Chapter Text
Consciousness slowly crawled its way up from the depths of darkness, each second bringing a faint awareness of the world around. Diluc peeled his eyes open, but the dim lighting did not help with his disorientation. His mind was foggy. What happened?
A deep ache settled in Diluc’s body, a type of pain he became familiar with in the past few years. Diluc grunted as he slowly pushed himself up, wincing at the stiffness in his muscles and the crack-pop of his bones.
The room he found himself in was roughly the size of a small bedroom. The floor and walls were made of stone, rough to touch and dark in color. The only light was a lamp in the corner. The room felt damp, the air musky and cold. As his eyes adjusted, he took stock of what was in the room. Along the wall was a sink, crude and rusted, barely holding onto the cracked stone wall behind it. The basin was shallow and chipped, and covered in layers of grime and mineral deposits. Next to it was a toilet in state not much better, but at least it wasn’t covered in too much grime.
Diluc took a second to gather his thoughts. The cold, damp air and the roughness of the walls and floor suggested that he was somewhere underground. The presence of a sink and toilet indicated that whoever had him had intended to keep him here for some time.
Diluc’s mind raced with thoughts, trying to piece together the puzzle of events that led him here. He tried to remember the last thing he had been doing before losing consciousness, but his mind was still foggy. The last thing he did remember was paperwork and he was at the winery for that. Sometime after, he received a message from his informant about… something… treasure hoarders? Maybe it was Fatui? He groaned as his head throbbed.
Diluc took a second to look at himself. He was in his typical vigilante attire, but his cloak and mask had been removed. His boots were nowhere in sight, and neither was his vision. All that remained was the shirt on his back and his pants. His socks were missing too. He didn’t like how bare he felt.
There was a door at the end of the room. Diluc pushed himself to his feet, leaning against the wall to steady himself. His muscles protested at the movement, but he ignored the pain in favor of getting to the door.
The door itself was an old, rusted iron slab that was the only way in or out. It was also missing a door handle. “Fuck.” Diluc scowled. He wanted to leave before someone decided to check on him, it looks like he’ll have to wait for someone to come by anyway. Taking another look at the door he noticed there was a rectangular indent at the bottom and at the top. Feeling along the edges of the indents, Diluc concluded that the indents in the door were meant to slide open.
Great, just great.
Sitting against the wall, Diluc took a deep breath as he waited for someone to come get him. The silence was deafening, and the only sound that echoed in the room was the steady dripping of water from the sink.
With no other option, Diluc pulled his legs up to his chest, resting his arms on his knees. The stone floor was cold against his back, the rough wall was an uncomfortable support against his spine. The only thing he could do was wait. He closed his eyes as he rested his forehead on his arms. Diluc tried to ignore the aches in his body and the growing hunger in his stomach.
* * * * *
Diluc sat there for what felt like a long time, waiting for something to happen that could lead to his escape. The sound of metal scraping startled him out of his thoughts and he looked towards the door only to see the small hatch at the bottom open and food being passed through.
It was a meager amount of food and Diluc wasn’t entirely sure what it was, just that it was some type of meat, but he was hungry, and he needed to keep his strength up. So, with a grimace, he ate what was on the plate.
The meat had a bizarrely familiar flavor, something that tugged at the back of his mind. It wasn’t like any animal he had tasted before —too rich, too dense, and had an unusual sweetness—but oddly reminiscent of something he couldn’t place.
After finishing his nauseating meal, Diluc stood up and began pacing his dim cell. Someone should have come by now, not just to bring food, but to at least interrogate him or something. It just didn’t make sense. It was like his captors were intentionally making him wait, just to test his patience. For all the enemies Diluc has made, there is always an interrogation or some form of torture for all the problems he’s caused or the people he’s hurt. It threw him off and left him disoriented. Being kept prisoner without a single ounce of an explanation was just not something he was used to.
Diluc huffed as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Being kept in the dark about his situation wasn’t helping his ever-present anxiety. The longer he spent in this solitude, the more he felt like he was losing his mind. He was tempted to just kick the door down, but without his vision and weapons, he wasn’t confident in being able to find his way out. And kicking down a solid metal door is difficult.
* * * * *
Time seemed to stretch on, blending into a haze of cold, stone walls and dim light. The only sound that ever pierced the oppressive silence was the metal scrape of the hatch when they brought his meals and the steady drip, drip, drip of the sink.
The first few days, the portions were small, but enough to keep is body moving. It still left him hungry, but it was better than nothing. They didn’t give him water which left him drinking it from the sink, metallic taste coating his tongue. He grew restless. It wasn’t a new feeling for Diluc. Patience had always been something he struggled with. He only grew better at it during his time away because if he hadn’t, it would have been his corpse returning to Mondstadt. But the lack of communication and sense of time was slowly driving a knife into his skull.
