Chapter Text
One good thing about raising an ancient god from his slumber is the fact that everyone else is too busy worrying about their own problems to bother looking for the culprit who raised said god. Childe thinks so at least, as he hobbles inside his apartment, his breath laboured and frame trembling from the aftereffects of his Foul Legacy transformation, exacerbated more by the rain in combination with his delusion. He was out in the open when the storm hit, afterall.
Exhaustion weighs heavy and makes him sluggish, as does the thick layer of abyssal miasma he’s picked up in the whole ordeal, a million thoughts rattle inside his mind to add to his upcoming headache.
He will be fine though, he always is. Everything will be fine.
The gnosis has successfully been taken to Her Majesty, Signora — that witch — made sure of that and he… Well, he has also been of use, hopefully. In the end it doesn’t matter his plan has failed spectacularly, that he has lost against the traveler for a gnosis that wasn’t in the Exuvia, that he has freed Osial to rampage against innocents and Rex Lapis didn’t even bother to show up-
Rex Lapis.
Just the thought of him makes his breath hitch and anger surge up like bile in the back of his throat. To think that all this time he has wined and dined him, has spent time with him, has entertained the idea of what they could have been-
His knees threaten to buckle as he sits down on his bed, sheets bare of embellishments and lacking the smell of that particular perfume he has come to love.
How laughable, really. Though instead of bitter laughter only tears want to surge up without an end.
He doesn’t let them. He won’t waste them on trivialities, hasn’t since that fateful night he fell.
Ngh, by the gods is he tired.
All these thoughts spin into a vortex of overwhelming noise that overtakes all his senses, the room and everything in it dances in front of his vision, merging and splitting into meaningless shapes however they please, his breathing picks up speed and with a last thought of alarm everything fades, as he too succumbs to the pull of motion dragging him down into meaningless nothing.
—
The passage of time, to a being as old as he, has always felt unremarkable. What is a hundred years to a being millennia old, who has watched a generation of humans come and go in the blink of an eye? Who has seen all their struggles, goals and aspirations be born, live and die only to be picked up by the next ambitious soul. He has been here all this time, therefore he has seen it all, therefore he understands it all.
Nowadays, this statement couldn't be further from the truth. Nowadays, time has slowed to a crawl and he is just as perplexed in the way of humans as when he first started observing them.
The Rite of Parting has just concluded, hardly a week since the exchanging of his gnosis to the hands of Signora, a week since the return to his regular routine.
Except not, because he is no longer Rex Lapis, just the mortal man Zhongli — in the capacity of what his adeptal constitution allows anyway.
Regardless, the harbor is settling back into the same old, the merchants are opening up their stalls, offering their wares to the same passers-by and afterwards enjoying food in the same restaurants that have fed generations before them.
Except not, because this generation is now in a new era of humanity Liyue hasn't seen before.
Zhongli still walks the same streets and greets the same people, browses through the same wares and sees the same children playing by the docks who make trouble for the same parents.
Except not, because he walks alone, lacking a certain fatui Snezhnayan by his side.
He tries not to linger on those differences.
A rapt on his door interrupts any unnecessary straying of the mind. What are these thoughts for, if they’re not helpful? “Director Hu is requesting your presence in the main lobby,” the ferrylady stands in the doorway, as polite as ever. Zhongli acknowledges what she said with a nod in her general direction and goes to gather some papers on his desk.
The ferrylady continues to stand in the doorway, her expression growing ever more nervous by the second, the grand clock in Zhongli's office emphasizing each agonizing moment with a tick, tick, tick that makes the ferry lady's stare gravitate in the general direction of the lobby. Has Hu Tao made her handout flyers in front of the parlor again?
Reluctantly, she speaks up, her expression contemplative, “That receptionist of the Northland Bank has come to talk… business. W-what kind of business she didn’t say,” the ferrylady hurries to add. Ah yes, she has never been good at handling dealings where the Fatui are involved.
“I will arrive shortly.”
“Yes, sir.”
She leaves right away, Zhongli following not long after. He enters the main lobby. Hu Tao has made herself comfortable on one of the sitting chairs, across from her Ekaterina sits alone on the sofa, no other bank personnel in sight, and a fresh pot of tea is waiting to be poured. “Here comes my favorite consultant!”
“To have favorites is to invite discord to the workplace.”
“Aiya, so stuffy. What does it matter when you’re the only one of the consultants I keep employed all year round. That should tell you all you need, so don’t sweat the details and enjoy being someone's favorite for a little while longer!” It is not Hu Tao's fault all her other consultants only lecture every once in a while, and all, bar Zhongli, have refused to work full time. Zhongli remains unimpressed and so he turns to their guest.
