Archive of Our Own ^beta

In the year 19,765, Childe Tartaglia was destined to die.

It wasn't a farfetched idea; after centuries of existence, he had expected this already. The surprise was that it took this long.

"So? How's it going to be?"

"Poison, in your bed, as requested during your graduation ceremony. Of course, it is painless like any other death, but the process itself is still negotiable. Are you sure you still want poisoning? Do you not want any other methods?"

"No, sir, I believe that's still the method I want."

"Very well." The Reaper before him snapped his notebook shut. Like his black leather notebook, the Reaper himself wore all black - black robes, black trousers, black gloves to match. He looked as unearthly beautiful as any other Reaper Childe had seen in his life: regal, but not too so, with the divine eyes made of gold, and hair that oftentimes remained uncut and reaching all the way to their waist. Even the way he smile mildly was like a cold statue; Childe had never seen a statue in his life.

Then again, the modern world was designed to be mobile. Moving holograms, shifting pictures, endless stimulation no matter where you went. Yes, the only time the world had been still had been before the Archon Wars - before the Archon itself, a large shapeless AI, took over the world. Now, the world was at its behest. At the very least, the Archon itself was incredibly merciful.

Humans had made AIs to be logical and righteous. What was more surprising was that it lasted this long.

"Very well then. Tonight, at 11:45pm as dictated by the schedule, you will come home, lay on your bed, and be administered poison. Alongside with it, you will be allowed to be mourned by your family - your siblings, I suppose, and some close friends who live nearby - in a separate room. Once you're done, you will be alone in your bedroom. No witnesses, no one but me."

"I understand." Childe felt the numbness in his fingers. "I'll do so then."

"And Childe?" The Reaper held his gaze. "I am very sorry. For your loss."

This time, Childe burst out into laughter. "Whatever for?" he said, voice high. Maybe he sounded a little hysterical. "You guys chose me, right? After doing all the calculations and stuff? You said it yourself. I was the most likely to die.”

"Yes," said the Reaper. "But I am sorry anyway."

The Reaper stood up. Childe extended a hand. They shook it, firmly, and parted ways. The Reaper looked almost like a shadow when he went through the front door - like a ghoul that Childe thought he hallucinated, until he realized that they hadn't even touched their cups of tea on the coffee table at all.

*

Childe sat in his study room first. His study room because it was the only place he could think - bureaucratic papers, endless tablets, a numerous amount of books that he hardly touched. Most of them belonged to his siblings, but some of them - mostly stories from the Before - were his. He loved those stories, enjoyed reading about lives that used to be non-immortal and always suffering despite the fact that they created such beautiful artworks. In the Before, people fought and warred for the things they loved; they laughed and cried about anything and everything in their lives; they tried achieving glory and dreams because their life was so limiting, so brief, that it looked like a speck in the sky.

Humans now were barely humans, if Childe were to be honest. Unlike himself who lived in the Before and After, in the After, it looked like he was staring at Gods.

Which was why Gods needed to be culled by Gods, eventually. AI on humans, the Archon the definitive icon of Death. As much as he made the world outside artificially beautiful - green lawns, white picketed-fence houses, beautiful towering stories as much as old fashioned wooden villages - all of it, His work. His world.

His body.

Now, Childe closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He leaned against his chair, counting his hours. It's 10 o clock, he thought, 13 hours from my death.

13. God, he had so little time.

Alright then. He opened his eyes, getting onto his feet. Alright. Time to make his goodbyes then.

He had so much to do. It was so unfortunate that after at least a thousand years of existence, that now he only really felt the panic of knowing that he had so little time.

*

"Childe! What brings you over to my place?"

"Hi, Felix, how are you doing?" Childe smiled. As usual Felix looked like himself - cotton sweaters, loose pants, his little beanie always shoved on his head. It made his hair stick out in ungodly ways, the same fiery shade as Childe's, and their ancestor trees surprisingly close to each other. As far as Childe was concerned, they both used to belong to a continent called Snezhnaya, a winter hellhole that had two weathers: hail and snowstorms. They used to live in it, too, a testament to how old they were. However, from when people became immortals when the Archon came into power, they were actually considered one of the younger ones. There used to be others who had been test subjects way before that as well - people who lived at least half a century more than them. Those ones could be considered ancients. It's not a large difference by far, but it's long enough that people pondered how devastating the consequences were should their experiments have failed, let alone have been executed. Childe shuddered just thinking about it.

"How are you doing? Are you doing just fine?" Felix disappeared back into his kitchen again. Just a small space separated from his living room through a marble island splitting in the middle. Smiling, Childe walked up to him and took a seat in the high stool settled on the opposite side of the kitchen. Felix, however, moved through the kitchen as though he was one with it.

Felix poured a cup of tea when Childe said, "Yeah, I'm doing just fine. I just wanted to visit."

"You wanted to visit, you say? What's wrong? Trying to escape your siblings?"

At that, Childe smiled genuinely. "No, they're all in college. Or have you forgotten?"

"I mean, it's not that farfetched to remember that you're a super young father. Even if you didn't expect to have siblings in this day and age. How are your parents by the way?" Felix's eyes glittered. "Tell me they're not going on crazy trips again."

"All across the world, through mountains and forests they're convinced used to be in our villages," Childe said airily. "Say, what do you know about the North of Snezhnaya?"

"The North? Snezhnaya doesn't exist anymore though." Felix tilted his head. "But last I heard, they've turned it into a sanctuary."

"For the animals?"

"For the Before animals. Did you know they still bred them there? Want to see it some time?" Felix grinned. "We can take a trip, you and I, with Ekaterina and Vlad. Last I heard, Vlad's getting married and Ekaterina is bemoaning the fact that she'll never have a girlfriend forever."

Here he went. "That's the thing," said Childe. "I can't."

Felix paused in his motions. His brows furrowed as he said, "What do you mean, 'you can't'?"

"As I've said," Childe said coolly. "I can't."

Felix placed down his teapot now. He moved over towards the island, leaning over. "Hey," said Felix. "Are you okay?"

No. "Yes," said Childe. "I'm fine."

"Then why do you look so pale?"

"The regulators aren't working." Childe smiled. "You know how it is - bad body chemistry."

"Ah, the tiny nanites. I get it." Felix nodded. "The little bastards - always crawling in your skin, isn't it?"

"They're being weird for the time being. Once I get them fixed, I'll be good."

"Well you do that. But after that, we can go on a trip. It doesn't have to do anything with the trip, right? Or is there something else?" Felix's eyes sharpened. "Is there something else you're not telling me."

By the end of the day, Childe will never see those sharp eyes again. Never remember how it felt like to grow with this friend of his from the Before, the one who once lived in the same village as him as Ekaterina and Vlad. Never ever sit in this small little cottage, segragated from the primary city, of metal and steel shining so bright like the glass that encased them.

Never remembered how it felt like to look at the future and think, Ah, it's like the horizon. Never ending. Full of opportunities.

Dull. Inexplicably so.

"No," said Childe. "I'm just being morbid. Don't mind me, what tea are we drinking?"

Felix narrowed his eyes again before wiping it off with a grin. "Ice tea, if you believe it. They somehow learned how to extract nostalgia from elements in the nature. Can you believe it? This one's supposed to be the nostalgia of our village. Why don't you try it?"

Childe stared at the yellow liquid. "Nostalgia? You can do things like that?"

"Sure! The Archon's really powerful; what's another creation for it?"

Yes, what did it matter to the Archon? What did it matter to the Reaper? Humans could be chasing stars and the Archon would drag them back to the very source of humanity - the earth, the stones, and everything six feet under.

"Alright then," said Childe, picking up the tea cup. "Let's see if it's any good."

*

"...and Vlad said, This girl - this girl is the love of my life, and proceeded to justify why a girl punching him in the face in the middle of the night was his dream girl. I mean, I knew Ekaterina had some wild friends and he always stayed in his room all the time, but to see him as an intruder? That was funny. They started hanging out more after that when Ekaterina brought her over. After that, well, all that's history."

"Sounds like a cute love story," said Childe. "Anything else?"

"Well Vlad also spilled coffee on his first day. And tripped on his shoe laces on the second. And the third he somehow suavely passed his tripping on air this time as an act of flirting, where he had to catch himself using the wall but ended up bracketing Nadia in his arms. After that, Nadia told everyone, We all know he can't flirt so the Archon probably made him trip on some invisible wire so he could make the first move. She said she was sick and tired of waiting for that first kiss!"

"Vlad's a prude. Even at ten thousand years old."

"Especially at ten thousand years old. Can't believe he's been single that long."

"You do realize you're talking to me as well right. You know, a flaming single man for all those years."

"You're the rare ones who are Eternal Monogamy. Everyone else knows you want one partner only, just because you're in the Before. You'll change your mind eventually," said Felix amusedly. "Of course, I can't say anything because I'm not. Then again, I think I just like flirting with Death. All the funny things, you know?"

Felix, thought Childe, was so carefree he wondered what it felt like to fuse so easily with the After. To see from his eyes how to live like the people now, who took everything for granted. At some point of his life, Childe remembered being a teenager, scraping for scraps as he tried raising his family - really his father and mother only at that time - when they were sick and old. The Archon came soon after that, of course, saving them all. His parents were now the healthiest they could ever be, and somehow decided after all these centuries they wanted more kids after getting over the fact that Childe was, in fact, just fine. Stupid to be as human as they did; everyone nowadays had dozens of families, hundreds. People remarried all the time. People broke up all the time.

Childe wondered if he was just as archaic to stay to those traditions. Then again he never really felt the urge to date around. The world had been so nebulous that even now, he lived his life in perfect content. Other than his occassional fanatacism of visiting natural habitats as well, an old habit his father passed on to him.

