My apologies for the very late update! I was very busy with my summatives, but here it is!
Thank you so much MetaKirby2 for helping me proofread.
Once again thank you all for the support. I can't imagine getting 3K reads in such a short period of time.
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"Mr. Zhongli?"
His mouth reacts before his brain can properly process the sight in front of him.
Mr. Zhongli. He is the other person in the room.
It doesn't make sense.
How does he know Childe? Although Scaramouche professes he isn't the brightest bulb in the room, he knows better than to assume Mr. Zhongli and Childe's conversation is anything but innocuous.
"Scaramouche, it's getting late now. You should go home." Mr. Zhongli says as he extends his hand out, "You should be careful when crouching under tables."
Scaramouche feels an ominous premonition well up in his heart. Is Mr. Zhongli not going to ask him about why he's in the classroom, which is clearly off-limits after class?
"Ah, if I recall correctly, Kazuha told me he's going to tutor you on Friday." Mr. Zhongli says, "I'm glad you're showing initiative in your learning, Scaramouche."
"Yeah." Scaramouche answers, not knowing what to say. Did Mr. Zhongli just do the classic topic switcharoo?
"Whatever reason it may be, you still ended up taking this course. It's difficult and definitely not suitable for everyone, but it's worthwhile to give it a shot. To achieve some new insights."
"Yeah."
"I heard from Mr. Venti that you have great artistic talent too."
"I...wouldn't say that." Scaramouche hesitates. He is far from greatness. From his level.
"Well, however you perceive your talent, you'd still consider yourself an artist at heart, yes?"
"...Yes."
Now that he thought about it, could he be considered an artist...or a true artist, in any sense?
"Then that's fine." Mr. Zhongli grins, "As an artist, no matter what you create, there's a certain life to your piece. Even if the final product is a snapshot of an object at a specific point in time, it's still anything but static."
"Consider this. All the maths you have learned up until now, such as geometry and algebra, assume the world is static. When motion is considered, it is often linear instead of being varied. Do you still recall displacement and velocity?"
"Yeah." Why is Mr. Zhongli keeping him here? He just wants to go home.
"Great. So if you recall, all the displacement graphs you learned so far are expressed only as linear functions..."
Scaramouche groans inwardly. His mind is already exhausted from painting for hours. The last thing he needs to process is Mr. Zhongli's pseudo-lecture.
"...In Calculus, however, we take to account how the same object can behave differently with respect to time."
"Ah, I see." Scaramouche nods, feigning understanding in whatever the heck Mr. Zhongli is spouting.
"No matter," Mr. Zhongli grins. He must've seen Scaramouche's uncertainty, clear as day, "I'm confident Kazuha can explain the concepts you have trouble with."
"I'm sure he will." Scaramouche replies, "But I really should get going now. See you tomorrow!"
"Of course. Have a safe trip home."
As Scaramouche rushes out, he can't help but feel that Mr. Zhongli's harmless goodbye held another unspoken meaning: whatever he heard in the room, stays in the room.
----
By Archon, Ei retired to her room by the time Scaramouche arrived back home. A burnt, singy smell immediately greets him, causing him to instinctively wrinkle his nose.
He looks to the source of the smell and feels the dread rising in his gut. At the center of the oak dining table lies Ei's notorious spinach soup (apparently it is version 2.0), a bowl of rice, and burnt mackerel.
Sighing, he wraps a plastic cover over the spinach soup and places it in the refrigerator.
There are certain things that had no saving, and Ei's cooking is one of them.
If there's any silver lining, it's that Ei managed to cook the rice well. At least he didn't have to throw it away like he did with the burnt mackerel.
He brings the bowl of the rice to the kitchen, his mind set on the dish he wants for dinner: Shimi Chazuke. It's simple to make, absolutely delectable, and filling.
As he prepares his dinner, he recalls the earlier events of the day. He was this close to meeting Childe, and he would be deceiving himself if he said he didn't shudder at that very thought.
That man may be foolish, gullible and predictable, but he is the epitome of a ticking time bomb, an unbridled force of destruction.
I can kill you if you cross me, read Childe's merciless gaze, after he beat a classmate into a bloody pulp for daring to covet his crush, Lumine.
Scaramouche might've understood somewhat if Childe was together with Lumine at the time, but even he didn't know about Childe's relationship status at the time, let alone some random classmate. As far as anyone could tell, Childe's crush was unrequited, their "relationship" existing only in his imagination.
Childe and Lumine became official not long after the incident. Even from an outsider's standpoint, it was evident that Childe was happy with her, though Scaramouche didn't stick around long enough to know what came of their union.
But, for the sake of everyone around him, especially Childe, he hopes Childe is still together with Lumine.
And speaking of Childe...
What is Mr. Zhongli's relationship with him?
He ponders on the thought, rewinding and forwarding the events that had transpired.
A deal. They had a deal. But why?
