❝ 試練と苦難 ❞
trials and tribulations
SMOG CLOAKED YOUR vision as Scaramouche fought off the assailant. Flares of fire met the galvanism of your fiancé's lightning and storms; creating smoke to cloud the room in a darkness you feared. Death loomed in that murky tenebrosity; certain and immediate death if any of those arrows were to hit you. Since your younger years, you've always feared death greatly and having it's presence so close, your body shuddered in inquietude.
Death presided over most of your life. You've witnessed some of the greatest, most wretched tragedies any human could ever endure— again and again. Orphans thrown onto the street, starved and dejected by humanity. The sight of frozen, unmoving limbs of fellow orphans; the scent of death encased by frost. Even when you were adopted into the great (l/n) family, you witnessed the archangel of death escort the souls of those closest to you once again. Board members were assassinated, maids and butlers were tortured, your own adoptive mother— brutally killed.
At the time of your adoptive mother's death, she had divorced your adoptive father. He had a tendency of infidelity as he had a medical ailment that prevented him from being able to help conceive a child. Thus he sought an heir, any suitable child who would be able to endure the valleys of torture and the summits of wealth. Though your adoptive mother loved you like any mother would, her own psychological turmoil got the best of her— haunted and preyed upon by her very own mind. She knew of her husband's adultery but couldn't live with it; the paranoia, the falsity of love she believed in, her very own delusions. She couldn't live with them anymore.
Divorce was something you couldn't quite grasp as a child. Never having parents was likely the root cause of this lack of apathy but you recalled some sort of woe in seeing her leave the home in which she raised you in. Weeks later, the news of her murder was brought to you— supposedly the cause of death was eight stab wounds to the chest. Your life only brought upon catastrophe and misfortune to those around you; one who has witnessed the archangel of death will never escape its hold.
Your melancholic thoughts snapped you back to the present where the sounds of loud explosions drummed in your ears. Crackled lightning and fire danced as Scaramouche destroyed the barrage of arrows with ease. His amethyst hues darkened with murderous intent, glaring down the assailant.
"Just who the hell do you think you are...?!" You heard your fiancé hollered angrily at the hooded attacker.
Scaramouche readied himself for another barrage that seemingly never came as the attacker set down the bow and quickly fled the scene. The fiery arrows had been expertly shot at the oil lamps atop the staircase causing them to explode.
Heat flared against your skin as your vision was clouded by the smoke and debris. Violent coughs escaped you, your lungs filled with the thick smog. Desperately, you gasped and heaved for air. Your eyes flickered from side to side, trying to assess your next move yet the excruciating pain pounding at the back of your mind did not ease in the process of attempting to think straight. Your mind tried to salvage the situation at hand; first the murder of your adoptive father and now an attempt on your life. These were coincidences pointed towards something far more sinister.
Suddenly, you felt a hand seize around your left arm which caused you to tense. The smog was too caliginous to make anything out thus you couldn't rule out the possibility that whomever was holding you could be a potential enemy. Instincts screamed at you to react but your mind felt groggy and your thoughts were slow. Estranged and delirious, you attempted to pry the hand away though your efforts proved fatuous.
"Stay still!" Scaramouche scolded, his grasp tightened around your arm as another wave of heat washed over the two of you. Hysteria settled in as your mind began to clear up from the fog of cephalalgia. "Wenling— Where's Wenling?!"
Scaramouche scowled, shaking his head at you. "Are you seriously worried about your maid right now?! That man tried to kill you!"
"Where the hell is Wenling, Scaramouche?! Archons— Tell me!" You hollered, trying to pry away from his fiancé's iron hold upon you.
"She is not my priority, your life comes first! You're my goddamn fiancé! She's just a maid, she's replaceable!"
Had it not been the fact that the two of you were stuck in this situation of life and death, you would've found his words rather uncharacteristically sweet of him in calling you 'irreplaceable' however your mind was occupied with more pressing matters at the moment.
