Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“That was the last of the Cecilias,” Paimon announced. “The bag sure looks empty now, huh? All that’s left is…”

The guide whipped around to face the traveler, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Seventy-four thousand starconches?”

The nearby crystalflies suddenly seemed a lot more interesting to Lumine than the brewing confrontation. They were hard to spot in broad daylight, but they shone bright under the shade of the great oak. A curious one, however, landed on the bouquet in Venti’s hands, and she was forced to face the bemused quirk of his lips.

“And I only get a dozen flowers?” The bard complained. “I thought we were close, but I guess I’m no match for some starconch fanatic.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Care to explain, then?” Paimon probed, her face looming inches away from Lumine’s. “Why do you have more of these shells than slime condensate and hilichurl masks combined?”

In truth, the collection had its petty roots. The first time she lost a bout with Childe, Lumine had emptied Liyue’s shores of starconches out of spite. Naturally, he complained about the mysterious shortage of shells in the following week, and his annoyance filled Lumine with an irrational thrill. She could get under his skin this time, a small payback for the flirtatious new bruises that bloomed on hers.

Thus began Lumine’s routine of combing Yaoguang Shoal under Qiqi’s guidance. The child thankfully did not question her persistence, perfectly happy with reiterating the location of each shell day after day — probably because she would forget the whole thing by the next sunrise. Unfortunately, Paimon wouldn’t let this slide as easily.

The traveler folded her arms. “I don’t see what the big deal is. What if I’m the starconch fanatic?”

“We’ve been over this, Lumine!”

And they had. She knew full well they couldn’t leave Teyvat until she had emptied her inventory of every piece of this world. Any lingering fragment would disturb other realms, altering their laws in dangerous ways.

Lumine had abided by this rule so far, diligently retracing her journey through the land and distributing her spoils among old friends and familiar faces. Good Hunter now contained a lifetime’s supply of sweet flowers, Wanmin Restaurant stockpiled a disgusting amount of slime condensate, and enough bouquets had been given away to put every flower shop out of business.

In the soft light that filtered through the oak foliage, the last Cecilia arrangement seemed to wilt under the archon’s knowing smile. Venti didn’t even need to utter a single word — Lumine knew she couldn’t keep putting off her final, and most questionable, delivery. She felt chastised by his cutting gaze alone.

“May the Anemo Archon protect your heart,” he warbled. “From the love you will soon part.”

“Don’t start,” she hissed. Incorrigible as ever, the bard whipped out his lyre and thumbed menacingly at its strings.

“Still your mind and let the wind lead.”

A soft breeze danced through her hair. Lumine glared, daring him to continue.

“The Harbinger has a traveler to bree—”

With a grunt of protest, Paimon stilled time itself at the traveler’s will. Venti was frozen mid-melody, his mouth gaped in a playful grin. The oak stopped its sway, and the crystalflies hung rather than fluttered. Only Lumine was left breathing heavily, strained from the hot flash of panic.

“Paimon wanted to hear the rest of the song!”

“No you didn’t,” she quipped, conjuring her trusty map to block out Paimon’s grumpy face.

Time resumed its march as the pair materialized before the Golden House, the Millelith barely blinking at their sudden appearance. One of the guards, however, eyed Lumine’s sackful of shells — comically large enough to be ferried via slime balloon.

“Making a deposit, traveler?” He intoned kindly.

“Yes.” She proceeded to stand rigidly at the doorway with the inflated bag in hand, grip moistened with cold sweat. The gold etching was extraordinarily intricate; Lumine wondered why she never noticed before. Well, that wasn’t quite accurate — she had stared at these grandiose doors countless times while she tried to psych herself up before battle.

She looked away. The last thing Lumine wanted to do before she left was commit these little details to memory.

Her fist clenched and unclenched, nails tearing at the burlap. How bad would it be if she simply left the starconches at the doorstep? Maybe knock before making a mad dash for it, if she was feeling polite?

A head-splitting creak jolted her out of her highly necessary pondering.

“Childe! Paimon’s here to say bye!” The little god hollered through the gap.

A gloved hand held the door ajar before Lumine could yank her companion back and begin a tirade of how her impulsive actions were unsafe, insane, and non-consensual. The hinges screeched as the entrance was thrown wide open.