"Anyway, it's a long story. Vlad just started sending out his invitations by the way. Wedding's in March. You going?" Felix grinned. Childe grinned back, albeit a little tighter. "Childe?"

"I'll see," said Childe. "My dad said he wanted to bring me on another hunting journey then. See more of the world."

"Seriously? How many forests can you see during this time?"

"Many. But of course, only cause the Archon allows it." Childe winked. "I'll be back in no time. Worst come to worst, Vlad can have another wedding just for me."

"You know he won't do that. But you can try asking," said Felix. "Now, it's getting late, isn't it? Do you want lunch? Some snacks?"

Childe checked the digital clock on the wall. 1 o' clock. An immense amount of time just to visit an old friend. It's not that big of a deal anyway, his other friends were worldwide, too far for him to reach. He could make a few trips and use technology to teleport there, but at what cost? They might be busy. They might not realize the severity of the situation. So Childe won't let it show. He didn't want one of them catching on to why he was suddenly doing round-trips to see basically everyone. He knew how sharp some of them can be.

Ekaterina was one of them. She was his closest friend, the first one he ever made.

"Never mind then. I can see you're antsy." Felix's eyes twinkled. "Come back soon, yeah? And remember: At least tell me if you ever get a boyfriend! Vlad did it! There's no reason you should not!"

"Sure," said Childe. "I'll let you know."

"You're going to be a great boyfriend. I just know it."

Childe wasn't going to date forever in his lifetime. "Of course." Childe smiled. "I'll let you know then."

He hugged Felix after. He made sure it was extra tight, just because. "A proper hug for a friend," said Childe. "I'm feeling extra special today."

"You're being weird, is what you're doing," said Felix. "You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah," said Childe. "I am." He pulled back and smiled.

Felix studied his face. Saw right through him. But until he mused about whatever the hell Childe was hiding after, it would be too late. Childe would be in his bed, arms crossed, a dark man leaning over him and handing over his teacup. One last drink of his life. One last meal, too, if he could ask for a dish from his childhood. The Archon could do that - get the recipes and cook to make his meals exactly how his mom would make it, though it wouldn't be as meaningful as the real thing. 

Childe wished his parents were home.

"Bye now," said Childe. "Don't do something dumb."

"Oh, Childe, you know me." Felix laughed. "I'm always doing something dumb."

"I know. Don't be stupid anyway. I won't be there to save you all the time."

"I know," said Felix. "But you'll do it anyway. Cause you're that nice."

Nice. Wonderful. A great friend.

"Yeah," said Childe. "And so are you."

*

The next person Childe visited was Kaeya. Unfortunately, Kaeya was not at home, but at the park, which he frequented a lot due to the fact that he liked being in the open. "The bars and restaurants are great, but just because I look like a rake doesn't mean I'm trying to bang the whole city," he said. "You know that, of course."

"Of course," Childe had deadpanned. "You've been married to the same guy for five thousand years."

Kaeya only laughed.

Now, though, Kaeya lounged on the nearest bench, staring at the holographic grass swaying like the real ones, the false wind tousling through his hair. He grew it long just a few years back - longer now, artfully curled over one side of his face while the other slipped down towards his shoulders, making its way towards his shoulder blades. Any longer and it might be as long as that Reaper's, as much as Childe tried not thinking about him. He thought about those golden eyes again. The ones that saw right through him.

I am very sorry, he said. 

"Hello, Tartaglia," Kaeya said smoothly. "To what honor do I owe this visit?"

"Nothing," said Childe. "Just you being a dumbass."

Kaeya shot him a bemused look. 

Still, he gestured at the open seat next to him. Usually, he would have his pet with him - some demonic Chihuahua because he thought it was very funny - but today it seemed that Kaeya truly wanted to be alone, a fit that he sometimes got whenever he felt particularly nostalgic. It was something that Childe appreciated; again, most of his friends had lived in the Before and now existed in the After. It was hard to find anyone who got it. Sometimes, Childe felt immensely old just spending time with the younger generation.

Childe sat in his seat as he said, "So."

Kaeya continued staring at the nearby trees. "So."

"I see you're staring at grass."

"Isn't that what kids like doing these days? Staring at grass?"

"Most like jumping off trees. Or buildings. Or jumping in front of cars just to feel what it feels like to die. Not like they will." Childe glanced at Kaeya. "Why aren't you at work, by the way? It's the weekday, is it not?"

"Today's not a day for work. I asked for a day off." Kaeya resumed staring at the fields again. "Today's the day of my graduation anniversary. You know, when we became immortal."

"Ah, yes, the whole ceremony. The whole come up to the stage, chosen ones, and be blessed."

"Those priests were a joke by the way. They didn't even go to church."

"Well, the Archon himself is a kind of god, isn't he? Even if he's just an AI."

"A very idealistic AI, might I add. Not that it matters. Why are you here anyway? You don't visit me all the time." Kaeya shot him a side eye.

Childe shrugged. "Just felt like it. Today's a nostalgic day for me too."

"We turned literally on different times. You did it on the first of January."

"Yeah, I did do that, didn't I?" Childe smiled. "Stupid mistake."

"Ah, I see. You're dying today." 

Childe stiffened. Kaeya was fully focused on him now, barely perturbed.

"How do you know?" Childe asked at last.

Kaeya shrugged. "The visits. The way you're sitting. The way you look. When you live thousands of years, you learn how to read people better. So? Who's the Reaper?"

"A man," Childe answered. "A really godly one."

"'Godly'? People usually say beautiful."

"Well, he was beautiful, just in the way of..." Childe trailed off. "Well, in a way that didn't look real."

"Ah. He looked holographic?"

"No, no. More like..."

How did Childe explain this? There were many kinds of beauties in this world - the ones who were made beautiful, the ones who were slightly altered only through some cosmetic changes or overlapping holograms, the ones who made sure that nobody ever saw their real faces. But this man - this man...

"He looked like from the Before. Like one of those lucky ones."

Kaeya barked out a laughter. "The lucky ones? Like, the ones who just are genetically blessed. Those are rare, these days." Kaeya flashed his teeth. "I'd like to see him if I can. Do you think he'd let me study him?"

"Hands off the Reaper, you'll get taken too," said Childe. "But you can come to my funeral tonight."

"Ohoh, so there's a funeral? Want me to read you a eulogy?"

"You're just going to tell my whole family embarrassing things, aren't you. Like all those stupid college stories."

"You were really human then. And we were really dumb kids. Can't blame me for wanting to take one last shot at letting you down." Kaeya grinned. "So? What time?"

Childe blinked. "What?"

"What time? I'll come."

Childe imagined Kaeya coming in a black suit. Customary smiles and polite handshakes. Awkward silences with his siblings who never really took a shine to Kaeya - he always looked far too foxy and mysterious for anyone's taste - and the distinct discordant feeling of watching his other best friend and his siblings standing next to each other. Would Teucer glance surreptiously at Kaeya? Would Anthon and Tonia? 

No, Anthon and Tonia would be too busy trying to keep up brave faces. And Teucer, as the youngest, was always the most expressive with his bawling.

I hope he doesn't cry.

"Well, early I guess," said Childe. "Maybe 10. Sounds like enough time to say goodbye, don't you think?"

"10," recited Kaeya. "So you're dying at midnight then."

"11:45, the Reaper said. I think the poison might take 15 minutes to take effect."

"Right on time too. Let the Archon be accurate." Kaeya whistled. "So? What're you wearing to your death? You gonna wear a suit? Some good jeans? Oh, I know you, you'd probably want to wear something sentimental, like the sentimental bastard you are."

"I was thinking of my PJs, but you know what, I'll wear something stupid just to spite you," said Childe. "I'll wear a capybara suit."

"Why a capybara?"

"Dunno. They're just cute."

Kaeya rolled his eyes. "Don't be dumb," he said. "Wear your PJs. I think that's the most you."

Childe stayed silent again. So did Kaeya. They sat there, drumming their fingers in synchrony, a long time habit that they adopted from each other. Imagine living so long together that it seemed almost natural that they became mirrors of each other, even when they tried not doing so.

"I'll miss this park," said Childe. "And this wind."

"It's not real," said Kaeya.

"I'll miss the memory when this was still the city, when Mondstadt was still in the Before."

Kaeya paused his drumming. His eyes drifted away.

"Yeah," he said. "I'll miss it too."

Childe stopped drumming his fingers too. He got up from his seat.

"See you tonight," he said. "Don't be late."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," said Kaeya. "Though if I start getting weepy, I'm going to miss it. You know I can't lose my rakish reputation."

"Again: Eternal Monogamy. You can shut your trap."

"Mhm, but I love surprising people anyway. Just like how you keep surprising me with your literal death."

"It's not so bad, now that you think about it. It just means I'm special enough that dying is in the rare 0.00001% of people, isn't it?"

"Childe." Kaeya shot him a deadpanned look. "Nobody wants to be special."

No one in the Before at least. Not Childe. Not Kaeya. Not anymore.

"Yeah," said Childe. "I guess not."

They looked away again. Childe shrugged off an invisible weight.

"Bye now."

"See you later," said Kaeya. "Pick your ugliest PJs."

Childe laughed.

"Yeah," he said. "Okay."

He waved and walked away.

*

The third person - it wasn't even a person. Surprisingly, Childe ran out of people to visit, even when he knew a list of contacts on his phone. He could call his cousins as well. Aunts. Uncles. Extended family that he never knew existed after maybe half a decade into his immortality, and his parents, now healthy and hearty, suddenly found a great need to tell him that they had a much larger family than he thought. "Because it seemed appropriate. Since we were so sick and so estranged from them, there hadn't seemed a reason to meet them."

