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For the past few years, there was a saying in Mondstadt, one passed down by aggravated Knights to their children, then by said misguided children to their unsuspecting friends, then to their equally oblivious yet scandalized parents, then—you get the point.
Also, it hadn’t been solely exclusive to Mondstadt, but there were countless variations of the same thing over and over. Ultimately, it boiled down to:
The Devil works hard, but the Fatui worked harder.
This was especially true when they replaced the Eighth Harbinger before anyone could say Archons. Not overnight, not within hours, but in mere minutes.
Really, with that ruthless efficiency of theirs, it certainly put even the Liyue Qixing to shame; not to mention a specific organization somewhere in the Land of Freedom. It’s time to take notes, people. Sometimes you’d ought to learn a thing or two from your worst enemy to keep up with the times.
Matter of fact, maybe they worked a little too fast.
“Um, greetings, strange yet respectable traveller…” Swan coughed into his palm, doing his damn best to look at anywhere but the stranger’s pointed glare. “All Fatui personnel are required to provide the appropriate paperwork upon their arrival, approved and signed by the Acting Grandmaster and their Harbinger themselves. If you can’t—”
The man(woman?)’s eyebrow reached their hairline, lip twitching as the knight rambled away all the rules and regulations, as if he were reciting off a script. Diplomacy be damned, they had half a mind to shove the knight aside and walk straight in just to get it over with.
“I fail to see how this is relevant,” they said dryly when Swan finally shut up, catching his breath after the swarm of information he just dumped on them. “On what grounds do you think I’m Fatui to begin with?”
“Ah! Uh,” the knight stuttered, caught in the act like a deer in headlights. “Have… I mistaken? Oh Barbatos! I, Swan, Knight of Favonius, apologi—”
“Swan!” a new voice cut in. “What’s happening here?”
Both the knight and the traveller in white turned. From afar, they saw a young woman with bunny ears jogging over, her accessories flopping in the wind.
In spite of her simple appearance and uniform, Swan clammed up and became red in the face upon her arrival. Soon his awkward apologies and stammering sentences had came to a complete mess, unable to form any coherent sentences from his embarrassment.
“Outrider Amber!” Swam cried, more flustered than relieved. “There is nothing wrong; I simply mistook this traveller for a Fatuus.”
Amber, who’d just entered the scene, tilted her head and gave the newcomer a onceover. They wore a sleeveless black bodysuit, its plain looks accentuated by ornate gold lines (is that real gold?), welded perfectly together that covered the upper half of his body and throat. Around his torso was a white cloak that left his shoulders exposed, its end resembling a pair of wings that rested just below the back of his knees.
Despite herself, she found her curiosity piqued as she continued to look on shamelessly, wondering how one person could have amassed such a large amount of wealth to wear a priceless metal as clothing. His pants and boots were the same colour as his cloak, but his boots were also lined and soled with gold.
With their get up and haughty air, she could see how Swan could have made the assumption of Fatuus. Most travellers and merchants that hailed from the Land of Snow tended to dress to the nines for the most mundane of tasks, and the less said about their attitudes the better. Still, it was too early to assume someone’s allegiance based on their choice of colours alone, wasn’t it?
She narrowed her eyes, sceptical. While Swan was a simple knight whose job mainly consisted of guarding the city gates, he wasn’t known for his baseless accusations or thoughtless opinions of others. He must’ve seen something before drawing such a drastic conclusion, even when they were wary of Fatui.
Still, other than their red hair and side cape, there wasn’t any reason to—wait, is that…?
There it was, nestled innocently just below their throat, was a dark coloured red jewel embedded in the golden skeleton. With all its jewellery and riches adorning the physical embodiment of poison, it was all deceivingly delicate for what a horrible creation it really was.
“No. You were right, Swan!” Amber decided, putting her hands on her hips. She turned to the stranger sternly.
They tilted their head curiously. “What made you think otherwise, Outrider?” Their eyes narrowed in amusement, an unsettling glint gleaming in their blood-coloured eyes. “Where are the proof for your bold claims?”
Amber shuddered at their voice. Their tone was light and easy-going, but there was something in it that made her skin crawl. It reminded her of Kaeya, if he had more twisted intentions and his perception of reality had been warped beyond comprehension.