You snatched at the fabric of his shirt; pulling him closer to you. "She's not just my maid! She is my friend!"
Slowly, the dust cloud begins to lift; revealing the wreckage of the foyer with the staircase utterly destroyed and the decor shattered.
Claret; you saw red dripping from the wreckage, the scent of blood filled your nose.
Surges of pure terror hit you as the veracity of the situation began to unravel before your eyes. Tremors of agonizing truth rippled through your body as you began to realize what had happened in the eclipsed mist. A scream of dismay escaped your lips; full of distress, stifled with grief as your vocal chords ripped out the scream of horror. Adrenaline rushed through as you tore away from your fiancé's grasp and stumbled over to the gathering pool of vermillion in the debris.
"Wenling!" You shrieked, immediately rushing towards your maid laying within the pool of crimson. Blood soaked your clothes as you hulled her into your lap, seeing the bloodied wound upon her temple and chest. A piece of glass had been stabbed into her abdomen, causing her clothes to be drenched in blood. The sound of your heart thrummed loudly as the worse-case scenarios flicked through your mind.
"Y-Young Master... You're... alright... W-What a relief..." Wenling's soft voice was hoarse, weak. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes upon seeing her wrecked state; the blood, the wound, the weak smile on her face as she attempted to assure you even in such a condition.
"S-Stop! Don't say anything! This is an order, Wenling!" You yelled, bringing your right arm close to your face, using your teeth to rip the fabric of the sleeve apart. You used the strip of fabric to bandage her wound; frantically scanning her body for any more injuries— the glass shard stuck within her however, you knew by removing the glass, there was a chance of damaging her organs.
"Please... Master... It's not safe... y-you must escape." You shook your head, arms scooping under her back and sat her upright before you threw your arms around her. "I refuse to leave you behind!"
"M-Master... (y/n)..." Wenling's bloodied left hand reached up to touch your cheek, her thumb swiping against your cheek leaving behind a dash of crimson across your face. "I-I am honored to have served you..."
You refuse to let another die because of your own curse of misfortune.
"Do not die on me! Wenling, this is an order!" You hollered, shaking your head as you moved to her side, pulling her body up and threw her left arm over your shoulders. Her sudden weight caused your legs to buck, your knees wobbled as you attempted to walk with her on your back.
"L-Leave me... Young Master... I am a hindrance..." You ignored her objections and headed towards the entrance of Yuehai Pavilion when you felt the weight shift away from you; the warmth of her body slipping away from you.
"By the Seven, you're stubbornness is commendable..." Scaramouche muttered, hooking Wenling's right arm around his neck. His stern gaze flickered to her and then back to you. "Hold onto her tightly... I'll have my subordinates take over once we're out of here."
With some reluctance, you decidedly listened to his order and followed his lead out of the wreckage.
Outside of the Pavilion proved itself to be even more of a mess than inside. A crowd of civilians had gathered to see the pandemonium whilst Millelith soldiers attempted to push them back from the wreckage. A quiet hush fell over the crowd upon seeing your marred and bloodied appearance before whispers began to ensue once more.
"Have the exits sealed! We cannot let the perpetrator escape!"
Ningguang's voice rang out from behind you. Glancing beyond your shoulder, you saw Ningguang, Keqing, Ganyu, and Uncle Tian guarded by a group of soldiers but was entirely unharmed by terrorist attack. A sigh of relief left you knowing that the rest of the Qixing was safe.
"(y/n)! Oh gods... are you okay?!" Ganyu sprinted over to you, scanning your bloodied skin and cuts before her eyes flickered to Wenling. "Oh no... I'll have the Millelith guards bring her over to the hospital!"
Ganyu gestured to two of the soldiers around the Qixing, motioning them over to take Wenling. As Wenling was taken away by the two Milleliths and Ganyu, you felt the urge to tag along but your duties lie elsewhere.
