Work Text:
It was a morning just like any other.
Zandik rose and turned on the radio (a proper wireless, not a smart speaker) and began to prepare his morning coffee and breakfast. The sharp, bitter smell of brewing coffee worked its usual magic in clearing away Zandik's grogginess and he hummed along to the radio as he worked. He made a mental note to import more Sumerian coffee; his stocks were running low and the kind you could buy in Snezhnaya was barely worth drinking. A news presenter on the radio read out the daily headlines, mostly tragedies or drivel, and he tuned the noise out whilst eating.
Before long, he was on his way out, walking the streets of Snezhnograd towards the University. He's thankful that he lived close enough to his place of work that he could walk instead of needing to rely on other modes of transport. It would be… uncomfortable to say the least.
Summer in Snezhnaya was still much colder than he would prefer, but it at least allowed Zandik to only require a light jacket, instead seventeen layers of furs. He scowled at a group of teenagers on the pavement in front of him, all in shorts.
His usual twenty minute journey took a little longer than expected, thanks to the busy crowds he had to make his way through. Zandik had thought, once or twice, that some of the people in the mob seemed to be staring at him, but he didn't think much of it. He was a relatively infamous figure, after all. Though he didn't much like it, he had gotten used to the attention and mostly ignored it.
The University grounds were blessedly emptier than the streets; summertime was always quiet when the students were away. Of the few faces he did see however, more seemed to be gawking at him than was typical, and he frowned to himself. He hadn't published any new findings particularly recently to be garnering this much attention. But he brushed it off, favouring more important matters. He had a busy day ahead.
Summertime meant that many of his employed idiots (referred to by most people as 'research assistants') were on leave, meaning he had to take over the menial gruntwork of his experiments currently. What was the point of being a well respected (hah!) researcher if he couldn't get people to do the boring work for him? His time was much better spent planning experiments and analysing results than it was administering pharmaceuticals to hundreds of test subjects, or radio-graphing fifty brains. Trite and dull.
But the work had to be done, so Zandik resigned himself to several hours of examining nerve endings.
His new research concerned improving prosthetics, which relied on collaboration with the engineering department. Zandik was delighted to busy Sandrone every time he was over there, although he's sure she felt the opposite. Fortunately for him, his research (and the funding it brings) were too valuable to the university for them to listen to her complaints.
The thought of funding brought to mind his partner? is perhaps the best word for him: Feofan. Zandik would bring him his newest research idea, Feofan would sign over the cheque, and once the project was successful then Feofan would take charge of patenting the results and selling them to the highest bidder, getting over three times the return on his investment.
'I have always been good at assigning value' was always Feofan's answer when Zandik would ask how he managed to do it.
Zandik wasn't his only 'investment', but he was the one Feofan paid the most attention to, something Zandik was pridefully pleased about, though he would never tell him that.
It was strange really, their relationship now was such a far cry from how it had been when they first met. Zandik remembers a basement surgery, a body left for him, shot through the stomach and bleeding over his doorstep, and a life balanced on the edge of a scalpel.
If the wheel of fate had turned another way, if Zandik hadn't bothered to save the life of the person sold off to him to get him off their own hands, if the person, in his few waking moments, hadn't been so interesting, then Zandik would have been all the poorer for it now. Funny how these things end up.
One could say that Feofan was the best 'investment' Zandik himself had made.
Before Zandik fully realised, the day had more or less passed, and it was nearly 5pm. A soft knock sounded on his office door, but then it opened before Zandik even had a chance to speak.
"How rude," he admonished. "What if I had been in the middle of something?" He didn't bother looking up from the graphs on the screen in front of him. He already knew who it was; there was only one option.
There comes a rustling noise, like that of a person settling into an armchair, and then a dry chuckle. "You're never not in the middle of something, Zandik. I've grown accustomed to ignoring it."
Zandik laughs out loud and swivels his chair around to face Feofan. He looks just as he always does, dressed in a black turtleneck and blazer, long legs crossed elegantly in front of him. Hair carefully tousled in a manner meant to look effortless but that Zandik knew was a painstaking effort. His glasses sat perched on the end of his nose, the chain draped about his neck. Zandik couldn't assume why he had come to his office; Feofan's expression was inscrutable and gave nothing away.
"So to what do I owe the pleasure of your company today?" Zandik asked after a moment's silence.
Feofan clasped his fingers together, his ever present pretense of a smile dropping. "I don't suppose you've seen it, so I came to show you today's trending headline." He dug a tablet out from somewhere, and after tapping at the screen for a few seconds, held it out in offering to Zandik. He quickly crossed the few steps between them, snatched the tablet out of his hands, and returned to his chair. His eyes scanned over the screen, reading the website name listed at the top: 'Bring out the Kvass!'.