She must’ve let her nerves show, because the traveller chuckled dryly and raised their hands placatingly. “Alright, I’ll stop running circles around you,” they mused, shrugging. “You were right; I am part of the Fatui. I give credit where it’s due – your observation skills are one of a kind.”
Even his wordplay was a double-edged sword. After all that, Amber can’t help but feel thoroughly insulted. The Acting Grandmaster could spit on her grandfather’s grave and she’d still feel less offended.
Swan recovered almost instantaneously, however still reeling in from the emotional rollercoaster he was dragged along on. “I see!” He straightened himself, clenching his teeth. “Then I must ask for your papers, sir, uh… ma’am… Agent?”
They exhaled from their nose, a small, almost invisible smile present on their lips. “I don’t particularly mind how you address me,” they hummed, tapping their chin with a gloved hand. “Though, I’d prefer one title, if you don’t mind.”
Swan nodded, albeit hesitantly. “Which is…?”
The Fatuus didn’t blink. “‘Lord Harbinger.’”
“Sir! Sir Alberich!”
Kaeya heard the barrage of footsteps long before the shouts, grumbling face buried under a handbook he used to block out the light for a quick afternoon nap. A rare occasion, one that was ungracefully interrupted when the doors to his office slammed wide open, without any regard for decency or knightly respect.
He took his feet off his ivory desk and lowered the book from his face, hardly bothering to wipe the irritation off his expression when they stormed into the office panting and wheezing, clutching their knees to catch their breath.
“What is it, cadet?” seethed the Calvary Captain through clenched jaws.
“H-Harbinger at the doors, sir!!”
For the very first time since she was appointed as the Acting Grandmaster, Jean closed her eyes and allowed herself to sway in the breeze. Like magic, Mondstadt’s mellow winds soothed the tension in her muscles, leeching away the exhaustion she accumulated over her work.
“You were right, Lisa,” she said breathlessly, looking down at the entirety of Mondstadt from atop the Headquarters. “Perhaps a break was necessary, after all.”
Next to her, the purple librarian gave her a knowing smirk. It was one of her signature “I-told-you-so” looks, but for once, Jean would gladly give her the satisfaction. She owed that much to her, at the very least.
“Naturally,” Lisa purred, glancing at the blonde who was transfixed by the sight of the city they spent countless hours protecting. “As they say in Liyue, ‘One must rest to prepare for a greater journey ahead.’”
Jean smiled. “You didn’t just make that up, did you?”
“Of course not, dear. I mustn’t take credit for their linguistical flair.” She twirled a strand of hair in her finger. “No self-respecting librarian worth their salt would ever call another’s work their own.”
As Jean’s lips curled upwards for a chuckle, the doors to the headquarters’ roof slammed wide open, causing the two women to spin on their heels in shock. They watched a knight pant and heave by the walls with mild annoyance, frustrated at the interruption.
“Grand—Grandmaster Jean!” Swan coughed, leaning on the open door. “I got here as quickly as I could—ack!”
Lisa stepped forward, electro sparking on her fingertips. “What is it, Sir Swan?” she asked evenly, but everyone could practically see the bloodlust radiating off her person in waves. “What is so important that you dared to barge in on private hours?”
I’d be pressed to call these ‘private hours,’ seeing as we’re still in HQ… Jean thought as she put a hand on Lisa’s shoulder, reigning her in. She nodded towards the knight, doing her best to keep her disappointment from surfacing.
Swan paled, but he immediately saluted and straightened his spine. “It’s the Fatui, ma’am!” he cried. “A harbinger is demanding your presence in headquarters this moment.”
Aether was sure he’d been minding his own damn business up until this very point. After the circus that was Sumeru, he’d returned to Mondstadt for a quick vacation, expecting some tearful reunions and good food before he’d have to throw himself into yet another potential political war, but he should know by now that his life had never gone to plan, and fate is deliberately going out on its way to screw him with a full grown cactus up his ass.
Matter of fact, he’d barely stepped foot into the gates of Mondstadt when Timmie (Timmie! The kid who hates hates his guts for all his crimes against the general fowl population) came to him for help (albeit very, very reluctantly) and started blabbering about a Fatuus scaring the living daylights out of the knights at the front gate. It wouldn’t have been so bad however, if Timmie didn’t go on a second rant about how a Fatuus got along better with his birds than everybody else he met.
