I Took a Hit Meant for My Hated Rival, and Now He Won't Let Me Leave His Manor

The air in the alley was thick with the stench of discarded wine dregs and damp stone. Kaeya leaned against the wall, a single coin glinting as he tossed it idly in the low light. His informant, a twitchy little man named Patches who always seemed to be sweating, wrung his hands.

“They’re calling them ‘Vision Enhancers,’ Captain,” Patches whispered, his eyes darting towards the mouth of the alley. “Fatui tech. Smuggled in with a shipment of Snezhnayan fire-water. They promise a boost in power, a direct line to an Archon’s might, but… it’s a lie.”

Kaeya caught the coin, his expression unreadable. “A lie how?”

“The users… they burn bright for a week, maybe two. Then they burn out. I saw one, Captain. A young adventurer, thought he could make a name for himself. He was just… empty. A husk. There’s a dark energy to them, something foul that clings long after.”

The coin stopped moving in Kaeya’s palm. A cold that had nothing to do with his own Cryo abilities seeped into his bones. Dark energy. Burn out. The words were a ghost, a whisper from a night drenched in rain and fire and blood. The night his world had shattered. Crepus Ragnvindr, clutching the cursed glove, his life extinguished by a power he couldn’t control. A Delusion.

The Fatui were here, in Mondstadt, peddling the very same poison that had killed Diluc’s father.

“Where are they moving them?” Kaeya’s voice was suddenly sharp, stripped of its usual lilting charm. It was the voice of the Cavalry Captain, the strategist, the hunter.

Patches flinched, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. “The main exchange is in the trade district. Here’s the schedule I could get.”

Kaeya took the paper, his gaze scanning the details, but his mind was elsewhere. He could take this to Jean. There would be reports, meetings, deliberations. The Knights would move, eventually, with all the ponderous and predictable certainty of a bureaucracy. It would be too slow. The Fatui would slip through their fingers, another shipment would arrive, and another fool with desperate ambition would be turned to ash.

No. This required a different approach. It required speed. It required fire.

He pressed a heavy bag of Mora into the informant’s hand. “Disappear for a while, Patches. This business is about to get messy.”

The man needed no further encouragement, scurrying away into the darkness.

Kaeya stood alone in the alley, the crumpled paper feeling like a lead weight in his hand. There was only one person in all of Mondstadt who hated the Fatui, who despised Delusions, with a passion that could rival a god’s wrath. The one person who would act without question, without hesitation.

The thought of facing him with this news made Kaeya’s chest tighten. It was cruel, a fresh stab at a wound that had never truly healed. But it was necessary. This was a debt that could only be paid in embers and ice. Straightening his coat, Kaeya stepped out of the alley and began the familiar walk towards the Angel’s Share, each step a heavy beat counting down to a confrontation years in the making.

The bell above the door chimed softly, a sound jarringly cheerful in the near-empty tavern. Diluc didn’t look up from the glass he was polishing. He knew who it was. He could feel the shift in the air, the subtle drop in temperature that always accompanied the Cryo Vision user. The scent of frost and something uniquely, irritatingly Kaeya filled the space.

“A slow night, Master Diluc?” Kaeya’s voice was smooth as it slid into the quiet, settling into the stool directly across the bar. “One would think Mondstadt’s finest tavern would be bustling.”

Diluc placed the polished glass down with a definitive click, the sound echoing in the silence. He picked up another, his movements precise and economical. “We’re closing,” he said, his voice flat and devoid of any warmth. His gaze remained fixed on the white cloth in his hand. “Take your business to the Cat’s Tail.”

“Now, now, is that any way to treat your most loyal patron?” Kaeya leaned forward, his elbows resting on the polished wood of the bar. The single, uncovered eye watched Diluc with an intensity that belied his light tone. “Besides, my business tonight isn’t with a bartender. It’s with the Darknight Hero.”

The cloth in Diluc’s hand stilled. He slowly lifted his head, and for the first time, his crimson eyes met Kaeya’s. They were hard, like chips of ruby. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Get out, Kaeya.”

“Fine. Have it your way.” Kaeya’s smile vanished, his posture straightening. The playful Cavalry Captain was gone, replaced by the spymaster. “The Fatui are smuggling goods through the trade district. A new kind of weapon.”