"Greetings, Miss Ekaterina, I didn't expect we would meet again quite so soon. I was under the impression our collaboration with the Northland Bank has ended.” Zhongli leans in to pour each of them a cup.
He doesn’t notice the unsavory glare Ekaterina shoots at him, his full attention on the perfectly square cups. “Mister Zhongli.”
Hu Tao is undeterred by the lackluster atmosphere, “Let’s talk business! The sooner I get out of this stuffy chair the better! Normally, I would have warned you, Miss Ekaterina, that renting out our most revered consultant doesn’t come cheap, but I think you’re already familiar with that information. So, what gives?”
"This matter concerns only the Fatui, not the bank,” she emphasises that last part before taking a sip of her tea. As if it needed the separation. “On behalf of our commander, I would like to hire Wangsheng Funeral Parlor services." Her perfectly neutral tone betrays nothing, save for the guarded weariness in her eyes.
It makes Zhongli pause. Hu Tao notices too, all joking leaving her at once, "I see, apologies. We may not be experts in Snezhnayan burials but we will do our best to properly send off our clients with honor and dignity."
"Those are not the types of services I am seeking. Miss Hu Tao, you involve yourself with order at the border and Mister Zhongli specializes in matters concerning the Adepti, correct?"
A clink of porcelain breaks the stalemate.
"It is indeed as you say. What is it that you need?"
"I request that you come with me.”
—
Ekaterina leads them to an apartment in Feiyun Slope hidden in a maze of corridors, no doubt convenient for its resident. Zhongli recognises the place immediately, he has walked Childe to its doors many times in the past after all, but never once has he stepped inside. Ekaterina walks up to the door with her arm raised to knock, she hesitates for a moment, then turns to her company, “Since the raising of Osial the Fatui have, predictably, fallen out of favor in the eyes of many. We cannot compromise the safety of our personnel. Please, keep this matter in strict confidentiality.”
Zhongli and Hu Tao exchange a quick glance before nodding at Ekaterina. “You have our word.”
She knocks a few times in rhythm, the door opens just a smidge, enough for a head of a fatui guard to pop out, Zhongli believes his name to be Javert, before they’re being ushered indoors. What looks to be a small apartment from the outside turns into a spacious room with a high ceiling and old beams supporting the foundation. You wouldn’t notice that, however, because of all the people crowding the space. There are fatui operatives, guards and even hydro gunners milling about every which way, all the counters are overrun with paperwork and books, it resembles more of a bee hive than livable quarters. And the smell! Pungent and bitter, like the medicine they administer in Bubu Pharmacy.
Ekaterina weaves through all that chaos with ease, collecting reports along the way while she leads them to a room towards the back. A master bedroom with scarce decor and an attached bathroom. All the curtains have been drawn shut, bathing the room in darkness. It is significantly quieter here, some could mistake it for peaceful, if not for the oppressive malicious energy making the air stale.
And at the center of it all lies Childe. Only his head is visible, the rest of his body covered in thick blankets, he seems to be none the wiser of the outside world. What concerns Zhongli the most is the bad karma and abyssal energy circling him, steeping him in its corruption. Ekaterina sighs with resignation, as if hoping something would have happened in her absence, and goes to Childe’s bedside to check his pulse, first the wrist then the neck, and writes it down to her notes.
“He shows no signs of illness, his previous injuries are healing just fine. We have tried many methods to wake him up, none have successfully garnered a response, yet doctors insist it is not a case of coma. We think there may be more abnormal forces at play and have thought that the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor could have the necessary expertise to help.”
Zhongli is left disturbed, to think that a week ago Childe had been well, even if hurt by the successful execution of his plan, and now… He approaches the bed. Someone must have struck in a moment of weakness, Zhongli cannot imagine Childe folding so easily without a fight. “Do you think his state could be related to the recent disaster?”
“I cannot be sure”
“What are you suggesting?” Hu Tao has also moved closer.
“I have my own theories, mainly that Childe could have been put under a curse. Notice how bad karma clings to his person, in combination with abyssal miasma I imagine that’s what’s keeping him asleep. There are records of such cases in the past.”
“A curse… Like, a cursed item?”
“A possibility, or god leftovers, or it was cast and is being maintained by an external force, like mages, demons and the like. Whatever or whoever is responsible, we have to find them.”
“So… you can help him?”
Zhongli turns to Ekaterina, expression betraying none of his internal unease, “I will try to the best of my abilities.”