Keqing quickly became the head of investigation of each citizens present in Yujing Terrace during the attack. Uncle Tian and Ningguang were escorted to the Jade Chamber for the sake of their safety as both presided over important aspects of Liyue's economy. Fatui soldiers, as your fiancé had mentioned, quickly took charge of investigating the wreckage with some reluctance and permission from the rest of the Qixing.
You stared and watched, unable to fully grasp what you should do next. With blood stained upon your hands, you felt incredibly apprehensive with your appearance in the eyes of the public who scrutinized your blank, traumatic stupor.
Eventually, a soldier stepped forward, bowing his head to you with his hand extended out. "Master (l/n), please follow me. I was instructed by Lady Ningguang to take you to the Jade Chamber."
It would be safest to remain there. Yet you weren't sure. At the moment, there was simply too much incertitude to make a clear decision. You couldn't help but relive the events that had just occurred, thinking of how you nearly faced death once more.
"My fiancé is going nowhere. I will not risk (y/n)'s life over the Millelith's sheer incompetence to protect this building." Scaramouche interjected, pushing you behind him which snapped you out of thought.
You frowned a bit at his harsh gesture but said nothing as rue dawned upon you. None of this would've happened had you not been present; had you not been the heiress to the company that now belonged to you; had you been able to fight back; had you been gifted with a Vision to fend for yourself.
Perhaps it was your own incompetence to do anything to protect the ones you held most dear.
"Do you think the Yanguang was involved...? I saw him storm out of the building minutes before the attack...?"
"What if the Fatui are behind the attack?! I mean... it's plausible!"
"Idiots! Saying stuff like that will get you in trouble with the Qixing or the Fatui!"
Yi-Eun, the possible culprit behind the attack— it seemed plausible. The timing of his abrupt and odd departure coincided with the attack but that was all speculation. But what was most alarming was the damning accusation that your own fiancé was behind the attack in an attempt to get rid of you.
"Let's go, (y/n). Standing around won't do us any good." Scaramouche began dragging you away from the rest of the crowd. Your objections fell on deaf ears as he hauled you out of Yujing Terrace and back to Feiyun Slope with little struggle.
"Where the hell are you taking me?" You snapped at him, finally prying your hand out of his iron grip once the two of you reached before the building housing the Minister of Civil Affairs.
The eyes of Liyue were watching with intent, fixed upon the bloodied Director of the (l/n) Trading Company and the Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers. You made no mind to their expressions of horror as rumors began to spin the web of lies.
"I'm taking you to somewhere safe! It's apparent to me that the Millelith can't perform their jobs effectively therefore it would be safest if you remained with me!" Scaramouche hollered, marching towards you to grab your wrist once more before you slapped his hand away. His face twisted into a scowl at your rejection of him. "What in the Tsaritsa's name is going on with you?! Do you understand the circumstances?! Your life is my priority!"
You couldn't tell him that you didn't trust him. If anything, that could only risk your life even more.
"I know that, damn it!" You yelled angrily, shaking your head at him with burning eyes.
All gazes turned to you; the hypercritical, scathing eyes of Liyue set on you. Scaramouche glossed over the surroundings, scanning over the critical watch of the civilians who had stopped their daily activities to watch two of the most powerful individuals in the world bicker like children. It was distasteful to say the least, but the frivolity of a perfect, idealized relationship between two people through some contracts and documents meant nothing to him.
"If you know, then listen to me! I cannot guarantee your safety if you're going to act stubborn!" Scaramouche bellowed at you angrily.
After many seconds of deliberation, you decided to follow him without saying another word. Partly because you weren't certain of his motives so you feigned it as stubbornness. But it also hurt your pride to say that he was right in those circumstances. You sat atop the throne of commerce; your company is worth millions upon millions of mora; you are in complete control of this grand and illustrious company but with great power comes great responsibility. Scandal, ridicule, slander, and rumors— you've endured them all behind glass but you were in direct fire of Teyvat's greatest critic; your own self.