Diluc’s expression didn’t change, but a muscle in his jaw tightened. He resumed wiping the glass, a slow, deliberate motion. “The Knights of Favonius can handle their own affairs. This has nothing to do with me.”

“It has everything to do with you,” Kaeya said, his voice dropping low and sharp. “They’re passing them off as counterfeit Visions. Promising a surge of power to anyone desperate enough to buy one.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air between them, heavy and cold. “The problem is, they burn out their users. Leave them as empty husks. Sound familiar?”

Diluc’s knuckles went white where he gripped the glass. A faint, spiderweb crack appeared on its surface, branching out from the pressure of his fingers. His breath stopped. The image flashed behind his eyes, unbidden and sharp as ever: his father, gasping on the rain-slicked ground, the black fire of the Delusion consuming him from the inside out. The smell of burning, the sound of his own scream.

The glass shattered in his hand.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t look at the blood welling up in his palm. His gaze was locked on Kaeya, blazing with a fury so potent it was almost a physical force. The years of animosity, the cold wall he’d built between them, was nothing against the raw, searing pain of that memory.

“Where,” Diluc’s voice was a low growl, ripped from his throat.

“Dawn Winery. The north balcony. One hour,” Kaeya replied, his own voice steady despite the storm he had unleashed. “Come alone.”

Diluc gave a single, sharp nod. He turned his back, dropping the shards of glass and his bloody hand into the sink, the sound of running water his only answer. It was an agreement, but it was also a dismissal. A clear, unspoken statement hung in the air between them, colder than any Cryo-forged ice: this was a truce born of mutual hatred for a common enemy, nothing more. This changed nothing.

The wind that swept across the balcony carried the sweet scent of grapes and damp earth, a smell that was once synonymous with home. Kaeya stood with his hands braced on the cool stone railing, looking out over the dark, sleeping vineyards. They had spent countless nights out here as boys, whispering secrets under the stars, planning futures that had never come to pass. Now, the space felt vast and empty, a stage set for a war council of two.

He heard the soft tread of boots on stone behind him and didn't turn. The air grew warmer, charged with a familiar, oppressive heat. Diluc came to stand a few feet away, a stark silhouette against the faint light spilling from the manor. His left hand was wrapped in clean, white linen.

“They’re using the old smuggling tunnels beneath the trade district,” Kaeya began, his voice devoid of its usual melody. He pulled the crumpled note from his pocket and smoothed it out on the railing, anchoring it with a small, flat stone. “The manifests Patches acquired show three main distribution points, all disguised as legitimate businesses. A bakery, a tailor, and a bookstore.”

Diluc leaned forward, his crimson eyes scanning the crude map and notes. He didn't speak, but Kaeya could feel the rage radiating from him in silent, suffocating waves. It was a cold fury, banked and controlled, far more dangerous than any wild outburst. It was the same fury he had worn the night Crepus died, the same fury that had been directed at Kaeya himself.

“The main exchange is scheduled for two nights from now,” Kaeya continued, pointing a gloved finger at a circled location on the map. “It’s a high-value target. We can intercept the shipment and the agent in charge.”

“We won’t intercept,” Diluc said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the stone. “We will eliminate them. All of them.” His focus was absolute, a burning point of annihilation aimed squarely at the Fatui. There was no room for interrogation, for strategy beyond utter destruction.

“Capturing the agent would give us more intelligence, Diluc. We could dismantle the entire network.”

“The network dies when its agents do.” Diluc looked up from the map, and his gaze finally met Kaeya’s. For a fleeting second, the professional mask slipped, and all the pain and betrayal of the last four years was raw in his eyes. It was a look that accused Kaeya of bringing this poison back to his doorstep, of forcing him to relive his father’s death. “I will handle the agent. You and your Knights can clean up the mess.”

The words were a dismissal, a clear line drawn in the dirt between them. They were not partners. They were two weapons aimed at the same target. Kaeya felt a familiar ache in his chest, a ghost of the brotherhood they had shared, but he pushed it down. He had known this would be the price.

“Fine,” Kaeya said, his voice cool and clipped. He folded the paper and offered it to Diluc. “This is their projected route. We move at moonset tomorrow to observe the location. Be ready.”

Diluc took the paper, his fingers brushing Kaeya’s for a fraction of a second. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt through both of them—one of fire, the other of ice. He gave a curt nod, turned without another word, and disappeared back into the shadows of the manor, leaving Kaeya alone with the ghosts on the balcony.