Game, Set, Match

Chapter 1: Sorry, Pretty Girl

No one else would send her a gift like this.

Lumine can count on one hand the number of people who could afford such expensive, elegant gifts. And that amount tallies up to a total of one: Childe. Other known aliases: Tartaglia, the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger.

She glides her finger along the ornate wrapping paper. It’s beautifully painted with the traditional Liyuen art style, adorned with imagery of dragons and glaze lilies. At first glance, she’d expected it was from Zhongli because of the wrapping paper alone. But when she carefully unties the silk ribbon, unravelling its contents, she remembers Zhongli doesn’t have the Mora to cover even one-fifth of the expenses.

Inside is a beautifully embroidered qipao, a jewelled silk flower hairpin, and a small glass vial containing what she assumes to be perfume. She opens it, taking a tiny whiff. It’s a familiar scent—sweet like honey, mixed with silk flower petals. Too familiar, and she wonders where she remembers this scent.

It’s the same type of perfume they’d help make during the Rite of Parting, one of the others that wasn’t chosen by Rex Lapis. Paimon’s descriptive words echo in her mind: “It’s sweet as a dream, and it’s liked by younger ladies.”

Lumine still has no concrete confirmation on who the gift is from until she sees a note. All doubts are erased when she reads the words written on it: “Sorry, pretty girl.” The handwriting is a stark contrast from the gifts; it’s almost illegible, like a pigeon had scratched its feet to form the incoherent letters.

Her jaw clenches. The last time she heard from Childe was from Ekaterina. She went to the Northland Bank to exchange the excess Mora left from the time she babysat Childe’s little brother Teucer. She didn’t even ask of his whereabouts, but the first thing Ekaterina told her was that he’d left not too long after Teucer had gone.

Even from wherever far away land he’s gone—and she hopes he stays there—he is still pestering her with useless gifts that aren’t even her style. She has half a mind to check again if the package really is addressed to her, but decides against it.

Lumine rereads the note, deciphering the words: “Sorry, pretty girl.” Sorry for what? For almost killing her at the Golden House? For betraying her trust, purposely getting close to her solely for information? For the disaster he caused that almost drowned the entirety of Liyue?

She sighs. It’s a terribly vague apology, one that doesn’t even deserve an inkling of forgiveness. Not even with the extravagant gifts.

Lumine looks back at the note. Pretty girl. She grits her teeth. It’s just like him to flirt so unsparingly; she can almost imagine the way he’d say the words, coupled with the way he’d comb his hair with his fingers. Even with his ruffled hair, he looks unbearably handsome—

The note crumples in her fist. Enough.

She examines the gifts: first, the qipao. Her breath hitches when she holds it up to her body and finds the shape matches hers almost exactly. It can’t possibly fit her that well, can it? Time to test the theory, she thinks, slipping into the dress.

The qipao hugs her figure quite well, too well, and she wonders how Childe figured out her measurements so precisely. She will admit, though not out loud, that he has a pretty damn good taste in fashion. Her hand slides up the side slit, a little too high for her taste, reaching to her upper thigh. The hand stays there, caressing the bare skin. She wonders what a gloved hand would feel right here, daring to venture higher—

It’s bad enough that Lumine finds her mind wandering to such things, but it’s worse when the object of her imagination is him. What Childe did in Liyue—endangering all those innocent lives for the sake of a Gnosis that, in the end, he doesn’t even acquire himself—is unforgivable. Meeting adorable Teucer may have softened her resolve a little, no thanks to him.

This feeling, anger almost bordering on hatred, is easy to understand. Her borderline lustful thoughts, on the other hand, beg to differ. She supposes it’s merely a product of human nature; even if she is not of this world, her body’s foundations still comprise the same basic components as humans.

Or, that’s what she likes to think.

She can justify it all she wants, but it doesn’t change her thoughts that keep lingering on him. It’s frustrating, really.

Lumine takes the hairpin and fastens it in place right beside her other flower hairpins. She examines herself in the mirror. Is this what Childe wants her to look like? That familiar feeling of anger flares up in her chest.

She takes one last whiff of the perfume before spraying it on her pulses. She brings a wrist to her nose, the sweet scent lingering. Childe must be good friends with Ying’er, she thinks. How else could he have gotten his hands on a rare fragrance like this? Certainly not from Zhongli. He has too much pride to ask a favor from someone who played him like a fiddle. Although the idea of Childe being good friends with Ying’er... Lumine wonders if he ever reciprocated, and knowing how flirtatious they both are—

Lumine shoves the thought deep down where she can’t reach.

The anger in her chest gradually turns into one of petty revenge. With newfound motivation, she prepares to march out of her quarters at the Wangshu Inn, off to fight the first group of Fatui recruits she finds. After all, what better way to make use of his gifts than to sully it with blood and sweat?

But when she opens the door, she finds the same man who has been tormenting her thoughts standing before her, fist raised and about to knock.

Childe eyes her from head to toe. “That dress looks lovely on you,” he says, a smirk playing at his lips.

Anger wells up in her again.

The nerve—

Lumine lunges at him without a word, grabbing him by the collar and pinning him against the wall. His eyes widen, and before he can react, he finds her hands at his throat, grasping tightly. She doesn’t need her sword or her elemental powers. Her bare hands will suffice.

