𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐭 | Neuvillette

Bound by Duty

SEVEN

The steady rhythm of Neuvillette's quill scratching against parchment was the only sound in his office—until it wasn't.

A soft, playful hum filled the air, followed by the sound of light footsteps moving gracefully across the marble floor. Neuvillette didn't have to look up to know who it was.

"Furina," He began, his tone calm yet edged with a touch of exasperation. He raised his gaze from the documents on his desk to see the Hydro Archon twirling across the room, her flowing dress spinning around her like a whirlpool. She was mimicking the steps she had witnessed the evening before, when Neuvillette and (Y/n) had danced in the very same office.

She twirled again, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she met his eyes. "You were dancing here, weren't you? In this very spot?" She stopped in front of his desk, placing her hands on the surface and leaning forward, her smile widening. "Why so serious, Monsieur Neuvillette? You looked quite different last night."

Neuvillette moved his quill with deliberate slowness, taking a measured breath. "Furina, if you would be so kind as to refrain from such antics, I have matters to attend to."

But Furina wasn't deterred. "Oh, come now. Don't be so cold. I've never seen you like this before." She resumed her playful dance, the motion light and fluid, a stark contrast to the Iudex's rigid posture. "What was it? A moment of weakness? Or something more... human?"

Her words struck a chord, and Neuvillette found himself at a loss for a reply. The memory of the previous night, of (Y/n)'s hand in his, of the way the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them, flickered in his mind. He clenched his jaw, forcing the thoughts away.

"No. It was nothing more than..." He began, but the words faltered. How could he explain what he didn't fully understand himself? He, the symbol of justice, who had always kept his distance, suddenly felt the sting of something unfamiliar—an emotion he couldn't name, one that made him question his own actions.

Furina twirled again, her steps slowing as she came closer to the desk, her gaze never leaving Neuvillette's face. "Nothing more than what?" She asked, her voice lilting, teasing, "Friendship? Affection? Or perhaps... lo—"

Snap.

The sharp sound of a quill breaking cut through the air like a blade. Furina's words were silenced mid-sentence, her mouth hanging open in surprise as her eyes flicked down to the quill Neuvillette now held in two pieces. His hand gripped the broken shaft tightly, and the ink that had once flowed so smoothly across the paper now smeared in a jagged line, disrupting his otherwise pristine script.

For a moment, the room was suffocatingly silent. Furina's eyes darted back to his face, but Neuvillette didn't meet her gaze. His eyes were fixed on the ruined paper, the ink stain spreading like an irreparable wound across the page. His normally calm and composed expression was marred by the slightest tension around his mouth, his knuckles pale from the tightness of his grip.

Furina raised an eyebrow, her playful demeanor wavering. "Oh," She whispered, a note of genuine surprise in her voice. She looked at the broken quill, then back at Neuvillette's face, gauging his reaction.

Neuvillette slowly released the quill, letting the broken pieces fall from his fingers to the desk. He carefully lifted the stained page, his gaze distant, as though seeing not just the ruined paper but something far beyond it. 

He turned back to Furina before she could speak, his expression resolute. "It was wrong of me," He said, "to pay (Y/n) any attention beyond what was required. I have treated her differently—unfairly—from everyone else. But I assure you, I will not make the same mistake again."