Chapter Text
The first body had been discovered before sunrise.
It was an unfortunate habit of the city that the docks awoke long before respectable people did, which meant it was one of Diluc's own men who stumbled across the corpse sprawled against a stack of shipping crates with his throat opened so cleanly that, at first glance, it looked almost delicate. The blood had already dried into dark ribbons between the wooden planks beneath him, the crimson stain stretching all the way toward the harbor before disappearing into the sea with the tide. Whoever had done it had been meticulous enough to leave behind almost nothing besides the body itself, no fingerprints, no weapon, not even footprints despite the previous night's rain. The only thing resting upon the victim's chest was a single blue cornflower.
Silence settled over the warehouse as the remaining men exchanged increasingly uneasy glances.
Nobody touched the flower. Nobody had to.
They all knew exactly what it meant.
"He was here."
The words left one of the younger members in little more than a whisper.
Another immediately crossed himself.
"...The Blue Reaper."
Diluc regarded the corpse without speaking.
His crimson gaze lingered upon the impossibly neat wound circling the man's neck before drifting toward the flower resting atop his chest, its petals impossibly pristine despite everything surrounding it. The symbol had become infamous throughout every criminal syndicate from Mondstadt to Snezhnaya over the past three years. Wherever the cornflower appeared, death had already claimed exactly who it intended to. No witnesses ever survived long enough to provide useful descriptions. Those fortunate enough to catch only a glimpse described a tall man with dark blue hair, an eyepatch, and a smile that never reached his visible eye.
Rumors claimed he accepted contracts only from the highest bidder.
Rumors also claimed he had once slaughtered an entire trafficking ring alone because they had attempted to renegotiate payment after hiring him.
Diluc believed neither rumors nor ghost stories.
He believed evidence.
Evidence currently indicated that someone had managed to infiltrate one of his most secure warehouses, eliminate a lieutenant surrounded by armed guards, and leave again without alerting anyone until sunrise.
That was considerably more concerning than whatever dramatic nickname the underworld had invented.
"The security footage."
One of his subordinates swallowed.
"...Gone."
"The backups."
"Wiped."
Diluc nodded once.
"Anyone alive who was stationed here?"
The silence that followed answered him well enough.
Every guard assigned to the warehouse had been found dead in separate rooms, each dispatched with the same surgical precision. None appeared to have fought back for more than a few seconds.
An assassin who could eliminate fifteen armed men without causing enough noise to wake the neighboring district was either exceptionally gifted...
...or terrifyingly experienced.
Neither possibility pleased him.
Kaeya hummed softly beneath his breath as he wiped another streak of blood from the edge of his knife.
The apartment was quiet again.
He preferred it that way.
His targets rarely understood silence. They begged through it, cried through it, attempted to bargain through it as though enough words could somehow outweigh the contracts they had signed or the people they had buried. Kaeya had heard every variation imaginable over the years. Promises of money. Promises of power. Promises that they could become allies instead.
Death had a remarkable way of making everyone suddenly interested in diplomacy.
Unfortunately for them, Kaeya had always found contracts significantly easier to honor than conversations.
He regarded the man lying unconscious across the wooden floor before crouching beside him.
Still breathing.
Good.
Information was considerably more useful while alive.
"You know," Kaeya remarked conversationally, twirling the knife between slender fingers, "most people assume serial killers enjoy this part."
The bound man stared at him through swollen eyes.
Kaeya smiled pleasantly.
"I don't."
He leaned forward just enough for the other man to catch the faint scent of expensive cologne beneath the metallic tang lingering on his gloves.
"The killing is merely paperwork."
The prisoner looked understandably confused.
Kaeya continued anyway.
"Messy paperwork, admittedly."
Another smile.
"I vastly prefer the investigation beforehand."
He reached into the man's jacket before withdrawing a folded envelope already stained red around the edges.
Exactly where intelligence had claimed it would be. Exactly the document his employer wanted. He slipped it into his coat before standing again.
"There we are."
"...Please..."
Kaeya paused halfway toward the door.
"Hm?"
"...Don't..."
The assassin considered him for several thoughtful seconds.
Then he sighed.
"Oh dear."
"I almost forgot."
One swift motion. One clean cut. The pleading stopped before it truly began.
Kaeya caught the falling cornflower before it reached the floor and carefully placed it atop the body.
Professional standards mattered. Even after all these years.
