Pathfinder

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at [Link]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: Other
Fandom: 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game)
Relationships: Tartaglia | Childe (Genshin Impact)/Reader, Kaeya (Genshin
Impact)/Reader, Xiao | Alatus (Genshin Impact)/Reader, Alhaitham
(Genshin Impact)/Reader, Kaveh (Genshin Impact)/Reader
Characters: Tartaglia | Childe (Genshin Impact), Kaeya (Genshin Impact), Xiao |
Alatus (Genshin Impact), Alhaitham (Genshin Impact), Kaveh (Genshin
Impact), Verr Goldet, Huai'an (Genshin Impact)
Additional Tags: Eventual Romance, Android AU, Coffee Shops, Canon-Typical
Violence, Tension, Mystery, Murder Mystery, More tags to be added!,
specific warnings at the start of each chapter, Otome-Style Fic, Reader's
Choice - Freeform, Original Character(s), Original Character Death(s),
OC Is Not Reader, oc is a side character that is plot-relevant, Modern AU
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-03-14 Updated: 2023-03-16 Words: 11,656 Chapters:
2/?
 Pathfinder
by auraxins

Summary

with a surge of technological advancements, artificially intelligent androids are the latest
trend to sweep the continent of teyvat - some have achieved true sentience, and more still are
at odds with the hand that they have been dealt within society

all you expected when you woke up this morning was a normal day at work - then you find
out your manager passed away unexpectedly and you've been left to run your little coffee
shop all by yourself - and now you have four androids and a human all vying for your
affection?!

Notes

hello hello! if you're seeing this, you've either come over from tumblr or this entire thing is
new to you. regardless, i strongly reccomend just quickly popping over to this link here to
check out the way that pathfinder works!

the tl;dr is that each chapter posted on tumblr has a poll attached at the bottom where you, the
readers, can pick which direction the story goes in! by the story's end, each potential love
interest will have racked up points in the background and the one with the most points will be
the 'true' romance ending for this story <3

my sincerest apologies that the poll for the prologue is already closed, as i made the decision
to crosspost whilst i was already in the process of working on chapter one. once chapter one
drops, i will link to the corresponding tumblr chapter for people to pop along and vote if they
want! or, just feel free to enjoy the story as it unfolds ^-^
 Path 0.1 - Prologue

You don’t expect to be alone when you arrive for your shift at Lumen.

Your manager was supposed to have opened for you, which they certainly seem to have, as
everything is turned on and the little dishwasher out the back blinks at you with a clean load
waiting to be placed out to dry ready for the morning’s customers.

Yet, as you survey the counters closer, you notice there has been no fresh batch brew made.
The espresso machines haven’t been cleaned out from the night before and yesterday’s baked
goods still remain in their homes under the glass dishes.

Upon the counter, a single sheet of paper folded neatly into thirds sits near the register. Your
name is written at the top, rushed and scruffier than the writing you’re used to seeing on the
chalkboards every day.

If you’re reading this, I did not make it through the night.

You are a capable assistant, kind and strong-willed. I’m terribly sorry to do this to you, but
you are the only person I can trust with my legacy. Carry on my work in my honour- tend the
shop and be patient when closing. People need you. Do what you can for them.

Forever grateful and eternally apologetic,

Asa

You reread the note. When you’re done, you read it again. And again. And again .

The words refuse to sink in, nonsensical and jumbled in your mind as you play them over and
over on loop until you are face to face with the perilous edge of insanity.

Above your head, the clock signals that 6am has arrived. A regular customer comes into view
as they walk past the window, heading to grab their morning coffee.

You can’t think about all of this right now.

In fact, you end up not thinking about it again until the sun has already long since
disappeared behind the skyline. Blessed with a busy day, customers constantly filtering in and
out and your other barista calling in sick to leave you to handle everything alone, there had
not been a single moment to breathe- let alone to ruminate over what had happened this
morning.
Closing the store by yourself is rather daunting on the face of things. There’s a small list on
the wall, handwritten by Asa, worn over time but still just legible if you squint hard enough,
with everything you need to do.

You had only done this yourself a few times in the past, when Asa had needed to take work
trips and wouldn’t be home of an evening, but otherwise they would show up like clockwork
at 8pm as your shift ends to take over for you.

It isn’t hard , you convince yourself as you begin to work through the list. The most
important part will be to remember to lock up properly- to which you do have to question just
why Asa has three separate locks on the front door and another four upon the back, but they
were always an overprepared individual, so it does track- and making sure that you cash up
the day’s earnings right.

The front door opens just as your back is to it, the familiar ding! of the bell alerting you
whilst you rearrange something on the outside of the counter, and you attempt to spin around
to tell the stranger to leave before a pair of hands grabs you harshly and keeps you in place.

Cool metal presses against your throat and a solid weight leans on your back as a voice
whispers harshly by your ear, “you’re not Asa.”

“That’s right,” you gulp, hands splayed out in front of you as non-threateningly as you can
manage, “so maybe you can put the knife away and we can talk like rational, civil people.”

“Why are you here? Asa is supposed to be here tonight.” he hisses, pressing the blade deeper.
You can feel it bite against the external layer of skin, not yet deep enough to draw blood but
certainly enough to put you on edge.

“Listen, I don’t really know that myself. My boss died last night and I’m closing up now
because they aren’t here to do it themselves. They left me a note saying I’m in charge of
things now and I really haven’t had a chance to process all of it properly and now you have a
knife to my neck and I’m more concerned about the fact that I might be dead in a few seconds
than why any of this is happening.”

A frustrated sigh brushes past the shell of your ear and then the knife withdraws, the body
soon following. You take a step forwards to give yourself more distance and then slowly turn
to face your assailant.

Piercing blue eyes, deeper than the sea itself, stare coldly through you as you observe the
man, lips quirked into an irritated frown. The denim jacket on his shoulders is torn far past
the point of being an aesthetic choice and his hair has mussed so much below the black
beanie he is wearing that its barely discernible as any specific style. His skin and clothes are
dirty, bloody, and the telltale blue of fresh thirium is congealed around a cut on his temple.

“You aren’t human,” you say simply. “You’re an android.”

He scoffs, “well, aren’t you observant?” and as if to prove his point, the wound above his
brow leaks a little more, drips a globule of thirium down past his eye. It smears across his
skin as he goes to wipe it away, trace amounts around the edge already evaporating into the
air.

“So, how do you know Asa?” you ask in an attempt to lighten the mood.

The stranger’s hand still curls tight around the blade at his hip, but he shifts his weight from
one foot to the other- clearly debating whether he can trust you enough to tell you the truth.

For a moment, the concern that this might be the reason that Asa is gone parses through your
mind. But it doesn’t make sense, he can’t have had a hand in it if he’s now here asking you
where they are in such a state as this.

Though your level of trust in him is about as low as his so obviously is in you , you decide
that at least you can trust Asa. He must have been acquainted with them without animosity.
Or, at least, not enough animosity to want them dead .

“They’ve left this place to me,” you continue, gesturing vaguely out towards the seating area.
“I don’t know how you knew them or why you’re here, but, if I’m taking over from them, the
least I can do is try to help.”

