Charlotte took a deep breath before finishing her explanation.
"...So that's basically what happened."
She spoke carefully, half afraid that a single misplaced word might anger the man across from her.
But Idris merely listened with a mild expression, chin resting lightly on one hand.
According to her, it had all started during a regular trial session at the Opéra Épiclèse.
Neuvillette was presiding as usual; Furina sat high above, basking in the spotlight as Fontaine's radiant goddess of justice.
Then came the strange case—an ordinary missing person's report that, midway through the proceedings, twisted into something far more sinister.
A young woman had vanished near the plaza. The only trace left behind... was a small puddle of water.
Someone mentioned that puddle had hissed when it touched the cobblestones.
That was when Furina remembered something Idris had once said to her, months ago during a diplomatic conversation in Sumeru—
that there existed a kind of water in the mortal world, called aqua regia, capable of dissolving even gold and flesh if left unchecked.
So, half in curiosity and half in panic, she ordered an on-stage investigation to prove her theory and calm the audience.
The result, of course, was a disaster.
A guard who touched the water screamed as his arm began to melt before the entire theater.
Panic rippled through the audience. Someone cried out the ancient words of the Prophecy of Fontaine's Fall:
"When all the people of Fontaine dissolve into water, their sins shall be washed away."
The scene matched the prophecy too perfectly.
Furina, flustered but desperate, did the only thing she could think of—she took out one of the Bloodline Elixirs she had proudly brought back from Sumeru.
In front of everyone, she handed it to the wounded guard.
Moments later, his arm stopped dissolving.
And when he touched the tainted water again… nothing happened.
It was a miracle.
The entire opera house erupted in cheers and tears. People believed they had just witnessed the salvation of Fontaine.
Furina, overwhelmed by the reaction, tried to maintain her divine poise—but then, perhaps out of vanity or misplaced pride, she said aloud:
"This is the work of Grand Sage Idris of Sumeru—the alchemist whose wisdom can rival the gods."
And that was the spark.
Neuvillette realized instantly what would happen next, but it was already too late.
In a single night, the rumor spread like wildfire.
Crowds demanded the elixir. Merchants offered fortunes for even a single dose.
Even the Maison Gardiennage—Fontaine's own enforcers—could not suppress the panic.
Within two days, every port, every market, every district was in chaos.
Charlotte sighed. "Now even merchants and nobles are selling their homes just to buy a single pill. Some people are trying to travel all the way to Sumeru, hoping to become your disciples."
Nahida rubbed her temple. "They won't make it in time. Fontaine's prophecy… by my calculations, it will reach its climax within a year."
She looked out the window, her tone quiet but steady. "Even if they reach the Akademiya, it takes months of training just to learn basic alchemy. The Bloodline Elixir isn't something you can mass-produce overnight."
Charlotte nodded glumly. "That's what I feared."
She offered a small, wry smile. "Well, whatever happens next, I hope your visit helps calm things down. For what it's worth, I wish both of you—Grand Sage Idris and Princess Nahida—a smooth journey."
"Princess…" Nahida repeated under her breath, cheeks puffing in faint embarrassment.
As Charlotte stepped away to prepare her camera, Idris leaned back in his seat and let out a small chuckle.
Fontaine and Natlan, both set to face ruin in a year's time.
"Truly," he murmured, "a pair of doomed twins."
It reminded him how Liyue and Mondstadt had once carried their own arcs with such elegance.
Mondstadt—free and chaotic, where a wandering knight learned the meaning of freedom.
Liyue—disciplined and wise, where gods retired and mortals rose to rule.
Their stories were about growth and legacy.
But Fontaine? Natlan? They were about destruction and guilt.
They mock the hero, diminish his journey, and then expect players to remember four years of adventure with reverence.
Idris smirked to himself.
"What a joke."
He wasn't here to play hero. That was the Traveler's job.
He was a villain—a strategist, a ruler.
As long as Sumeru thrived, the rest of the world could burn and he would simply watch, amused.
That said, this particular chaos was far too lucrative to ignore.
If he was going to save Fontaine, it would be for profit—and for the system's rewards.
Charlotte's curiosity eventually got the better of her.
"Grand Sage," she asked carefully, "everyone calls you the ruler of Sumeru now… but is it true? You've actually become its king?"
"Yes," Idris replied casually. "Someone had to seize the throne. You can't reform a nation from a chair full of scholars."
He paused, then added with a faint smile, "Besides, driving a god off her throne was rather satisfying."
Charlotte blinked, unsure if he was joking. Then, inevitably, she asked the question that every gossip reporter in Teyvat seemed destined to ask him.
"So… if you're already a king—when will you choose your queen?"
Idris gave her a long, blank stare.
Then he sighed. "You journalists only know how to ask one question, don't you?"
Charlotte blinked, utterly confused.
Pink-haired confusion.jpg
Nahida quietly giggled behind her hand.
Meanwhile, across the glimmering waters of Fontaine…
The Opéra Épiclèse stood tall and radiant under the afternoon sun.
At the edge of its grand fountain, Chief Justice Neuvillette stood motionless, hands resting on his staff.
His expression was calm—but the air around him shimmered with restrained fury.
Beside him, Furina fidgeted nervously, beads of sweat forming on her brow.
"Neuvillette," she said softly, "please, calm down. The Grand Sage will be here any minute. You can't start a fight in front of the entire city."
He closed his eyes and took a long breath.
"I am calm," he said through his teeth. "But I will judge him fairly—depending on his attitude."
"If he shows genuine remorse, I will set aside our grievances… for now. We'll restore order first, then settle accounts later."
"R-right," Furina muttered, dabbing her forehead.
But deep down, she knew what kind of man Idris was.
A man who had dethroned gods, rebuilt nations, and smiled while doing it.
He was not the sort to bow his head to anyone.
If Neuvillette expected an apology… he was in for disappointment.
Not far from the opera house, in the shade of a balcony, three figures observed the scene from afar.
A tall woman in a black-and-red coat, the faint glint of a Fatui insignia at her collar, sat elegantly on a bench.
"Father," said the young magician Lynette softly, glancing toward the opera house, "are we really just going to watch?"
Lyney, ever the showman, smiled wryly beside her. "This could get interesting, sister."
The woman—Arlecchino, the Knave, Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers—crossed her legs and smirked.
"Of course we're watching. This is too good a show to miss."
Her eyes gleamed with amusement.
"After all… the one who humiliated the Doctor is finally coming to my stage."
She tilted her head, lips curving into a razor-sharp smile.
"Let's see how the Grand Sage of Sumeru handles the justice of Fontaine."
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