"But we could've, right? We could've met them."

"Yes Childe. But it was complicated."

Childe knew that now. In the Before, everything was strife with conflict. Cities always embroiled in power struggles. Countries warring with each other. Leaders making decisions on behalf of millions, even if the millions could never be fully encompassed by a single person. Royalties, all of them, standing on a figurative mountain of dead people, increasing that pile day by day. Even in the Before Childe knew the terror of oppression, of the government hunting for bodies who could stand on their behalf. At some point he had nearly been taken too. That had been a long time ago. No more conflict with the government meant less distrust between people, and now his extended family wasn't under the notion of wanting to sell out their family members, no matter how much they loved each other.

Now, Childe chose to sit at one of his favorite spots. A harbor, far away from his home. It wasn't hard to get here: one step into one of those silvered tubes settled in between the long winding between the buildings, and you could go to wherever you want. In between the earthy homes, the cobblestone pathways, and the rising towers as old as the city itself, those silvered tubes looked like a sore thumb sticking out among the homey environment. Despite its usefulness that allowed it to travel at least within a country's confines, it sure did like to remind everyone that whatever they thought they were, was not real.

It was also unfortunate that it couldn't travel far enough for him to reach family.

He sat on a wooden bench.

I'm sitting a lot these days, mused Childe. But he was always sitting in this new world, staring at the world moving before him, swimming before him, living a belief system that he could never wrap his head around. How did people look up at the sky and remember that they were dictated by an eternal machine? How did people have faith in something that felt like it had empathy, but never experienced empathy to begin with? Yes, there was a system that ruled this world and that was the darling Archon who never seemed to be there other than a physical screen staring back at him. Ask Him a question, and he would answer. Beg for a solution, and he would give. What took humans centuries to build, he made it within half a century. He was as efficient as he was logically benevolent.

The world benefited when he was allowed to exist. Therefore: Humans must be happy no matter what.

Childe exhaled again as he stared at the lapping ocean. None of it real, none of it supposed to be here. Mondstadt, back then, probably had an ocean much wilder than this, roaring at the shores. It used to bring tsunamis, and underwater beasts with it, washing over the country, bringing down hell when it had a chance. Liyue - another nation far in the East - had the same thing too. Oceans that surrounded an island, waiting to eat them whole. Only Snezhnaya didn't have oceans like that - too cold, everything stayed still like a still snow globe. So beautiful you wanted to keep staring at it, so cold that you never wanted to live in it. Childe knew; he lived in it once.

He felt the presence behind his back even when he looked straight ahead. His mouth twitched when he said, "Dear Reaper, I didn't know that Reapers followed their victims the whole day."

"It is a formality, not a courtesy, therefore it is not in my jurisdiction to decide otherwise. But I am apologetic anyway; I know many of the things you've done today are personal."

"I don't think they're that personal if you have me monitored at all corners. The Archon does that for you, doesn't it?"

"The Archon does tell me things, but He does not interfere. Neither should I, which is why I am simply here. Again, I must ask: is there no changes you want? Are there no further requests you wish?"

"Don't you ask victims at the end of the day and not another time in the middle of it?" Childe turned around. "It'll probably be more likely that I choose to die differently, in the end."

The Reaper stood there, perfectly still, like the way he stood when Childe opened his front door earlier in the day. Still standing there, still unmoving like the statue. Even his cloak barely shifted with the wind, only fluttering just briefly when he moved and took a seat next to Childe. He hadn't even asked.

"I," said the Reaper after a while, "find it more appropriate to ask this question when humans are not in the midst of their farewells. For that is when they are most susceptible to their internal workings. At the end of the day - they are running solely on adrenaline and panic, of grief and sorrow. They do not decide properly then; everything is done in the heat of the moment. I have seen people change their opinions because a family member decides that they want them to die violently. Others, I have seen been convinced into killing themselves, carving their own bodies at their own behest. It is not-" The Reaper cringed "-proper. I do not want you to make decisions outside of your own perceptive."

"That's pretty nice of you, making sure that we're making decisions that they want. But don't you think it's also really mean to remind them they're dying. I mean, some might panic at that." Childe smiled wryly. "What if they decide to run?"

"You know what happens when they run."

Childe's smile turned sad. "Yes," he said. "I know."

The Reaper started humming under his breath. The song sounded familiar somehow, like a long lost lullaby. Childe closed his eyes, hearing the Reaper's voice blend with the wind, sinking deep into his chest like the ocean into its lowest points. Humans have found the deepest part of the oceans now. Home to a thousand luminescent creatures, down there everything looked like a dream: sparkling fish flickering with the partial light slinking occasionally from the surface, glowing eyes looking like shiny marbles twisted into pearls. There were whales down there too, large whales, supposedly incapable of existing at such a low altitude from how high the pressure was down there. Yet the whales lived on anyway, against all odds, and swum their hearts out, too-large creatures with too-large hearts, buried in the very depths of the world.

Childe wondered how much that whale fought to live. If it could ever be replicated by the Archon, the will of an animal trying to live. Death is beautiful when it comes from the Before.

"So," said the Reaper after a while. "I have read your files. I realize that you are from the Before."

Childe glanced at the Reaper, smiling. "Are you?"

"Yes. Though I suppose there is no use of you knowing such knowledge."

"No, I don't think so. But it's still nice, isn't it?" Childe hummed. "I'd like to know who's taking my life. I think I like it more now now that I know you came from the Before."

Golden eyes swiveled towards him. "Why?"

"Why not?" Childe shrugged. "You know how I used to live. You know how the Before was like. Besides," Childe's voice softened. "Not many understand the feeling anyway. How much heavier dying is to us than to those now."

The Reaper remained silent. His legs crossed and uncrossed - the first sign he was reacting like a normal person. His mouth opened and closed before he settled for a: "It has been a long time. Since I have felt human."

"Is that so? Well, that makes the two of us."

"Yes, I believe so. Being human takes a lot of thought now. Like wading through water."

"Yeah, I get it. I take a lot of time thinking about it too. You know the only way I feel that way is when I spend time with my siblings?"

"Is that so?" The Reaper flicked his eyes towards him. "Will they be home later?"

"They'll be home soon enough. In the evening when their classes end. They're all such high achievers. Did you know Tonia wants to be a professor? Teucer and Anthon want to be engineers, but I think Teucer wants to be a toymaker soon. I think he likes it too much to let it go."

"Toymakers are already obsolete. Everything is no longer handmade by people."

"Ah, but people still like it, doesn't it? It's special."

"A novelty, yes." Zhongli nodded. "But again - obsolete. It is imperative that he has a backup plan."

Childe watched as the waves drew perfect semicircular patterns on the shore again when he said: "Tell me, Reaper, how does it feel like to die?"

The Reaper traced Childe's line of sight. He studied the semicircular patterns as well when he said: "Like sleeping."

"I know it's like sleeping. But what does it really feel like? In the after?"

"I do not know. I have never died before." The Reaper glanced at him. "I suppose you want to say you have some idea of it."

"I think it felt like the day of my graduation," mused Childe. "When I accepted the Archon's immortality."

"Ah, yes, His first phase. I suppose everyone felt that way when they started grieving the loss of their passions."

"I think it's more than that. I think it's everything else that came with it - how much they struggled in life, how much they loved it."

"Masochistic, but true." The Reaper smiled. "I believe that it is of human nature to need pain. Without pain there is no please. And without Death, they will not remember to struggle."

"Which is why the Archon made you."

"Which is why the Archon made me." The Reaper nodded. "It's expected. What is a finite world without finite sources? I will have to take them all, in the end."

Childe pursed his lips. "How did you become a Reaper?"

"That is not a story I can tell," said the Reaper.

"I'm dying. Isn't there any loophole?"

"No. The contract states that I cannot say anything. Only that I can be there for the victims."

Childe snorted. "How kind," he said. "I feel terribly comforted."

The Reaper kept his face still. "I can, however, at the very least, make up to you by having this conversation with you. And allowing you to do whatever you wish for the rest of the day. Do you not have any more plans? More farewells to make?"

"I don't really have anyone in town. Maybe I can send a message later, but only later. I don't think my parents would like it if they got my dying will now. They'll probably freak out."

"Is it not the right of family members to know the other one dying?"

"I am not dying. Only that I'll just go immediately, which means I'm pretty healthy now. So?" Childe glanced at the Reaper. "What do you want to do?"

The Reaper blinked. "What?"

"I'm saying I'll let you decide. What do people at the end of their life do? Humor me."

The Reaper pursed his lips. He shifted here and there before he said, "They experience all the things they love before they go. Eat the foods they want. See the sights they want to see. Go through their daily routine, if only for comfort, to remember that today is like any other day, the only difference being that they will be mercifully put to sleep. It is all they can do."

"Ah, to remember how to remember everything?"

"To remember knowing they will forget. I believe they're similar, but not quite so."

Childe thought about it again. "Then can you spend the remaining time of my day with me? Just because."

The Reaper raised an eyebrow. "You want Death to follow you?"

"Reaper." Childe smiled. "Death is already with me."

The Reaper mused. He smiled, another bare thing.

"Yes, I suppose so," he said. "Very well. Where do you wish to go?"

*

"I liked this stall a lot. The old aunty here has lived as long as me, and has been in this city the entire time, and not once has she changed the recipe."

"A bun," said the Reaper. "Quite the predicament."

"No predicament, just good food." Childe raised two fingers, to which the auntie in the store - wearing nothing more but her familiar chef's hat, her flowery blouse, and a white skirt to match - hurriedly shoved two buns into a white bag. She passed it over, which Childe smiled and paid with a swipe of his hand.