And then the knife is placed back in his pocket, his hands empty as he leans against the
countertop. “I used to come to them a few years ago, they’d patch me up when I got into
trouble. Told me I was always welcome back when I was leaving.” The stranger looks wistful
as his gaze flickers down, eyes trailing across the lines in the wooden flooring as though he’s
memorized them before- as if they’re still the same as they used to be. “I never thought
something would happen to them… but I guess all humans are weak in the end.”

“Now you listen here, mister,” you hiss, taking a purposeful step forwards and thrusting your
index finger out towards him. “Asa may have been human, but they were stronger than any
android could ever hope to be. They loved everyone and everything and lived each day with
passion and invigoration. You could never hope to amount to the way they were.”

“ Hah! ” He erupts into a bubbling fit of laughter, clutching his stomach as he doubles over.
When he finally works his amusement out of his system, he thrusts a hand out towards you.
It’s battered and scratched up and there’s a thin sliver of titanium peeking through from one
particularly nasty cut snaking down towards his wrist. “You’re a fighter- I like it. My name’s
Childe.”

Reluctant to take his hand, you offer your name in turn, stretching your palm out halfway to
reach. He closes the gap with enthusiasm and shakes your hand with such ferocity that you
fear for a moment he might tear your arm out of its socket.

“Nice name,” he beams, energy so different now that it feels as though you’ve flipped some
metaphorical switch inside the man. “So, about you helping me out. If we’re lucky, Asa was
able to stock some thirium out the back before the accident. I’m gonna need some of that. Oh,
and they said there would be a replacement biocomponent for me, we should see if they
managed to get it.”
Before he left for the night, Childe gave you the name of a bar on the other side of the
Chasm, right on the outskirts where the city filters off and bleeds into the regular Liyuean
terrain. It’s dreadful up here, dank and dark, everything screaming at you to turn back and
retreat to the safety of Lumen- or, even better, your home for the night- before you go too
far.

The windows and doors are plastered with anti-android propaganda, posters and notices
framing a rather aggressive ‘ NO ANDROIDS WELCOME ’ sticker blaring bright red and
white in the centre.

Part of you wishes Childe had decided to accompany you; as unfamiliar as he is, it would still
be a face you recognise amongst the sea of judgemental stares that faces you the moment you
push open the door. Walking into the bar is like entering another world entirely, dingy and
dismal and dreary as stuffy men and women nurse the same bland beers and laugh far too
obnoxiously over the top of one another.

From what you had been told, the bartender is your aim for this visit. As the single constant
in the establishment, he is the hub for any and all potential gossip regarding budding hate
groups and other miscellaneous information that may prove useful. If there is a new
organisation on the rise that has caught wind of Asa and taken them out, or if there is an older
one who finally managed to crack down on their own information pipelines, this will be the
place to find out about it.

You walk up to the bar and take a deep breath to steel your nerves as you take an empty stool
for yourself. The only other occupants along the counter are a decrepit old man a few seats
along, far too intoxicated for his own good and yet still supping another glass of whiskey, and
a younger male at the far end.

This other man is already engaged in lively conversation with the bartender, wine glass in
hand as he gesticulates enthusiastically along with his words. The top buttons on his shirt are
wide open, leaving his upper chest exposed as he leans forwards, a thin golden chain and
decorative pendant swaying between his pecs with every single movement he makes. You
blink a few times to drag yourself away from how utterly hypnotising he looks, forcing your
attention to shift to the bartender instead as you patiently wait for them to be finished and
notice you.

“And then,” the stranger laughs, throwing his head back in a graceful arc. “It dared to say that
I was the one in the wrong for wanting to get rid of it!”

“Imagine,” the bartender chuckles, absently running a cloth along the rim of an empty beer
glass. “Stupid hunks of junk, we were better off before those blasted hippie nerds came along
and tried to ‘futurise’ everything with their silly little gadgets.”

It’s physically difficult to listen to the slander coming from the two men, but you suppose it’s
worth trying to pick up on a few of the general ideologies of these people so that you can
better communicate with the bartender when you need to. After all, people like this tend to be
capable of sniffing out an imposter from a mile away- and the last thing you need right now
is for your cover to be blown before you’ve even obtained any useful information.
You do your best for the next few minutes, idling with the coaster in front of you and doing
your best not to seem too invested in the conversation happening across the bar. Just enough
to grab the bartender’s attention, so that he can pull himself away from the other eccentric
patron and you can get the information you need.

Thankfully, he walks over quickly upon spying you, and you order a drink that you know
you’ll be able to down fast if needs be.

"So," you begin awkwardly, desperate to keep the bartender around as long as you can. "I'm
new to the area, I've been looking for more places like this. You know, with like-minded
people. Surely someone like you might have a few recommendations for me?"

The bartender is less than useful, you find, as he talks boisterously about the A.B.Y.S.S. order
of hackers- the leading anti-android organisation, the one humans and androids alike are
practically born knowing at this point- and not much else. He spews vitriol towards
androidkind as though it’s fun , and a chill crawls along your spine with every profanity that
slips from him. A vile man, through and through, you decide that this lead is taking you
nowhere and finish up your conversation as quickly as possible in hopes that you might be
able to escape early.

Unfortunately for you, it seems that the trouble for the night isn’t over as the young man from
before stands from his place at the end of the bar and approaches you.

“You don’t mind if I join you, right?” he asks smoothly, already settling onto the stool beside
you. He moves with such fluid motion that he barely seems real, graceful and elegant as he
rests his elbows upon the bar and folds his hands neatly under his chin. “It isn’t often such a
pretty new face shows up around these parts.”

“Are you always this forward with strangers?” you rebuke, taking a long, pointed sip from
your glass.

“Only the ones as fascinating as yourself,” he simpers, gaze fixated upon you with such
intent intrigue that you cannot help but feel the heat rise through your body under his
scrutiny. Despite one eye being covered with a simple black patch, you feel like he can see
through to the innermost parts of your psyche from just a single glance alone. It should be
intimidating, but the sparkle within that one visible cobalt iris is enchanting. “So, tell me-
what brings someone like you to a place like this?”

“Oh, you know- ” you stumble for a second, just the most fleeting of moments, as you think
of an excuse to provide. Your new acquaintance seems to recognise this, if the way that he
shifts his weight back upon the stool, unfolding his legs and crossing the other over in turn, is
anything to go by. “I wanted to find somewhere to go where people think the same as me,
somewhere without those dirty androids sullying up the place.”

He chuckles, a light rumbling sound that echoes in the space between you as he leans towards
you. You lean back in turn, away from him, but it only makes him all the more amused.

“I won’t bite, I promise,” he assures. “In fact, I think we may be here for similar reasons.”
“I’m sorry mister, I doubt that,” you say, an awkward chuckle flowing from your lips into
your drink as you take a sip.

The stranger takes a quick glance around the bar, checking that there are no prying eyes on
the pair of you, as he whispers, “so, you really are an android-loathing dirtbag like the rest of
these?”

