Could it be?

Xingsu had been staying in Poisson for a while.

Callas was not a petty man. He had arranged a fairly good job for Xingsu-a mechanic.

Though he was called a mechanic, he was really more of a repairman. From the townspeople's belongings, such as fishermen's rods and children's toys, to the town's bridges and residents' houses, Xingsu could handle them all.

At first, Callas had still harbored reservations about Xingsu, worrying that he would not be up to the job. To be safe, he had specifically brought in Yvette, an engineer from the Spina di Rosula, and arranged for her to guide Xingsu through every work procedure from the beginning.

This engineer had previously worked at the Fontaine Research Institute. She had always been strict and exacting, with painstaking requirements for the precision of blueprints and the details of component assembly. Her temper was not particularly good, either, and few people ever earned her approval.

But the facts soon proved that Callas's worries had been entirely unnecessary.

Whether it was intricately structured underwater transmission components or the foundation framework of waterfront houses that needed reinforcement, Xingsu only needed to look through the blueprints once and briefly watch a practical demonstration before he could quickly grasp the principles and get straight to work. He truly learned everything at once.

After several days of instruction, even Yvette, who rarely smiled and loved picking at details, could find no oversights in his work. The long list of corrections she had prepared ultimately went unused. As she looked at Xingsu, her initial skepticism gradually faded, replaced by a rare measure of approval.

When word reached Callas, even he could not help marveling to himself. This exiled scholar from Sumeru had a far deeper foundation of knowledge than he had anticipated.

But whenever he thought of how his daughter loved going over to chat with him, that sense of danger peculiar to an old father quietly surfaced again.

Especially since his daughter had actually recruited him straight into the Spina di Rosula!

Who on earth gave her that authority?

Oh, it was me. Never mind, then.

"Ah..." Callas sighed helplessly.

Yet he had to admit that Xingsu truly was an outstanding young man, considering his exceptional learning ability, his way of dealing with people, and his resilient, kind nature...

Callas shook his head. What am I thinking? I'm not old yet.

Knock, knock, knock.

Melus knocked on the study door, then entered with a bow and presented an exquisite letter with both hands. "President, an urgent letter from the Fatui."

Callas's fingertips paused briefly, and his expression took on the composed sharpness of someone seasoned by the world. He reached out to accept the letter, running his fingertips over the envelope. Even without opening it, he had already guessed something of its contents.

He unfolded the letter, and lines of crisp handwriting met his eyes.

The letter was brief and direct: the Fatui would donate living and construction supplies to the Spina di Rosula free of charge, supporting Poisson's waterfront construction and everyday provisioning. The Harbinger Arlecchino would come to Poisson in person for a private meeting with him to finalize a short-term collaboration between the two parties.

Free supplies, civilian aid, and a personal meeting with a Harbinger.

Anyone could see that this goodwill was far too generous-and far too suspicious.

Those few lines appeared to offer benevolent assistance, yet between them lay a Harbinger's particular forcefulness and an implication that refusal was not an option.

There was no such thing as a free lunch. Arlecchino's sudden, unsolicited goodwill could not simply be about helping Poisson. With this inscrutable Harbinger visiting in person, the meeting was certain to conceal an agenda.

"What I feared has come to pass. It seems that young man named Xingsu is far more important within the Fatui than I expected." Callas lowered his eyes to the letter, lightly tapping the paper with his fingertips, his gaze deep and unreadable. "Heh, but whatever else he may be, that boy is now one of my Spina di Rosula. How could I simply abandon one of our own?"

But he also knew he could not refuse this "gift." To put it bluntly, given the Fatui's sheer size, if they wanted to deal with a civilian organization like the Spina di Rosula, it would be fifty-fifty.

His entire family would each suffer five stab wounds to the back and die by suicide,

while the Spina di Rosula would be carved up by various factions and torn apart.

This "gift" was the courtesy that came before force.

After a moment of silence, he picked up a blank sheet beside him and took up his quill. His strokes were steady and firm, without the slightest fear, as he personally wrote a reply to Arlecchino.

The letter stated that he gladly accepted the Fatui's supplies and agreed to the meeting. He would remain in Poisson and await Arlecchino's arrival for their discussion, personally handling all matters of cooperation when the time came.

The nib moved across the page, and the ink slowly spread.

On the one hand, a large shipment of supplies would bring real benefits to Poisson's residents, who suffered from the wind and waves along the waterfront, repairing waterfront homes and covering shortages in daily necessities. It would bring the town nothing but good. On the other hand, he truly wanted to face Arlecchino in person and find out exactly what this Xingsu's deal was.

After writing the final word, Callas blew the ink dry, carefully sealed the letter, and handed it to Melus, who stood waiting nearby.

"Send it back. Let's see what they're really up to."

Melus acknowledged the order and withdrew, leaving the study quiet once more.

Callas raised his eyes to the peaceful night over Poisson outside the window, his gaze deep.

He knew full well that undercurrents ran through this meeting.

But for as long as he presided over Poisson, he would protect it. Whatever intentions Arlecchino harbored, he would meet each challenge as it came.

"F-Father, there's a reply from the Spina di Rosula." As shy as ever, Freminet carefully offered a reply to Arlecchino.

Arlecchino stood before the window, her eyes lowered to the bleak scene in the courtyard. At his words, she slowly drew her gaze back.

She opened the letter, and crisp, steady handwriting met her eyes.

Callas had readily agreed to every condition, accepting the supplies and promising to remain in Poisson, personally await the meeting, and handle all arrangements. The entire letter was neither servile nor overbearing, but frank and gracious.

Arlecchino lightly brushed her fingertips over the page, a faint trace of amusement flickering through her crimson eyes.

"Get the supplies ready. Prepare to depart."

Arlecchino casually folded the letter and put it away, her level tone carrying an authority that brooked no argument.

Waiting beside her, Freminet immediately bowed in acknowledgment. "Yes, Father."

A short while later, the supplies and the Fatui's ship were ready.

Fontaine's breeze stirred the hem of her red-and-white formal attire, accentuating her tall, coldly striking figure. Leaving behind the stillness of the mansion, she gazed into the distance toward mist-shrouded Poisson, the emotions in her eyes obscure and unreadable.

This journey was not to exert pressure, nor to seize anyone by force.

First, she would fulfill her promise of aid, using supplies to stabilize the livelihoods of Poisson's people and win over Fontaine's civilian forces. Second, she would meet Callas in person and sound out his limits face-to-face. And besides...

It was time to see him. There would come a time when certain things from the past, and certain words, had to be brought into the open.