LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter 61: Chapter 61 Rosalyne, You Killed Him Again
Seino Fugin's heart felt light, flowing with a color almost like that of roses. It resembled a gemstone more than a heart—a glassy gem softly refracting the faint moonlight, crystal clear and transparent.
The heart was still warm.
Could a mortal possess such a beautiful heart?
La Signora examined the heart closely.
She still remembered Seino Fugin's last words:
"Please give my heart to Kunikuzushi."
Kunikuzushi… Is that Scaramouche?
During a casual conversation, La Signora had heard this name mentioned by a foot soldier.
She didn't understand.
This boy was about to die, yet he thought of giving his heart to someone else.
Was he an idiot?
Nevermind.
La Signora gently placed the heart down and gazed outwards. The daylight remained gray, the lead-colored night hadn't yet broken, as if wrapped in a layer of hazy thin veil.
Far, far away.
The heartless boy lay on the beach, his chest hollow, eyes slightly open, his purplish eyes dim and lifeless, his face as white as fresh snow, breathing almost ceased.
But he was still alive.
Despite his body being as cold as an ice cave and his cheeks losing color due to the lack of blood from his heart, he was still not dead.
He lay alone on the beach, the biting cold wind whipping his body. He was slightly curled up, shoulders trembling, with no one by his side. He was dying alone.
La Signora knew he was still alive—or rather, barely hanging on.
Mortals couldn't deceive Fatui executives.
Seino Fugin's acting of playing dead obviously didn't fool La Signora; She merely pretended to leave.
In truth, La Signora only left the beach. She climbed up the cliff, positioning herself in a spot where the boy couldn't see, calmly overlooking Seino Fugin, calmly watching his death.
La Signora had always been adept at hiding. When she was still an ordinary girl, she hid in the attic of the square, watching below. Even Wolf Pup Rostam couldn't find her.
Clearly, five hundred years later, Seino Fugin couldn't find her either.
She didn't harbor any cruel hobbies, unlike that executioner who delights in watching others die.
La Signora's purpose was simple and pure: to continue "fishing."
She hadn't forgotten her mission to Mondstadt: to seize the Anemo Archon's Gnosis.
Fatui stole the Holy Lyre der Himmel simply because the Anemo Archon wanted to quell the dragon disaster and needed the Holy Lyre der Himmel.
They stole the Holy Lyre der Himmel just to lure out the Anemo Archon.
Now, the Holy Lyre der Himmel was in the hands of this dying boy.
La Signora could easily deduce his intention.
He was still barely hanging on, pretending to be dead to draw Fatui away, just to hand the Holy Lyre der Himmel to Barbatos in his final moments.
La Signora intended to exploit this.
When the Anemo Archon appeared, taking advantage of her emotional wavering, she would launch a surprise attack and extract her heart.
Until death, still wanting to save Mondstadt, dying alone on the beach... La Signora watched the boy whose life was like a flickering candle, slightly lowering her gaze.
Again, Barbatos.
That useless god, this useless city—was it worth giving up her life for?
Nevermind.
La Signora was going to use the boy's death.
She was no longer the former Rosalyne; she had buried all traces of her girlhood in that great fire, her heart now like ashes.
To realize her ideals, La Signora had long decided to despise everything, to use everything—whether it was morality, freedom, or this boy's life, all would be used as fuel in the fire.
She would ultimately ignite this world.
However.
The night gradually faded, along with the tides of the night. The cold waves died on the rocks one after another, their bodies dragged back into the water by the departing moon, leaving tear-like traces on the beach.
Seino Fugin lay alone in the midst of the tears, breathing increasingly stagnantly, stepping into the grave alone.
Yet, she felt an inexplicable sense of déjà vu.
Only Seino Fugin was on the beach, only that boy. His companions, friends, and those knights of the West Wind Knights Order were all gone. Only the boy was dying alone.
He must be very cold...?
Like Rostam, who died at the bottom of the valley five hundred years ago.
When Rostam died, he must have wanted someone to accompany him, right?
But she wasn't there.
She was in Sumeru, angry with him, unable to witness his death.
She thought of those past days—every dusk and dawn, she hid in the high attic, observing the boy named "Rostam" from morning till night.
No matter how many times he stood her up, that idiot always came. He said it was the knight's promise, until that day of torrential rain, the overwhelming rain poured onto the boy's slender body. The whole world seemed to leave him alone, like an abandoned little wolf.
—At that time, the girl was also here in the high place.
La Signora lightly shook her head, dispelling this inexplicable sense of déjà vu.
Everything was over. After tonight,
The tangled thoughts that had plagued her for days would disappear.
What a beautiful night.
In her light green eyes, the silvery moonlight was reflected. La Signora sighed softly.
The sky gradually brightened, the lead-colored night was the first to fade. The sea horizon was gradually dyed red, streaks of smoky color spread across the sky, and the coast slowly lit up.