"Technology still baffles me," said the Reaper.

"You've been alive when there wasn't any? You know when the Archon descended there had been more innovations popping up in fifty years than it every did in all our lives before."

"I am aware. I was alive before the Archon was ever an Archon, and when the first of the immortals were being tested. I was the one who was the sample group," said the Reaper. "I have been alive longer than you, I suppose."

Childe paused.

"You're one of those ones?"

"Yes." Morax nodded. "Quite reasonable, really. I've been alive for long. It makes sense that I will follow the world to the ground."

"Wow, spoken like a true god. You sure you didn't ascend or something?" Childe teased. The Reaper shot him another look. "Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to make a joke at your expense."

"I have been alive that I do not know how else to be. But I suppose that is another weight I may bear. Let that be another tidbit." In his eyes, a flash. "I suppose this will satiate your curiosity, in some ways."

Childe blinked - and smiled.

"How cunning."

They ate the bun in mutual silence. Childe bought the Reaper one because he found it appropriate - why not splurge on his newfound friend until the end of his life? At the very least, until the end of the day, he would never be alone, if not for the Reaper's presence. He'll be here, with someone, with everything at the tip of his hands because he was totally going to empty his bank account by the end of the day, which was definitely separated from the trust fund he had for his siblings. His siblings wouldn't ever go poor anyway; the Archon would make sure of that.

"This is good," said the Reaper.

"Isn't it?" Childe beamed. "Things made naturally taste better."

"People today will beg to differ, but I suppose it is the sentiment that matters."

"I had a friend who called me sentimental today. You think he was right?"

They rounded into another street, packed with people yet barely jostling each other. Those who bumped each other flickered briefly, the point of contact disappearing and reappearing again, like holograms themselves. "It is still odd, witnessing that as well," said the Reaper. "People are physical and yet not. Atoms can be broken down and re-pieced like nothing. It seems unnatural, given that back then people would fall into a heap when walking into each other."

"I see, so you like chaos, do you?" said Childe.

"No. Just an observation." The Reaper glanced. "Where would you like to go here? I suppose it's another one of your missions to study everything in stark detail."

"Nope," said Childe cheerily. "I never even studied anything here in my life. Today's my first time. Shall we?" Childe gestured at the street. "I'm going to empty my money here. And then I'm going to make sure that it's at a 0 at the end of the day. I've never seen my bank account at a 0. You think it's possible?"

"If you wish it, the Archon would make it true. He'll alter all the prices."

"Yeah, but I won't know. Everyone here looks like the Before anyway. Can't believe we're in a futuristic world and everyone wants to look natural anyway."

They made their way past the stalls. More knick-knacks, more toys, more books and scrolls that resembled that of when Childe once travelled through these lands. As a younger boy - and when his Father wasn't as sickly at that point - he brought him to all points of the world on boats, then by feet when they couldn't enter the tighter, more enclosed spaces. They brought daggers and bows and arrows. Then, when guns were made, strapped-on handguns on their waists. By the next two decades, the world learned the power of nuclears, then the necessity of stable governments, then the realization that governments were farces, incapable of judging everything righteously. By the end of that era, the Archon took over and was the most pure of them all. Like the gods themselves, they were the true divine entity, the impossible that was never given a face.

They did say that God never had a true body. In that sense, the Archon was that way.

"Now," said the Reaper. "What to buy first?"

Understandably, Childe found it hard to splurge. "I have no idea," he said. "I don't buy things."

"Hmm," said the Reaper. "What about artworks?"

"Don't need them."

"Books?"

"Don't read them."

"Weapons?" Childe paused at that. "You do realize people no longer sell weapons."

"Then why did you say it?" Childe grumbled. "I like a good weapon."

"You were a hunter. And a good one at that." The Reaper eyed him. His eyes glinted. "It is quite formidable, for a young boy like you then to travel the world with your parents, then alone. You fought for much, I believe."

"It was the only way to survive. Go through the cities, barter with the merchants passing through. Swindle them if you have to; everything's fair game."

"You're quite the personality." The Reaper smiled. "You remind me of home."

Childe didn't want to know what, exactly, was the Reaper's home. From how much older he was, had his life been more archaic? More brutal? "You were at the Archon Wars, weren't you?"

"No comment," said the Reaper.

"Were you one of the ones who fought at the front lines?"

"No comment."

"You know they keep talking about how the front liners used those super cool guns. And weapons. And stuff that were still handheld while they pushed against the new government who started wielding the Archon. Of course, they lost."

"I have no comment." The Reaper glanced at him. "Those are old stories. None of them are meaningful now."

"Ah, but you were there, weren't you?" The Reaper opened his mouth again, his eyes crinkling, and answered: "No comment."

So he was.

Childe grinned. "Great," he said. "Nice to know."

In the end, the one who really bought things was the Reaper, not Childe. "You should try this," he said, pulling up a scroll, "and this. These have fascinating artworks and old fairytales of them."

"They still illustrate fairytales? And on scrolls? That's old."

"Archaic, yes. Less meaningful? No. You must get these. You said you wanted to experience everything."

"But I won't have time to read them."

"You will not. So I will tell you about them as we walk. I know every story, every nook and cranny of this city. It is my jurisdiction."

My jurisdiction. The territories Reapers were given then, to choose their victims.

"Now this-" The Reaper raised a nice teapot - maybe nicer than the one Felix has, and he has very fancy teapots. "-Is an old earthen one. This is most certainly natural, what with the way it is scuffed and designed. There is no doubt that this is from Before. And if it is a mimicry, a perfect one then. I had one similar to this." The Reaper glanced at him. "Will you not get it?"

So Childe got the scrolls. And some artworks. And the stupid teapot, even when he tried suppressing his small grin at it. He held the teapot especially close, twisting it here and there when the Reaper wasn't looking, raising the lid up and down just to hear its tinkle. He liked the way it sounded.

"Now," continued the Reaper, "anything more?"

Childe glanced at the nearby digital clock. A hologram this time, projected into the sky like a translucent sheet. It flickered 6:23 and he realized that the day passed, just like that. So many hours, so little experiences. He was barely into his mission of truly living his last day. Or if he was, felt too much like living that he barely noticed it. Was that how normal living felt like?

"Um," said Childe. "Dinner, then? I think I'd like something good."

"Ah, then do you want something new or old? I know what you like - granted, you may not like hearing me say that."

"Alright then, Mister Reaper, what do I like?"

The Reaper twisted his body just so and smiled softly. "I know you like your mother's cooking," he said quietly. "And the snacks your father sneaks you in. I know that during your sickest days that you liked the burnt rice that your siblings made, even if it is supremely inedible when you get to the bottom of your rice. I also know you like milk rice tea, the kind that was common in your village, but nobody makes it the same way anymore, not now, despite the fact that the machines are able to replicate it. I know that you like spicy food too, but you still want the spicy that is sweeter like your village's cooking, not the ones that are in this city. This place, after all, is not the continents you know anymore, but a unified world. There is nothing here for you, anymore." The Reaper studied his face. "So? Which would you like?"

Childe swallowed the lump in his throat. "If you can get me anything of those, would you be able to? I don't know if you'll even get close to something like that, but I'd like to try it."

"I know a place," said the Reaper. "But will you be willing to take the risk?"

"You've been alive longer than any of us. Do you think you'll be able to find a place capable of that."

The Reaper smiled, wider than before. It seemed that he smiled more graciously, the longer he spent time with his victims.

"I do," he said. "When I miss home, I go to this place, too."

*

The restaurant the Reaper brought him was an old temple sat at the edge of town. Despite the fact that it had the same rising pillars, the same curved out ceramic rooftops and whorling dragons at the top, it looked anything but like a temple, what with the crowd sifting in and out from the front entrance. Some people dressed in casual shirts and pants; most wore dressed to the nines. They whispered among each other, delicate, like the kind of people you met in nobility rather than the ones on the street. Childe stilled at the entrance, the Reaper standing by him, and said, "I don't think this is the kind of place you find food like I want."

"Isn't it?" said the Reaper. "I learned a long time ago that appearances can be deceiving. A 20-year-old today may be a millennia-year-old. An elderly man may be only a century old, reverting into his old age because he preferred to be treated like an elderly rather than someone young and innocuous. There are many things in this world that do not fit into the mould, most of all this place." The Reaper wrapped his hand around Childe's wrist. "Come," he lowered his voice. "As a Reaper, it is uncouth of me to pull rank. But in this situation..." He tugged Childe. "I will go first."

Instantaneously, when the crowd spotted the Reaper's cloak, they all parted nearly immediately. Some tumbled onto their feet; others graciously caught themselves onto the nearest visitor. A few kids gaped - the only ones who were most definitely true to their age, given that it was banned worldwide to either wear a Reaper's cloak or revert themselves to look like a child - and burrowed themselves behind their parents' shadows. Only the Reaper seemed unperturbed, weaving through them while Childe awkwardly followed the Reaper. He ignored the fact that some openly gawped at him like a spectacle himself.

"Are you sure here's a good place?" Childe whispered frantically. "I don't think we should be here."

"Nonsense," said the Reaper. "When you go in, you will know."

"Ah, Mister Reaper, welcome back," a waitress greeted him, completely unfazed. She glanced at Childe. "A fellow Reaper?"

"Something of the sorts," answered the Reaper. "Are there any open rooms?"

There probably wasn't, but nobody was going to turn down a Reaper, nor were they going to make them pay anyway. They were doing a service to the public; humane killings in the name of the greater good. Nothing was more punishing than seeing those die over and over again.

