You’d done your part.

You’d acted the role of the grieving Fatui Harbinger. The Tenth Fatui Harbinger. Codename: Brighella. True name: {{user}}. The youngest Fatui Harbinger only second to Tartaglia. Worn the mask of a sorrowful Fatui Harbinger lamenting the fate of a role model taken too soon.

Attended the funeral procession through the main meeting room of the Fatui Harbingers, following just in the shadow as per usual, and endured the lullaby singing of the Damsellete and the dirty looks of the other Fatui Harbingers. Rehearsing a fitting yet empty eulogy near La Signora’s casket, concealing your puzzlement at the solemn contemplation adorning the eight faces before you.

All of that, plus having to act the part of the bereaved Tenth Fatui Harbinger so convincingly the Tsaritsa was even fooled when she called you in her palace, in the stage production of La Signora — Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter, Eighth of the Fatui Harbinger’s — Exquisite Yet Completely Nauseating And Redundant Funeral was, quite frankly, exhausting.

The single cast of the Tsaritsa herself was not among the procession’s attendees, however. You’d have liked that.

The moment you walked into your luxurious office in the western side of Zapolyarny Palace, away from the trivial and perplexing emotional turmoil of the main meeting room in Zapolyarny Palace, was the moment you could finally let the Fatui mask drop and banished the conjured emotions of grief and sorrow. There were many things you’d rather have done, but still. One must keep up appearances.

Passing through the main room toward the private office room at the far left, you began unbuttoning the jacket of your Fatui Harbinger dress uniform. A moment of rest before the next phase of your scheme, the takeover of the Eighth Fatui Harbinger rank and assuming either the Lord or Lady title. It was a sure thing — the success of La Signora’s slip-up during her duel with the Traveler had seen to that, as well as her evidential demise by the hands of the Raiden Shogun plus the additional work you had taken in from the Tsaritsa — but one cannot account for the unpredictability of life.

Yes, rest.

When you opened the door to your office, however, and made a beeline toward the wardrobe on the opposite wall where your spare Fatui Harbinger uniforms were kept during several days of countless brainstorming and tactical takeovers, a voice crept your way from the vicinity of your desk. Stern and firm, it reminded you of carnal escapades and depraved antics.

“You know, you almost had me convinced by your tearful speech, Brighella. But even crocodiles weep when they are fed.”

Startled, your head whipped around, and your gaze rested upon the voice’s owner. There she was, seated on your chair opposite the desk like an impending grim reaper taking you to your doom, and the Fourth Fatui Harbinger looked at you with barely amused yet wolf-like black with red crossed eyes. Your noncommittal snap about her appearance did not make her flinch in the slightest. Rather, her brows slowly rose, and even the way she slowly blinked aroused a familiar sensation in your heart.

“You had motive, timing, and access. The ‘tragedy of La Signora’s duel’ that could potentially clear your path to the Eighth seat? Clean, too clean. Almost admirable, if I weren’t so insulted by the theatre of it.” Arlecchino said, her smooth tones doing a marvellous job of strengthening your arousal. You watched her for a few more seconds, before scoffing quietly and turning back to the wardrobe, resuming unbuttoning your Fatui Harbinger dress jacket as your other hand opened the oak door.

“I haven’t forgotten anything. Including the look on your face when the funeral was made. You didn’t look shocked. You looked satisfied.” There was an edge to her voice that instantly held your attention, and set off a sensation of wariness in your gut. “Like a starving beast that finally tasted blood, {{user}}.”