From his description, Aether had a good idea of who Timmie was talking about. Although their meeting was brief, it’d been bizarre enough for the ordeal to remain fresh in his memory. Granted, most parts of it were fuzzy at best and nonsensical at worst; but in his defence, he’d nearly been killed by Inazuma’s Archon and witnessed Signora’s brutal death only moments before, so forgive him if he can’t remember anything beyond that.
Everything in his body told him to run in the other direction. Liyue didn’t seem like too bad of a vacation spot and it was close by. All he needed was a fake moustache and new clothes to pass off as a random stranger, then the locals would be none the wiser. However, Paimon, like the slave driver she was, practically dragged him by his feet over to the headquarters.
“By the way,” Aether grumbled, trailing after his floating companion, “did Timmie ever say why did they come to Mondstadt?”
Paimon shrugged. “I dunno!” she said innocently. “But it must be important if they rattled the knights!”
Aether sincerely doubted the knights’ credibility. He really did.
The blond was a split second away from calling their bluff when a citizen by the Good Hunter’s screamed, “Wait! A harbinger?!”
Kaeya ungracefully choked on air. “What did you just say?”
“A what?” Jean demanded, eye twitching.
A migraine rammed full force into Aether’s psyche. “I’m hearing things,” he deadpanned.
Then, all at once, a perfect symphony in spite of the distance between them:
“You’ve got to be shitting me.”
Somewhere nearby, a certain redheaded harbinger sneezed into their elbow.
Jean and the unnamed Harbinger were already halfway through a conference before Aether barged in unannounced, forcing the meeting to come to a screeching halt as all eyes turned to him in shock, but with none of the surprise.
His eyes skimmed across the ensemble: Kaeya and Lisa on each of Jean’s sides, Amber in the corner of the room, and the Harbinger standing across the desk. His gaze eventually landed on the harbinger, recognizing him in an instant but just fell short of his name.
“You!” Aether jabbed a finger in the redhead’s direction, his wild mane of hair cascading down his shoulders like a river of fire. “You’re the guy from Tenshukaku, aren’t you?”
The Harbinger blinked at him like he’d grown two heads. “… nice to see you too, I suppose?”
“I see you’ve already met,” Jean said hesitantly, bewildered by this sudden turn of events. “Traveller, I wasn’t aware that you’ve returned to Mond.”
“We just got here!” Paimon said cheerfully, before turning back to the redhead. “Speaking of, what’s he here for? Is he causing trouble? We can always kick his butt outta Mondstadt!”
“And sour the relations between Mond and Sheznhaya even further?” the harbinger mused, more entertained than intimidated by the flying rat’s threat of violence. “Wouldn’t that be something.”
Paimon scowled at him. “Like you Fatui haven’t caused enough trouble in our travels, you—people like you don’t even deserve an ugly nickname!”
“What, and you’re going to give me the boot from my own home? Surely, not even you would be that heartless, would you?”
Aether’s headache was going to get another headache. This was like talking to a clone of Miko, Kaeya, Childe, and whoever treated serious situations like a game of tic-tac-toe. Was it too late to run for the hills and let Mondstadt deal with its own problem?
“Wait, your home?” he noticed.
Kaeya coughed into his palm, turning Aether’s attention back to him. “Indeed, Traveller,” he said rather uncomfortably, glowering at the Fatuus. “This man is Hecate, the new Eleventh… and my brother, Diluc Ragnvindr.”
Aether’s brain imploded.
“Wait, Childe got a promotion?!” Paimon shrieked.
The gold-haired Traveller had half a mind to shove her into a potato sack. Why was that the only thing she cherry picked from the revelation? Why not for the fact that the harbinger was from Mondstadt itself? Or the reveal that Sir Kaeya had a harbinger sibling all this time? Or this harbinger was a Ragnvindr, the family that owned the freaking Dawn Winery that monopolized Teyvat’s wine industry?
“Newly?” Aether quizzed. “How ‘new’ are we talking about?”
“Not very,” Hecate (Diluc?) muttered. “It seems that laying low during my appointment was a horrible decision, for all the gripe dozens of ignorant fools have given me.”
“You don’t say?”
“If you must know, it was the day Signora perished to the Shogunate herself.” Diluc scoffed humorously, like the death of his colleague was the best joke he’d heard in his life. “The very same day I saw the both of you enter the palace, yet only one of you left alive.”
“Sounds awfully familiar, doesn’t it,” Kaeya huffed.
Jean and Diluc both shot him looks of irritation.
