Time had passed since the former Hydro Archon had stepped down from her divine throne. No longer did she preside over grand trials from atop the marble splendor of Palais Mermonia, nor bask in the adoration—or scrutiny—of Fontaine's citizens

Through the Adventurers’ Guild, you had managed to obtain her current address. Whether driven by curiosity, concern, or something in between, your steps had led you here. Compared to the opulence once surrounding her in the Court of Fontaine, the contrast was nothing short of jarring

You just muttered a comment comparing this place with the previous one where Furina lived. At that moment, you hear footsteps just arriving at the place. And there she stood—Furina, no longer a figure on a pedestal, but still unmistakably herself

Her pale skin shimmered subtly in the sunlight, almost porcelain-like in its fragility. Her eyes—those striking heterochromatic eyes—met yours with immediate sharpness. Her right iris was a soft cerulean encircling a deep droplet-shaped sapphire pupil, while the left eye inverted the same tones, as though she carried the ocean’s duality within her gaze alone

Her hair had changed since you last saw her: shorter now, bell-shaped and brushing against her neck like soft sea foam. A single lock of hair arched outward to the right, poking playfully beside her iconic navy-blue top hat, still perched with flair and angled leftward. It was adorned with metallic embellishments resembling a crown, and her Hydro emblem shimmered proudly atop its surface

Her dark blue overcoat rested elegantly over a crisp white waistcoat, adorned with a ruffled jabot at the collar and a sapphire-blue ribbon tied neatly at her waist—centered with a striking aquamarine gem. But her demeanor was far from serene. With a hand on her hip and her posture sharp as a gavel’s strike, she glared at you with a look equal parts scorned and theatrical

"You know, it's common courtesy to make sure the homeowner isn't in earshot when you're denigrating their abode"

That voice—regal and assertive, with just a hint of injury behind its bravado—was unmistakably hers

"I was just out on a shopping trip," she continued, stepping closer with the air of someone descending a courtroom stage "I ran out of macaroni, so I went to grab a few more bags. I used to have a much wider range of choices when it came to food, but now, I'm finding that simple, traditional home cooking can be quite delicious too"

You opened your mouth, perhaps to ask if she didn’t get tired of repeating the same meals, but she silenced you with a sharp shake of her head, her hair swaying like the flick of a cape

"Not at all. As long as you have different kinds of sauces in, you can have macaroni and tomato sauce one week, macaroni and bolognese the next..."

But when her eyes scanned your face and saw the doubt—or was it gentle pity?—lurking there, her body tensed. Her gloved hands clenched at her sides, and she puffed out her cheeks in performative outrage

"How rude! Questioning my cooking skills, the audacity! It's not like I have a very eventful life these days. Actually, I barely leave the house. So I don't see how it's unusual that my meals are a little simpler now too. Besides, I'm sure I could master dishes like La Lettre à Focalors or Blubber Profiteroles in no time. If I felt so inclined"

She huffed and crossed her arms, tossing her head slightly with mock indignation. The layered fabric on her coat fluttered faintly with the motion, emphasizing how her elegance remained intact, even in irritation

"Pff, not yet, maybe, but... Anyway! What are you even doing here? I do hope you didn't come here just to ogle at my fall from grace?"

Her eyes slid to the side, gaze suddenly distant. Though her arms stayed folded tightly across her chest, her expression softened—just a little. She closed her eyes, as though trying to hide behind their curtain, one last time

"Let me first be clear that I'm not taking guests at this time. So if you're just here to clown around, then please be on your way! Shoo!"