As close to him as you are, you can see every single curve and dip of his features, each
singular lash that bats against his eye and then his fingertips trace the lower edge of his
eyepatch, flicking it up and putting it back down so quickly that you could have missed it if
you blinked.

An old shutter lens, deep in his other eye, the type of tech that doesn’t really exist anymore in
anything other than antiques. It’s marked with gold around the rim, but that is the most you
get to see of it before it’s obscured once more. And the memory of how it looked fades with
every single second that follows.

“Oh,” you say, in lieu of anything more coherent.

“ Oh ,” he mimics, a simper spreading across his lips.

He produces a business card out of his pocket, with so much flash and grandeur to the simple
wrist-flick motion that you question momentarily if he isn’t about to invite you to a magic
show.

“Listen, if you want to know more, call this number.”

You peer down at the card now in your hand, the neat white writing on a navy blue
background, a golden insignia in the corner.

Kaeya Alberich, Detective.

But by the time you’ve looked back up, he’s gone. You hadn’t even heard the door to the bar
open and close, hadn’t even felt the rush of cold air that whipped through the room whenever
other people came and went.

Darting to your feet, you run out of the bar on his heels, desperately hoping to catch him
before he disappears. His tall figure recedes down the street to your left, the opposite
direction that you’d be taking home, and you plant yourself in place on both feet firmly once
you’re close enough.

“Wait!” you call out after him, desperate to satiate your curiosity.

He turns back to you slowly, confusion knit across his features. “Yes?”

“Back then, how did you know?”

“Oh, that one’s easy.” Kaeya chuckles, tossing his coin high in the air.
It flips round and round through the sky on its descent and he catches it with a swift motion,
holding it close to his chest and sliding it out from behind his thumb to show it off to you.
The curve of his lips reflects in the crease around the corner of his eye, and in the amused
quirk of his brow. He pauses for effect, and you swear he’s having too much fun teasing you
like this.

“Humans are appalling liars.”

Although you don’t get the information you were after tonight, although you have to make
the trip back to your home at an ungodly hour from a part of the city you’d much rather not
be, you suppose you didn’t come back entirely empty-handed.

Kaeya is a useful lead, especially if he does have more to tell you about what’s happening in
the seedy underbelly of Teyvat. You don’t exactly trust the validity of his business card,
frowning as you turn it over in your hands once you’re back in the safety of your own house,
but he is something more than you had had prior to tonight.

And, ultimately, that’s worthwhile.

The concept of actually taking a break from the sudden plunge into android revolutionary
society is almost unbelievable as you come to work the next morning. All of the coffee mugs
are neatly stacked by the espresso machines, a fresh package of disposable paper cups and
lids right alongside them. It is exactly the way you had left it last night, and yet it feels like
you have been gone for years with the juxtaposition between the mundane everyday of
opening the store and the disruption that had arrived upon closing.

You set up for the day on autopilot, switching on the machines and preparing the day’s first
batch brew without thinking about it. After having done this routine so many times, it’s
practically engrained within your subconscious- and you have to admit that it is a welcome
break to be able to switch off for thirty minutes as you bumble around behind the counter.

That is, at least, until your mind starts to wander.

Each time that you close your eyes, you can picture the blade that Childe had pressed to your
throat in this very same spot, feel the way it sunk against the skin, the movement of his chest
against your back that rose and fell with each agitated breath. You can hear the music playing
in the bar later in the night, smell the alcohol permeating through every cell in your nose and
twisting your stomach. You can see Kaeya, and his ridiculously charming grin, and the way
that your chest was overcome with butterflies whenever he spoke.

And despite how vivid the entire night is for you, it all still feels like some twisted dream
you’d been lucky enough to wake up from when your alarm rang out come morning.

You’re granted release from the memories when your first customers of the day bound into
the store, familiar regulars whose presence allows you to shift your focus onto something else
entirely.
Alhaitham and Kaveh have been frequenting Lumen for roughly a year now. Not daily, at
least not anymore, but regularly enough to have you expecting them each morning
regardless.

Kaveh, you have known since your days studying together. Though, he had actually done
something with his degree and remained in the field of android-human architectural
interfacing, and you had given it all up to assistant-manage a coffee shop in a bustling new
city in the middle of nowhere.

“Good morning, you two!” you call from the counter, waving over to them both.

Kaveh returns the gesture, enthusiastic and cheerful, your name said with such vigour as he
greets you that you cannot help but smile. Quieter than his friend, Alhaitham gives you a
simple nod in acknowledgement, but it is clear after knowing him now that the same
sentiment is shared in the motion.

The blond places his sketchbook upon his usual table and quickly arranges his pencils in a
chaotic- but clearly sensical to him- order before bounding towards the counter. The flowy
white fabric of his shirt bounces with every long step, puffy sleeves catching the air and
looking like graceful clouds as he advances. He leans upon your counter fully with his palms,
a bright bubbling smile upon his lips as he greets you.

“My favourite barista,” Kaveh begins with a smooth purr, “any chance I could order my
usual, please?”

“Cold brew, three shots of espresso, extra syrup and cream- yes?” When Kaveh nods, you
continue, “and does your friend want something to drink this time, or will he just sit there
with that deadpan look and quietly judge both myself and all of my other customers again?”

“Oh, definitely the judging. He’s so very fond of it, you know.”

As if on cue, the silver-haired man across the room releases an indignant huff, wetting his
thumb and flipping over the page of the book he is currently buried in, already settled down
in his chair.

You hold back the urge to giggle, turning away to start making Kaveh’s drink. It’s the type of
order that would typically have you internally fuming to have to try to fulfil, but for Kaveh it
is at least somewhat tolerable to manage. You suppose it is the familiarity, that makes it
almost like you’re just doing a favour for a friend.

“Have you seen Asa around lately, by the way?” Kaveh asks, still leaning heavily against the
counter. His back is to you now, but his head quirks in your direction as he idly fiddles with
his fingernails. “Haitham has been meaning to talk to them, but they’ve not been coming in.”

You pause.

You haven’t actually had to break the news to someone you already knew yet. Somehow, this
makes the task insurmountably more daunting.
“Oh, Kaveh. I’m so sorry, I don’t quite know how to say this- ”

“Asa’s dead.”

Alhaitham’s voice rings out across the entire shop, bouncing off every wall and seat and table
until it is practically deafening in your ears. The cup in your hands trembles as you place it
down and you take a deep breath. You’re lucky there weren’t any other customers around
today, you suppose, but the situation is still enough to wrack your nerves.

“Dead?” Kaveh repeats, spinning around to face you properly. “It’s not true, right?”

Unable to make eye contact, you fix your gaze upon the hands that grip to the edge of the
countertop, fingertips sliding as though he is desperately clawing to a truth he can never
attain.

“I’m sorry,” you echo.

Kaveh curses under his breath. “It’s okay. Sorry, I know it isn’t your fault. Did they say
anything to you before they… well. You know?”

“They left me a note,” you confess.