The faintly sweet scent of aromatic tea leaves lingers in the air, temporarily bringing Scaramouche out of the sea of thoughts.
Holding the teapot with both hands, he pours the green tea into the rice bowl. The sound of the tea sloshing in the bowl is comforting somehow, reminding him of the gentle lapping waves in his painting.
After sprinkling single pickled plum and some seaweed, he carries his bowl out of the kitchen, ready to savour the fruits of his labour.
His mouth waters in anticipation. He eyes the chazuke hungrily, his impatience heightened by the grumbling of his stomach as he grips the bowl with one hand and positions his chopsticks with the other. As soon as the first grains of rice enter his mouth, the mild sweetness from the rice melds perfectly with the earthy taste of green tea. The dash of sourness from the pickled plum strikes a delicate balance, enhancing the experience without overwhelming his taste buds.
Relishing in the light flavour of his dish, Scaramouche lets out a deep sigh, as though shedding the day's burden off his chest. The sun had long buried itself beneath the horizon, leaving only the slither of light barely visible from a distance.
For a split second, Scaramouche catches a little twinkle from a distant star. He lunges forward, but it disappears as abruptly as it appears.
As preposterous as it may sound, Scaramouche believes this is a sign. That there is a droplet of hope in a seemingly boundless sea of resignation.
He supposes Kazuha is right.
Perhaps one day he can make a living off of being an artist. He will go to Teyvat Academy and learn from him.
—————
"Scaramouche! It's been a while since you visited. What brings you here?" Mr. Kaveh says as he rests his head on his palms.
Scaramouche opens his mouth to speak, but whatever he wanted to voice evaporated from his mind entirely. Feeling Mr. Kaveh's expectant gaze on him, Scaramouche lets out a shaky breath.
"Is everything alright?"
Yes, everything's fine. Just fine.
"Do you need some water?"
"No," Scaramouche's words are sharp like a dagger, momentarily catching Mr. Kaveh off guard.
"Ah, well, it's really a shame you aren't in Advanced Studio Art this year, Scaramouche. You have amazing potential."
"Well...things change." Scaramouche says with a shrug. "Anyway, I came here to ask whether I can be part of the December exhibition."
"Hmm..." Mr. Kaveh furrows his eyebrows as he studies Scaramouche. His contemplative expression, combined with the deafening silence that followed, weighs down on Scaramouche's gut.
"I'm not denying your abilities by any means," Mr. Kaveh finally pipes up, "But this December exhibition is...a lot more intense. The time and energy you'll need to invest is immense. Furthermore, we have our special guest this year."
Mr. Kaveh grins as he looks Scaramouche straight in the eye.
"I think you'll be interested in this guest in particular, Scaramouche."
He pauses, as though for dramatic effect.
"Albedo Kreideprinz is our special guest this time."
What...?
"Needless to say, your artwork this time will need to be more ambitious than anything you did before. It'll take up a lot of your time and energy. You'll have to also make a short explanation on your artwork, such as techniques and intent."
Mr. Kaveh steels his gaze.
"I believe you can do it, Scaramouche. Like I mentioned before, you certainly have the potential, but there is something holding you back. Like something is bogging down in your mind."
Bogging down his mind?
"Your state of mind is important when you're painting." Mr. Kaveh continues, "When you are able to achieve a flow state, that's when you're at the pinnacle of your craft."
Mr. Kaveh chuckles.
"Hey, chin up. There's no need to be so worried. Part of the process is to work on your weaknesses and improve on them."
Then Mr. Kaveh's gaze turns serious.
"Of course, I'm telling you all of this to ensure you're prepared to invest what is necessary in your artwork."
"Are you sure you have what it takes, be it dedication or time, to complete an artwork by December?"
——————
For the rest of the day passes by in a blur as Scaramouche mulls over what Mr. Kaveh said.
"Albedo Kreideprinz is our special guest this time..."
"I believe you can do it, Scaramouche...but there is something holding you back. Like something is bogging down in your mind."
He knows time isn't infinite, and that wanting to finish this project and study Calculus at the same time would be difficult...
...But not impossible.
He's stretching it, certainly, but receiving an endorsement from Albedo Kreideprinz would guarantee an admission to Teyvat Academy but...
It's also a form of acknowledgement.
"You're early."
A soft voice breaks him from his trance.
"Yeah." Scaramouche mumbles.
Kazuha strides towards Scaramouche's desk.
"So, before we begin, I looked through all the worksheets you gave me." He begins, "I have an approximate idea of where you're at. Plenty of the basics, such as factoring quadratic functions, are not solid."
"After reading it through, I believe that at least three lessons a week is necessary for you to understand the material...if we are to continue these lessons."
"I highly doubt that." Scaramouche chuckles, "I only agreed to one lesson."
"Hmm...You agreed to one lesson, yes. But I'll make it very worthwhile."
Scaramouche shudders slightly at Kazuha's foreboding tone.
"That's to say, we're going to be here for a while."