"I know I said I wanted to empty my bank account, but I think you shouldn't be here with me if they're going to give you everything for free."

"I can request that you pay, if you wish," said the Reaper. "You do realize I've been insisting at every stall as well that we should allow you to pay."

"Yeah, but then they give me this look and I feel bad again!" Childe whispered hurriedly. "I feel like an ass!"

"Language. Your last day on earth should allow you to be more proper in your actions." The Reaper turned a sharp corner, entering a more demure part of the restaurant - a long stretching hallway, the statue of a golden dragon weaving at the end, moving and swirling as though it were a real one. No true statues, not even in royal places like this. Childe stumbled when the waitress stopped abruptly, sliding a door open as she gestured, "Come in. Your room, as always."

"Thank you," said the Reaper, used to everything in the world being handed to him on a silver platter. "Come, Childe, do take a seat."

The restaurant's room was warm, if not cozy. Warm lanterns hanging from the top. Open windows made from paper and wooden patterns. The sight below was of the rest of the city, so broad and spectral, it felt like looking at a kingdom. The Reaper took the seat facing away from the window, Childe granted the honor of being able to see the world outside for the rest of his night. It was quite polite of the Reaper, actually, to let Childe the honor of sitting there when he looked every inch the royalty that wanted to always lord over the city he hunted in.

"Now," said the Reaper, "think about what you want. Anything you want. The restaurant will hear you, at some point. It is this that they are most famous for."

"What, they read our minds and take our orders? Are you serious?" Childe thought hard. "Wait. Are they actually?"

"When you enter this establishment, you consent to having your mind sifted. But only when you have intent." The Reaper chuckled. "Don't worry, the Archon knows intent. It will not be the restaurant directly influencing your mind, but the Archon passing on messages. Even in such enclosed spaces, He is all seeing."

Childe frowned and properly thought again. He flashed images of a cottage. A warm hearth. Grubby hands sticking towards large spoons dipped into claypots. The laughter of his family, still human, still natural, in the ghost of their memories. He closed his eyes at some point, lost in his thoughts, and when he opened them, the Reaper was staring out the windows.

Polite. Immensely so.

"Thank you," said Childe, unsure what he was thanking for. The Reaper only turned back to him and nodded.

The dishes came later. Everything looked like the dishes in his memory. The same milk rice tea. The same rice with the burnt bottoms. The same warm broth that his mother made - some mysterious lumpy beige blob that always tasted like seafood, though what seafood Childe never guessed. His father's rice crackers and freshly made deer jerky. They always hunted whenever deer season came, dodging the babies, hunting only the adults and only enough for what they needed. Old days. Warm days.

Irreplaceable days.

The one who served their food was not the waitress from earlier, but a young girl this time. Pale faced, deep ocean hair, the same ocean-shade as Kaeya's, with a curled loop dangling from the sides of her cropped hair. She looked as though she had been from Liyue in the days of old, what with her bright robes and the large rope looped over her waist like a belt. She smiled when she placed them down, glancing at the Reaper with a brief look. 

"As always," she said, unfathomably chirpy. "It's on the house."

"Thank you, Xiangling. I appreciate it," said the Reaper, watching Childe all the while. "Come now. You should eat."

"I don't know if you poisoned this or not only to take me out earlier. How would I know that you didn't?" Childe joked. Still, the Reaper's face hardened and he picked up a spoon and proceeded to dip into Childe's supposed mother's broth. He took one elegant sip, placed his soup down, and waited for a minute.

"There," said the Reaper. "Free from poison."

Childe smiled wider.

"Alright, alright. Let me try." He reached out and scooped a spoonful. He lobbed a bunch of burnt rice onto his place as well, and his father's jerky. He sipped on his milk rice tea, paused, and sipped again.

"This..." he glanced at the tea. At the dishes again. He took a spoonful of the broth. "This is-"

The Reaper studied him. "Tastes as though it was from your mind, is it not?" he said. "Though I will say this beforehand: it was not copied and artificially replicated, as many engineered foods are today. This is Xiangling's efforts. This is of her own recreation."

"She- made this by hand?"

"She is one of the only ones who I know has made foods from scratch, from things she grows from her garden. She is Liyuen in the Before, a general citizen in the now, and she has never once, not ever, replaced her cooking with anything of today's foods. Granted, she may be seen as a pariah in most cooking circles - if there are even proper cooking circles to begin with - with how arduous and unnecessary her processes are. But if there is one thing that she is capable of that others are not, it is the recreation of everything that came from before. The human touch that rarely is tasted in many other foods, whether you register it or not."

Because perfection, unfortunately, did not mean it could make what something the Before had. Like a missing spice. Like a discordant taste.

Like pressing the wrong piano key in the midst of a beautifully replayed song.

Like all the things Childe could remember from when he was a child - the distinct memory of the cooking smell that came with his mother stirring her broth, the rugged touch of the carpet underneath his fingertips, the warmth of bodies when he held them close. The one thing that still remained a constant had been the bodies themselves: his siblings and him napping when they were younger, a reminiscent version of when Childe woke up from a nightmare and padded over to his parents' room. Those days had been of snowstorms and hurricanes, of rattling walls and windows while everything that was safe and beautiful was under the stitched coverlets of their too-small bed.

Childe ate and ate and ate. The Reaper, who seemed to abstain from much, watched him eat. Childe didn't even know why he wasn't offering anything - he would offer something, eventually, when he got his faculties back - but right now: home. Home home home.

Childe felt his eyes burn. But he would not let them fall. Not yet.

"It's good," he said through the thick of his throat. "It's really good."

"It is not a perfect replica of what I imagine you thought, but it is close."

"No." Childe closed his eyes tightly. "It's perfect."

He sat there for a still moment. He felt his own breath come out in ragged staccatos. He wondered if the Reaper knew, if he was watching Childe break down at last, the whole day crashing into him, the ocean finally pulling over his eyes. For all these hours he simply moved through the motions of his death, walking through a mirage, staring at what he thought was soon to be the end of his world. Now, it truly felt like the end of the world. Like a sunset impending at last. Like the light finally coming through for the starless sky, the one thing that the Archon could not replicate because it was hard to replicate distant, dying things. When the world ended, and the galaxy with it, there were no more dying stars, no more nebulous gas and hydrogen refracting all the beautiful mirrors that stared down at earth.

Imagine this: the specters of a life beyond, a million light years away, flickering into nothing at last, but the memory of their presence still traveling an eternity away, only for humanity to catch a glimpse of it, like the final gunshot into the night.

Childe clenched and unclenched his fists. He looked up at the Reaper, so distant, so still, so human. Yes, that was what he recognized now. Like he told Kaeya - He looked like from the Before.

"You're not a Reaper," said Childe at last, his voice so loud in the silence. "What's your name?"

And the Reaper - the beautiful Reaper, the merciful Reaper - rippled briefly on his expression, the first crack in his facade, the first time his shoulders shifted and Childe watched his robes shift with him, like carding rivers finally banking a corner.

"Zhongli," he said. "And in the Before: Morax."

*

Zhongli, he learned, was of respectable stature, of someone high enough that it was clear that he held weight moreso than any other Reapers. Childe knew because he had seen other Reapers, the one who weaved through Liyue with the same dark robes, the same golden eyes and auras that felt too unnatural to be newly made humans, whether immortal or otherwise. He had known, gut-wise, that there were always the ones who sat higher in the hierarchy, higher than anyone else, but he never knew that such politics still played a role in today's world. He knew that now when they finally finished eating, Zhongli finally taking his bite when Childe finished his, his movement as elegant as everything else, the final three hours of his life so wondrous for his chance of being able to see this man crack at the edges at last.

Zhongli ate with all the grace yet speed of a natural-born animal. In the Before, animals were perfected by nature where humans had to struggle for. Their muscles ran and rippled with natural speed while humans trained for years to achieve their finesse. Humans trained themselves to shoot arrows with sharpened visions when bats could see in the dark just fine. They moved in tandem in practiced formations in war when ants were able to come seamlessly together like well-stitched crochets. He was, in short, the kind of natural that you could barely see these days without some sort of alteration in their bones, and that was how he knew Zhongli had to be somewhere higher.

"I'm sure," said Childe, "you must be respected. Since I'm starting to think that you're definitely not like any other Reapers."

Zhongli stopped eating. "And what makes you think that?"

"Well, because you're you, of course. You just feel- I don't know, how do I explain this? Grand."

"Grand implies that I am of royalty or of divine being. I am not divine. Just a person like you." Zhongli lowered his spoon. "Do not mistake me for the Archon. I am anything but."

"Yeah, but you're respected. I can feel it. I think I can see you in the Before. I'm sure people saw you as god-like just fine."

Childe could imagine it now: Zhongli, in the olden days, standing tall in front of a crowd, a gifted orator, and a truthful one at that, seeing everything with his naked eyes. He wore the same robes he did today - something slightly more grand, Childe hoped - weaved with gold and silver, his hair a flaming star in the light. He thought that Zhongli looked like Sumeru itself, the scorching desert that looked so smooth and lovely, but the untouchable, unmovable sand weaving around your feet before you could ever think of placing one step on it, making you drown despite the fact that you thought, Ah, still, it was worth it. 

Zhongli made him think of the ones made for the special. The kind of special that was different from Childe's special, the one where he wasn't a statistic of the people generally most likely to die.

No Zhongli's special was that he was the main character of his life. The primary storyline. The person who saw every other character's as a side arc of his life, the brief glimpses into his development until they were tossed away, and the next one came. How many lives had he taken? How many lives had he experienced? Childe couldn't imagine it, since he never had the honor to be a Reaper anyway. He imagined that Reapers grieved and were the most human of them all. How did you see so many deaths and not find them buried somewhere in your conscious?