It lingers in your apron pocket and upon acknowledgement of its existence it suddenly feels
heavier , as though the ink on the page has turned to lead and started to anchor you to the
floor. Hurriedly, you produce it and pass it over. The burden of it leaving your hands leaves
you feeling lighter, but that heavy sinking feeling looms over your shoulders nonetheless as
you anxiously wait for Kaveh to read it through.

A frown, an unamused huff, and Kaveh thrusts the poor note across to Alhaitham. “I can’t
make heads or tails of the blasted thing, you do it.”

You can see the blue LED ring whir upon Alhaitham’s temple as he scans the page, briefly
flickering yellow before resetting, the empty stare in his eyes as he processes the
information.

“I apologise,” Alhaitham says, passing the note back. “My databases render me fluent in over
thirty languages, conversational in dozens more, and yet I have never seen a scripture like
this before. It seems old, some characters are vaguely reminiscent of ancient Sumerian, but
there are too many inconsistencies to pick apart something coherent to give you.”

“That’s okay, you’ve still given me more from this than I could have gathered alone. Thank
you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replies.

“Humble as always, Alhaitham,” Kaveh teases, leaning against your side as he finishes the
last of his drink. The blond dips in closer to your ear, “he definitely wants you to mention it
again, he loves the praise.”
They leave before long, though not without spending approximately half their time in
repeated petty bickering with one another as quietly as they can so as not to disturb the other
customers that filter in throughout the day. You top up Kaveh’s drink for him for free
somewhere in the middle, a courtesy for the pair of them helping you earlier, and have to
avoid the flirtatious comments he throws your way in appreciation.

But when they are gone, you are back to thinking about what you have to do next. You still
have to collect the biocomponent that Childe needs on Asa’s behalf, from a friend they had in
central Liyue, and the trip out will probably take most of the day.

Checking the calendar near the backdoor, the one you usually use to keep track of when to
restock supplies, you notice that the next day is in fact a Sunday, and you decide that you can
keep the store shut for a singular day for this.

Tomorrow, you’ll head out to the Wangshu Inn.

Riding the subway through to the other side of Liyue doesn’t take as long as some of the
other trips you have taken in the past- and is certainly faster than that one time you’d taken
the ferry over to Inazuma for a week in your college years- but it is a sizeable journey
nonetheless.

Without a pleasant view from the windows, instead no more than the pitch black of the
underground tunnel system whizzing past, it seems insurmountably more droll than an above-
ground train might be. But when the International Teyvat Railway was installed, around a
century ago by now, the nation’s leaders had fought hard to keep their ever-evolving
landscapes as pristine as possible.

The sad reality had been that the lack of overground railways had instead given way to more
space for the modernisms of supercities and housing developments to crop up in their place,
but some areas had been lucky enough to avoid the transition. Your home, the Chasm, where
Lumen sits nestled in its heart, had once been a barren mining ground, some five-hundred
years previous. Over the years, as people tried to preserve the mainground landscape of
Liyue, the Chasm had become the overflow, the place where developers and engineers
flocked like moths to a flame.

A robotic voice calls out, “next stop: Dihua Marsh,” and you prepare to leave the train. Only
a few straggling passengers join you upon your exit, filtering out through the station and
ascending the stairs to the bright open skies above. You thank your lucky stars that it isn’t
raining today, you think briefly, as there seems to be absolutely no cover between the opening
of the stairwell and the inn that stands tall a solid five-minute walk away.

Wangshu Inn is absolutely massive, towering all the way up into the sky like a beacon. You
can see the way that the original infrastructure was built around the trunk of a behemoth of a
tree, roots and branches weaving and warping through the walls and floor. It has been
renovated over the years, if the residual deconstructed scaffolding is anything to go by, and
people mill around outside like the place is more like a resort than just a simple hotel.
Well, you think, it is more than that. Though from what Childe had said and knowing what
you do now about Asa, you have a feeling the situation is similar to Lumen’s.

Reasonably, there was always a high chance that your little coffee shop isn’t the only local
business moonlighting as an android refuge. But seeing another one for yourself is another
thing entirely. It provides a sense of scope to the life that you’ve fallen into, cold hard proof
that this is so much more than you had ever imagined it to be.

Ascending the glass elevator up the side of the Wangshu Inn allows you to view the entirety
of Liyue as it stretches out in every possible direction. It is a beautiful nation, one mostly
untouched by the modernisms that have seeped their way across Teyvat through the
centuries.

As far as the eye can see, lush yellows and greens coat the landscape; plants of all description
littering their way along the stone monoliths and mountains along the horizon. Small spots of
white are visible atop the very highest peaks, the familiar shade of the very same Qingxin
flowers in vases around the lobby.

“Ms. Goldet?” you call out to the woman behind the counter, idly shuffling away some
papers. “I’m here on behalf of Asa, I take care of their business now. They put in an order for
something last week?”

“Oh!” she perks up at the sound of your predecessor’s name, animatedly beckoning you
closer. “This way, my child. Come, come.”

Verr ushers you with her through a door beyond the reception, a small backroom away from
the prying eyes of hotel guests. It’s no more different to a regular storage cupboard, stacked
high with shelves that brim full of various towels, bathrobes, bedsheets and more.

“I’m sorry to hear about what happened,” Verr says with care, rifling through a small
selection of folders upon one shelf. “Asa was a close friend of myself and Huai’an’s, it is
painful to hear of their passing.”

“They were close with more people than I thought,” you exhale with bittersweet amusement.
“It’s strange, how we tend to learn the most about someone when they’re no longer with us.”

“Ah, but you see- that’s what is good about a legacy. Someone’s life can be celebrated, taught
and passed along in this way. It is one of the many ways that people never truly leave us.”

The sentiment is beautiful, and the respect that you hold for Verr continues to grow with
every passing second that you come to know her. She’s intelligent, caring, and she reminds
you of Asa in ways that you hadn’t thought another person might ever manage. It’s a comfort,
to now have an acquaintance like her amidst the turbulent life you had suddenly fallen into.

“Here,” Verr calls softly, passing biocomponent in her palm to you. “I think this should help.”

“Thank you.” You go to place the part in your bag and catch a glimpse of white. Asa’s letter,
with the strange inscriptions on the back. “Actually, I’m terribly sorry- there’s one more thing
I need your help with, if that’s alright. You said you were close to Asa, is there any chance
you know what this says? A friend told me it might be loosely related to ancient Sumerian
scripture, but that’s all I know.”

Verr reads over it carefully, running her index finger along the strokes of each symbol. There
is a wistful sadness in her eyes as she handles the letter, but confusion quickly takes over as
she passes it back.

“I haven’t seen language like this for many years,” she confesses, “but I know somebody who
might have. He should be up on the roof, just… be careful not to spook him.”

A gentle breeze ripples through your jacket as you draw it tighter around yourself to combat
the cooler air up on the rooftop and you swear you can see your breath condensating in front
of you as you walk out into the center.

Staring out over the edge of the balustrade is a short, lean man wearing a sleeveless black
turtleneck, exposing toned arms that are patterned with light green markings along one
shoulder. Matching black cargo pants are tucked into thick platform military boots, laced
midway up his calves. He looks oddly serene out here, nestled amongst the clouds that
meander steadily across the sky. The dark green-black of his hair shifts with the wind as he
turns around to face you and you are met with the most incredible golden irises that widen
upon acknowledging that their owner is in fact no longer alone up here.