Three flights of stairs later, you arrived in front of Northland Bank, a business operated by the Fatui. Agents who stood guard at the gate, bowed upon seeing Scaramouche— a nervousness glazed over their eyes as he approached.
"Open." You heard your fiancé command, the doors swinging open at his behest. Inside, golden paint decorated every aspect of Northland Bank. Stark burgundy and sage green contrasted the bright, opulence of the wash of aureus varnish.
"Guard the entrance. Do not let anyone pass through those doors. I do not care for the Millelith or Qixing but their sheer incompetence is the reason why (y/n) is injured." He ordered, gesturing to the Fatui agents present.
You sat down in one of the velvet chairs in the lobby, sighing deeply. You massaged your temple gently as you pondered through what had transpired and what the next course of action should be.
An attack of that scale was likely not impromptu. That assassin had a motive, an objective to kill you. He was skilled and possessed a Vision to which you conclude that he must be a mercenary of sorts. But hired by whom? Surely it couldn't be your fiancé— he protected you after all but what do you really know about him? You have only been engaged to him for a mere week and the marriage between the two of you had already stuck rock bottom twice.
"Your clothes are sullied." You heard your fiancé comment as he made his way over to you. Footsteps echoed through the lobby of Northland Bank as he walked over, standing before you.
"Wow, what a solid observation." You murmured sarcastically, voice still shot from bellowing your lungs earlier.
"I had a few of my men oversee the recovery of your maid." Scaramouche ignored your sarcasm, instead, he scanned over your dejected state, with a growing frown. "You're hopeless. Do you plan on leading the company like a child?"
You detested the way he belittled your character yet you couldn't find the words to argue back. He wasn't wrong— you clung on the false hope that you could continue living on a fictitious belief that you could get away with anything as you once did when you were a child. Mentally, you were not prepared to take over as the Director of the Company any time soon. You had anticipated another ten, maybe twenty years before you would have to take the position. In the realms of successors, it was incredibly rare to see anyone below the age of forty as the director of a large-scale company as sizable as your own.
Sharply, you breathed a quick inhale as your fingertips dug into your own scalp. You hid your ears behind the palms of your hands as you leaned forward, allowing your head to fall into your lap.
"Some of us aren't born apt to be the successor. Some of us lost our childhood to the treachery of humanity. What's the harm in acting childishly when you verge on nihilism?!"
Escape. You desired nothing more than to run away. To find salvation, to find happiness somewhere far away from here. Gods— you despised it all. The worst of your demons have finally caught you. Their embrace of death is cold, frigid. How you loathed that contention in your heart.
Suddenly, you felt warmth. It was distant but it was warm. You opened your eyes, meeting his cold amethyst hues. Scaramouche had cupped the sides of your face in his hands. Your eyes widened, lips parting at his sudden gesture.
"What are you doing...?" You asked in a hushed voice.
"Shutting you up." Scaramouche forcibly kissed you, leaning to press his lips against yours.
It felt odd. His first act of true intimacy felt incredibly forceful yet it conjured the butterflies to stir within you. You felt jittery as he pulled away from you, hands still cupping your cheeks in a gentleness you didn't expect. His thumb brushed against your skin before he pulled away from you.
Scaramouche couldn't grasp the depths of your harrowing, traumatic childhood. He didn't understand why you acted the way you did. He didn't understand why it made his stomach churn in seeing you submit to your own demons. Perhaps it was because he couldn't see himself losing in your situation?
Whatever it was, he couldn't fully comprehend his own actions but this is what lovers are supposed to do... right?
It was the doctrine of marriage; to be intimate, to be in love.
"Life is merely a set of trials and tribulations, get over it. I will not let you falter behind me— you are to be my equal, understood?" His icy tone made the previous gesture feel cold but it didn't matter. You were too tired to argue back, too tired to think through the possibility that the man who stood before you tried to kill you for your title. You decided to play along with this game of charades.