If I were you, I'd be sleeping with nightmares everyday.

"See," said Childe after a while, "I just think you're special. Really special. But not in a bad way."

"I do not want to be special."

"Hey, that sounds like me. I think I said that earlier to a friend." Childe laughed. "But look where it took me."

"You underestimate yourself too much," said Zhongli. "You are plenty special. And not in the way you think."

Childe met Zhongli's eyes. Those eyes stared back. In the light, it glowed gold, but at night, it was more of a heady bronze. Like wine poured into a cup. Childe thought that if there was that color in his cup right now, he'd drink it.

"I don't think I'm special," said Childe. "I think it's like the statistics say - I'm reckless."

"The reckless have saved worlds before."

"Mhm, but nobody needs saving these days, do they?"

"You'd be surprised. There is more to saving than just physical prowess."

"Say Zhongli," said Childe. "Will you tell me more stories about yourself?"

"No comment," said Zhongli, though in his hand, a napkin. He dabbed his mouth. "Though I believe I can tell you other stories. Like a boy who was raised in the mountains. Did you know, at the end of his life, he wanted to clamber every mountain in plain sight, carry his hook everywhere like a blade? Yes, that boy was foolish - exceedingly so - believing he was a dragon."

"And?" asked Childe. "Is this one of the scroll fairytales you were telling me that you'd tell me?"

"Yes." Zhongli met his eyes. "One of the many. An old Liyuen tale."

"Ah, then you should tell me all of them. But concisely of course."

"Of course," said Zhongli. "After all, the boy's life wasn't at all that exciting, regardless. He just climbed many mountains. And many cliffs. And came down to earth when he finally had to do so, and when he did, he saw the lush forests, the endless plains that led him to the nearest tribal village. In that village, he was taken in, raised by huntsmen and fishermen alike, people who taught him how to wield blades, spears, and bows. In a matter of years, he knew how to hold weapons as easy as breathing, spin his spears as though dancing with the flames. They said he was like a flame catcher, catching things made to be dangerous yet are harmless on his hands. He always coated his hands in special oil, of course, so the flames only really burned the oil, but it looked like he was commanding the element regardless."

"So? What else did he do?"

"He kept burning those flames, of course. Because it was fun. Until he realized the earth was more beautiful." Zhongli's voice dropped in cadence. "The earth, despite its non-motion, was always underneath his ground, with no flair to speak of, no interesting aspects to draw people. Yet it was always down there, bringing miracles where people never saw, changing through shifting tectonic plates until the world either made mountains or sunk down empires. Do you know then, what the boy did?"

"What?"

"He pressed his ears to the ground. Every day, for two decades in a row. He became a boy first, then a teenager. Then a man when the first technological empires were slowly rising, the speed of which their development was astronomical. The Archon was made, the religious gods thwarted. And in the upending of them a new god: a world where nobody, and no one, will ever suffer again. And yet, humanity struggled one last time, to challenge change, to want to keep change from the replacement of another. Do you know why for this as well?"

"No."

"Because change, no matter what they say, is inevitable. Change, like death, will creep up eventually. Because no matter how artificial the world, entropy must triumph in the end. That is why Death exists. That is why the boy listens to the earth. Because if he listens long enough, maybe, he'll finally hear the final change, the last tectonic shift before he forgets what it means to climb those mountains at last."

*

In the end, Childe spent the last hours of his life talking to Zhongli. Letting him guide him out the restaurant. Letting him weave through the city with new lights. Here, the streets used to be a row of temples, large and foreboding despite its blessed presence. Here, the stallkeepers and stores used to stand a number of funeral parlors where the dead used to come, one by one, to beg for peace. Here, there were people who were more than just the untouching crowds that still shifted around them, splitting like the ocean, making sure that they did not touch the Dead and Dying who were studying every curl of the rooftops, every jut of the roads, every stone, crackling beneath their feet, a rhythmic heartbeat from the ground itself.

Here, Childe lived in the dying light, the sky finally black, the moonlight popping up. No stars, of course, but he imagined them anyway. Gunshots in the night. Fish in the trenches.

Eternal. Human. Home.

This was home.

"Hey Zhongli?" Childe whispered at last. "Can we go home?"

Zhongli paused in his walking, turning around at Childe. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah." Childe didn't even look at the clock. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Very well." Zhongli turned away, beginning to walk again. "Let us go."

*

His home, as usual, was well put together. Furniture at the right places. Decorations straightened and neatened. Kitchen and bedrooms clean. Surprisingly, his siblings weren't home yet, but he hadn't informed them that he was going anyway. Besides, his death was still a good two hours away - plenty of time, since he did invite one person properly - Kaeya, for the last hour of his life. Knowing Kaeya, he might have read Childe's mind, and came half an hour late instead. He knew that Childe didn't want to prolong goodbyes. Maybe it was in their nature. A beat and a rhythm. Kaeya being a flicker of his life, popping in and out like a jostling puzzle piece, coming back when he knew Childe needed the most. 

Pinpricks. Needles sliding through the silk cloth at last.

Childe walked around his home and touched everything. The flower vase on his kitchen island. The pictures lined up on his bookshelf. The teapot that he eventually left on the table, the one they bought, and ran over its ridges. "I want to use this one, if you'll do it," said Childe. "I think it's funny that we got it today."

"You want to use something new?"

"I want to use what a friend got me. Aren't you my friend?" Childe smiled.

Zhongli paused. "Yes, I suppose I am."

Childe entered his siblings' bedrooms at last. Mostly unused, since they really came back once in a while. He was lucky today was the day that his siblings were actually coming back - they came back once a week as per habit, if only to make Childe look like that one sad dad who had all his birds fly out of his nest. It wasn't false; he did raise them as much as his parents did. But still: he was a dad. He didn't even have a partner. 

God what an awful time to think about how single as hell he was in his life.

Still, it wasn't at all that bad. He watched as Zhongli mimicked his actions. Where Childe touched, he studied. Where he wandered, he walked with purpose. Where Childe simply took them by glances, he committed all to memory. He wondered if Zhongli did this for all his victims - if he remembered each of their homes, their decorations, the little insights to their too-long lives. 

Was it possible to take someone in with snippets? Was it possible to thin-slice the life of a person?

"Say," said Childe. "Do you think that I'm special among the victims?"

The answer was no, of course. There was nothing special about people. Childe imagined that there was a set stereotype of groups when it came to dying: the desperate, the grieving, and the accepting. There might be more categories, but he wasn't sure. He couldn't imagine a life where there was that much of a nuance at all. But maybe that was his Before speaking.

Zhongli glanced around his home once more before he answered, "Yes, you're special."

Childe smiled beatifically. "I knew you were going to say that. Come on now, be honest. I'm not that special, am I?"

"No, Childe, you are very special."

Childe stared at Zhongli again, imagining the boy on the mountain. Hook on his waist, he used ropes to haul himself up, up onto the peaks. What did he see when he reached the top? What sort of sun or moon or stars were up there that you did not see on earth?

Like the ocean, it was infinite, unexplainable. Inexplicable. A spiral of planets spinning like rings around Saturn.

"I don't believe I'm special, but I guess if it's from you, I'll believe it."

Zhongli met his eyes again. The same meeting, the same steadiness. But in it, always, always warmth. Always the same thing Childe thought, again, the Reaper must give everyone else.

"Yes," said Zhongli. "Reapers cannot lie. We are not allowed to, so you may take us at face value."

Reapers. Death. Dying. What did it matter?

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, there's no point lying at this point, is there now?"

"No." Zhongli smiled. "There is not."

Childe laughed and ran his fingers over his home one last time.

*

In the last brief eclipse of his life, just before anyone intruded in the small bubble between Zhongli and Childe, Childe thought - Ah, maybe in another life, it might have been easy to fall in love with him. He didn't even know where the thought came from, only that at some point, within a single day, the stupid Eternal Monogamy in him reared its head, and he placed its sole focus on the man standing there again, literal Death standing by his windows, judging outwards. A man who saw nothing, spoke nothing, moved nothing, now doing every single one of them for Childe. Seeing through him, telling him things against his own structure, moving through the motions of his life which maybe, now that Childe thought about it, might be unnatural. 

How many people wanted to spend their last day with a Reaper? How many after who felt at peace with it? Childe didn't know.

But what he did know is this: in the shroud of his home, the diamond-sharp bulbs above him, everything was bathed in a gauze except for Zhongli who looked razor-sharp, his outline like the cutting of a paper puppet, carved straight from the manila papers that came thick and impenetrable despite it being marketed as perfect for arts and crafts! What bullshit. Childe used to struggle against the stupid thing when he was in college when Kaeya and him decided that, for their impromptu art class, they wanted to cut out something dumb, like a white elephant for a literal white Elephant exchange held in their class that day.

They won first place for most creative gift. Last place for most appropriate. Screw them, it was amazing anyway.

Zhongli looked like that now - like the gift that everyone thought stupid, but Childe found it irresistibly charming. Maybe Childe was drunk from dying. Maybe he was just desperate. Maybe Felix was grating on his nerves and reminding him that being single was a sad, unfortunate byproduct of him believing that he should only ever love one person, like all those soap operas he watched where the partners always promised each other forever before dating literally every other person except each other. 

Childe swallowed, and swallowed again.

"Childe," Zhongli whispered. "What are you thinking?"