It was shocking, to say the least, for Lumine to find the Harbinger pawing at the doors like a caged dog. He was usually more aloof about it, favoring to poise himself in the center of the room and throwing a side-eye like he hadn’t expected her to barge in. This time, Childe barely spared a glance at the traveler’s peculiar baggage. Even his hair looked somehow more unkempt than usual, any remaining shred of sanity waned by the manic light in his eyes.

“Finally, our last opportunity to battle.”

“Uh, we’re not really here for that,” Paimon said. The Harbinger turned to her, his wild smile melting into something eerily neutral.

“Right. Goodbye, Paimon.” He patted her head a little too hard. “You can wait outside while we spar.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but Lumine quickly intervened at the sight of his darkening expression. “It’s alright. We won’t take too long.”

“Wait!” Paimon whispered. Or attempted to, even with Childe well within earshot. “What if he kidnaps you and forces you to stay? Paimon will go with you just in case!”

“Ahaha! Paimon, you tell the silliest stories!” Lumine wasn’t really laughing; the sound she made was more of a wail. “Childe would never do that, we’re… comrades. Besides, you’ll fetch the Abyss Prince to lead the search if I ever go missing, right?”

“You mean your brother? Didn’t he forfeit his crown after you guys defeated Celestia?”

“Y-yes.” Lumine could feel the sweat rolling down her neck. Childe’s eyes followed its trail, idly wetting his chapped lips. More clammy perspiration broke through her skin as she tried to subtly bob her head in Childe’s direction.

“But he’s waiting for me to say my goodbyes, isn’t he? And he’ll storm into the golden house if I’m a minute too late?”

“Oh!” Paimon yelled. “Yeah! Aether’s strong and buff and scary! And he hates Harbingers, especially the ones you have a weird crush o—”

“Thanks, Paimon! Stay here and keep a look out for Aether, okay?” And with that, she sealed herself away with said Harbinger.

The silence of the golden house was deafening in contrast to the pair’s clumsy shouting match. Only when she turned to meet Childe’s expectant gaze did Lumine realize that she had left all seventy-four thousand starconches outside. She cleared her throat to mention it, but the words died before they could escape into the charged air between them.

A beat passed. The polished marble cooled her exposed back, while a deep blue stare burned her front. His lips moved like he was about to say something, face twisted in an expression she’s never seen from him. Something strangely open — something honest.

Then his eyes left hers, drifting just slightly above to glance at the petals that adorned her hair. They were the only flowers Lumine had left, ones that will remain in bloom until the end of time. Perhaps this concept dawned on Childe belatedly: the Harbinger was dealing with matters far beyond himself.

A shadow stretched between them, and he took a step back. With his smirk in place, steady and predictable, Childe fell into their same old banter.

“You’ve got a crush on a Harbinger? Embarrassing.”

It was muscle memory at this point. Lumine kicked away from the entrance, sauntering past him to the middle of the Golden House.

“Paimon tells the tallest tales, doesn’t she?” Her heels clicked, sharp and merciless, at her usual starting position. “And why would you care if it were true? La Signora was objectively hot.”

Childe’s laughter was light and tuneless. “Geez. Objectifying the dead, are we?” he said, summoning a beautiful bow with a splash of hydro. “Then in the spirit of tarnished memories, let’s make our last hurrah unforgettable.”

“You’ve got a strange way of honoring our companionship.” In a whiplike motion, Lumine drew her sword — one of sunlight and stardust, glowing unlike the dull blade ever could. He let out a whistle of awe as he notched his first arrow.

“A cool scar is a great parting gift.”

“Where do you want it? Your face?”

Hence began the fatal tango. Their movements were practiced and exact; Childe rhythmically fired bursts of razor-sharp water, and Lumine leisurely advanced. She counted her steps, strolling just out of reach of his aim. He jetted away from her first slash aimed for his head, hydro magic roaring as it dampened her front.

“Hit me where it hurts, girlie. Aim for the heart.”

“How about you aim for my ass? That’s where the pain is.”

She watched in horror as he dove back into his watery sprint, weaving a path straight between her boots to surface directly behind her. Lumine turned in time to knock his arrow away with the butt of her sword, then slammed her heel into the tile between them to shake Childe out of his obscene crouch. The floor rocked with geo energy, and the Harbinger resorted to a graceful tumble to regain his footing.

