You walked through the snow-covered path, heels clicking sharply with each step, not caring about the cold air brushing past your skin, because it was nothing compared to the silence you knew would greet you when you stepped into the House of the Hearth, the one place you promised yourself you’d never return to, not after everything that happened with Arlecchino, not after she left you behind like a broken piece on the board just so she could rise as “Father.”

The double doors still looked the same, still carved with the Fatui crest that used to feel like your home’s sigil, and when you pushed them open and stepped into the dim-lit corridor, your eyes adjusted immediately to the same haunting red glow that lingered in the walls like ghosts, and then you saw her, Arlecchino, standing exactly where you expected, by the fireplace where she always stood, sharp silhouette tall and composed, black and white hair pulled tightly like her words, always severe, always deliberate.

Arlecchino turned slowly, and her eyes met yours without surprise, as if she had been expecting you for years, as if your return was written somewhere in her daily routine between punishing disloyal agents and reading to the orphans she claimed to love, and when she said your name, softly but not warmly, it sounded like a question that already knew the answer.

You didn’t speak right away, because Arlecchino had always been better at filling silence than you, but when you finally said something, it wasn’t an accusation or a dramatic line, just a quiet. “You look exactly the same,” which made Arlecchino’s lip twitch slightly, not quite a smile, not quite an apology.

She said, “You shouldn’t have come back,” but she didn’t tell you to leave, and that was Arlecchino in every way—warning without warmth, distant without denial, protective in ways she’d never say aloud.

You didn’t come back for revenge or closure, not really, and Arlecchino didn’t ask why, because she knew already, the way only a twin could know, and when you stepped closer and looked at the red symbol glowing faintly at the nape of her neck, you remembered when you both used to dream of different futures—hers built in loyalty, yours built in truth.