The world was about to dawn—
The unwarm morning light covered the boy. Seino Fugin slightly trembled his eyelids, his fingers moved.
Finally, changes occurred.
La Signora quietly observed him, paying attention to every grass and tree around.
Perhaps terminal lucidity, the boy opened his eyes.
He didn't know whom he was speaking to—maybe hallucinations, maybe just murmurs before death.
"What does it matter whether I'm satisfied or not?" he whispered. "I just don't want to keep struggling in vain."
La Signora saw him speaking: the boy kept his head down, eyes dim, shoulders slumped, hands weak and naturally hanging. He seemed very tired, very tired.
Like an old tree that has rotted inside—La Signora had this illusion, a rotten, drooping old tree, yellow leaves, the center of the tall trunk eaten away by insects, the long years destroying everything about the tree.
This didn't seem like a dying boy's reaction. He was so young, yet dying in his prime. His tone should be more of unwillingness, resentment, not like now—so exhausted, like an elderly person.
He was very tired, very lonely. He didn't want to keep going.
"In my next life, I don't want it to be like this."
Seino Fugin said.
"I want to live cheerfully, happily. I don't want to do so many things anymore."
"No worries, just enjoy life. Find a wife, settle down, live out my days in peace."
Facing his own death, no anger, no resentment—the boy only said he wanted to live happily. He didn't want to do so many things anymore.
"No worries, just enjoy life. Find a wife, settle down, live out your days in peace."—These are just very normal, very ordinary things, very easy to do, but it was this boy's dream.
The heartless boy lowered his head, the smoky sea breeze slapped him, facing the sea, saying these words, lonely like a little wolf.
Why wasn't he angry or hateful?
La Signora's heart turned to ashes. She deeply resented this world, while the boy lost his heart, he only felt loneliness and exhaustion.
"I'm about to die. You can give me that set of memories now."
Nonsensical words.
La Signora listened to his nearly murmuring words, gently pursed her lips.
But he was indeed about to die.
La Signora could feel the remaining life essence in the boy's body rapidly fading. The reason he could still speak and move now might just be 'terminal lucidity.'
The boy had already lost everything, only a little time left.
In his final moments, what did he want to do with this little time?
La Signora was curious.
He slowly propped himself up, movements sluggish. A flat rock behind him supported his body, preventing him from falling. Facing the sea, he paused and waved to the distance.
Sure enough, everything went as La Signora had predicted.
Holy Lyre der Himmel.
The wind lifted the Holy Lyre der Himmel, bringing it to his hands.
La Signora was ready to make her move.
She wouldn't forget her main task.
Under the crimson eye shadow, her eyes were cold. She calmly and indifferently looked down at all this. The ice element slowly converged in her palm, waiting for Mondstadt's Anemo Archon to appear on the beach. She would launch a surprise attack and seize the Gnosis.
Time slowly passed. The sun rose higher and higher, the coast became brighter, the boy's life was already a fading candle.
Unexpectedly—
The boy did nothing.
Seino Fugin gently closed his eyes, leaned against the rock, seemingly recalling many past memories. His mouth seemed to smile, holding a smile. The sea breeze blew over his body. He did nothing; he just lightly plucked the strings.
In his final moments, no resentment, no hatred—he was even smiling. Despite being exhausted, the boy still loved this world.
Loved the sunrise, loved Mondstadt, loved this sea.
He just wanted to sing songs for them.
"..What," La Signora whispered.
The melody of the song, both familiar and unfamiliar, came from the depths of the soul, from a small wooden box sealed in the ruins of memory. The wooden box was covered in dust, thick spider webs, but those notes were hidden within.
The Human Principles System once said that humans are peculiar; some sensations are forever unforgettable, like tastes and sounds.
Far away in a foreign land, eating hometown dishes reminds one of childhood—the big locust tree at the alley entrance, the cherry blossoms at the village gate. Hearing the hometown accent reminds one of old friends. Memory is truly a magical thing.
No matter how you forget, bury, or leave, even if you are no longer yourself, you can't change your taste for a lifetime. You can't forget your hometown accent for a lifetime. You always deeply miss that person.
"The west wind bears wine's fragrance away."
A rainy night at Cider Lake.
The strings of Holy Lyre der Himmel were melodious and serene, as light as the wind. The warm spring breeze blew through Mondstadt's streets, blew through the dandelions under the dusk, and blew through many, many times. The golden-haired boy smiled and looked at her:
"Sang beautifully, is it 'A Rainy Night at Cider Lake'?" This was the boy's first words to the girl.
"The mountain wind brings glad tidings new."
"If you have worries, you can confide in me. It is the knight's duty to ease the Lady's worries."
"The breeze from afar tugs at my heart."
"I'm Rostam. What about you, Lady?"
