Part One: Whispers in Print
Perhaps it was hypersensitivity, or perhaps a mere illusion. But lately, Dottore could not shake the feeling that his subordinates looked at him strangely. Every time he entered a room, they scrambled like thieves hiding contraband. Rustling fabric. Shifty eyes. Faces pale with guilt.
Reasonable enough. No subordinate ever maintained their composure when caught slacking by their superior.
Yet that did not explain the rest of it. Dottore knew, with absolute certainty, that their gazes had shifted. Something uncanny lingered behind their eyelids. A strange, unplaceable weight.
It grew sharper when he passed the female Fatui. Their stares burned with quiet fury. It felt like the look one reserved for a heartless scoundrel.
Beneath his mask, Dottore's brows drew together. He had spent all his time sealed inside his laboratory, leaving mundane administrative tasks to his staff. What could possibly be happening?
He did not slow his pace as he walked past his silent subordinates. More pressing matters demanded his attention. The Chief Harbinger had summoned every Executive to deliver their reports. He had to attend. These oddities could wait until after the session.
The chamber was nearly full. The Captain had departed for Natlan. The Sixth Seat remained vacant. La Signora was dead. The Tenth Seat had failed to arrive. Everyone else was present.
Dragged all the way from Liyue, Tartaglia stood at the very end of the long conference table. He looked thoroughly drained. Eyes half-closed, he dozed openly. None of this concerned him anyway. Once the meeting concluded, he swore he would sleep for days in Liyue. The cold here bit to the bone. Compared to this, Liyue was a sanctuary.
Columbina, The Damselette cast a sidelong glance at the icy Dottore beside her. Disdain flickered across her gaze. Then she shifted her attention to the lethargic Childe. Her eyes drifted lower, curiosity secretly tracing the curve of his backside.
'After all that was done to him... is he truly unharmed? Does it not ache?'
Exhausted out of his mind, Childe noticed nothing amiss. He nodded in disjointed rhythms. Consciousness slipping, he let out a heavy yawn. His eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused, swept the room, and drifted shut again.
When those damp blue eyes opened, they held a pitiful, waterlogged sheen. The gaze brushed past Dottore. Columbina leaned forward against the table. Her expression shifted instantly. Her eyes widened. 'Is this what the book meant by crying after being bullied?'
She had never paid much mind to the Eleventh Harbinger before. But now that she looked closely, he was rather delectable. What a waste to leave him in Dottore's hands. With that thought, she turned a dark, obscure stare toward The Doctor.
Dottore: ?
Heaven and earth bear witness. If Childe knew a single yawn could spark such wild imaginations, he would have forced himself awake. He certainly would not have accidentally validated the novel's illustrations.
The Knave's gaze swept back and forth between Childe and Dottore. In her eyes, the two shared zero common ground. There was no way they had tangled together the way that book claimed.
She knew little of Childe's past. Yet the events detailed later in the text aligned perfectly with reality. The Gnosis, for instance.
Though the author never named the Geo Archon outright, the text simply noted that upon arriving, Childe watched La Signora claim it.
Given that alone, the writer knew them too intimately. The Knave mused that perhaps they really had a history. Otherwise, why would Childe walk away the moment he spotted The Doctor?
He carried himself like someone too exhausted to even trade words.
Yet The Knave cared less about the fictional pairing. She burned with curiosity over the author's identity. Who dared to fabricate tales about the most unhinged Second Harbinger... She found herself quietly impressed.
The session concluded. Childe muttered that it was finally over. He moved to leave without even opening his eyes. The Rooster at his side caught his arm with a gentle smile. "Childe, I need to speak with you."
Every trace of sleep vanished from Childe's face. His eyes snapped open. He stammered, "Haha... what about? I have urgent matters pulling me back to Liyue... can it not wait until next time?"
The Rooster offered a faint chuckle. He dragged Childe firmly into his domain and cut straight to the point. "Where did all the Mora go?"
Childe: "..."
"Listen to me explain..."
Watching them leave, The Doctor intercepted Columbina, The Damselette. He asked why she had looked at him that way.
Columbina curled her lips. "Did you hole yourself up in your laboratory until your mind rotted? Completely deaf to the world outside?"
"Your name has echoed across the seven nations."
A wave of frost radiated from Dottore's frame. Bored with his reaction, the woman produced a book and tossed it at him. The Doctor caught it reflexively. The cover art struck him like a physical blow. He froze. Every muscle locked.
Two unmistakably familiar figures graced the page. Even rendered in flat ink, they were instantly recognizable.
Him and Childe.
What truly petrified Dottore was the composition. He had his arm locked around Childe's waist in a posture of forced possession. The orange-haired youth wore an expression of stark resistance. They clashed like opposing blades. Blood nearly coated them both from head to toe.
Dottore: "..." What is this.
Columbina savored his stunned expression. Satisfied, she hummed an ethereal tune and drifted away.
The cavernous conference room held only The Doctor.
After a long silence, he turned the pages.
With every line, the air around him grew heavier. The temperature plummeted. By the end, a suffocating, terrifying rage simmered beneath his skin.
"Snap!"
The book slammed shut.
He finally understood why his subordinates had been acting so strangely. Dottore's gaze dropped dangerously to the author's name printed on the cover. A-Jiu.
So they called themselves A-Jiu. Very well.
He carved the name into his memory. His eyes shifted to the publisher stamped on the spine. Yae Publishing House. Beneath his mask, crimson eyes brewed a violent storm. He only waited for the moment to catch the culprit and unleash it all.
Dottore stepped through the doorway. Behind him, a sharp icicle drove straight through the book's center. It crashed to the floor. Instantly, countless crystalline shards erupted, tearing the pages into confetti.