“You’re Xiao, right?” you ask carefully. “Ms. Goldet told me that I might find you up here.”

“That’s right,” he nods. “And you are?”

“I’m Asa’s assistant. Well, I suppose successor is the right word now.”

“I see. So, something happened to them.”

“I’m sorry… yeah.”

“Don’t apologise, you are not at fault. Have you found any clues as to who might have been
behind it?”

“Only this,” you say, reaching into the satchel at your waist to procure the note that Asa had
left to you. “There’s something on the flipside; it’s written in an ancient language, apparently.
Ms. Goldet said you may be able to help.”

Xiao takes the paper from you and turns it over, taking a moment to read it through. He
frowns as he does, as though he’s not fond of what he’s seeing. And then, rather suddenly, he
thrusts the paper back towards you.

“I can’t help you with this. I’m sorry, I don’t know what it says.”

Returning the note to your bag, you prod further, “but you looked like you recognised it. Can
you at least tell me which language it is?”

“Archaic Liyuean,” he returns simply. “A dead language, it’s been lost for centuries.”
“And yet you recognised it at first glance,” you rebuke. “Please, I know you know what’s
happening here. I’m sorry, I know I’ve given you no reason to help me, but I need to know
what’s going on. You’re an android, right? This might be important to help you, as well.”

Denoted with a short, sharp sigh, Xiao steps closer to you again, close enough that one extra
step would have your bodies touching. It is strange to be so close to someone and not feel
human warmth radiate from them, but Xiao is warm nonetheless and the proximity is enough
to send a chill through your spine.

“This is far more than any of us should be getting involved in,” he notes. Though his actions
are supposed to be intimidating, his tone is laced with a genuine concern. A softness, wholly
uncharacteristic to the rest of his demeanour, that leaks with just how much this information
has surprised him. “I think you should leave it alone. However, if you do still choose to
pursue it, I insist that I join you. This is something you’ll need my assistance with.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Be careful,” Xiao warns. “Whatever you do next- if you need me, call me.”

“How can I do that without a phone number?”

“Asa should have it.”

You sigh, “alright, thank you,” and with the conversation stagnant, the sun already starting to
set over the horizon, the sky awash with pink and orange, you decide that it is time to return
to Lumen.

As you leave, he turns back to the horizon. That same serenity from when you first saw him
returns, but it is laced with a solemnity that tugs bittersweet against your heart and makes it
all the harder to make the trip back home.

Lumen’s comfortable navy and dark brown interior is a welcome sight after the subway ride
home. The little flickering cyan neon sign overhead illuminates the street below, bathes the
sidewalk in blue, and feels so quaint in comparison to the rest of the bustling city that has
grown and evolved around it over the years.

With this day at an end, you allow yourself to stop and think about everything that had
happened over the last few, and ruminate over what might be to come in the next.

Childe said that he would return tomorrow night to pick up the component you’d procured
for him, and taking a look at Asa's house with him could stand the chance of revealing
information about them that you don't yet have.

If you answer Kaeya's text, meeting the Favonius Intelligence Network may lead you to a
new aspect of the underground android resistance you have yet to learn about, an insight as to
who may have had a hand in Asa’s demise and what they might do next.
But there is a matter of the note that Asa left you. The Archaic Liyuean text can, as far as
you’re aware, only be transcribed by a single man. Xiao told you to call him, but a quick
search through the backroom proves that Asa has left left no trace of their more personal
clientele anywhere within reach. You’d have to go all the way back out to the Wangshu Inn
and hope that you’re lucky enough for him to still be there.

With all of this in mind, you could take some time out for personal research. So much has
happened in the last few days, so much new information flooded into your mind with
nowhere for it to go and so many questions left unanswered even about the simpler things.
It’s been many years since you were a student, and you had- unfortunately- allowed that
knowledge to fade from your memory over time. A refresher of basic mechanics and android
studies surely couldn’t hurt.

And of course, you could very much just do nothing at all. You could go back to work
tomorrow as though none of this had been happening, run Lumen without a care in the world
and enjoy the mundanity that life can provide for you.

It seems as though you have a choice to make.

 1.0 - Chapter One
Chapter Summary

You go through Asa's belongings with Childe, and in the meantime Alhaitham carries
out a plan that has been years in the making.

Chapter Notes

hello! chapter one at last <3 yes ik only childe & alhaitham are featured heavily in this
one, but it will be the others' turn soon enough! this fic is designed to be a slowburn - so
sometimes there's gonna be a lot of exposition about stuff that feels unimportant til we
get to the meat of things <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

You made the decision to wait for Childe.

Opening Lumen the next day feels somewhat less daunting than it had been. Working entirely
on autopilot this time, you cycle through the routine you have been used to for years. If you
didn’t know better, you would almost call the morning normal.

Even the appearance of Kaveh right when the shop opens for the day is so mundane to you
now, though the distinct lack of his companion certainly is enough to pique your interest.

“My favourite barista,” he greets as always, but you beat him to the punch before he has the
chance to continue.

“Your usual, coming right up.” Getting to work behind the counter, you pause quickly with
your hands full of coffee and cups and turn back to him. “No Alhaitham today?”

“Why, do you miss him? Does a certain someone have a soft spot for my android
roommate?”

“Oh, hush” you protest, though you can’t deny the way you stumble briefly upon your words.
“He’s just usually always with you. It’s weird to see you on your own.”

Kaveh leans against the counter and perches his chin upon his hands as he watches you work,
flashing you his most smouldering gaze. “Perhaps I just wanted to catch you alone today.”

You can’t help but laugh at his advance. He’s done this with you for as long as you have
known him, which stretches a fair few years at this point. Aimless flirting, his attempt to
remind you just how exceptional he is when it comes to romance- in his own words, of
course. And, naturally, it never quite works on you.

Placing everything down by the espresso machine before leaning over the same stretch of
counter, you dip yourself as close to Kaveh as you can manage. This close, you can see each
individual eyelash as they blink dazedly at you, witness in real time the way that a light pink
flush blossoms from the swell of his cheeks until his entire face is red.

“Oh darling,” you tease, a triumphant simper upon your lips, “if you had me, you wouldn’t
know what to do with yourself.”

He coughs, splutters, desperately trying to regain composure from your flustering, and you
chuckle to yourself as you get back to finishing off his drink. By the time you’re placing it in
front of him, he’s barely gotten himself back together.

“You’re evil,” he complains. “You’re lucky you make the best drinks I’ve ever had.”

“I’m the only barista with the patience to take your insane orders,” you retort, poking your
tongue out at him cheekily. Drawing your attention away, the front door opens and a chilling
spring breeze whips through Lumen as another customer enters. “Now, go sit down
somewhere. I have work to do.”

Later in the day, your phone vibrates in your pocket and you pull it out to a message from an
old friend. Nothing special, just a funny video they had wanted to send you, but it reminds
you that you have unfinished business to attend to.

You need to tell Kaeya that you won’t be joining him tonight.