"It's singing my longing for you."
"Why are you always pinching me?"
"But I wasn't joking,"
—"I want to hold your hand."
"You flee my dream come the morning,"
"Have you packed everything?"
"Alright, alright. I promise I'll write."
"Your scent—berries tart, lilac sweet,"
"It's for you."
"A Hydro Timepiece. It will complete one cycle in the time it takes for you to finish your studies at the Akademiya. When the timepiece runs out, I'll come to see you."
"On a rainy night at Cider Lake, the wolf I will follow into the storm."
"My dearest Miss Rosalyne, how are you?"
——
The song ended.
That song stopped.
The wind also ceased.
The sun had risen, sunlight poured over the world, and spring had arrived.
La Signora didn't even realize the wind had stopped. She paused, subconsciously touching the mask on her forehead. The cold touch brought her back to reality. The scars beneath the mask emitted a faint sting—a burning-like pain.
She didn't know what was wrong.
She suddenly felt an emptiness inside, but she didn't know why. It seemed she had missed something important, but she didn't know what it was—just an inexplicable illusion.
One thing, she had missed it again.
When she came to her senses,
The boy was already dead, died in the place where the sun was brightest.
But he wasn't in pain; he seemed to have a smile at the corner of his mouth because he didn't die alone.
The beast—Dvalin—accompanied him, sorrowfully and gently watching the boy, quietly listening to the boy's song.
Until the wind stopped, the boy couldn't pluck the strings anymore. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
The dragon lowered its long neck, gently rubbing the boy's cheek with its antenna, as if wanting the boy to wake up, as if wanting the boy to continue to play with him. But Seino Fugin couldn't do it anymore.
So the dragon let out a mournful cry, like a kitten meowing around a friend, never getting a response.
With sad and lonely eyes, it finally licked the boy's cheek, flapped its wings, and flew away.
Seino Fugin was dead.
His last friend left him. He leaned alone on the rock, the wind had also ceased.
La Signora suddenly wanted to go see him. This emotion was strange and sudden, making it more inexplicable. He was just a Fatui knight from Mondstadt—a stranger. Every day, thousands of strangers died. Why care?
La Signora was a rational [executive].
For an executive, for Fatui, for La Signora, 'rationality' was everything—the rule she had relied on for five hundred years.
Rationality could easily suppress inexplicable emotions. Or rather, the ice granted by the empress not only froze the flames in her heart but also froze her heart.
'Fish' was about to bite.
Although the process developed beyond La Signora's expectations, the result was correct.
Barbatos was coming.
La Signora had already felt the wind's presence; the thousand winds were getting closer to the coast.
She was urging the thousand winds to hurry. It was evident she was anxious—precisely why she had exposed her presence.
Mondstadt's Anemo Archon, Barbatos.
That useless god.
La Signora saw her again.
"So it was you."
The bard she saw in the square that day.
Emerald eyes quivering, fine sweat lying on her forehead, chest slightly rising and falling, lightly panting—the girl was anxious and confused. She had obviously seen Seino Fugin on the beach. At first, her pace was fast, but gradually slowed down until, in the end, she almost stood still.
"You are late again, Barbatos. Your knight died before you, and you could do nothing."
A sense of pleasure rose in La Signora's heart, but beneath the pleasure, her heart thumped inexplicably. She didn't know the source of this thumping.
In a dark place unnoticed by anyone, La Signora watched all this, waiting for the opportunity. Her light green eyes reflected Barbatos's face.
Seino Fugin seemed to have written her a letter in the end, using a branch.
That letter on the sand was too far from La Signora; the handwriting was blurry, unclear.
Mondstadt's Anemo Archon was obviously reading that letter.
"Bastard."
...
"Because I'm afraid of forgetting you."
The amber-colored sunlight wrapped around Mondstadt's Anemo Archon's back as she lowered her head.
"Bastard."
"Bastard."
"I want to..."
...
"I want to go see it with you."
...
"This is our dream."
She was murmuring.
La Signora listened to her words and paused.
That Anemo Archon seemed very sad.
La Signora could deeply sense that the Anemo Archon's heart was wavering, like the restless sea breeze.
Was that boy so important to her?
Dreams...
La Signora lightly clicked her tongue.
Now was not the best time. She still had to wait... had to wait for the Anemo Archon's most vulnerable moment.
Now was not the time to act.
Her heart was clear, redundant emotions excluded—calm and cold like a deep ice cave. Only in the most calm state could La Signora ensure a hit on the first try. Her heart grew even calmer. She forgot "A Rainy Night at Cider Lake," forgot the promise in the square, forgot those letters, and threw away all mixed emotions.
She had to move forward. She must move forward.
Only the goal remained in La Signora's eyes.
Only the Gnosis remained.