Wow, just wow.
“Why is Paimon getting the feel that there is a looooot of history behind this…”
You don’t say?
Diluc waved their concerns off. “We’re getting off topic. As much as I’d enjoy reminiscing about the past, there are still matters at hand that requires my immediate attention.” He crossed his arms. “Now that La Signora is no longer available, the Tsaritsa deemed it fitting for me to oversee Mondstadt in her place. Essentially, I’m doing the dirty work she left behind. Not that I was fond of that witch to begin with…”
Aether sobered up. Bad. This was bad. The Fatui had already been a massive thorn in Mondstadt’s side even with Signora’s absence, so how would it all devolve if there was a harbinger stationed here 24/7? He knew from experience that harbingers never dwelt in the same place for long, but from Diluc’s words, it sounded eerily like he would be staying for an undefined amount of time.
But… Diluc was Kaeya’s brother. Kaeya, who despised the Fatui. The Kaeya, who’d sooner stick his family jewels into an electro slime than let himself be associated with the Fatui. Kaeya, who had a brother who was a harbinger. He didn’t even want to begin to imagine the chaos that would break out of these two ever got into a disagreement with each other.
“I’m assuming you will be staying at the Grand Goth Hotel?” Kaeya asked, not without emotion. There was an odd look in his eyes, like he couldn’t decide whether to settle on a glower or pity. “The Dawn Winery isn’t exactly close by, especially if you’re overseeing Fatui operations.”
Diluc shook his head. His untied, untameable hair swayed with him. “No accommodation will be required just yet,” he deadpanned. “I will be leaving Mondstadt after today. The decision to return in the near future is dim, all circumstances considered.”
Electricity jolted through Aether’s entire being. What did he say???????
“Oh?” Jean spoke up, curious. “Why not?”
Diluc sighed. “This was supposed to be confidential information,” he said, “but I suppose it couldn’t hurt to let my tongue loose for a few ears.”
Aether leaned closer. This could be important. A secret between harbingers – a hidden weakness, perhaps? A kink in their impenetrable armour? The location or project of the next harbinger?
The redhead chewed on his thumbnail. “Signora’s funeral is tomorrow morning,” he hissed, like the idea alone repulsed him. “Why the Tsaritsa made our attendance mandatory, it is beyond me.”
“Our” attendance. All the harbingers would be there, gathered in one place. Now, if Aether could somehow contact Lumine, and get her to build a massive motherfucking nuke, they could—
“It’s tomorrow?” Kaeya’s eyes (read: eye) widened in surprise. “I assumed it’d been done months ago. Her passing was all the local Fatui would talk about for weeks.”
“Logistics,” Diluc said, lying through his teeth. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. “Do you know what a headache it is, trying to announce an important figure’s death in front of thousands and millions of citizens on live broadcast? Oath to protect our citizens or not, I’m going to shove a chair up the next reporter who even dares to point a single microphone in my face.”
The fact that Snezhnaya is far more technologically advanced than the nations Aether had visited honestly slipped his mind. You’d think after gunning down all their lesser skirmishers and agents, he’d get the memo that Snezhnaya was practically decades—if not, centuries—ahead in science and machinery compared to every other country.
Then again, they didn’t fare that well against him, or any other half-decent fighter that came around…
“Speaking of,” Diluc continued, either apathic or oblivious to Aether’s inner turmoil, “that brings us to our current predicament.”
Aether and Paimon leaned closer. There’s more? Were the harbingers going to go to the funeral unarmed and under an oath of pacificism, all for the respect of a former colleague? Lulu, get the nukes!
“Your Knights are inefficient and downright uneducated.” The redhead smirked, clearly taking delight in badmouthing their organization. “For the lack of a better term, I’d even call them stupid, if I may.”
Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn, even Childe was subtler than this! And that ginger was as subtle as an airhorn in a library!!
Paimon yelped. “Is… is this… It can’t be a…”
“This is the worst social call I’ve attended in my years of serving,” Jean summarized, unamused. Kaeya rolled his eyes (read: eye) and shook his head in his palm.
Diluc shrugged. Aether’s going to choke this whore unsexily.
“Traveller, a moment?”
Aether stopped in his tracks. The hallway was empty, as they’d dismissed most of the knights from the general vicinity for the possibility of bloodshed. Fortunately, the meeting had went off without a hitch, but Jean had left the room claiming a headache and Diluc dismissed himself by jumping out the window. (Not really, but with his attitude, Paimon’s already got first dibs on pushing him out of one.)