The underground gathering occupied what had once been an abandoned cathedral beneath the city, though little remained of its former sanctity besides cracked stained-glass windows and weathered stone pillars supporting a ceiling blackened by decades of cigarette smoke. Criminal organizations rarely appreciated symbolism until they realized abandoned churches possessed remarkably good acoustics for negotiations involving heavily armed participants.
Diluc arrived exactly on time.
Every syndicate leader already seated around the circular table looked up as he entered.
Some offered polite nods. Others quickly looked away. His reputation had become sufficiently unpleasant over the past five years that even rival organizations preferred conducting business through intermediaries whenever possible.
Unfortunately, the recent murders had become impossible for anyone to ignore.
"The Blue Reaper."
The speaker was Jean whose organization specialized in information brokerage rather than violence.
"He's become... ambitious."
"He was always ambitious," another replied.
"No."
She folded her hands.
"He killed businessmen before. Now he's killing bosses."
Several pairs of eyes drifted toward Diluc.
He remained expressionless.
"If you've invited me here merely to speculate," he said evenly, "I'll leave."
"No speculation." A thick folder slid across the table until it stopped before him.
"We know who hired him."
Diluc opened it.
The first photograph showed a familiar insignia burned into the side of a warehouse.
The Abyss.
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
The second photograph showed his father.
Alive.
Standing beside another man.
Dark blue hair. An eyepatch. Smiling directly at the camera.
The room became very quiet. "He wasn't always a ghost," Jean said softly.
"Five years ago..."
"He belonged to them."
Diluc continued staring at the photograph.
Crepus had one hand resting comfortably upon the younger man's shoulder. The expression on his father's face was unmistakable.
Complete trust.
"...Who is he?" The answer arrived almost immediately.
"Kaeya."
Another pause.
"Kaeya Alberich."
"And three days after that photograph was taken..."
The woman closed the folder herself.
"...Your father was found dead."
There were moments in life when anger arrived all at once, violent enough to consume reason before a person even realized they had been set alight, and then there were moments like this, where it crept quietly beneath the skin until every thought became unnaturally calm.
Diluc found himself experiencing the latter.
He remained seated long after the conversation around the table had dissolved into cautious discussion, crimson eyes fixed upon the faded photograph as though staring long enough might reveal something everyone else had somehow overlooked.
Crepus stood in the center with his familiar smile, one hand resting confidently upon the shoulder of a young man whose expression carried an almost effortless charm. Dark blue hair framed a handsome face that looked far too youthful to belong within the underworld, while the black eyepatch covering his right eye somehow made the smile appear less suspicious instead of more. He looked like someone who belonged at elegant parties, exchanging dry jokes over expensive wine rather than standing among armed gangsters.
The image was dated nearly five years earlier. One week before Crepus died.
Diluc remembered that week with painful clarity.
His father had returned home unusually optimistic, mentioning that the Abyss had finally begun considering negotiations after months of increasingly bloody territorial disputes. Apparently they had sent one of their younger representatives to establish communication between both organizations, someone intelligent enough to understand diplomacy before violence. Crepus had praised the man's composure more than once during dinner, remarking that the younger generation might yet accomplish what older leaders had failed to achieve.
Diluc had never met him.
Business elsewhere had occupied nearly every hour of those seven days.
By the time he returned—
He closed the folder.
Crepus had already been buried.
The negotiations had been revealed as nothing more than an elaborate distraction while sensitive information regarding the Dawn Syndicate's safehouses, finances, and internal hierarchy quietly found its way into enemy hands. Three warehouses burned before the week ended. Two captains disappeared. Crepus himself had been discovered inside his office with a knife driven cleanly through his heart, the security system disabled from within and every guard assigned to protect him already dead.
The culprit had vanished before sunrise.
Nobody had known his name. Nobody had even known he existed. Until now.
"...You intend to hunt him."
Jean's voice interrupted his thoughts.
It was not phrased as a question.
Diluc looked up.
"I intend," he replied evenly, "to finish what should have been finished five years ago."
No one argued. No one wished him luck either. Because everyone seated around that table understood precisely what hunting Kaeya Alberich entailed.
People who pursued him developed an unfortunate tendency to disappear.
Kaeya had always appreciated expensive hotels.
Not because he particularly cared for luxury, although he certainly wasn't opposed to it, but because wealthy establishments rarely asked inconvenient questions so long as payment arrived punctually and their guests refrained from murdering one another inside the rooms.
The latter proved surprisingly difficult.