"Understood." You replied back softly, head still turned down but the response was enough. He pulled away from you without another snarky remark rather, a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.
An agent approached him, whispering something into his ear before backing away. You watched as his face twisted from a smile into a familiar scowl of annoyance.
"What is it...?" You asked, watching as he rose from his crouched position.
"The Millelith suspects me as the culprit. They also suspect your ex-lover." Scaramouche scowled, folding his arms across his chest.
You frowned at the latter half of his answer. "Yi-Eun is not my 'ex-lover'. I've never had any romantic affairs prior to you."
Scaramouche scoffed. "He's awfully touchy with you."
Yi-Eun was your adoptive father's first choice as your husband. He was born heir to his family's commerce guild— his father is a close acquaintance with your own. Yi-Eun was raised as nobility; a prideful young man of great intellect and an insatiable desire for power. Due to the close relationship between fathers, the two of you were raised together; naïve children who dreamt of the impossible.
But as the two of you grew older, you became indifferent towards him. He was, in essence, a megalomaniac who suffered the delusions of his own power and nothing ever satisfied that growing avarice of his.
"I told you, he's a childhood friend!"
You knew that having your fiancé meet Yi-Eun would stir trouble but you hadn't anticipated that it would be this significant of an issue.
"Childhood friend, huh..."
Your lips were firmly pressed together, forming a thin frown. "Yes... Childhood friend."
"I forbid you from seeing him." Your fiancé said sternly.
"Excuse me?!" Your eyes widened at his words. "You cannot just make a decision like that—"
"But I did. I forbid you from seeing him." Scaramouche turned away from you.
You rose from the seat, grabbing onto his shoulder and spun him around. Scaramouche tensed, glaring at you as you turned him to face you. Irked, you decided to finally stand your ground. It was one thing to suspect Yi-Eun of the crime but it was another to strip you of your own right to make decisions of your own.
You decided to lay out your cards, to play your ace.
"How can I be certain that you're not behind the crime yourself?!"
You feared the absolute worst. The air grew stale, starkly different from what it was before. You could almost see it, the metaphorical stage of the marriage crumbling apart. Yet, in a matter of seconds, the air changed. Scaramouche started laughing. The agents who stood guard by the doors of the bank glanced at each other worryingly but said nothing. You, on the other hand, felt completely unnerved by your fiancé's sudden burst of laughter. His mirth began to die out as he regained composure, wiping away the tears that welled in the corners of his eyes from laughing.
"Me? Behind your assassination? Don't be so ridiculous. I could've killed you a long time ago." Scaramouche flashed you an uncharacteristic smile— one that was devoid of sarcasm or arrogance. "I told you before, I would never hurt you."
You were tempted to respond with a snarky comment but you held your tongue. Physically, he has never harmed you but he damn well knows that he has damaged your character, time and time again. But his answer didn't serve to ease you of any conspiracy. He very well could've arranged someone to attack you— maybe not to kill you but to stir up trouble.
"Do you not trust me?" Scaramouche's voice reached your inner thoughts. Your eyes flickered up to meet him. Out of pure habit, you began to chew on your bottom lip as you started to formulate a plan within your mind.
"I..." Your voice fell quiet. "I think I do..."
Scaramouche raised an eyebrow at you. "You think you do?"
"Allow me to rephrase what I meant, we were engaged three days ago. In that time; you somehow acquired my private medical records, my adoptive father died, I very suddenly became the head of the company, and almost died from an assassination attempt. I am just a tad skeptical."
Scaramouche looked rather apathetic towards your cause, sighing in exasperation. "Fine. I'm sure you'll come around to trusting me eventually."
You could only hope that you would. To live in indefinite fear of your own husband and the world that was out to get your head— it seemed tiring. You heaved a quiet sigh, resting your head against the wall for support. You felt exhausted, adrenaline all spent and gone. Your eyelids grew heavy and with each blink, the world grew a tad darker before you blacked out entirely.
—
END OF CHAPTER FIVE