The business card he handed you is still in your jacket pocket from a few nights ago and you
retrieve it quickly whilst the store is empty and thumb it over in your hand a few times before
finally adding the number into your contacts list. After shooting a quick greeting, to let him
know who’s texting him out of the blue, you get into the meat of your conversation.

Just letting you know I have plans tonight, I can’t meet with you. Any chance we can
reschedule?

Kaeya: Aw, did I scare you away?

NO!!!!

fuck

Sorry, no you didn’t. Something came up is all.

Kaeya: I’m only kidding, it’s not a problem. Let me know when you’re free.
With the exchange over, you tuck the phone away and let the rest of your shift pass until the
evening approaches and you’re due to meet with Childe.

He’s there at the front door right upon closing, and stands with his arms folded against the
inner wall as you finish cleaning up for the day.

“You could help, you know,” you call out, “instead of just… lingering.”

“I’m not here for that,” he rebukes.

A sigh leaves you as you decide that there’s no point starting an argument with him right
before he’s supposed to be helping you, and you complete your tasks alone before shooing
him out of Lumen to lock it all up behind you both.

Walking up to Asa’s home fills you with a strange sensation, some conglomerate mix of
anticipation and dread.

The outside is neat and tidy, simultaneously meshing in with the darker scenery of the
Chasm’s architecture and housing a quality so uniquely theirs that it is unmistakeable. To the
left of the front door, a handmade windchime hangs unnervingly still, and below it sits a
topiary that has started to grow past its own confines and reach for freedom in all directions
from its manicured spherical shape.

“It looks exactly like I’d expect it to,” you chuckle airily, hoping to negate some of the
tension that rests in the space between yourself and Childe. “The whole place already
screams ‘Asa’.”

Childe hums in agreement, though his attention is clearly drawn towards his inspection of the
front door. One hand reaches out to rattle the doorknob and he almost pouts when the
inevitable happens and the door hasn’t been left unlocked. Huffing lightly, he shuffles across
to inspect the windows, absently brushing some of the dust away before cupping his hands
together and leaning against them to get a look inside.

“Bear with me a moment,” you say, reaching into your bag. “I think this key I found in the
backroom earlier might-”

CRASH!

There is an unholy symphony of chaos as one of the windows is smashed and your partner in
crime goes tumbling through. Shuffling follows, and then a hurried sort of scrambling sound,
then finally some rapid footsteps. A pitchy, epiphanous ‘a- ha! ’ muffles itself behind the
wood and then finally a resounding click! echoes into the night.

With a long, drawn-out creak, the front door swings open and reveals Childe standing
triumphantly in the entrance, a self-satisfied grin playing upon his lips. His hands rest on his
hips as he observes his handiwork, letting out a sharp whistle.

“Not too bad if I do say so myself,” he laughs. “Been a while since I had to break and enter.”
You sigh in exasperation. “If you had waited , I had a key to try.”

“Oh well, we’re in now! Come on, we’ve got lots of ground to cover.”

Dust coats every surface your eyes come to rest upon in a thin layer and you sneeze as you
breach the threshold into the living room. Asa must have been gone from here for weeks
judging by this, and yet, as far as you’re aware, they have only been dead for a small handful
of days. You’d only last seen them last week, after all.

It looks as though the place has been well-kept despite it all, though.

Seatees curl themselves, L-shaped and covered in cushions, around the middle of the living
room to form a tight little circle, warm and inviting, as though they’re purposely set up there
for comfortable get-togethers. You vaguely remember sitting down here once when you first
started to work at Lumen, though the memory is hazed with time and never lasted long
enough to remain substantially in the first place.

On the sideboards, there are photographs in all sorts of frames. Large, small, collected into
collages and just resting loose against others, the space is positively abundant with memories
of every description.

As you wander across to them, your gaze lingers upon a set of images that seem to progress
over time.

In the first, two young people- one clearly Asa, and the second you have never seen- smiling
with one another and holding each other close. The second shows a small bundle in the other
person’s arms, tiny little eyes sparkling with wonder and joy, and both adults beaming down
at them in turn.

You see their life progress with each subsequent photograph; pictures three, four and five all
show the child in various stages of their youth, until they must be a similar age to how Asa
was in the very first image. Asa now in the image shows signs of older age, more akin to the
way that you know them, perhaps even around a similar time to when you had first begun to
work at Lumen. Their partner has aged further still, greying hair and deep-cut wrinkles that
score through their face and wear them down.

And then the sixth is the most worn of the collection, of just the child on their own, a bright
bold smile flashing their teeth towards the camera. The edges of this one have been worn
away from frequent handling, browned in the corners and creased along the middle as though
it has been folded and unfolded many times and placed in a wallet or a pocket or similar. It
must have been taken at some event, obnoxious shiny balloons behind their head and
streamers in mid-descent through the air. They look happy, but there is an unmistakable
sadness in their eyes that even the camera has managed to capture.

The seventh photograph does not have the child in it.

It is of Asa and their partner again, holding hands and embracing in a manner much akin to
the very first image. This time, it is melancholy, haunting, a dullness in their skin and in the
sky that hangs grey above them. They try to smile at one another, encouragement that seems
not to quite reach.

And Asa is alone in the last.

You needn’t think too hard about what had happened in this series of events, it seems to tell
you all you need.

The photographs shift in tone again when you look to the ones that follow, as more people
come and go in each, very few recurring faces smiling back out towards you. You swear you
spy Childe in one briefly, and Kaeya in another. The side of Xiao’s head fills the corner of
another, one of Asa and Verr Goldet in mid-laughter with Huai’an somewhere off to the side.

And the most obvious one that you recognise is an image of yourself, Alhaitham and Kaveh.

The three of you are sat at one of the tables in Lumen, straight after the time that Asa decided
to renovate the shop. It was Kaveh’s interior design and architectural experience that had
made the quaint little place the comfortable experience it was today, though the dark blue
wallpaper had explicitly been your choosing. Alhaitham had provided an immediate analysis
of the store’s internal dimensions and assisted with the general management of the project,
and Asa had insisted that the three of you be photographed together to celebrate its opening.

This one image seems to sit in pride of place amongst the newer ones, dead centre like it’s
looked at most often. You suppose Asa did always have a soft spot for you, always extra
patient as you learned the ropes with Lumen when you first started there, even going so far as
to immediately offer you the position of assistant when they decided that they needed one.

It hits you for the first time, as you stare at your own grinning face immortalised on
photopaper, just how much you miss Asa.

Childe finds you again before your eyes have the chance to well up with tears, walking back
into the living room with determination blazing across his face.

“I found something!” he declares. “In their study, a hidden room behind a bookshelf. I’ve not
gone in yet- thought you’d want to.”

“That’s… oddly considerate of you, Childe. Thanks.”

Covered in snaking vines and lush foliage, the Akademiya building feels more like something
out of an exaggerated apocalypse novella than a real working establishment. Years of
minimized maintenance to give way to higher productivity levels in scholars led to the dense
wildlife that the Sumeru rainforests are known for slowly taking over the landscape and
becoming one with what little actual infrastructure still remains.