Zandik looked back up at Feofan, eyebrows raised. "That gossip rag? What made you think I would be interested in this?" He had always made a point of how much he despised gossip magazines such as this, although secretly he did have a subscription to Sumeru's 'Akademiya Whispers', to keep up to date with his homeland's latest scandals. He had laughed for a full thirty minutes when he read the expose about the old grand sage's unreputable sacking.
"I assume whatever article you want me to read is about me?" If that was the case, it would likely explain the strange looks he had been noticing that morning.
Feofan chuckled again. "I know you're not a fan of such gossip. Although, I rather thought the clone story was particularly inspired, it feels like the sort of thing you would do." That referred to a popular article a few years back, theorising Zandik had made clones of himself, as the explanation as to how he was able to do so many research projects at once. The real answer was far less exciting: he didn't have any other hobbies. Well, nearly.
"No, this one actually features both of us. It came to my knowledge thanks to how much attention it's gotten since this morning. I thought it was amusing at least." His words are light, but Zandik senses something else, something unknown, hidden in the tones of his voice. It annoyed him slightly that he couldn't figure out what it was.
"About both of us, you say? Colour me intrigued." It was true, articles about himself were common enough he stopped taking notice, but ones about Feofan were much rarer. And the pair together… Unheard of.
Finally, he looked back at the screen to read the article title. Staring back at him in bold font were the words: 'Investigating the true collaboration between the Doctor and the Regrator - pure business partners, or illicit relations?!'.
"They can't be serious," Zandik said flatly.
"Truly preposterous," Feofan agreed.
But he sighed, and resigned himself to reading this drivel.
Many of our readers will already be familiar with Zandik Vanija, commonly known as the Doctor, from following either his morally dubious research or from the heated gossip (such as our clone story - read here). There's no denying he has improved science's knowledge of neuroscience, particularly in the areas of pain and memory, or that he has helped create more effective psychotropic drugs.
"At least they start by acknowledging my genius as a well-respected scientist," he mutters.
Feofan snorts inelegantly behind his fist from across the room.
But much less is known about his 'business partner' Feofan Sergeyevich Veskel, also nicknamed the Regrator, the director of the Northland group, a group of private investors with stock in different markets all over Teyvat. Despite being one of the richest men in all of Snezhnaya (not an easy feat when you are competing with ancient noble lineages!), he seldom makes public appearances. In that sense, him and the Doctor are a perfect match! But we are getting ahead of ourselves.
Zandik's eye was already twitching as he read this.
The Regrator is the top funder of all of the Doctors various research projects, investing millions of mora into projects that earn a return over double. We ask, how did this relationship come about? Why does the Regrator fund the research of such a risky scientist? How does the Doctor get all his projects approved without fail? We say: there must be more to the story.
Not many funding bodies out there are willing to fund a character like the Doctor. For years now there have been concerns over the ethics of his research, the treatment of patients in his care, and in some cases, research data without any disclosed sources. This is apparently a big no-no for academics! Added to this, is the story of how the Doctor was expelled from the Sumeru (his homeland) Akademiya during his undergrad in a scandal with few known details. What is suspected, was the death of a fellow classmate in unknown circumstances…
'That really was an accident…' thought Zandik.
It is understandable that many funding bodies would prefer not to work with such a figure. In comes the Regrator, who nearly 10 years ago now exploded onto the finance scene and created the Northland Group. We don't really know how he became the finance giant that he is today, our best guess was he made some lucky stock investments and made bank. One of these was the Doctor's projects; perhaps their close relationship is due to helping each other really making it big in the world? Even less is known about the Regrator's early life than the Doctor's; however there were rumours of corporal punishment, suggesting he was badly behaved as a child. Maybe the pair have bonded over shared childhood trauma?
"'Bonding over trauma' ha ha ha, how ridiculous!" Zandik laughed, Feofan joining in. "So what if we both grew up in shit villages." Neither of which were doing very comfortably these days, whilst both Zandik and Feofan were successful. It clearly hadn't affected their development too much.
There are also rumours that the Regrator was involved in criminal gangs when he was younger, although that involvement seems to have stopped at around the time he was suspected to have met the Doctor. Perhaps the Doctor saved him from that life, and he's been indebted to him ever since?
Now this line, whilst missing quite a few facts, was closer to a truth than most of the others. Zandik did save Feofan's life, and his gang involvement ended when they met as well, but that was all Feofan's own doing.
"Have they considered we simply continued this working arrangement because it was successful?" Zandik wondered aloud.
"Keep reading," said Feofan with amusement.
He scowled, but did as bid.
After looking into their history, next we investigated the present. Asking around the university students revealed that the Regrator has been seen to have access to the Doctors private labs and office, something normally only academic staff would have access to.
Zandik ignored how Feofan was sitting in said private office right now, without invitation. He was never a bother, so Zandik never minded when he showed up. It was more convenient for him at least, than going to visit Feofan's own office.
Sandrone Guillotine, a prominent engineering and robotics researcher at the University of Snezhnaya, and co-worker of the Doctor, when asked to comment said that the pair were 'revolting'.