He would make this A-Jiu learn the price of reckless slander.
On the other side of the continent, Childe finally slipped free from The Rooster's grip. Back in Liyue Harbor, he scratched his soft, unruly hair and muttered, "Pantalone is so petty. That amount of Mora is mere pocket change to him, yet he grilled me for hours."
"Still, I came prepared. I managed to bluff my way through."
It was a necessary investment to build goodwill with Rex Lapis. So what if he spent Fatui funds on Zhongli? Childe saw nothing wrong with it. It was a diplomatic gesture between two nations. What was the harm?
Besides, he knew perfectly well that The Rooster used to be a devoted admirer of the Geo Archon. Hmph. Secretly passionate.
The air in Liyue was truly superior.
Childe sighed in appreciation. The temperature was mild. None of Snezhnaya's brutal extremes. It was a perfect place to settle. He had no desire to leave.
He stretched lazily under the warm sunlight and stepped into the bustling port.
Two Fatui subordinates waiting to greet him wore deeply unsettled expressions. They dared not breathe loudly as they fell into step behind him.
"Has anything notable happened in Liyue recently?"
The pair trailing him hesitated before finally murmuring. "...Lord Childe. Actually, yes."
"Is that so?" Childe's interest stirred. "I'm all ears."
His striking hair, paired with the unmistakable Fatui agents from the Northland Bank flanking him, acted like a beacon. Passersby spotted him in an instant. Eyes widened. Whispers rippled through the crowd. Lips curled into knowing smiles, and every so often, a glance darted toward Tartaglia, brimming with a strange, feverish excitement.
He had only been away for a few months. Had they forgotten him already? Or was there something on his face? Childe instinctively reached up to check his cheek, just as the voice behind him continued.
"A new genre of novels has taken over the martial arts classics lately, Lord Childe. Their influence is considerable."
"Novels, is it? Now I'm actually curious. Wait a moment." Childe paused, turning slightly. "Do I have something on my face? Is my attire out of order? Why are they staring at me like that?"
*They're staring because of you...* Both female Fatui agents had, against their better judgment, purchased and finished those very novels. Now, faced with their young superior, their minds involuntarily conjured those utterly inappropriate passages. A flush crept up their necks. They stole a quick glance at the pristine face and docile expression of the young man before them, then hurriedly bowed their heads.
"Nothing is amiss, Lord Childe. Your attire is perfectly in order."
"How peculiar." Tartaglia rubbed his jaw, a flicker of bewilderment crossing his azure eyes. *They can't possibly be stunned by my looks, can they?* Behind him, the two agents shared a silent, deeply meaningful look.
"While I was away, did Mr. Zhongli send any invoices to the branch?" The novels could wait. His concern for Zhongli took immediate precedence.
"Not a single one."
"What?" Surprise flashed in his blue eyes.
"Not since the half-month mark after your departure. The bills simply stopped coming."
"Did something happen?"
To Tartaglia, the sudden silence from Zhongli's ledger was deeply suspicious. The man practically breathed invoices. For the flow of Mora to dry up meant something had shifted.
"Nothing out of the ordinary. The WangSheng Funeral Parlor Consultant maintains his usual routine." The agent on Childe's right cleared her throat. "About half a month after you left Liyue, he took in a young boy. No one knows the source, but the lad started earning enough to cover all of Zhongli's expenses. Every last one."
Childe's eyebrows shot up. A single boy, shouldering that kind of financial weight? He knew firsthand that Zhongli's spending habits could bankrupt a noble house. The desire to meet this rescued youth ignited in his chest. Gratitude was one thing. This bordered on the absurd.
Lost in thought, he found himself drifting toward a young woman on the sidewalk. Since stepping off the docks, the weight of Liyue Harbor's gaze had been unbearable. Eyes clung to him like magnets. Some smiles were downright unnerving. More than a few pairs of eyes had blatantly raked over his waist and hips. One or two stray glances were tolerable. This was a coordinated phenomenon. Something was definitely off.
He softened his expression, dialing back the sharp, imposing aura of an Executor until he resembled nothing more than a polite neighborhood brother. He gently intercepted a passing girl.
"Pardon the interruption, miss. But I have to ask, why is everyone looking at me like that?"
"Please, I mean no offense. I'm just curious."
The sudden halt startled her, but she quickly remembered they stood in Liyue Harbor, surrounded by the ever-vigilant Millelith. She steadied herself, meeting his gaze. Under the sheer impact of his striking features, she blurted out, "Are you... Tartaglia?"
-- Page Six --
Childe blinked, genuinely baffled. "I am."
"Then you must be Childe (11th Harbinger)!"
Childe froze. *When did that slip?* A random civilian knew the alias he had deliberately kept under wraps. He was certain he had only ever mentioned it to the Traveler and Zhongli. Even if the Liyue Qixing knew, how had it trickled down to the common folk so quickly?
His demeanor shifted, turning sharply serious. "Miss, how exactly did you come by that information?"
Her eyes lit up with sudden fervor. "Just as I thought! Then you must also know Second Harbinger, The Doctor?"
Childe stared.
Her train of thought had completely derailed, leaving him struggling to connect the dots. What possible logical thread tied them together?
Convinced of his identity, she practically vibrated with excitement. "Big puppy, you absolutely cannot fall for him! He's been lying to you from the very beginning! A monster like that isn't worth calling your salvation. He's a scumbag! Look at the Harbinger on your side instead. The Rooster is so gentle, and he's incredibly handsome and wealthy. You should be with him!"
Childe's pupils dilated in sheer shock. "...What?"
*What in the world is she talking about?* He understood every single syllable, yet the sentence as a whole felt like deciphering ancient, esoteric scripture.