Chapter Text
Dottore never thought of childhood as something that ever happened in his life. Being a segment by nature, he preferred to exist only at his point in time, as if what happened before or after that point were merely information and had nothing to do with him personally.
However, childhood was not the only thing that felt foreign to Dottore. The very concept of aging was also something that felt infinitely out of reach—something that simply could not happen to him in the first place. And even though he lived among mortals year after year, decade after decade, century after century—he had the privilege of observing this world without undergoing any changes in his body, his emotions, or his perception. Which, as a matter of fact, at a certain point in his life led him to feel that there was little left in this world that could surprise him.
But as it turned out, that was nothing but a false impression.
“Hmm, shit… Where the hell am I?”
“Who are you?”
“Who am I…?”
Dottore touched his face thoughtfully as he recalled what was probably one of the strangest conversations of his life. A conversation that, after centuries of observing this world, had once again managed to turn his entire understanding of Teyvat upside down.
“I was supposed to end up in the past, not here. Something went wrong, damn it.”
“Were you experimenting with time?”
“I was looking for a way to fix things.”
That face, that gaze. It was like encountering someone who was painfully familiar yet a complete stranger at the same time. It was like looking into the past, the present, and a future that never came to be. Or perhaps it had—after all, who could tell him how this world really worked now?
“Pfft. Since I’m here anyway, take a look at my calculations and tell me what you think.”
“Hmm. I see you haven’t chosen the easiest path. Tell me, is there any reason why you’re doing this at all?”
“I… have to bring him back.”
His ears picked up the soft click of heels, faintly breaking through his train of thought. But his mind was too preoccupied with replaying that strange conversation from start to finish to pay attention to any sounds.
“Are you really saying that you two…?”
“Tsk. Of all the things that could have surprised you, the only thing you’re concerned about is the ring on my finger?”
“I don’t usually pay attention to such trifles, but in this particular case, I…”
“Let me ask you, where have you been?” a voice burst into his thoughts, and Dottore snapped back to reality.
Pantalone was standing before him. His face bore a strange mixture of concern, irritation, and surprise, and snowflakes were still visible in his hair, as if he had just walked in from the street.
“I haven’t seen or heard from you in over a week,” Pantalone continued dissatisfiedly. “At first, I thought you went on a business trip and forgot to tell me. But your subordinates said you’ve locked yourself in the lab and won’t come out!”
Dottore had been looking at him silently the whole time, and then he simply turned around and started walking in the opposite direction.
“Wait!” He felt Pantalone’s hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
Dottore stopped and looked at the floor.
“My dear fr—” He began to speak and paused. For some reason, the word “friend” felt particularly strange to say today.
“What’s wrong?” Pantalone repeated. “What’s on your mind?”
He took a deep breath, turned, and looked at Pantalone. There was no longer any irritation on his face; now, he just seemed nervous, which he was clearly trying his hardest to hide.
“Time.”
“Time…?”
“Tell me, my dear banker. Can you even hypothetically imagine that there’s another version of you somewhere in the universe?”
“I don’t understand,” said Pantalone, raising his eyebrows. “Did you create a segment of me…?”
“No.” Dottore walked over to the wall and looked at the projection of the street, where a snowstorm was raging. “Imagine that somewhere there exists an alternate version of our world: Teyvat, but slightly different. Us, but slightly different. A place where decisions were made slightly differently, which completely changed the course of history.”
“Is this another experiment?” Pantalone asked, puzzled, and Dottore turned back to him.
“Yes,” he agreed, but immediately added, “But not mine. The reason for my absence is that a few days ago, Zandik from another timeline appeared in my lab.”
Pantalone looked at him in surprise. His face was so concentrated, as if he were trying with all his might to understand what it was—some kind of joke, a strange dream, or the ravings of a feverish delirium.
“Are you serious? Zandik?”
“Yes. Original, human Zandik. But he’s completely different—not the one we bid farewell to many years ago. He’s the same age the original Zandik of our time would be now, but he doesn’t look old at all. He looks no older than forty. The elixir of immortality… has worked on him.”
Pantalone was silent for a moment, then raised his palms.
“But how is that even possible? It goes against everything that… I can’t believe it! Was this one of his experiments?”
Dottore touched his face thoughtfully.
“No—at least, not a planned one. It seems that his decision to stop working on further refining the elixir played a cruel trick on him, and he ceased further research into life extension. However, I must admit that shifting the focus of his research made him much more advanced in entirely different areas of technology. Even if by accident, he still managed to enter our timeline while searching for a way to save his—” Dottore stared at Pantalone for a moment, unsure of what words to choose. “To save someone important to him. The person he’s married to.”
