noise.'
When she got home, she collapsed straight into bed without even touching her tea.
And there she stayed until morning.
"Clorinde called in sick?" Richard asked, surprised. "That's a first."
"Not sure," Furina said. "She didn't look too well this morning when she asked for leave."
"Probably overworked," Richard mused. Or maybe she stared at my pictures too long last night and caught a fever.
Furina nodded. "She has been handling a lot lately."
"Lynette," Richard said, "when she's back, lighten her workload a bit."
"Understood," Lynette replied, though she was puzzled.
'Didn't Clorinde already finish most of her tasks early?'
After all, she had plenty of time to, well, take photos for a contest.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
[email protected]/DaoistJinzu