But then as the days turned into weeks, the food they brought dwindled down to a few scraps. A strip of meat here, a piece of old, stale bread there. Diluc forced himself to eat it, despite the nausea that accompanied each bite. The flavor of the meat remained the same, strange and unsettling. However, no matter how much he tried to pinpoint the familiarity, it eluded him.
Headaches became a norm, always having some sort of aching pulse in the background. Diluc also started shaking and would grow sweaty at periods.
His days became a cycle of pacing, sleeping in short bursts, and consuming that strange meat that was his only source of sustenance. It all began to wear on him.
At some point, Diluc grew bored – and lonely enough – to start using his own shadow casted from the dim light as a form of entertainment. Sometimes, he would just stare at his hands numbly while he would hum to himself other times.
He was losing his mind.
How long had he been here?
How much longer is he going to be here?
The Knights must’ve already been looking for him, but it’s been weeks already. Have they given up?
Adelinde must be worried. The kitchen was probably filled with baked goods right now. She always did tend to stress bake. The counter was probably lined with freshly baked bread, its golden crust begging to be torn apart. There are probably cakes, too, rich chocolate, lemon drizzles gleaming with zest, ones filled with whipped cream and jam – crisp on the edges, soft in the center. The kitchen smelling like vanilla, cinnamon, and buttered pastry.
Archons, he’s hungry.
* * * * *
In the absence of anything else to use as a measure, and lacking something sharp enough, Diluc had begun tallying days on his arm by scratching hash marks on his skin with the ragged edge of his nail. One day bled into another and another. He was at the stage of deliriousness where he no longer cared about escape or being rescued, he just didn’t want to die in here.
The hunger had a way of invading everything. At first, it was a constant, dull ache, a hollow feeling in his stomach that he could ignore by sheer force of will. But it wasn’t long before it turned into a sharp, burning pain that radiated through his entire body. His muscles trembled with every movement, his hands shook as he pressed them to his abdomen, and his vision blurred more often than not.
He’s not sure when it started, but his mind started to play tricks on him. The shadows would move out of the corner of his eye and when he’d stare directly at them, they were normal. The thing about that was the fact Diluc had been hurt enough before to start seeing moving shadows. No, what made this worse was that they would take familiar forms. Like now.
Kaeya stood in one corner, arms crossed and smirking, the way he always does, while Jean paced near the door, her footsteps soundless on the stone floor. He knew they weren’t real, of course he knew – the remains of his rational mind whispered it over and over – but their presence felt too vivid, and it left a searing ache in his chest. He couldn’t see the other side of the room, but he could feel the weight of his father on that part. In his peripheral vision, it would look like Crepus was sitting by the wall, a pipe clutched in his fingers. Diluc closed his eyes with a shudder, clenching his fist against his thighs.
Please, he begged silently inside his head. Please don’t let me go insane down here.
* * * * *
One day, Diluc looked at the red marks, counting the days he’d been imprisoned here. Over a month.
Diluc let out a mindless laugh, laying his head back against the wall. A month. A month of eating whatever meager amount of that weird meat that was fed to him through the hatch. A month, watching as the amount got smaller and smaller. A month of pacing back and forth waiting for something to happen.
A month of being alone with his thoughts and shadows as his only company.
“Master Diluc, what would you like for breakfast,” Adelinde asked, the shadow with her hands on her hips as she stared expectantly back at him.
“An omelet sounds heavenly.”
She smiled. “Would you like it served in the dining room, or shall I bring it to your study this morning?”
“Hm, I’ll eat in the study this time, thank you.”
* * * * *
One day, the hatch didn’t open.
Diluc waited and waited for that familiar metallic scrape. He sat near the door, listening for any sign of movement, but nothing came. Hours passed, and still no food.
The next day was the same, No sound, no food.
By the third day, Diluc’s body screamed for sustenance, aching for anything to eat. His throat was dry, his muscles weak, and his mind foggy. He leaned against the wall, shivering, his once sharp focus dulling into a blur of desperation.
“Please,” he found himself whispering, his voice hoarse and raspy from disuse. He’s never pleaded before, never begged. It’s beneath him. But here, alone in the darkness, he was willing to do anything for a scrap of food.
He tried to recall the last time he drank water, but he couldn’t remember. The dryness in his throat was getting unbearable, it felt like a desert inside his body. He could hear a faint ringing in his ears, growing louder and louder as each moment ticked by.
The sink. The sink had water,
He was so thirsty.
He should get up.
Get up. Get up.
It was a simple command, something he usually didn’t need to remind himself of. But the idea of standing seemed monumental, a task that demanded energy he didn’t have. His body ached in protest, but he didn’t care. He needed water. He could almost see it—water running in the sink, the cold liquid filling his throat, easing the parched dryness.
Diluc forced his muscles to cooperate, gritting his teeth as he got to his feet. The room swayed, vision swimming with black spots, heart beating fast, but he stumbled toward the sink. As always, the tap was leaking, water dropping rhythmically into the basin. With trembling hands, he cupped the water and drank. It was ice cold. It was metallic. It was everything
He drank, and drank, and drank until his body was satisfied. He leaned forward, resting his head against the edge of the sink, panting. It wasn’t enough, but it would do. At least for now.