Pantalone.
To save Pantalone, who had perished in the bloody massacre. The man he is married to.
Dottore repeated these words to himself over and over, unable to believe their meaning. And it seemed that this information shocked Pantalone just as much as it did him.
“Zandik from an alternate timeline is married?!” His expression showed that this information had struck him even harder than the news of the existence of different timelines.
Dottore nodded silently. Pantalone took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it.
“Damn. And who is his… though, I don’t want to know,” Pantalone said, exhaling the smoke tensely. “What else did he tell you?”
“Our time for conversation was very limited, since he wasn’t interested in anything except methods of transferring the mind to another body. But from what he managed to tell me, I was able to conclude that there are no more segments left in his timeline, and his projects have become much less risky because of his relationship with—”
He fell silent and looked again at Pantalone, who continued smoking with the same tense expression on his face.
“Hmm.”
“It seems that Pantalone from his world is also somewhat different from you. For reasons I don’t yet know, his Pantalone was born much later and grew up in Liyue. He even spells his name differently, as Feifang. Even the story of how they met is different. He and Zandik met no more than a few decades ago, and under completely different circumstances.”
“I see… That’s quite unexpected.”
Pantalone thought about something for a moment, then put out his cigarette and looked at him as if he’d plucked up the courage to say something.
“Out of curiosity, I’ll ask anyway. Who is Zandik married to?”
Dottore began fiddling with the feathers on his collar, not knowing how to answer. Under the watchful gaze of Pantalone’s light lilac eyes, it became even harder to tell him the truth.
How will you react to this truth? How will you take it?
It was all strange, very strange—from the beginning of this whole situation with the timelines to the fact that another version of his prototype had exchanged rings with another version of Pantalone, promising to love each other until the very end. Yes, they were partners. Yes, they were friends. But… a family?
Pantalone continued to stare at him in silence, and Dottore finally spoke.
“They’re married to each other.”
A strange expression flashed across Pantalone’s face, as if he were about to collapse to the floor.
“Are you kidding me…?”
Dottore turned away and looked at the projection again. The snowstorm was slowly beginning to subside, but the snow still didn’t stop falling for a second.
“I know it sounds completely absurd. But nevertheless, it’s true: Zandik was looking for a way to save his Pantalone, who had been killed by his rivals.”
They were both silent. Snowflakes fell silently in the projection, and Dottore watched them form snowdrifts on the ground.
“So, I died in that timeline, and my husband Zandik is saving me…”
These words triggered a strange reaction within Dottore. It seemed as if Pantalone had chosen that phrasing deliberately, as if he wanted to imagine himself in that situation. And although the idea of another Zandik being married to another Pantalone was still strange, Dottore didn't want to let his Feofan, even hypothetically, try on the role of another Zandik's significant other.
He clenched his teeth.
“There must be something connecting them more than there was between you and our Zandik. And this Zandik already has his own Pantalone, for whom he’d turn the whole world upside down.”
Pantalone looked at him thoughtfully.
“I never understood this desire of yours to separate yourself from Zandik. You are Dottore, but you are also Zandik. You two are one and the same. And do you really think I’m interested in Zandik from—”
Dottore cut him off.
“This conversation is a waste of time. If those two want to live their lives in such a meaningless way, that’s their right. In our timeline, there’s no room for all this nonsense.”
As he spoke, he felt very strange emotions welling up inside, and he shifted his gaze back to Pantalone. Feofan stood silently, and now there was something entirely new in his expression, as if he had suddenly lost all interest in the entire conversation.
“You’re right,” he said with a polite smile. “Perhaps the human Zandik from that timeline is much more sentimental than you. And is it even possible for someone who is unable to love even themselves to develop love for another person?”
These words stung Dottore strangely, but he didn’t show it. Pantalone still looked pensive when he took out a second cigarette.
“Is he still here?”
“No,” Dottore turned away, unable to look at Pantalone any longer. Something incomprehensible, something unknown was happening inside him. Something that defied any explanation. “We talked about my experience maintaining your health; he got the answers to his questions. I offered him to work together on studying timelines, but he… rejected my offer.”
Even my prototype rejected me.
“And what are you planning to do now?” Pantalone asked, exhaling a cloud of black smoke onto the projection of the city. The snowflakes were immediately swallowed up by the darkness.
Dottore brushed the smoke aside and headed toward the exit.
“I'm planning to master the technology of traversing into other timelines.”
He walked forward, leaving Pantalone behind. The whole conversation still echoed in his ears. And although his mind was already occupied with calculations and research, something troubled him even more.
Where did this tension between us suddenly come from?