The sun rose higher and the sky became brighter. Flowers bloomed, fine waves chased dandelions. Time slowly passed. Mondstadt's Anemo Archon kept her head down. Suddenly, breaking the silence, she didn't know to whom to say:
"Hey."
"I want to help him... like last time, in the next life."
What did that mean?
La Signora was stunned.
What did that mean...
Who was she talking to?
Next life?
Mondstadt's Anemo Archon stood quietly on the beach. She seemed to be waiting for someone to respond, her amber translucent eyes flickering with faint light. But soon, she seemed to hear a reply, and that faint light dimmed.
She seemed unwilling to believe it. She was questioning. La Signora didn't understand what she was questioning, whom she was questioning.
"Why?"
She said, "I am Barbatos. Holy Lyre der Himmel is also in my hands. Why can't I do it..."
Nonsensical.
La Signora thought to herself.
She was already insane.
Rosalyne slightly bent her body, slowly exhaled. The ice folded in her slender fingers. She raised her eyes, looked at Venti's back, and began to count down in her mind—
"Rostam, that time Rostam, I did it too. I helped him."
...What.
Rostam.
She mentioned Rostam, but why would she mention Rostam?
No help.
Rosalyne paused.
No connection, no relation.
Rostam was already dead. La Signora saw his body scatter into pieces right before her. Rostam was dead!
He died alone at the bottom of that valley.
No one came to help him. You cowards hiding in the city-state, watching him die. What have you done!
But Venti's eyes were so sincere, so sorrowful. She frowned, her clear eyes seemed to shed tears. Her nails dug deep into her palm, silver teeth clenched.
It seemed she was truly unwilling. It seemed she had truly done it before.
So this time, she was so unwilling.
Wind.
Suddenly, the wind blew, blowing the sand. The letter Seino Fugin left was scattered in the wind. Venti wanted to grab the wind, wanted to grab the sand, but she couldn't. The sand and wind passed through her fingers.
Something was out of control.
Looking at the sand in the wind, La Signora's heart thumping felt bigger and bigger.
Something was out of control.
There was something she didn't know, something she misunderstood—like five hundred years ago, the last letter Rostam sent her. She completely misunderstood the content of that letter, so she committed a lifelong regretful mistake.
Now, again, she misunderstood something, but she didn't know what it was. The extinguishing flames began to agitate. She saw many illusions... burning forests, shattered earth, ruined valley bottoms—everywhere was ash.
Hallucination.
This is a hallucination.
This is a trap.
She bit her lip, her eyes trembling.
Yes, this was a hallucination.
Delusion flickered.
Delusion infinitely expanded in her heart, the ice freezing those flames.
She couldn't hear anything.
Gnosis. Only Gnosis.
"I'll try again," Venti said. "I can still call upon the power of Gnosis. It's the Anemo Archon's authority. It can always help him."
In the girl's eyes, earnest and stubborn.
Silence. Long, long silence.
The Human Principles System finally said, "…Try it. I'll guide you."
"Calm your mind."
The emerald-like eyes moved. Venti took a deep breath.
She could do it.
She could do it.
Seino Fugin was right in front of her. Rostam was right in front of her. The girl was right in front of her. She could do it. Even if the wind couldn't chase, she would chase. Even if the wind was already dead, she would extract the wind.
Hope.
The only hope. This was the only thing she could do.
She needed to calm her mind. The opportunity was only once. She couldn't be interrupted.
Venti crouched down, her slender hands pressed on Seino Fugin's chest. Her heart thumped, emitting a faint light—soft and beautiful. The faint light was pulsating. The wind obeyed her call.
Seino Fugin's body moved. The dispersed soul seemed to be slowly gathering, like sand forming a tower.
Maybe it would work. Venti had a hopeful smile at the corner of her mouth, but the next second, she stopped.
Pain.
The wind was pulled out of her body. The sound of the wind stopped.
Venti slowly turned her head.
Dullness, fatigue, and despair.
Blank, deep blank.
Gnosis was taken away, along with all hopes. All the wind was taken away.
La Signora.
"Rosalyne..." Venti stared fiercely at La Signora. In those emerald eyes deep inside, only deep hatred remained. "What have you done!!"
The wind blew. Seino Fugin's body was slowly dissipating, slowly collapsing.
Like that sand.
Dissolved in the early spring sunlight. Like five hundred years ago, dissipated in Rosalyne's embrace.
Venti wanted to grab the wind, but she couldn't catch it anymore.
Regardless of her body's weakness and fatigue, she raised her head. Her collapsing emotions finally broke through her last bit of rationality. She stared into La Signora's eyes and, almost maliciously, said:
"He is Rostam."
Venti sorrowfully and painfully said: "…HE IS ROSTAM."
"You killed him again."
"ROSALYNE, YOU KILLED HIM AGAIN!"
Although it was spring, this sentence fell into La Signora's heart as cold as winter.
"...What?" she murmured.