* * * * *
A week had passed, and the hunger had only grown worse. It clawed at his stomach and left a hollow cavern in its wake. All he could think about was food. The way it smelled, the way it tasted. Diluc couldn’t even find relief in sleep; his dreams were plagued by visions of food and water. There were images of juicy grapes, crisp apples, and savory meat.
He woke up several times, groggily staring into the darkness, hands reaching out fruitlessly to grasp at the food that was no longer there. In the silence of his room, he could remember the smell of bread baking in the oven. He could almost taste the sweetness of his favorite cake topped with cream and fruit.
He would’ve sold his soul for a single bite. He would’ve handed over the winery and Mondstadt itself, just to have a full stomach and quench his raging thirst.
Many times, during the week, Diluc would beg and plead at the door for anything, just anything, I’ll do anything you want! Just please! Please. . . just something.
But he was met with silence every time. He didn’t know if anyone was even listening on the other side of that cold, metal door. He didn’t care, he was desperate. The need to not starve had completely consumed any pride he had left.
Then came the sound—a thud, heavy and wet, from the door. The door opened and something was tossed inside with a sickening smack, the door closing before it even hit the floor.
The sound broke Diluc from his haze, bringing him to turn to the direction of the noise. His breath caught in his throat when he saw it.
A body. Cold, pale, lifeless.
The scent hit him, a raw metallic tang that turned his stomach. Diluc forced himself to his feet, his legs shaking as he stumbled toward it.
His heart stopped, a hollow ringing in his ears as he knelt beside it. It lacked a head. The skin was burned in several places, grey and drained of blood in others, but the features were unmistakably human. Diluc's breath quickened, bile rising in his throat as his eyes moved to the limbs, the familiar cuts, the flesh stripped away in chunks. Pieces missing. Flesh that had been… harvested.
The realization slammed into him like a blow, his stomach twisting violently. The taste of that bizarre, too-dense meat, the rich sweetness that had tugged at the edge of his memory—he could taste it again, but now it was sickeningly clear.
He had been eating human flesh.
Diluc… didn’t know how to feel about that. Maybe if he were saner, less hungry, he would be nauseous. Disgusted. He would back away from the body in horror.
But, god, he was starving.
He’d already been eating that mysterious meat. The meat that turned out to be human. He wanted to survive; his body craved the fullness that eating would entail.
Diluc could feel his mouth fill with saliva, and before he could of any reason not to, he dug his broken fingernails into the basically cooked flesh and dug his teeth in.
Flavor burst along his tongue as the savory juices coated his mouth. It was rich – almost too rich – but his body craved it with such intensity that he didn’t care. There was a deep satisfying depth to the taste, a dark sweetness that clung to his senses.
The texture was softer than he expected, the meat melting on his tongue. Each chew sent a wave of energy, inviting him to take more. His body was overtaken by primal instinct, ravenous after starvation. The gnawing emptiness inside him seemed to shrink with every swallow, and the desperate, consuming hunger finally found release.
Diluc, somewhere in the back of his mind, knew it was wrong, grotesque, but in that moment, it was the most satisfying thing he had ever tasted – filling him in ways no other food ever had.
With every bite, a piece of himself slipped further away.
* * * * *
Time had become a blur, indistinguishable from the darkness that surrounded him. Diluc no longer knew how long it had been since he had first bit into that carcass, since the first taste of that sinful flesh had passed his lips. Days? Weeks? It hardly mattered anymore. The hunger had dulled, replaced by a gnawing numbness that settled in his bones, his body running on pure instinct rather than thought.
The corpse, once whole and grotesque, had been reduced to little more than a carcass, picked over by his trembling hands. He didn’t look at it anymore, didn’t think about what he had done, because thinking hurt too much. The shame and guilt still flickered at the edges of his consciousness, but they were faint now, buried beneath the relentless need to survive.
He sat slumped in the corner of his cell, gaunt and hollow-eyed, his skin pale and stretched thin over his bones. His mind drifted in and out of a fog, detached from the reality of his situation. The cold stone floor was the only constant, pressing into his back, grounding him in the present. Yet even that felt distant, as if it belonged to someone else.
There was no more food. No more visits. Only the endless silence, and the faint memory of what he had become.
Diluc was fading in and out of consciousness when a distant sound pierced the oppressive silence. A series of metallic clangs reverberated through the air. He barely registered it at first, his mind still shrouded in a haze of numbness and fatigue.
But then came what Diluc thought were voices – loud, urgent, cutting through the darkness like a beacon, but muffled all the same.
“ – luc!”
Diluc was starting to sink back into that soft darkness, his hearing muted. But there seemed to be another one of those shadows walking towards him, this one another Kaeya. But it was strange, the shadows were never engulfed in such a blinding glow.
Before Diluc closed his eyes, the last thing he noticed was the look of absolute horror and worry on the shadow’s face.