Zandik's surprised that Sandrone said anything at all, actually.
Whilst these two figures do not often make public appearances, be they at conferences or galas, they have been spotted in each other's company in public a few times. Usually, this is at the Korolevskiy Theatre, where witnesses have seen both entering or leaving together on multiple occasions. We even received this photo (below) of just the two together sitting in a private box!
He scrolled down to look at the picture mentioned. It was blurry, obviously taken from pretty far away and zoomed in, likely with a phone camera from the direction of the stalls. Still, it shows quite clearly Feofan and Zandik sitting in the box Feofan always reserved for the two of them. In the picture, Zandik is leaning in close to Feofan's ear, as if to whisper something. Zandik remembered the moment quite clearly; it was at the showing of 'the Toy Soldier' last week. He had leaned over to make a snide comment about one of the troupe chorus members who had misstepped their timing and had thrown the whole dance sequence out of time. The pair had snickered together, unheard under the hum of the music, and Zandik had remembered the feeling of Feofan's laughter tickling over his face for the rest of the evening.
He shakes off the recollection and continues with the damn article.
Over the last 10 years, neither man has shown any signs of being in any other relationships; in fact, they barely seem to have other friends. Therefore, they must actually be in a relationship with each other!
That was an astronomical leap in logic.
Of course, we are only half joking. However we hope we have raised some interesting questions and answers regarding the true nature of these partners. Whether they are truly romantically entangled or not, let us hope their partnership continues to stand strong, for the sake of Snezhnaya's economy if nothing else. But we would not be the Land of Love to not also consider the second angle, and if it's true we also wish them the best! If you have any comments, tag us on Akasha or Faebook @bringoutthekvass! and remember to share-
Zandik put down the tablet. He stared into the middle distance. He had never noticed that particular scuff on his wall before.
"Well," Feofan prompted, "what do you make of it?"
Instead of answering, Zandik countered with "what do you think of it?"
Feofan peered at him over the top of his glasses, purple irises dark and hazy. He spoke carefully, in the practiced tone of a politician trying to avoid letting anything slip. "I think they had some good points, if unbelievable conclusions. It is an amusing read, at least."
"Amusing, hm, yes," Zandik mumbled, distractedly.
The article was actually surprisingly well researched, and contained more truth than Zandik had been expecting. He supposed it was also nice for an article about him to not be a personal attack, or to call for his sacking again. At least, he squinted, he didn't think it was trying to be a personal attack.
He thought on the article's overall thesis, him in a romantic relationship with Feofan. It seemed unlikely. Zandik was well aware he was not exactly what you'd call 'normal' when it came to personal relationships. His general lack of regard for nearly all other humans on the planet certainly played a part. He'd just never had much of an interest in other people, beyond what they could offer scientifically, until he met Feofan. Whilst Feofan may put on a more sociable air in front of others than Zandik bothered with, he was also inwardly much the same.
During his musing, Feofan had reached inside his blazer pocket for a cigarette, and held it in his mouth. Zandik stared at the cigarette hanging between his lips for a second longer than he meant to. Smirking, Feofan reached into yet another pocket to retrieve his lighter.
Zandik frowned. "Don't do that in here, I'll never get the stench of smoke out."
Feofan huffed a soft laugh, but put the lighter away again. "You just don't want me smoking at all."
Perhaps true. "I may have patched you up once or twice, but I'm not your personal surgeon. I'm not going to replace your lungs when they eventually rot away."
Alright, maybe he could admit, in the sanctuary of his own mind, that he did care for Feofan more than he did the average person. Even if he did want, he swallowed, to pursue something more, would Feofan? He refused to entertain the thought further; he would not start blushing and agonising like a damn teenager.
"It was a terribly written article," he said at last. "But you are correct, it did have some good points." Hm, he almost felt like throwing up, or ripping off his skin as he said the words. How do normal people cope?
Feofan, who had been looking slightly tense, relaxed as Zandik spoke, like he had received good news from a worrying medical test. His eyes were dark and glittery, drinking Zandik in. Zandik did not shiver, as he glanced away.
"I'm glad we agree," said Feofan, sounding insufferably smug, the bastard.
"Shall we go for dinner?" Zandik stood up as he asked, shrugging off his lab coat to give his hands something to do.
"I have a standing reservation at Podvorye Restaurant, I'm sure the table can be made to fit two."
The arrogant bastard had planned this from the start hadn't he? And Zandik had foolishly been strung along into his plans. He's lucky Zandik liked him; he didn't enjoy being played for a fool. His old, frozen, heart thrummed in his chest, reminding him it still existed.
No one can ever know what that article caused, Zandik would rather use his extensive knowledge to lobotomise himself.
"Then what are we waiting for," he managed. He held an arm out to Feofan, which the other man gladly took, fingers digging in hard into his bicep.
They left the office, the door swinging shut behind them.