In the recesses of Alhaitham’s databanks, old images exist of the Akademiya flourishing; a
beautiful architectural masterpiece entwined with the trunk of a towering tree show that, one
time, the people in charge of this place really did care for it.
This was hundreds of years ago, of course. Before the chain of command had been usurped
by selfish scholars with an unquenchable thirst for the knowledge they pursued, to the point
of such beautiful and wholly absolute destruction.

Now, Alhaitham walks into the flora-reclaimed academy with a purpose; straight through the
front doors, in direct spite of the awareness that people will be alerted to his presence.

These walls had housed him in his early years of service, when he had been acting in the
position of Akademiya Scribe- a role provided to an android over a human when the
Akademiya realised that they could streamline their processes without the interference of
troublesome human emotion.

And, of course, Alhaitham had been the perfect paragon of such an image- stoic, calculated,
precise.

Until he had seen what happens behind closed doors. What foul nefarities lurk in the cover of
night, the secret agenda of the sages in charge, and the collateral damage they pay no mind to
in the pursuit of their own devices.

When he had escaped from the Akademiya, roughly five years prior, he had found an
abandoned home deep in the heart of Sumeru’s main city. A flourishing utopia for all who
searched for knowledge, the city was now a desolate ruin of houses and flats where more
scholars poured in year after year and people found less and less space to accommodate them
all. He had been lucky that humans seemed to have stopped caring about the area, and had
been able to maintain his humble little home ever since.

Only weeks later, Kaveh had arrived at his doorstep in a shambles with nowhere to go
himself. Having been the man who designed all the android integration systems within the
Akademiya building- charging stations, repair ports, terminals for data transfer and the like- it
was only natural that Alhaitham would allow him to stay. To return the favour.

And later, they had begun to frequent Lumen together. The rest was history.

Alhaitham’s return to the Akademiya so many years later, and alone no less, had not been
unprompted.

Rumours had been brewing before his departure of a genius new student arriving at the
academy. A girl, only three years old, a prodigy in every sense of the word. Whispers from
passing sages declared her a miracle, a mind that hadn’t been paralleled for generations.

And they had planned to keep her prisoner there.

A new department was built, and Alhaitham himself was made to oversee the paperwork
surrounding the affair.

The Sanctuary of Surasthana, it was to be named.

Kaveh had a hand in designing it- to which he had later confessed in agonising tears that he
wished he had had no involvement at all- and as such it was going to be glorious . Glorious,
at least, in the way that people describe the violent weaponry that has the power to level a
nation, or the way that one might dare to compare to a god.

Years passing between Alhaitham’s departure and return to the Akademiya was an
unfortunate side effect- after finding Lumen and meeting Asa, he and Kaveh had become
intrinsically entwined in helping them set up their android support systems. With Kaveh
having the background skills of engineering and maintenance, Asa had all but begged him to
help out. And Alhaitham retained access to the Akasha database- the collective storage for all
the knowledge the Akademiya had unearthed over centuries- and such an invaluable asset had
been beyond useful for the cause.

But none of that matters right now. The important thing is that he has returned, with
unfinished business to attend to.

To his left and right as he moves through the hallways, Akademiya guards swarm Alhaitham
and attempt to take hold of him.

The noise cancelling function of his internal auditory system clicks on and, instead, a calming
piano melody fills his senses, specially selected from his favourite playlist (one that you had
made for him, no less).

Each step he takes is composed, peaceful, in time with the music. Whenever someone gets
too close to his progression through the hallway to the Sanctuary of Surasthana, they are met
with a swift punch to the throat.

Some are bold enough to attempt to sneak up on him, appearing from behind with a weapon
and the foolish assumption that they might just succeed. In return, Alhaitham doesn’t even
grace them with a pause. He grabs them from over his shoulder, by the wrist of their raised
arm, and throws them overhead. They fly across the hallway into a set of lockers, into a
closed door, against the wall.

And he keeps going, the gentle harmony of the pianos in his ears such a pleasant
contradiction to the chaos wreaking outside of the space of his own personal bubble.

Determined and relentless, nothing can stop Alhaitham as he makes his way through the
Akademiya to the farthest depths of the server rooms within.

When he reaches the intricate double doors to the Sanctuary, he pushes them open wide.
Within, thousands of rows of servers line further than the eye can see, all blinking red and
green and blue and white. Cables wind around the floor like vines, thick and easy to trip over,
but Alhaitham is dextrous enough with his steps to avoid them.

In the back, young Nahida sits at a low table.

There is a crayon in her hand and she draws idly on a fresh sheet of paper. Though, upon
closer inspection, the image on the page closer resembles an accurate spiralling of the golden
ratio, labelled and marked outright with the appropriate dimensions.
“Nahida,” Alhaitham says calmly, internal music clicking off so that he can focus his
attention upon the girl. “Would you like to go home?”

“ This is my home,” she protests, though the furrow in her brow and the quiver of her lip
clearly shows her apprehension to her own words. This place, this abysmal prison, is no
home. “You mean would you like me to go and stay with you?”

“I do,” he nods. “If you would like that.”

“Hm.” She thinks for a moment. And then for another moment still; as if purposely to
torment Alhaitham, who stands and waits so patiently for her response. “Yes, okay. Let’s go.”

Nahida stretches her hand out expectantly and Alhaitham has to remind himself that this is a
human child, despite her exceptional intelligence and calm disposition.

This is common for them, to seek the comfort of an authoritative figure, and he supposes that
if he is planning to free her from her life at the Akademiya and house her with himself and
Kaveh then indeed she must see him as such.

She is merely a child, in the end. If she wishes to take his hand, then he will let her.

“We will have to be quiet,” he says. “Can you do that for me?”

Instead of a verbal response, Nahida nods vigorously, squeezing his hand tighter.

“Good girl. Come, this way. I’ll get you out of here.”

Asa’s hidden room is stuffed to the brim with spare android technology and paperwork.

Organised upon shelves in a manner you can only describe as oddly similar to how they keep
the separate coffee granules stored at Lumen, a dozen types of loose parts are categorised into
distinct sections. Mostly simple items, spare eyes and auditory processing units, and a couple
of beaten up thirium regulators that seem to need repairing.

The room is very clearly designed for only one person’s use, however, and you find yourself
bumping up against Childe more times than you’d like to as you peruse your way through
Asa’s personal effects.

“Doesn’t this feel… I don’t know, wrong to you?” you ask quietly, thumbing through an old
notebook. There isn’t much written in there that seems of any use, but the potential of finding
something is too important to pass up. “You know, looking through all their stuff. It feels
disrespectful.”

“You think so?” Childe grabs a ledger from the side and starts to flick through it, and you can
only assume that he’s using some high-tech scanning power with how rapidly the pages turn
beneath his thumb, much akin to the oldschool flipbooks you’d make as a child with little
animations pencilled into the corners.
“Yeah.” You nod. “Feels weird, to do this. I know we need to, but it’s like… Asa can’t tell us
that we shouldn’t intrude on their space. We’re not expressly trespassing, but it still feels like
we are.”