“You’re such a tease.”

“Don’t you have some philosophy about saving your breath during battle?”

His response was immediate. “You always leave me breathless, girlie.”

A whirlwind of anemo fanned from her blade, as if Lumine could forcibly blast air back into his stupid lungs. In his usual extravagant manner, Childe called upon his trusty whale to counter her gust of wind. Cursing under her breath, she managed to dart away from the spray of the apparition only for her soles to skid across the slippery marble. Lumine landed on one arm, palm flat on the wet floor to catch her fall.

Ornaments flashed ruby, and the water around her vaporized. Their shadows prowled through the steam. With his element entwined with hers, the air felt too heavy to form words. She rasped, “why are you so—”

“Charming?”

“—obsessed with me?”

A speck of blue shone through the mist, and Lumine rolled her shoulder away from the arrow’s path.

“You’re the one who keeps clamoring back every week.” His accusation struck far more accurately than his marksmanship. There was no dodging that one; all she could do was retaliate.

“And what of it? Too attached to say goodbye?”

Their blades crossed abruptly, dispersing the haze around them through sheer force. Light steel ground against immovable fluid. Lumine tried to redirect her attention to how his hair curled and plastered itself against his cheek rather than look Childe in the eye.

He leaned in anyway, throat pressed against steel and hardened water.

“And if I am?”

She flushed; her muscles were really burning from this measure of strength. Her dominant hand left the hilt and pushed back against her sword, its sharp edge biting into her palm. He seemed to struggle at least, his cheeks pinking from the strain. Or was it the proximity?

“You know better than to hold me back, Harbinger.”

Childe disengaged with a twist of his blade, faltering briefly to shroud himself in hydro.

“All too well, traveler.” His voice was muffled by the Delusion.

The next phase of battle held no exchange of words. Any peep that escaped their lips dissolved into ferocious growls and exhales, every atom of their being crackling with his electro — riddling her pyro-infused swings with explosive knockback. It left both of them staggering, their ears ringing with everything left unsaid.

The Foul Legacy shattered the floor beneath them at last, and Lumine would have crumpled into the rubble without Paimon to brace her fall.

It was a blessing that she could fly once more. Ethereal wings burst forth, molding into her form like it was second nature.

Tartaglia paused mid-swing, cocking his head in surprise. “You’ve been holding back all this time?”

Her sword raised, its glinting tip aimed for his violet eye. “And if I have?”

“Thought you knew better than that.”

They never touched the ground as they exchanged blows, until a clawed gauntlet grabbed her ankle and threw Lumine face-down into the dirt. Before she could so much as suck in a breath, a boot stomped across her back. Like an ensnared crystalfly, her wings beat frantically against her captor, a strangled scream grating through her clenched teeth.

“You’re kind of careless, girlie.”

She flinched as his spear struck the floor, a hair’s breadth from her face. The Foul Legacy hunched over her, knuckles caressing her translucent wings almost reverently.

“What if I kept you here forever?”

Is he going to take them away from her?

Lumine was gripped with an old emotion, one that never once overcame her in Childe’s presence.

Fear.

It crept into her veins, freezing her blood like—

“You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered. Her skin burned ice-cold, the cores between the petals in her hair shining like miniature glaciers. Then the frost gripped his boot and crawled, deviously, up his armor. Lumine squirmed out of his hold as her magic imprisoned him. She watched the Foul Legacy freeze over, then gently dug the edge of her blade into his chest.

The transformation fell away with the shattered ice, and Childe slumped over in defeat.

“Thanks,” he coughed. “That was fun.”

She offered a hand up, which he gratefully took. “It was a little boring, honestly. I didn’t even maim you enough for a cool scar.”

“I totally scared you, though.”

“Shut up.”

She could have sworn his fingers trembled as he reached into his pocket.

“Here,” he said. “Your allowance for this week.”

The bag of mora was her usual reward whenever she managed to best Childe in battle. Usually, she’d happily take it and splurge for Paimon, but there was no need for that. Paimon had tasted every dish in the land, and Lumine had journeyed through every corner. Now she's said her goodbyes, all except for one.

She curled his fingers back around his money. The heat from his gloves warmed through hers, and suddenly she found it difficult to meet his eyes once more.