He turned on his heels to meet Kaeya standing by his office entrance, gesturing him to enter as he looked around for any potential stragglers, studying the negative space until he could shut the door behind them.
Once they were alone, Kaeya crossed his arms, an unreadable expression dawning on his face. It was the same one when Kaeya had introduced Diluc as his brother, although more melancholic and uncertain than before.
“Your expedition across Teyvat is well-known, Traveller,” Kaeya started, making an effort to keep his voice even. “Especially your crimes against the Fatui.”
“Are you going to ask us to kill Diluc?” Paimon blurted. Aether and Kaeya whipped to her, startled. “What? He’s Fatui, and we hate the Fatui!”
“I’m not killing anyone,” Aether snapped. “It’s a line I’m not willing to cross.”
“Oh really? I wonder what happened to the last Grand Sage in Sumeru—”
He stuffed her mouth full of cooked steak before she could spill any more of his illegal pastimes. His reputation was already sullied at best, completely twisted and annihilated at worst. The last thing he needed was to add manslaughter and battery to the count as one of his top ten fun facts in the Teyvat Tabloids.
To Kaeya’s credit, he remained unperturbed. Whether if it was because of his midlife (ongoing?) crisis or his fair share of borderline socially acceptable acts, Aether appreciated the lack of agency regarding them.
“You’re after the harbingers, aren’t you?” Kaeya asked, uncharacteristically straightforward. “Any Fatui who crossed paths with you never leave the same.”
The very same day I saw the both of you enter the palace, yet only one of you left alive.
They were the bad guys. Everyone in Teyvat despised them, even Kaeya. Things Aether cherished and cared for, they destroyed. If he couldn’t ruin them first, they’ll get to him right after.
“I never asked for trouble,” Aether answered truthfully, sombrely. “They’re the ones stirring the pot.”
Kaeya exhaled from his nose. “I suppose so,” he agreed easily. “Nevertheless, that’s the reason why we’re here. I wish to ask a favour of you.”
Wishes were fleeting, unattainable; but he could indulge Kaeya this once… maybe.
“It better not be about pirates,” Paimon whispered, but even she could sense the sudden tenseness in the situation. “Paimon’s had enough of a wild goose chase in this one timeline.”
The knight shook his head, grinning. “Naturally. How could I ever hope to deceive the wise, charismatic and elusive Paimon?” he deflected instinctively. “No lie in the world before you would remain unsuspected, can they?”
“The favour?” Aether cut in, too used to a certain priestess’ ramblings to be diverted from the main topic.
Kaeya sobered up. “It’s a tall order,” he warned him. “Still, this insignificant one asks that you listen to my pleas, nonetheless.”
Aether didn’t blink. That wholly depends on what he was about to say next.
“First and foremost, Paimon was correct on presuming the subject of this request,” Kaeya continued, pronouncing each syllable sharply. “My brother, Diluc, is the reason of this special meeting.”
“Can you please get to the point?” Paimon begged, stomping her foot in air. “Stop running around in closed circles! We’d be here ‘til the Archons return to Celestia!”
Kaeya turned away. “If that is what you wish.” He leaned on his birch desk, shoulders squaring. “Hecate—no, Diluc. No matter what atrocities he has done, no matter how much of a monster he’s become… I want you to refrain from landing the final blow. Incapacitate him. Break his limbs, cripple him, break his mind if you must, but do not kill him. Do not let him die; by your hand or anyone else’s, even his own.”
A heavy silence fell between the trio.
“That…” Paimon glanced hesitantly at the Captain. “Is it because he’s your brother?”
Kaeya didn’t answer. Rather, his head was hung low, like he was ashamed of what came out of his mouth; like the idea of asking for an outsider to protect and spare a Fatui’s life was a betrayal to himself of the highest degree.
Aether, unfortunately, understood every bit of his choice. He too, had a sibling who was willingly working for the opposing side with vastly different moral codes and work ethics. He knew what it was like to be kicked aside in favour of a psychopathic organization hellbent on destroying gods.
“No,” Kaeya said eventually. What a liar. He’s the whole damn circus at this point. At least Aether was honest about his intentions to protect his sibling. “Even if we were related by blood, Mondstadt’s safety is my priority. What is said in this room will never leave these doors. Understood?”
