๐—ฆ๐—ต๐—ฎ๐˜๐˜๐—ฒ๐—ฟ๐—ฒ๐—ฑ ๐—ฆ๐—ฝ๐—ผ๐˜๐—น๐—ถ๐—ด๐—ต๐˜ โ€ข

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Chapter 1

Furina stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror of her cramped apartment. The golden days of luxury and glamour felt like a dream she had woken up from too soon. Gone were the extravagant gowns, the adoring fans, and the paparazzi who followed her every move. Instead, she now wore simple linen shirts and skirts, her once meticulously styled hair now left in its natural, unruly state.

Fontaine, the city that once adored her, now whispered behind her back. The grand trial had exposed her secrets-the manipulations, the lies, and the scandals she had woven to maintain her status. Furina had always thrived in drama, but this time, it had consumed her. The actress, once the symbol of Fontaine's elegance, was now just another face in the crowd.

"Ah, how mundane!" she exclaimed, throwing herself onto her modest couch. "Is this how peasants live every day? No adoration, no applause?"

She sighed, glaring at the ceiling as if it were to blame for her misfortune. A knock at the door interrupted her theatrical self-pity.

"Who is it?" she called, her voice retaining the sharpness of her former authority.

"A delivery," came the muffled reply.

Curiosity piqued, Furina opened the door to find a courier holding an elegant invitation sealed with an unfamiliar crest. She snatched it eagerly and tore it open. The golden lettering inside read:

"You are cordially invited to the Grand Winter Masquerade in Snezhnaya. A celebration of art, dance, and culture under the Tsaritsa's gracious patronage."

Furina frowned. Why would she, an outcast, receive an invitation to such a prestigious event? But the thought of attending was irresistible. Perhaps this was her chance to reclaim some semblance of her former glory.

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The snow-covered streets of Snezhnaya were a stark contrast to the warm, vibrant canals of Fontaine. Furina shivered as she stepped out of the carriage, her ouji-inspired ensemble standing out against the fur-lined coats of the other guests. She was immediately captivated by the grandeur of the palace, its icy spires glittering like diamonds under the moonlight.

Inside, the ballroom was a spectacle of elegance. Chandeliers dripped with crystals, and the air was filled with the sound of a live orchestra. Furina couldn't help but let out a small gasp as her eyes landed on the dancers. They moved with a grace and precision that even she, as an actress, found mesmerizing.

And at the center of it all was Yoshika.

The daughter of the Tsaritsa was a vision of icy beauty. Her light pink hair flowed like silk, and her dark pink eyes seemed to pierce through anyone who dared look at her too long. She wore a majestic gown that shimmered like the aurora, commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

Furina, ever the dramatist, felt an instant spark of rivalry. "Hmph, so this is Snezhnaya's darling. Let's see how she handles a little Fontaine flair," she muttered, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

But as Furina approached, Yoshika turned her gaze toward her, and their eyes met. In that moment, Furina felt a strange, inexplicable pull. There was something behind Yoshika's cold demeanor, something that intrigued her.

Yoshika, for her part, sized up Furina with a single glance. "You're not from here," she said, her voice quiet but cutting.

Furina smirked, her confidence returning. "And you're not as intimidating as you think, darling."

Yoshika raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Bold words for someone who doesn't belong."

"Boldness is a necessity for survival," Furina shot back. "I'm Furina, by the way. Fontaine's former Hydro Archon."

"Former?" Yoshika asked, tilting her head slightly.

Furina hesitated, her smile faltering for just a moment before she recovered. "For now. And you are?"

"Yoshika," she said simply, turning away. "Enjoy the masquerade... if you can keep up."

As Yoshika walked away, Furina felt a mix of irritation and fascination. For the first time in a long while, someone had truly challenged her.

"Game on," she whispered to herself, her blue eyes gleaming with determination.

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๐– ๐—Ž๐—๐—๐—ˆ๐—‹ ๐—‡๐—ˆ๐—๐–พ: ๐–ง๐—‚๐—‚ ๐–บ๐—€๐–บ๐—‚๐—‡!! ๐–ฒ๐—ˆ ๐—’๐–พ๐–บ๐— ๐—‚๐— ๐–ผ๐–บ๐—‡ ๐–ป๐–พ ๐–บ ๐–ป๐—‚๐— ๐–ฎ๐–ฎ๐–ข ๐–ป๐—Ž๐— ๐–ฟ๐—ˆ๐—‹๐—€๐—‚๐—๐–พ ๐—†๐–พ, ๐—‚ ๐—๐–บ๐—‡๐—๐–พ๐–ฝ ๐—๐—ˆ ๐—†๐–บ๐—„๐–พ ๐–บ ๐–ฝ๐—‚๐–ฟ๐–ฟ๐–พ๐—‹๐–พ๐—‡๐— ๐—๐—๐–พ๐—†๐–พ. ๐– ๐—…๐—Œ๐—ˆ ๐—๐—๐—‚๐—Œ ๐—Œ๐—๐—ˆ๐—‹๐—’๐—Œ ๐—๐—‚๐—†๐–พ๐—…๐—‚๐—‡๐–พ ๐—‚๐—Œ ๐–บ๐–ฟ๐—๐–พ๐—‹ ๐—๐—๐–พ ๐–ฅ๐—ˆ๐—‡๐—๐–บ๐—‚๐—‡๐–พ ๐– ๐—‹๐–ผ๐—๐—ˆ๐—‡ ๐–ฐ๐—Ž๐–พ๐—Œ๐—!!!


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