Blinking rapidly, she replied, “I can’t take this with me anymore, remember?”

“Ah.” The way his voice wavered slightly snapped her gaze back onto his. His eyes were dark, but he smiled at her regardless. “I forgot.”

Overcome by a swell of something incomprehensible — perhaps it was lunacy, or a weird allergy, even — Lumine tugged Childe forward, and their arms happened to wrap around each other in a coincidental embrace.

“Fucking idiot,” she muttered. His laughter reverberated through her cheek.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you swear.” He tucked a lock of straw blonde hair behind her ear. “And the last time, I guess.”

“Stop making this more miserable than it has to be,” Lumine complained, angry tears squeezing out of her sockets as he held her tighter.

Childe heaved a drawn-out sigh. "It’ll be hard to keep showing up here to train without you. I should probably surrender this area to the Qixing, huh? And nobody’s gonna harass me into accompanying them for daily commissions anymore. And then I’ll have to work in my office until I’m old and weary.”

“That’s your personal problem.” She wasn’t sobbing at all. It was most likely a blessing from the anemo archon in the form of pollen allergies. “And you can always pick a fight with someone else. I know this bar owner in Mondstadt who could definitely beat you up.”

“Anyone can beat me up, but no one makes it as fun as you do.”

Childe was right, Diluc was a killjoy on a good day. Lumine blew her nose into his scarf for lack of a better response.

They settled into a bittersweet silence, until.

“You sure I’m not the Harbinger you have a crush on?”

“Can’t you let it go already?” She tried to pry herself away, but Childe stubbornly clung to the back of her dress. “Are we twelve, Ajax?

“Yes or no?”

“Yes!”

“Yes, I’m the Harbinger you have a crush on?”

“Yes, I’m sure you aren’t.”

Childe was, in fact, the one. Yet Lumine understood that he deserved someone who would always be there to cherish him, someone who could grow old with him, someone who had a home here. And that wasn’t her. She had a duty as an immortal, the record-keeper of endless tales — and it did not include selfishly loving this man, loveable as he was. Childe could exist in her undying memory until the end of time, and that was enough.

It was. It had to be.

He sagged against her, relaxing his hold around her. “Good. I’m not sure what I’d do if you actually liked me back.”

Her heart thudded painfully against its cage, as if yearning to fall into his arms as well.

“Keep dreaming, loverboy.” Her voice was alien to her own ears. A new one, however, sounded very familiar.

“This is not an emergency, Paimon.”

Aether squatted by the lip of the crater formed by the Foul Legacy, peering at the pair through the dust and rubble. As inconspicuously as she can manage, Lumine inched away from Childe. He let it happen, attention diverted by the new figure unfurling his wings.

“Paimon heard it through the doors! Childe definitely said something about keeping Lumine here forever!”

The Abyss Prince landed by them sword-first, his long braid whipping up a storm as he rose. Her traitorous companion floated behind him, clinging to the end of his hair. Aether stood no taller than Lumine, but Childe somehow felt smaller in his presence.

“Are you keeping my sister here forever?”

“Haha, no. Of course not. It was a joke.”

“I thought so. If you’ll excuse us, then.” Aether turned away, already disinterested. “Are you okay, Lumine? Ready to go?”

Wiping the lingering moisture in her eyes in one hand, she took her brother’s with the other. Behind him, Childe offered her an awkward thumbs-up. Fresh tears began to spill, causing Aether to glare accusingly over his shoulder. Lumine smiled back at the Harbinger, bleary-eyed and pathetic.

“Let’s go, brother. Paimon.”

The god waved her tiny hands, and time stilled. Their surroundings began to glow and shift, warping through dimensions until their soles touched down on perfect marble atop pillars that scraped the heavens. The gentle scenery was bewitching without the threat of any Sustainer hounding their tails.

Paimon cleared her throat.

“Attention all passengers! We are soon departing Teyvat! Please check your belongings and make sure you have none besides the clothes on your back!” She looked around, scanning the area as if road signs would erupt from the clouds. “We are currently headed to… where are we going, exactly?”

The twins shared a look.

“A spa,” declared Lumine.

“A city,” countered Aether.

Their chaperone glanced between them, and settled for something in between. Bustling, but relaxing. Somewhere warm and friendly. Lumine held her breath as light flooded her vision, still holding her brother’s hand tight.