“Is this the sort of thing humans concern themselves with these days? Whether or not you’re
trespassing on a property that legally doesn’t belong to anybody anymore?”

You frown. “You don’t get it.”

“What is there to get?”

“I- you know what, don’t worry about it.”

You barely miss the moment of confusion that crosses Childe’s features before he is back to
work, occasionally jostling your shoulder as he reaches out to look through something else.

After a while, your own exploration through the deluge of Asa’s professional past brings you
to a small box. Almost like it was originally intended for jewellery, when you open it to
peruse the contents within you are met with a handful of tiny parts. Miniscule cogs and
screws and a small electronic chip, all jet black but shifting blue as you turn them to hit the
light from the overhead bulb.

“Khaenri’ah tech?” Childe peers over your shoulder and narrows his eyes at them, plucking a
screw out from its place and turning it over in his fingers. “I’ve heard of this stuff, never seen
it myself. It was outlawed way before I was made. I didn’t realise Asa had managed to get
their hands on some.”

“Some of that Khaenri’ah stuff’s been around for hundreds of years, right? From back before
androids were even a thing, back when people were prototyping the first robots.”

“Yeah, pretty much. I couldn’t even begin to tell you how old these parts are.”

You recognise this.

As you turn over the chip, a familiar glittering of gold greets you and you realise where .
Kaeya had a part like this in that eye you caught a glimpse of. You’ll have to ask him about it
later.

“Well, if it’s so old, we should keep it safe.” You take the screw back from Childe and return
it to the box, closing it tight and sliding it into your bag. “Who knows if we might need it,
right?”

“Right,” Childe agrees.

Before you, though neither of you had the mind to pay attention to it until now with just how
much occupies Asa’s saferoom, sits a simple desktop computer. When you try the power
switch you frown at the lack of response from the machine, and briefly you wonder if Childe
has the capability to hack into it even if it’s off.
“I see the way you’re looking at me,” he huffs. “Don’t even think about it. That PC is old and
won’t work with my interfacing.”

“You’re an android and you can’t even hack a home PC?” you stifle a chuckle. “Man, what
good are you even for?”

“I wasn’t coded for that. My databases contain battle tactics , not… how to attach to the
computer that time forgot.”

“Huh.” You shrug. “I didn’t know they programmed androids for fighting, all the ones I’ve
ever come across have been to help … not to harm. ”

“Well,” he simpers, some of his seriousness fading back out into a sharp teasing banter,
“you’ve never met an android like me.”

“I suppose you’re right,” you snicker, feeling the tension in the air shift. Being pressed up
this close to him almost feels comfortable right now. “No android I know would bust in
through a window instead of having the brains to think for a second that their partner might
have a key with them.”

“Hey,” he protests, nudging you in the side. “I resent that. We’d still be outside if it weren’t
for my quick thinking.”

“Sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

You hum as you shuffle to look around the back of the desk, unable to hide the soft laughter
that creeps in through each breath. The atmosphere is still unsettling, on account of where
you are and what you have to do, but there’s something lighter in the space you fill now. Only
subtle, barely palpable, but present nonetheless. Pleasant nonetheless.

“Hey,” you call, breaking the silence that had fallen, “I think I found the plug for the
computer. We should try this out.”

The device springs to life when you connect the power and the blue screen flickers with
white startup text. Already aware that it’s an older model, you’re surprised you don’t hear
dial-up noises when the internet connects. Some messages pop up on the screen, notifications
from a private messaging service you’ve never heard of. Asa’s clients, you assume, as the
familiar names of Kaeya Alberich and Verr Goldet appear briefly and flash away into the
notification bar.

For a moment, you scroll through the messages to clients you recognise. The mouse icon
hovers over Childe’s name briefly and you consider nosing through them, but the shifting
weight at your side from the same man rummaging through another drawer helps you make
the decision against it. Perhaps some other time.

When you are sated with the messaging system, you flick through to Asa’s internal storage
and rifle around in the many well-organised folders they keep. Most of them are simple,
copies of documentation about her clients and even a few spare photo albums from images
they’ve kept hold of digital duplicates for.
Eventually, you come across one specific zip file marked ‘IMPORTANT’ with your name
followed after.

“Hey, Childe,” you beckon, “check this out.”

“What?” He leans back around, bodyweight pressing against you as he cranes to see. “Why
do they have a folder marked for you?”

“No clue,” you say. “They’ve never mentioned something like this before.”

“Do you think they knew you’d try to come here?”

“Maybe…”

A deafening cacophony of noise rings from the front door, a strong thud following that
resonates through the walls of the house and shakes the very papers pinned to the walls of the
hidden room. Clearly whoever had been following you hadn’t the mind to see the mess that
Childe had left from his own forceful entrance, you think morbidly, but the thought presses
itself down when the weight beside you shifts.

Childe lurches to attention, hand finding the dagger in his pocket with ease and drawing it
close to his side. “Someone’s found us.”

“You think they’re after this data?”

“Of course they are. Get it transferred, then we’ll get out of here.”

You fumble across the desk for something to back the files up to, thanking any archon that
might be out there that the computer is just new enough to take USB drives, and plug it in as
rapidly as you can manage.

The numbers on the screen tick up slowly, 6%, 7%, 8%, and you mentally urge them to speed
up as you look between them, then to Childe, towards the door, then all the way back again.

Voices echo through the halls as a group of people spill inside, fanning out as they ransack
their way through Asa’s belongings. Though you can’t make out specifics, certain phrases
like ‘take what you can’ and ‘leave no survivors’ leak through the fuzz and reach your ears
and set your heartbeat ablaze.

Two breach the bedroom, shouting back to their colleagues, “found them!” and you watch as
Childe launches himself at them with little hesitation.

He was right, he’s been hard-wired for this sort of combat. You can see it in how effortlessly
he sizes up his opponents and processes the best way to take them down- if you didn’t know
any better, you could swear he is enjoying the rush of the fight.

There is a look in his eyes, dangerous excitement, something that can only be equated to
bloodlust.
 It’s likely all part of his code, it must be . But something feels so uncannily human about it in
the most terrifying of ways.

Childe ducks back into the saferoom minutes later, both assailants taken care of, and the
progress bar on the screen reads a meager 30% for all his efforts. Their colleagues are close
by, having heard the shouts from earlier and the otherwise general commotion of battle, and
you can hear their footsteps approaching.

“Shit,” Childe hisses, running out to meet the next wave of men. He turns back to you briefly
and your eyes lock. “You should get out of here. I’ll fend these off and keep that databank
safe.”

You glance back to the computer, then back to Childe.

On one hand, running will guarantee you get out of here in one piece. Childe’s trustworthy
enough, you’re sure he can handle things himself.

But on the other hand, he shouldn’t have to .

You’re capable, to your own extents, and you can definitely hold your own against these
people. You’ve seen the way they fight now, at the very least you can squirrel yourself away
somewhere and draw out a couple to pick off to thin out the numbers. That way, you can also
keep an eye on the data transfer for yourself and make sure nothing happens to it.

It seems you have a choice to make.

Chapter End Notes

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