The blond and white-haired travellers nodded in sync. They were too used to having top-secret information given to them by high authority in different nations, ranging from an Adepti’s go-to flowers for snacks or a god’s ability to erase anyone, anyone from the face of Teyvat.
From the knight’s belt, he unclasped a covered compartment next to his Vision, hidden away by the layers of his undershirt. It was wrapped in layers of bandages and cloth, but as he slowly peeled away the strips and fabric, its circular shape became clear until the first bit of red glass shone through the gaps.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what it really was. Aether and Paimon’s gaze stayed transfixed on the Pyro Vision, clearly of Mondstadt origin if the frame was any indicator. When it was finally excavated from its coatings however, that’s when they saw the mutation. The wrongness.
Instead of a bright red shade coursing in the orb, there was a pulsing darkness at the very centre of the resin, the signature gold pyro symbol a sickly grey. Although it was a medium for fire, a miniature storm brewed within its confines, turning the small thing into a handheld thunderstorm.
Why… why did it look so wrong?
“As you can see, this is Diluc’s vision.” Kaeya held up the orb by its tassel, letting it hang upside down. It did little to quell the unrest within.
“It’s Diluc’s!?” Aether demanded. Then again, it would make sense—actually, it made no sense! “Why doesn’t he have it on him…?”
Darkness dawned on Kaeya’s expression. “That’s another issue, isn’t it?” He lowered the vision onto the desk. “It’s because… Well, it’s because he doesn’t know it’s his.”
“What?”
“Or more accurately,” Kaeya said quickly, “he doesn’t know he has one. Let’s just say dear old’ dad wasn’t too happy that his son got one and not him.”
“WHAT?”
Paimon held her spinning head, floating weakly by Aether’s side.
“You’re telling me your dad grew so jealous of Diluc that he hid his own Vision from him?” she all but shrieked. “Doesn’t he know what happens after Vision users get separated from their visions from too long?!”
“Then he sold Diluc to the Fatui in for a Delusion?” Aether continued.
“And that’s why this is the first time you’ve seen him since you were 12?!” Paimon took over, with emotion.
“To be fair,” Kaeya said placatingly, “we’ve been exchanging letters, and I’ve kept tabs on his movement since Varka knighted me personally.” He glanced at one of his shelves, which were full of yellowing parchment and heaps of envelopes. “He still acts the same since then, more or less. It would seem that either his disconnection with his Vision is interfering somehow, or that’s just how he is.”
Paimon scoffed. “Could’ve fooled Paimon.”
“Either way, he’s not in his sound mind, if his letters are anything to go by. Frankly, I’m surprised that he was organized enough to be competent, let alone getting promoted to a harbinger.”
If they let people like Dottore in, Aether’s not surprised that someone with memory issues was capable of being a harbinger. The only prerequisite to become one of the Eleven seemed to be the ability for how hard one could punch someone’s teeth in, or at the very least screw with their minds.
Aether sighed.
“I know what it’s like to lose a sibling,” he said finally, after much consideration. “You have my word.”
Kaeya breathed a sigh of relief. Paimon turned to Aether like he was crazy.
But was it Aether’s imagination, or did he see a tear in the Captain’s eyes?
“You shouldn’t interfere,” Diluc said, sitting on the ledge of Kaeya’s window moments after the Traveller left, facing the knight’s back. “The Traveller is a thorn in the Tsaritsa’s side. If she wills my hand, you will be putting him at a disadvantage.”
Kaeya spun, grinning. “I don’t suppose eavesdropping is a skillset the Fatui imparts onto its members?” he mused. “Besides, I think you’re underestimating our dear honorary knight.”
Diluc made a noise in his throat. “Have you considered I don’t want pity?” He frowned. “Especially not from the perpetrator responsible for my mentor’s death.”
“Oh?” Kaeya tilted his head innocently. “I assumed you disliked her, from the impression I’ve been getting.”
The redhead snorted, rolling his eyes.
“I resent her, and she resents me just as much.” His lips curled into a strained smirk, bloodlust hardly masked by his futile attempt to appear otherwise. “However, she was the only one who believed in me, all these years.”
Kaeya remained silent.
Diluc laughed mirthlessly, shoulders heaving.
“How fitting, isn’t it?” he asked cynically. “That only a monster like her could love a forsaken child like me.”