When she opened her eyes, Lumine found herself nestled in her own arms, as if she had taken a brief nap. She got up from the rickety chair, eyeing her surroundings while she stretched.

The room appeared to be for storage purposes, fluorescent light illuminating the various shelves of containers and cleaning products. There was a menu written in chalk, bordered by little post-its filled with recipe measurements. A lovely scent wafted from outside as the door opened, and an unfamiliar face peeked inside.

“Lumine,” said the bespectacled woman. “Your shift’s next. There’s barely any foot traffic at this hour, but there’s a customer insisting to see you.”

She nodded blankly, and the stranger left her to her devices. Upon closer inspection, her dress had been replaced by a plain black uniform. The coffee-colored apron bore her name stitched in a cute cursive.

Lumine was a barista. Aether was probably outside with Paimon; there was a high chance that he’s the customer waiting for her.

Ducking out of the room in excitement, she hurried to the bar to concoct her first drink. Everything was laid out neatly; jars of sweet-smelling ingredients, bottles of honey and syrups, even a cake display. The stack of paper cups had the shop’s logo printed, and she took one to examine it closer. It appeared to be a constellation of sorts, with a tiny narwhal curving through the stars.

Wait a damn minute.

“Childe…?” Lumine gasped. Someone faked a cough to grab her attention, and she found her very first customer standing across the counter.

“You got it right this time,” he snickered. “Don’t forget the ‘e’.”

Unbeknownst to the traveler, a fragment of power pulsed from within the pocket of her slacks. The tiny capsule was easy to miss, but the souvenir was unmistakable.

Her journey was now forever distorted by Childe’s boss battle loot.

Chapter Text

The moment they locked eyes, she was alerted by a pop-up window in the periphery of her vision. The Paimon menu was still granting her quests, it seemed, but Paimon herself was nowhere to be found. The quest itself was unhelpfully vague. Divulge? Divulge what?

In the present moment, Childe ran a nervous hand through his hair. “Is there something on my face?”

Lumine blinked.

A perfect replica of the Harbinger stood across from her, trespassing in a completely different universe. The longer this situation progressed, the more she needed a break from reality. So where in the world was her floating guide? Why wasn’t Paimon answering her mental SOS signals?

Lost and overwhelmed, Lumine resolved to take it one step at a time.

“Sorry. What did you want again?”

“I want to take you out,” he said, casually resting a forearm on the counter. “But I’ll settle for my usual.”

It was her usual as well, this underwhelming exchange of words whenever she strolled into the Golden House every week. He had even declared to take her out on occasion, but in a less forward and more deadly manner. Handling Childe’s absurd demands should be well within her capabilities; there were no deadly swipes or shouted taunts. It was just the two of them in a dimly lit coffee shop, their breathing quieted by jazz and distant rain. The ambiance was peaceful enough to dampen her growing anxiety.

“Your ‘usual’? Do I know you?” Lumine replied coolly. Childe let out a pathetic chuckle, as if the puff of breath was enough to identify himself and the many faces he wore.

While she awaited his reply with the patience of a saint, Lumine took her time scrawling his name onto a paper cup. What were the chances of another universe bearing a clone of Tartaglia, eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers, codename Childe, real name Ajax? There must have been an anomaly that caused such a feat.

The barista watched his eyes narrow with conniving. He was definitely at fault.

“Are you trying to bluff your way out, girlie?” The sliver of teeth peeked from within his smirk. “You’ve already written my name on the cup. Of course you know who I am.”

The marker clattered onto the polished counter as if it had personally offended her.

“Right. How could I forget someone like you?” Lumine squinted up at him like a dementia-riddled grandmother.

Childe looked as dreadful as usual, unruly hair framing his handsome face. Despite how natural he tried to make it look, she was convinced that he spent time styling it. How can this clone get the curls exactly right otherwise? He was definitely the same guy she knew, down to the faint freckles painting his cheeks.

“Lumine, I’m the only customer that comes in during your shift. You’ve memorized my order by now, haven’t you?” He leaned closer, and the newly exposed skin below his collar was infuriatingly magnetizing. Lumine feigned an eyeroll to glue her wandering eyes to the ceiling.

What kind of beverage did Childe usually go seeking out at this ungodly hour of night? She had no idea.