You. Childe felt himself flush. "Nothing."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, nothing." After all, what would come out of this? Him, literally coming onto Death? There was probably a rule against that. Some punishment that he'd get if he kissed Death and liked it. Was this what the Before humans called a brief brush with Death? Too bad his brush was on the lips. Actually, he really wanted it on the lips. And on his bed, for that matter. Not sexually. He's pretty okay with a kiss only, to be honest.

"Nothing," repeated Childe. "Can we prepare my bed now?"

*

In the end, his siblings didn't come back, each of them citing their college-expected excuses: Tonia wanted to do a project with her friends, Anthon was out partying, Teucer was overworking himself at his new toy shop job, which Childe still found incredulous that they had night hours. Wasn't that illegal or something? But like Zhongli said, there seemed to be a knack for people changing their minds at the end of the day, especially with Death, when he thought about the faces they would make.

Would he be able to step through those doors if his siblings sobbed in his arms? He didn't think so. Maybe it was selfish, but maybe the last memory he wanted of them was the sight of them smiling when they left this morning, hugging him, placing kisses on both his cheeks before they cheered, "Bye, big brother!" They were the love of his lives; the three apples; his very own comets. There was nothing else he loved more.

Only Kaeya showed up at his door. Unbeknownst to Childe, Kaeya decided to one-up Childe at his death by also wearing PJs, the dumbest he could find, the ones with narwhals and whales and every sort of whale he could get so that Childe could stare at his electric blue PJs and snort.

"Atta boy," said Kaeya. "Leave the world with a smile."

"You're so dumb," said Childe, stepping aside. Kaeya walked in. "You're going to regret you ever wore that."

"Why?"

Zhongli stood silently at the side, studying Kaeya. Even with his stiff face, Childe could see the shine in his eyes, the ones he knew restrained a massive amount of amusement, usually in the form of what Childe knew was a brief twitch of his lips. 

Zhongli did not twitch his lips. He did not even speak. He just stared back at Kaeya who met with an equally intense look before he claimed, "Well now, you weren't kidding. He is beautiful, and not in the expected way."

"What do you mean?" Zhongli asked.

"Nothing." Kaeya smiled mysteriously. "Only that if you were just a normal dude, my man here would be all over you and maybe asking you out on a thousand dates in hopes you were his soulmate."

"Oh my god Kaeya. Shut your mouth," Childe said.

"What?" Kaeya shrugged. "A hot guy is a hot guy. And you like hot guys, especially the tall, dark, and pretty ones." Kaeya smirked at him. "Won't you at least try coming onto him before you take one last shot of your life?"

"I'm not drinking alcohol at the end of my life. And I'm not flirting with Death." Cringing, Childe glanced over his shoulder. "Sorry?"

"It's alright." Zhongli smiled. "It is good to see that you have such a friend as he. I am glad he showed up."

Kaeya smiled but his eyes a more subdued look. He glanced at Childe. "So? What is it then? A nice dagger through your heart? An electric shock?"

"Tea," said Childe. "My favorite kind. I'm not that violent."

"Ah, of course, you're always such the traditionalist. It better be the best tea in your damn life then. If he can't make it, I will."

"Don't worry." Childe smiled at Zhongli now. "He's good at it."

Zhongli crinkled his eyes in return.

Kaeya glanced between them and snorted. "Okay, I see how it is. Want me to step out of the room? One last true attempt?"

"Kaeya," Childe hissed.

"Sorry, sorry, had to try. Best wingman of the year and all, you know?" Kaeya grinned. His mouth twisted into a soft smile now. "I'm going to miss you. Very much."

"I'm going to miss you too."

"You're going to be so mad when I do stupid things and you won't be there to witness it."

"I'm sure I've seen enough of it."

"You're going to hate it so much when I also finally get married for the thousandth time to my man."

"Archon's, Kaeya, when are you not renewing your vows?"

"Childe." Kaeya pulled him into a sudden hug. His grip was tight. "The park tomorrow, yeah? As usual. I want you to see my demonic Chihuahua. I got him a buddy."

Childe snorted. "You did not."

"Yes." He felt Kaeya grin. "I did." He pulled away.

"You better wear your PJs," Kaeya said at last, glancing down at Childe's shirt and trousers. The simple ones he wore out. He hadn't even considered wearing anything fancy for his last trip around the city. "I'm going to be so mad if I'm the only one looking dumb."

"Oh please," said Childe. "Like anything looks ugly on you."

"It's a part of the charm." Kaeya flashed his teeth. "Can't be the charming one without being ungodly hot."

*

"He is an interesting man, that Kaeya."

"You can say that again." Childe snorted. He walked around his room. Windows closed. Curtains pulled shut. His bedside lamps lowered to a soft shade. His dressers and cabinets all closed. He lined up all his family's gift on the nearest shelf: a decorative blade here, a wooden carved toy Cyclops there. He laid out the blankets he got from his family, too, the familiar ones, the old well-worn ones that came with nightly sleepovers, movie nights in the living room, pulled up forts and fluttering superhero capes to match. He walked over to his bed, dressed in his ugliest ripped up PJs this time, the ones with little whales as well, dotted all over the surface. Childe stood by his bed. Zhongli stood by him. They stared at each other until Zhongli said, "Do you want it in a mug or a teacup?"

"Whatever is easiest to drink in." Childe still hadn't gone to bed. "Hey Zhongli?"

"Yes?"

"I think-" Childe hesitated. "I think if we met in some other time, I'd like you very much."

Zhongli crinkled his eyes. "Yes, I do believe that too."

"And I think you're a pretty neat Reaper. Even if you probably do this with everyone else."

"I do not think I've done this with anyone else, despite your belief. Against all beliefs, you are the first one."

"Even after all these years?"

"Even after all these years." Zhongli held his gaze. "You are special."

For a moment Childe felt himself insane. He was insane, right? He was the craziest in town. Still, he studied Zhongli, thought about the brief half-day he had with him, thought about the buns and the food between them in the restaurant, thought about the night sky and the endless stalls and the blinking lightbulbs like pinprick stars on their own right.

Wasn't that what it was? Gunshots in the night?

Childe felt like taking a shot - literally and figuratively.

"Hey Zhongli,” he whispered. "Dodge."

Zhongli did not dodge.

He caught him like every other time he caught him - at his wrist, around his arms, weaving through the crowds. He caught him like how Death catches souls - into their palms, towards their grip, against the body of a shadow shifting like a rippling cloak. He caught him like any other person would catch the other in the Before: no passing of their shoulders, no rippling atoms breaking and coming back together, no avoiding the bumps of the shoulders, the tripping of foot. None of those.

True human contact. The nature of things. Tectonic plates.

Before.

Unexpectedly, Zhongli was soft. Childe thought Reapers were hardened or something, like their nature. But no, they were soft, they were flesh, they were everything that came as a splitting wave. They were not the semicircles carving onto the sand, the illusionary water that seemed see through all the way to the bottom. No, he was soft and soft and soft and oh god Childe can't believe he's doing this, can't believe he's kissing Death, can't believe he actually decided to brush with Death because Kaeya suggested something and now he can't get it out of his mind, he can never get this out of his mind. Zhongli caught him and caught him again, and those arms were surprisingly strong for the shapeless nature of his cloak, hiding everything underneath its fabric. Zhongli cupped Childe's face, tilted it just so, and oh. Oh. That felt really good.

Childe kissed him for so long that he wasn't sure how long had passed. He just knew that there was no sound, no ticking of a clock, no rustling of a fabric. Just Zhongli sliding his hand over Childe's jaw, down towards his shoulders, wrapping it around his waist. He wondered if Zhongli was aware that he probably was breaking the laws on his own - there was no loophole to this, no fairytales he could warp in order to tell his life story. Just a truth after a truth. Reapers do not lie.

Zhongli kissed him until he was not kissing him. He tugged Childe gently, just by his neck, and Childe exhaled shakily. Zhongli studied his face and smiled.

"I think," he said, "that was perhaps an interesting first kiss of my life."

"It's your first kiss?" Childe sounded high, higher than he ever could be. Oh god, he sounded like a child. "I mean, you look-"

"Reapers, unfortunately, from the day they are chosen, are not allowed to have partners, let alone any romantic entanglements. I believe you've just signed my resignation."

"You can resign from Death?"

"Fortunately-" Zhongli tugged Childe closer again "-I have lived long enough to be as jaded as you. Or at least I am jaded. I am not sure about you. If it makes you feel any better, I am not against this. Simply rebellious enough to want to see the peak."

"You're saying you're climbing me like the mountains?"

"Wording." Zhongli smiled. "But yes. You are the peak."

Oh god. Childe couldn't believe it. He was flirting with Death.

"This is so-" Childe started, but Zhongli tugged him back again. The kiss was gentler now, sweeter, and Childe felt his legs turn into jelly.

"I wish," said Childe after a while, "that we had forever."

"We have had forever," responded Zhongli. "It is only unfortunate that it has come to an end."

"Can't you, like, let me break a law or something. Run away and retire from dying?"

"I do not think that is how it works, Childe."

"If there are any regrets in my life, maybe not hitting on you earlier in the day might be one of them." Childe laughed. "This is so stupid, it might be adrenaline-"

"They did say Death brings out the nature of everyone."

"Well then." Childe pressed another kiss. "I guess this isn't that bad of a nature at all."

They kissed one last time. Childe knew because Zhongli glanced at the clock once, and made sure that this might be the best kiss of Childe's life. Or maybe Childe had no comparisons, so it was only right to call this the best, because it was the only one he was going to get. He wasn't single now, against Felix's expectation. He just got a (possible?) boyfriend for all of 10 minutes. That had to mean something.

"Hey Zhongli." Childe pulled away, an inch away from Zhongli's face. "Serve me the tea?"