He wandered into the suite carrying nothing more than a leather overnight bag and a bouquet of fresh cornflowers purchased from a florist two streets away. The receptionist had smiled warmly upon seeing him, complimenting the flowers with enough sincerity that Kaeya had almost felt guilty for lying about visiting an old friend.
Almost.
The room overlooked the harbor.
A pleasant view.
He poured himself a glass of wine before settling comfortably into the armchair positioned beside the window, removing the folded newspaper someone had thoughtfully slipped beneath his door earlier that morning.
His lips curved almost immediately.
"'Blue Reaper Claims Another Victim.'"
How dramatic.
Journalists truly did possess remarkable imaginations.
He continued reading until a far more interesting headline caught his attention several pages later.
Dawn Syndicate Announces New Offensive Against Abyss Operations.
Ah.
So Diluc had finally made his move.
Kaeya rested his chin upon one gloved hand, quietly amused. He had wondered how long it would take.
Five years was admittedly longer than expected.
Still...
Better late than never.
A gentle knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Come in."
The door opened to reveal a young man—Albedo, dressed in an immaculate business suit.
He bowed.
"Our employer wishes to congratulate you on another successful assignment."
"How thoughtful."
"He also wishes to remind you that Lord Diluc has begun investigating the death of his father again."
Kaeya took another sip of wine.
"I noticed."
"The organization recommends relocating to Snezhnaya until matters settle."
"I imagine they do."
"...Will you?"
Kaeya looked back toward the harbor.
Ships drifted lazily across the evening water while the city's lights gradually flickered to life one building at a time. Somewhere beyond those streets, Diluc was undoubtedly gathering information, interrogating informants, and preparing to dismantle every Abyss operation within Mondstadt until someone eventually surrendered Kaeya's location.
Entire organizations would bleed because of one man.
How flattering.
"No."
Albedo hesitated.
"...May I ask why?"
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
"Because he's finally looking for me."
He frowned.
"I don't understand."
"I know."
He smiled without turning around.
"That's rather the point."
Three days later, the first informant disappeared.
The second was found hanging beneath one of Dawn Syndicate's bridges before sunrise with a blue cornflower tucked neatly into his breast pocket.
The third survived long enough to deliver a single sentence before bleeding to death.
"He said you were getting nearer."
Diluc stood silently beside the hospital bed after the doctors covered the corpse.
His expression remained unreadable.
Inside, however, something cold settled deeper than rage.
Kaeya knew.
Every warehouse searched, every safehouse raided, every informant questioned.
He knew about all of it.
Someone inside the Dawn Syndicate was feeding information directly to the enemy.
"Seal every district."
One of his captains blinked.
"...Boss?"
"No one enters. No one leaves."
The man stiffened.
"...Understood."
Within hours, Mondstadt's criminal underworld descended into panic.
Checkpoints appeared overnight.
Businesses loyal to the Dawn Syndicate closed their doors.
Vehicles entering the city underwent inspections thorough enough to border on absurdity.
The hunt had begun in earnest.
Yet despite everything...
No trace of Kaeya Alberich surfaced.
It was as though the assassin had dissolved into the air itself.
Until six nights later.
Diluc returned home well past midnight, exhaustion settling heavily across his shoulders after another fruitless day chasing shadows through the city. The mansion stood exactly as he had left it, every light extinguished besides the study overlooking the vineyard. Strange.
He distinctly remembered turning it off.
His hand drifted toward the pistol concealed beneath his coat.
The front door creaked open.
Silence greeted him.
No broken windows, no overturned furniture.
Nothing disturbed.
He climbed the staircase without making a sound.
The light beneath the study door remained warm.
Diluc pushed it open.
A man sat comfortably in his father's old chair with one leg crossed elegantly over the other, a crystal glass of expensive wine resting between gloved fingers as though he had owned the room for years instead of trespassing inside it.
Dark blue hair.
An eyepatch.
A smile that looked infuriatingly familiar from an old photograph.
"You've redecorated," Kaeya observed pleasantly after taking another sip. "I preferred the older curtains, personally."
Neither man moved.
The distance between them measured perhaps ten feet.
More than close enough for either to kill the other.
"I expected," Diluc said quietly, "you'd run."
Kaeya's visible eye sparkled with unmistakable amusement.
"And miss finally meeting you?"
He tilted his head. "That would've been terribly rude."
The silence that followed stretched long enough for the grandfather clock in the hallway to announce midnight.
Neither of them looked away.
For the first time in five years...
Hunter and prey stood face to face.