"Hahaha…"
A hearty, exaggerated laugh echoed through the Oratrice Mecanique D'analyse Cardinale.
Sitting casually on the high dais that resembled a grand stage, Shajin leaned forward with one hand braced on his knee and the other pointing shamelessly at the massive screen broadcasting the current situation outside. He was laughing so hard he nearly had to clutch his stomach.
Next to him, Focalors sat in silence, her expression twitching slightly at the sight.
She couldn't quite understand how this man could laugh so freely—so unapologetically.
"I mean… aren't you two colleagues?" she asked, unable to keep quiet any longer.
To her surprise, instead of stopping him, her remark only made Shajin laugh even harder.
"Hahaha! Colleagues? Colleagues are meant to be fun to watch! Hahaha!"
Still laughing, he shot her a teasing look, clearly enjoying himself far too much.
Focalors could only sigh and shake her head.
What an absolutely insufferable human being.
Perhaps realizing he'd pushed his luck—or maybe just having laughed enough—Shajin finally began to settle down. With a soft clap of his hands, graceful yet nonchalant, a pristine cake box suddenly appeared in his palm like a magician revealing his final trick.
Wearing a faint, amused smile, he held the box out toward Focalors.
"Here. The little cake I promised you."
Her annoyed expression instantly vanished, replaced by a spark of delight in her eyes. But then, suspicion crept onto her face.
"This… it's not Qingxin-flavored, is it?"
Shajin, who had been gazing into her eyes, subtly averted his gaze.
Focalors puffed out her cheeks like an indignant kitten. With a pout and a small fist, she lightly thumped his solid chest.
"Hmph! Furina was right. You are a jerk!" she grumbled with a soft snort.
Shrugging, Shajin withdrew the first box and, as if performing another trick, pulled out a new one—this time holding a bright, fragrant strawberry-flavored cake that glistened under the light.
The moment she saw it, Focalors' eyes lit up. Her small mouth opened just a little.
Carefully, she accepted the dessert and began taking tiny, dainty bites, her expression melting into sheer bliss.
Shajin watched her quietly, resting his chin in his hand, intrigued by the way she savored every bite.
After a while, he spoke up with a playful tone. "Sure you don't want to try the other one? You might be pleasantly surprised~"
Focalors didn't answer. Instead, she cheekily stuck out her pink tongue, smeared with cream, at him.
"I only eat things that taste good," she said like a willful little sprite. "I'm not touching weird stuff."
Before long, she'd devoured the entire cake. Patting her belly in contentment, she plopped down right onto the stage without a care in the world.
Her snow-white skirt flared out like a blooming flower, turning her into a living painting.
Gazing up at the colossal blade suspended high above her, she quietly pondered. After centuries of refinement and time's erosion, what level of terrifying power had that sword now reached?
Only a force that overwhelming could possibly end that chilling prophecy without pain.
A small smile tugged at her lips as she imagined it.
Then, she suddenly stifled a giggle behind her hand.
Even gods—aloof and exalted—held fear and trembling deep within their hearts when it came to pain.
"Ah!"
A yelp rang out.
Focalors, who had just been lying there peacefully, shot upright and clutched her forehead with both hands, her face twisted in outrage.
She whipped her head toward Shajin, who was now sprawled lazily beside her. One hand was resting behind his head, while the other remained suspended mid-air—having just delivered a resounding flick to her forehead.
His eyes, clear and innocent as spring water, blinked as though he had no idea what she was so upset about.
They stared at each other in silence.
The atmosphere grew… strange.
After a while, Shajin finally spoke, his voice low and quiet, as if waking from a dream.
"You won't die."
Focalors blinked, stunned. Then slowly exhaled the breath she'd been holding.
"I don't want to die either~"
"But… this is the best plan I've got…"
She gently tapped his forehead with a smile.
"Can you become strong enough to defy the Heavenly Principles?"
Shajin narrowed his eyes slightly. Maybe, just maybe, he could now stand on equal footing with it. But it still had the Four Shades—and secrets yet unrevealed.
He lowered his gaze.
Still not strong enough…
Focalors stretched her arms, her slender figure arching in full view of Shajin.
Raising her hand, she held her palm up toward the sword in the sky.
"This is my final curtain call—my fate. A fate that steps off the game board of the Heavenly Principles."
Then her fingers curled slowly into a fist.
Her heterochromatic eyes shimmered faintly.
…
"Shajin?"
Furina's soft, puzzled voice broke the silence. She took a deep breath, as if trying to exhale all her shock and confusion.
She turned to her side—and there he was. Shajin, standing silently beside her, as if he'd always been there.
Her brows furrowed slightly as she studied his calm, enigmatic expression.
"Shajin, what was that just now—" But before she could finish, he raised his chin and subtly gestured toward the Oratrice in front of them.
Furina followed his gaze.
And then, she understood.
So that's how it is.
Her eyes flickered with realization. But the emotion was gone just as quickly, replaced by quiet calm.
She looked back at Shajin.
He met her gaze.
No words were exchanged—but none were needed.
_
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