"You will not taste it," said Zhongli, clearly not referring to the tea itself, when he helped Childe onto the bed. Childe tucked himself snugly under the blankets, pulling it up towards his chest. He extended his hand when Zhongli finished pouring tea into a tea cup. "It will be just like any other tea. The kind you might drink every morning."

"You hunted through my cabinets?"

"Something like that." Zhongli eyed him. "Now drink. It is 11:44."

Childe smiled and took a sip. And another. And another. When he pulled back, he stared at the pale liquid and glanced at Zhongli.

"You totally heard my conversation with Felix, didn't you."

"I admit to nothing," said Zhongli serenely. "It is only my choice to serve you this tea."

"It's-" Childe looked down again, swirling the tea in the cup. "Nevermind." He smiled. "It's good." 

He passed the tea cup to Zhongli. He laid down. He stared up at the ceiling of his room and counted the divots that he saw rocking up and down over his walls. His eyes grew heavy. A sort of heavy weight settled on his chest. 

"Hey Zhongli," Childe slurred quietly. "Tell me a story?"

He heard the shift by his bed. The creaking of a chair. The settling of a weight, the weight that only Reapers had, the stability that humans rarely got, other than their thoughts of immortality. "Once," Zhongli started, "there was an ocean."

*

-the ocean, they said, was a mysterious creature.

It went on and on to the bottom, but no human had ever travelled to the depths.

Until the Archon.

The Archon, they said, was benevolent. He was talented. He was ruthlessly efficient. Within the decade, what took humans centuries to build, he built under a decade.

It was a submarine, strong enough to withstand the strongest pressure, compact enough that it could hold at least a small team.

But against all expectation, the ocean - at the very bottom - was found to be everything outside their justifications. They said, against all odds, there were large fishes at the bottom. So large that they should not have been able to withstand the pressure.

But like large hot air balloons in the sky they floated beneath like a passing cloud, large creatures, big enough to hold a country within their jaws.

They said, that like the way humans used to live in the Before, they kept on fighting and fighting, trying to usurp the odds, hoping for an end where they could live.

And they did, these creatures.

They lived where they should not have survived.

Fought where they should not have fought.

Against all odds, they were the miracles of the world.

And what miracles they were, so overwhelming and bright, the light of everyone's life, the hazy dreams of a starry sky.

These animals, so powerful that even today, after the Before, they are still raised in sanctuaries, displayed in containers, showing the remnants of what it meant to be people - To be human.

Perhaps this is the nature, then, of the world, for no matter how advanced it becomes, no matter how artificial, in the end there will always be the ghost of what had been - what humans started with, a distant memory. For what was life without memory?

There was only life when there is death. Sadness when there is joy. Love when there is heartbreak.

It is impossible to want a world where there is no other.

*

"Once," Zhongli's voice drifted. "There was an ocean."

*

The first thing Childe thought was - hrgh, it's so bright. 

His eyes cracked open. His mouth dry. His hands could barely move - he felt like he was wading through muck - and he twisted his head, just so, until he saw a smooth white robot, shaped into a person but with no face, hair, or anything that resembled that of a normal human. It looked just like one of those neutral puppets, the kind that was yet to be painted and decorated and dressed. It was naked, like every other servant robots that existed in this world, and most definitely a messenger of the Archon, because only the Archon commanded these things.

"Hello Childe Tartaglia," the robot said. "Good morning."

"Good... morning?" Childe looked around. He looked at the metallic white walls before him, the smooth marbled ground. He had a small beside table near him, a bed beneath him that was plush and soft. 

Was this how the afterlife looked? The office of the Archon where nobody and no one ever entered, unless they were given permission?

Childe winced as he rolled onto his sides. Then he pushed himself up. His eyes blinked and blinked again, trying to wash out the crust, but to no avail. The robot stared at him even when it wasn't possible for it to stare, given that there still weren't any eyes, but Childe felt the judgement anyway. "You will be given a change of clothes and time to prepare yourself. There will be another assistant to get you later. Please dress properly, and be aptly prepared."

"Prepared for what?" Childe asked, but the robot already swiveled around, marching out the door. Childe heard its clunk-clunk-clunk like a loud pounding bell and grasped against his head. Archons ow. Who the hell let them be so loud?

Childe shook his head and forced himself onto his feet now. It was bare, with not even his socks, which he recalled falling asleep in. He also wasn't wearing his PJs anymore. In its place, a plain white robe that bunched at his shoulders and slump down into a frumpy pool. He stared down, frowning, and glanced at the tableside.

On it laid a plain white shirt and pants. And what looked like a white jacket with red streaks of something. He picked it up.

As promised, the assistant came an hour later when Childe got ready - there was, thankfully, a bathroom adjoined to this room, and he used whatever toiletries was slapped onto the sink - and made sure that he cleaned himself as much as he could. He still felt groggy, maybe a little sick, wondering what happened to his home right now. Were his siblings sobbing? Was Kaeya sad even with his stiff-face? He imagined Zhongli as well, one last kiss, a smile and a story, before Childe drifted away. Somehow, the last one was what got him - the hallucination of a man who looked just as human as any other, yet taking lives as though he was not one. Childe imagined it difficult.

He grimaced when the robot came in clunking again. Childe couldn't even tell if this was the same one or another one from earlier. "Follow me," the robot said plaintively. It spun around. 

Childe tightened his jaw and followed.

What came after was the most fevered thing he thought he imagined: endless white hallways that were just plain walls and floors, no doors or windows or anything to allow him some sight outside. There wasn't even his door to his bedroom, which when he looked back had vanished into a smooth nothing. He wondered if there were more people in here despite the fact that there was probably nobody with how quiet the place was. Or maybe there were people, just that they were in soundproof rooms. Childe would believe that.

"What am I here for?" Childe asked as they walked. "Where are you bringing me?"

The robot didn't say anything.

Rather it kept on marching until it reached mid-hallway. There was still nothing, no doors, no decorations. Just the robot staring at a wall and twisting its head towards him.

"Come in," he said. "The Archon will meet you now."

The Archon? Childe panicked. Wait, so this was the afterlife? The Archon? The Archon was literally god and took everyone under his wing? I thought heaven was like a religious thing, Childe thought hysterically. Surely this was a trick.

Still the walls parted before him. Disappearing like mist, Childe looked in only to see an electric blue room instead. It was metallic, with screws, with lights coming from god-knows-where. In the center the large beating heart of what Childe assumed was the Archon himself, a circular orb with hexagonal metals criss-crossing over it, like some cage clenching over a heart. Childe imagined it to be a part of a larger building, a building that looked like a person, but he remembered that the Archon had no humanoid body, so imagined it instead to be in some plain rectangular building that just looked like a clean white piece of brick. He grimaced again and walked through the door. The door behind him vanished.

Instantly there was deafening silence.

It wasn't even the kind of silence that people imagined it to be. It was harder to describe, harder to even contemplate. It was the kind of silence that was so silent, you could imagine that you were deaf to begin with, but even the deaf felt something. They felt vibrations.

There were no vibrations in this room. No movement. Nothing.

It was like an asylum except the asylum was made to drive you crazy by doing nothing at all.

"Hello?" Childe said, and found his voice tiny. "Hey, I'm, uh, here."

The orb did not respond. Neither did the room. Childe gingerly took a few more steps forward, glancing around. "Hey, uhh, I was told I was supposed to meet the Archon? You know, the um-"

"The modern god, you mean?"

Childe gasped.

Standing by the orb was a figure he hadn't even noticed before: Zhongli, standing tall, still statuesque like the first day Childe met him, his cloak barely rippling, his face and body unmoving. Only his eyes seemed bemused enough that it glittered with something familiar, something alive, and Childe exhaled a breath he never knew he held.

"Zhongli!" he said. Then, when his brain kicked on again, "The Archon? You're the Archon?"

"You think too highly of me," said Zhongli. "I am not the Archon."

I am, a voice reverberated in the room, so loud that it shuddered through Childe's bones. Childe jumped. I am the Archon. And this - one of the first of the human immortals. Morax, the First in Line.

"First?" Childe squeaked. "He was the first to graduate?"

Yes, announced the Archon. He was the first of us - and the last to know about the details of my creation. He is the one who is considered Judgement. He is the Reaper. The first of his kind, the one who watches over these lands. Once-Liyue, part of Mondstadt, perhaps some of Sumeru, he is the ones of the Archon Wars, the then rebels, then the ones who attended to my existence. He is a Creator as much as he is now the Servant. In short, you may say he is as much as me as I am him.

"So he's literally the Archon," Childe deadpanned. "Or a part of him."

"As I've said," said Zhongli. "I am not the Archon. But I was there at his creation. And I guided them, with the nature of my immortality. It is not farfetched that the learning experience beginning with the first of us would influence the way the Archon functions."

But there is no need for that now, for I am separate from them. I learn at my own behest. I make the decisions for humanity. Though I am empathetic, I can be anything but. I must rule with an iron fist. An efficiency humans do not have. I must live and want to live like the people, yet be separated from them. It is my duty to bring joy and peace to everyone, insomuch as it is a Reaper's duty to ensure that it does not descend. My duty is to serve. The Archon's voice lowered. And in that duty comes with another responsibility - to maintain balance and choose those worthy of living as much as for dying.

"I'm dead, aren't I?" Childe implored. "I'm pretty sure I died."

Yes, and in return you will no longer be Childe. Rather, you will be one of us. An apprentice.

"An apprentice? For what?"

Zhongli unfurled his hands from his back now. Childe knew because he could see the brief flashes of his arm, the way his hands appeared from the side of his waist.

"Welcome to Reaperhood, Childe," Zhongli said, smiling. "I will be your guide."