“One cup of whatever, coming right up,” Lumine droned. “I hope you like surprises.”

She proceeded to snatch the most repulsive liquid from the shelves, her nose assaulted by its pungent bitterness. It didn't matter what his 'usual' was. If this was the real Childe and he had somehow followed her here, she hoped it tasted horrible. But he could also simply be an honest doppelganger.

With a quick once-over, Lumine noted that his clothes were altered to fit this world's aesthetic, Delusion absent and Fatui uniform swapped for a plain button-down. She wouldn’t put it past Childe to assault a poor civilian and rob them of their attire, but to wander around without his Vision was quite unlike him.

“Did something catch your eye?” He snickered.

She haughtily turned away to inspect the storage machinery behind her. The labels on the chilled containers were in a language she couldn't decipher, but relief hit her when she sighted the universal cow print. Lumine couldn't recall if Childe was lactose intolerant, but her mind was already running miles ahead, plotting her ambush if the guy needed an emergency bathroom break. He'd be trapped in the privacy of a stall with no choice but to yield to her thorough interrogation.

Lumine ran through her growing list of questions as she filled his cup with milk. Why are you here? How did you follow me here? Where did you take Paimon and Aether? What have you done?

Struck by sudden inspiration, she rummaged through the bottle cabinet. Fire water could loosen tongues; she was well-acquainted with this fact.

Dragonspine had been particularly chilly the day Childe helped her distribute emergency rations. They had invaded a Fatui camp for a short break, huddling around the small campfire in vain.

“Why couldn’t you have a Pyro Vision instead? Or a Pyro Delusion?” Lumine scowled at the Harbinger from across the dying embers. “I should’ve asked someone else out.”

“Come a little closer, I don’t need one to warm you up.”

“Hey! You're getting me wet — !” Her voice quaked from the heightened cold.

A Fatui subordinate had probably grown so uncomfortable with their conversation that they offered a bottle of alcohol to stave off the chill. From then on, the topic derailed from petty banter to personal matters. Something about Childe’s stories of his home made her struggle to stay tight-lipped. Lumine remembered talking about Aether, and bits of when they were forcibly separated.

The next thing she knew, she was giggling through a splitting headache. Her heart pounded in the rhythm of his soft laughter. Lumine couldn't see the look in his eyes because she had hers closed, but his hands were warm, and his breath carried the tang of fire water. And then there was a sweet pressure on her lips, their drunken hysterics silenced —

Lumine shrugged the memory away and continued sorting through bottles of extracts. This was no time to remember the fuzzy details. Recounting the burn down her throat was enough to fuel her need for that special spirit.

"What's the matter? Did you drop a penny in there?"

She also needed Childe to shut up for at least five seconds.

"Take a seat. I'll serve you the drink in a bit," Lumine said pointedly.

There was that same lilting laugh, and the man sauntered away in obedience. Muttering under her breath, she continued her search.

Past the canisters of whipped cream and tall syrup pumps sat an inconspicuous bottle of clear liquid. The contents sloshed as she grabbed it by the neck, already half-empty. Perhaps a coworker had been drinking on the job.

The lack of any label motivated Lumine to take a precautionary whiff; she needed her subject alive and unwell, not dying because she accidentally assassinated him with paint thinner. Her nose wrinkled at the sharp scent of alcohol.

Lumine filled the cup to the brim and gave it a half-hearted stir, the beverage swirling with ill intent. In an attempt to smother the twinge of guilt, she pictured Childe at his worst: tinged in violet, howling at her betrayal, striking with every intent to kill. Discreetly flexing her fingers, the traveler tried to summon her sword.

Her fist clenched around empty air.

This feeling wasn’t new to Lumine. Memories quietly resurfaced, taking the shape of her outstretched arm, the panic in Aether's eyes, the first time she fell without wind beneath her wings. Yet she had never been robbed of the means to fight, until now.

In spite of it all, she could always pull it together and find some answers. Everything would return to its rightful place sooner or later, right?

Childe had migrated to the far corner of the little café, chin held pensively in his palm. A dribble of liquid spilled over the lip of the paper cup, cooling her fingers. Lumine tried to quell their trembling as she placed the drink before him.

“You sure took your time."

