Mr. Zhongli, we can't slack off anymore!

“These two,” the manager said, turning slightly to the side and gesturing to the male and female butlers standing solemnly on both sides of the corridor. His voice carried a carefully calculated friendliness, even subtly revealing the exaggerated intonation characteristic of Fontaine’s upper class: “They are the hotel’s current rotating room butlers. Each of them has received the most professional training, knows every aspect of Fontaine, and can meet the various needs of our distinguished guests.”

She looked at the traveler with a warm smile and said in a solicitous tone, "You can choose one or more of them to be your personal butlers during your stay."

"Of course, if you have special preferences and need them to provide you with different emphases of service according to the schedule, that's perfectly fine too. We will definitely give priority to that and do our best to meet any of your needs." The word "any" was emphasized.

This sudden and grand treatment stands in stark contrast to the previous registration process that followed all the rules.

The traveler remained expressionless, simply nodding in agreement with the manager's words and calmly replying, "Okay, I understand."

She calmly looked at the smiling manager and asked directly, "Before that, may I ask if something special has happened? Your service... seems to have suddenly become 'exceptionally' attentive."

The manager's smile was flawless, appearing even more sincere and respectful, as if the traveler's question was exactly what he had expected.

“Ah, Miss Lü, you are truly perceptive.” He bowed slightly. “Why don’t I take you to the VIP tea room that our inn has prepared for its most distinguished guests? I will explain everything to you there. We have prepared Fontaine’s most famous tea snacks and the finest black tea for you. Please do us the honor.”

As she spoke, she turned to the side, raised her hand, and made an extremely elegant and standard "please" gesture, her posture humble.

*

The so-called VIP tea room is located in a relatively secluded private room in the hotel building, offering excellent privacy and a view overlooking part of the canal.

However, the first impression upon entering is not of expansive scenery, but of an extreme level of luxury.

This space isn't particularly spacious, yet it interprets "extreme luxury" to a dazzling degree.

The walls were covered in deep blue velvet, embroidered with intricate swirling patterns in gold and silver thread. The ceiling was a hand-painted dome depicting a feast of the gods.

Almost every corner and every flat surface in the room is filled with or hung artworks, crowding together in one space.

In addition to the sweet aroma of black tea and pastries, the air was filled with the scents of old parchment, oil paints, and a faint, characteristic aroma of waxwood from antique furniture.

I just remembered someone who might like this place...

The traveler was led to a sofa upholstered in deep red velvet and seated.

The sofa was so soft it almost enveloped you, and on the small table beside it sat a pot of carefully nurtured rare orchids.

The manager did not sit down immediately, but walked to the cabinet next to him and solemnly took out an item—a wooden folder that was not very large, or rather, more like a delicate little box.

Its wood is polished to a warm, jade-like finish, inlaid with tiny pearls and strands of gold thread, and even has miniature enamel decorations on the edges.

Its extravagance and extravagance have completely transcended the scope of everyday office supplies, making it more like a work of art that should be displayed in a glass case.

The manager held the overly ornate folder in both hands and respectfully placed it on the low table in front of the traveler.

“Ms. Lü, please take a look at this document first. It was just delivered by Fontaine Union Bank on an expedited basis and has been urgently verified by us.”

The traveler took the heavy wooden box. Upon closer inspection, he discovered a miniature brass clasp on the side, equally exquisite but clearly impractical.

Almost simultaneously, the manager took a small key, its tip inlaid with tiny diamonds, from a silver tray and gently placed it beside the wooden box.

"They really are... very careful to protect guests' privacy." The traveler smiled helplessly at the overly ceremonial setup.

She picked up the small object, which looked more like jewelry than a key, aligned it with the keyhole, and gently turned it.

"Click".

With a soft click, the ingenious mechanism popped open.

The traveler lifted the lid of the wooden box. Inside, lined with deep blue velvet, her gaze fell directly on the most crucial detail—a long string of numbers that almost overflowed the page.

That's the account balance.

The sheer number of zeros made the traveler blink unconsciously, needing to count them carefully to confirm their digit count.

That was a number so enormous it was almost dizzying.

Her gaze quickly moved upwards, landing on the account opening information.

Account opening date: A specific, very distant day – 500 years ago.

Remittance date: exactly the same as the account opening date.

The amount remitted was an enormous sum, which was probably astonishing at the time.

The remitter's name field clearly and accurately reads – Funina de Fontaine.

A dull, aching pain came from my chest.

The name that came out of nowhere, the figure of that god that spanned five hundred years, lingered in my mind.

To suppress the surging emotions that threatened to break through his calm exterior, the traveler subconsciously and almost frantically rummaged through the heavy documents in the wooden box.

In addition to the overview at the top, there are many neatly bound detailed documents and formal contracts below.

These documents document the long journey of this enormous sum of money over the past five hundred years.

The documents show that the money was not simply deposited, but was invested in several "most promising future businesses" almost immediately after it was deposited, guided by a clear investment agreement.

Every investment was precisely timed to capitalize on Fontaine's subsequent rapid development.

Five hundred years have passed, and these investments have continuously appreciated, distributed dividends, and been reinvested alongside Fontaine's rise. Documents show that not long ago, according to certain special clauses in the original ancient contract, all these assets and rights, which had grown into behemoths over the long years, were liquidated and realized, ultimately converging into the astronomical figure that now lies quietly before travelers' eyes.

She gently turned to the most crucial document—the investment contract signed five hundred years ago.

Over time, the paper used for writing had become extremely fragile, yellowed, and even had tiny cracks along the edges. Therefore, it was encased in a hard resin protective shell to preserve every word and every mark on it intact.

The traveler's gaze shifted to the signature area.

There, signed with a gorgeous and slightly dramatic touch, was that very name—"Furnessa de Fontaine".

Next to this old contract was a similarly meticulously framed confirmation of the final realization of assets. In the beneficiary confirmation section, the "code" or "designated title" used was also "Furina de Fontaine".

The handwriting is completely different now.

No one noticed that the same "code name" used in these two documents, separated by 500 years, belonged to different people.

Except for travelers.

This is a legacy.

An astonishing legacy spanning five centuries.

Its origin may simply be a joke casually uttered by a traveler during a relaxed conversation.

A careless joke about something like "Please give me a huge sum of money that I can never spend."

Then, that little, insignificant joke was heard by the gods.

And she, in the years before she even existed, in a way that was both romantic and incredibly pragmatic, turned it into a promise that would last for five hundred years and await fulfillment.

Today, this realized joke, along with the faded yet still vivid signature in the remitter's column, bestows upon travelers the highest "respect" in this country's most expensive and snobbish place.

The traveler gazed silently at the string of numbers representing endless wealth, but his face showed no sign of ecstasy or smugness.

Only the suppressed emotions deep in his eyes.

This unusual calmness, in the eyes of the hotel manager who had been carefully observing her reaction, became the best proof—this young lady regarded such astonishing wealth as commonplace, and her identity was probably far beyond imagination.

"Our hotel also frequently hosts important merchants and dignitaries from Liyue," the manager said at the opportune moment, his tone full of awe and flattery. "Among them, there happen to be a few whose identities were indirectly confirmed during the emergency verification just now... extraordinary."

"Please allow me to once again express our sincerest apologies for our initial neglect. Molière Waterfront Hotel, and the entire service alliance behind us, will do our utmost to provide you with the most comfortable and exclusive service during your stay in Fontainebleau."

Uh...right.

Besides being a "traveler" and possibly having a past with the Water God... I think I also have a slightly troublesome identity related to the "Geo King" in Liyue?