"I thought you'd enjoy the wait," the barista reasoned, seating herself across from Childe. "Since you seem to be way too interested in me."

"Finally got the hint, I see." He gave the drink a light jostle. "What's this, milk?"

"Just try it."

"Did you put something naughty in here? I feel a bit nervous."

"Don't be stupid."

He lifted the cup to his lips, but paused before taking a sip. "Do you know where I work, Lumine?"

There weren’t many hints for her to hazard a guess — Childe wasn’t adorning a nametagged apron like Lumine. But his sleeves, rolled up in his signature style, had flecks of dirt in them. Perhaps he was a garbage collector, which wasn’t too far from his original duty as a Harbinger. Someone had to do the dirty work.

"Remind me," she prompted.

Childe gestured beyond the glass panel. Through the downpour, she could make out the faint lighting of a flower shop across the street.

"Pretty romantic, huh?" He said. "The florist, seducing the neighboring barista."

The barista twirled her hair in disinterest. "Is that what you're doing? You've got to try harder than that."

His smile was easy, but his eyes glinted with the same cunning spark whenever he threw himself into battle. Lumine tensed on instinct, but tried to mitigate her stiffened posture with a casual overhead stretch.

"I'm making progress, I think," Childe said. "I come here every other night, but this was the first time you remembered my name."

She frowned. This implied that there had been an original Lumine in this world, and she had taken her place. Hadn’t Childe claimed that he was the only customer during her shift? Surely they would have been on terms friendly enough to exchange their names if he expected her to remember his usual order.

Then it dawned on Lumine — he'd been testing her from the moment he laid eyes on her. She was the imposter, in his perspective.

"We never spoke beyond formalities. I just enjoyed watching you work. Some nights you’d be busy cleaning the tables, but would drop everything to welcome me inside. Other nights you’d be mopping the floor, and you’ll hum the Devil’s Trill Sonata in G minor while you’re at it. You’d go back to restocking the shelves after pouring my usual coffee.”

Strange monologue aside, Lumine should have guessed that Childe’s choice of beverage was plain old coffee. Perfect for combatting the nighttime fatigue like the psychopath he was.

Before she could stop him, he took a sip from the cocktail and coughed in surprise.

"Wow, you spiked it? You're quite forward tonight."

Lumine gaped, as if appalled by her own actions. But any lingering remorse was quickly overshadowed by her mounting panic.

“So do tell: was that your first time behind the counter? You act like you’ve never opened a fridge or poured a drink in your life.”

The interrogation wasn't going according to plan. All the questions flew out of her head as she was the one pressed for answers.

"And you know, I've never seen flowers like the ones in your hair before." Childe cocked his head, still smiling serenely. "Does the real Lumine have a twin I don't know about?"

Aether.

She steadied her breathing. This situation could still be redeemed; and if it couldn't be, she'd force her way through. Reuniting with her brother and Paimon was at the top of her priorities.

Confusing a Childe-shaped bystander? Not so much.

"There's quite a few things you don't know about, Ajax." He flinched at her tone, or perhaps the sudden mention of his real name. Palms flat on the table, Lumine rose to her full (and modest) height. "I was going to spare you the details, but you're so persistent about sticking your nose into everything."

"Oh, good. You'd better start talking before I call the cops on you," he threatened right back. "How'd you even know my actual name? Are you a stalker?"

“Stalker? You’re the one coming here to memorize that poor girl’s every move!”

“So you admit that you aren’t Lumine?” His voice seethed into something haunting, not unlike the way Tartaglia would sound when wearing his Delusion. “Where is she? What did you do to her?”

Childe stood as well, now towering over Lumine. She debated posing as her own kidnapper to lure him into a secluded area, but knowing Childe, she’d probably just get into a fistfight. This guy had no qualms with beating a lady into submission like it was a typical Tuesday.

A passerby ran past them on the opposite side of the window panel, desperate to flee from the rain. Any violent motives fled with them, for now. It was best not to make a scene in a world Lumine didn’t know much about, even as the turbulence escalated.

“Come with me,” Lumine ordered, nodding her head toward the staff only area. “I have something to show you.”

“You better not try anything funny.” Childe trailed after her, despite his suspicions. The pair made their way toward the back, and Lumine found herself at her starting point: the storage closet. The two crowded themselves between the cleaning supplies, glaring at each other under the flickering bulb overhead.

"Before you reach for your phone,” she began. “I'm a traveler from a different world, over centuries old. I've lived through the death of stars and civilizations. A couple of cops won't deter me.”

"Okay, so I'll need to call the psych ward for you instead."

Lumine smacked a fist against the light switch, cloaking the pair in darkness. Before he could choose between fight or flight, she snapped her fingers directly across Childe's scowling face. A smattering of constellations burst from her palm, the miniature stars illuminating the walls around them. His eyes narrowed, trying to determine whether this was a cool party trick or not.

"Just shut up and listen if you want Lumine back," she growled. "And don't interrupt me."

He leaned back, arms defensively folded across his chest, and waited.

"I am Lumine, just not the one you’re familiar with. I'm trapped in this dimension because I lost my guide — she's the one ferrying me across the multiverse. Something went wrong when I traveled into this one, and I was separated from her."

His unbudging posture made no indication of whether he was making an effort to understand. Lumine continued, regardless.

"Here's the weird thing, though: I knew a version of you from the previous world. He was the last citizen I saw before everything went haywire. I think he sabotaged my journey, somehow."

Childe clicked his tongue. "Liar."

The traveler gaped back at him. The truth had been laid out before this insignificant florist, and he still refused to believe her. If only her sword could do the talking…

Lumine sighed. "Why would I lie to you?"

"I don't really get what’s going on, but I'd never do anything heinous to Lumine," he declared, turning his nose up at her suggestion. "Maybe to you, because you're kind of a bitch. But I'd never do that to my Lumine."

This bastard.

Brow furrowed in exasperation, she contemplated reciting Tartaglia's extensive list of crimes, down to his wildly inappropriate comments during their spars. Hell, she could write an entire book of all his terrible deeds against her — the Fire Water Incident can be a whole standalone chapter.

There might be a better way to convince Childe, however.

"What makes you so sure that you wouldn't?" Lumine pressed.

"You think I'd ruin my chances like that? It takes serious dedication for me to come here repeatedly, even if I die inside when she gives me that cute smile and asks for my name again," Childe rambled. "And damn it, I will keep showing up until I make her remem— oh."

The traveler cupped her cheek in feigned surprise. "Oh?"

He stared at Lumine like she had just revealed the secrets of the universe (which she had, but they weren't what he was reveling in). "The other Childe was in love with you, too."

This wasn’t news to Lumine. Yet his confession haunted her, weighing heavily on her heart even as she pushed it out of her mind. The warmth in his embrace, the pain in his smile — it was impossible to forget when she was forced to confront the same man pining after a different her.

Had she been cursed to relive her rejection again, forced to keep denying a future with a mortal she shouldn’t want to love?

Childe was now looking down at her, expression softened by whatever was written on her face. “Maybe you haven’t resolved everything between yourself and the other Childe.”

“There’s nothing to resolve.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re pretty bad at lying. It’s honestly a little cute.”

She’d be ready with a retort by now, but her tongue felt too heavy and her mind was running too fast to string any coherent sentence together. Wouldn’t it be nice if Lumine and Childe were just two people flirting in a storage closet, tucked away from the rest of the world?

“Sorry.” Lumine didn’t know what she was apologizing for. Only when he pulled her into a hug did she notice the wetness in her cheeks.

“You’re not her,” he clarified. “But I can’t stand that look on her face.”

He wasn’t Childe either. He had no answers to offer, no explanations, no grand reveal of his terrible schemes — but perhaps Lumine had one for him.

She swallowed back a sob. “When she comes back after I leave, you’re going to ask her out.”

“No way. I’d look like a creep.” Childe spoke as if he hadn’t sauntered up to the counter earlier and did exactly that.

“I think you’re plenty creepy already.” Lumine couldn’t help the bitter jest that tugged her lips upward. “If she isn’t put off by that, she’d probably date you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“If she’s anything like me, she would.” The words burned in her throat like fire water, and Lumine yearned to throw it all up. “I loved Childe, too.”

Abruptly, her vision was no longer blurred by tears. In their place was an encompassing white fog, with the sensation of his warmth slipping away from her again. A new alert pinged from the Paimon menu, stating that she had completed her quest.

And with all that said and done, Lumine was whisked into a different dimension.