She relishes the look on his face, frozen and terrified. It doesn’t last; her arms are too short, and he realizes she can’t hold it for too long. His expression quickly turns into a manic fury, and then she feels his knee hitting her stomach hard. She recoils, letting go of him. He takes this opportunity and fully kicks her off of him.

Lumine doesn’t waste time writhing in pain on the floor. She stands, and so does her opponent, both shifting into a fighting stance. Childe flashes a grin, baring his teeth like a wolf.

Anger turns into excitement, and excitement turns into focus. Her mind clears for a minute. She observes him carefully, ready for whatever he throws at her.

No, they don’t need weapons or Visions. Fists will suffice.

Childe springs at her, throwing out a punch that lands square on her shoulder. Lumine expects this and braces herself from the blow. Before he could throw another jab, she grabs him by the wrist, twisting his arm around. Wincing, he takes his free arm and hits her at the throat with his palm. She recoils backwards, and he advances towards her until her back is against the wall.

His hand closes around her throat. It’s not a firm grip, just enough to hold her in place, but Lumine knows he has the strength to leave bruises. So why is he holding back?

He leans over, closing the distance between them. Lumine shuts her eyes with anticipation, only to feel him inhale right at the crook of her neck. His warm breath sends shivers down her spine.

Childe looks at her amusedly. “Are you wearing it?”

“Fuck you,” she answers, taking his hand off her throat and hitting him with a jab to the stomach.

He doubles over, both in pain and in laughter. “Oh, pretty girl, I always knew you liked me,” he says, brushing the mist off his eyes.

Her pounding heartbeat rings in her ears. She throws herself at him with a scream, and they end up in a familiar rhythm in battle, going back and forth like a dance for savages.

There’s a reason esteemed warriors use weapons in the first place. Hand-to-hand combat is considered a crude martial art in Teyvat; only bandits and treasure hoarders who were too poor to afford even a rusty spear use their fists in their attacks. And a poor thief is one who isn’t particularly good at his job now, is he?

Still, hand-to-hand combat is as close as Lumine gets to actually blowing off steam. It doesn’t matter that they were butchering the martial art; what matters is the way her knuckles meet his chest and the way his fist hits her cheek. The pain feels so cathartic.

In one swift motion, Lumine hooks her heel around Childe’s ankle, pinning him down. She balances herself and throws one last punch right at his face. He groans, spitting blood on the floor.

“I win,” she says, her voice nothing but a whisper. All the bruises, soreness, and exhaustion come in full force, making her collapse atop him.

Childe says nothing, and again, she feels him sigh slowly on her neck.

Her breath hitches. “Why are you here?”

“I want to have dinner with you.”

She sits up, making herself comfortable on his waist. “And what makes you think I’ll agree?”

Childe gives a sly smile. “Because you’re wearing my gifts.”

Her first instinct is to resist, because after all that, even with how satisfying that fight was, she still doesn’t want to forgive him. Not that easily. But on second thought... she can use this to her advantage. She can play his game, too.

Lumine shrugs, getting off of him. “Fine. I was getting hungry anyway. Let’s go.”

“Shouldn’t we rest up first?”

“No.”

They trudge down into the outskirts of Dihua Marsh and settle down at the bottom of a hill, obscuring them from the Millelith patrolling around. The weather in Liyue has been chilly lately, so she decides to prepare a soup to warm them up.

“I thought you’d left Liyue,” Lumine says, stirring the cooking pot.

“Yes, I did.”

“And now you’re back.”

“Yes, I am.”

Childe’s replies are terse, as if he’s waiting for her to ask why. His lips curve ever so slightly into a smirk, goading her on. Lumine doesn’t need to ask, not that she wants to. Instead, she busies herself with cooking, but once she has added the mint, calla lilies, and crabs into the soup, there’s nothing left to do but let it simmer. She sits herself down on the log, trying to avoid Childe’s fixated gaze on her. With the way he’s examining her, she almost feels like the unwitting crab boiling in the clay pot.

After a long pause, he speaks, “I heard you were causing some trouble with my subordinates, pretty girl. And here I thought I was the troublemaker.”

“What I do in my spare time is none of your business, pretty boy,” says Lumine, scowling.

It was true. She had been harassing a few recruits for their insignias; Diluc asked her to collect them if she’d come across any Fatui agents, but he gave no reason for it. She did as he asked to help Diluc out, and also to spite Childe and give him some trouble.

He laughs. “It is my business because they’re my men.”

“Is that why you’re here? To tell me off for beating up your useless recruits?”

She immediately regrets asking when his grin widens.

“Were you expecting another reason?”

Lumine wanted to ask about the gifts, why he sent them, why he knows her measurements, why the sweet perfume. She wanted to say, Yes, I hoped you were here for me and not for business, and the thought sickened her.

“No,” she finally says.

“Good.”

Lumine stands up and checks on the pot. The characteristic orange tinge of the crab shell tells her the dish is ready. She pours a serving into a bowl and adds a single mint leaf on top for decoration.

“Here,” she says, handing over the bowl to Childe who gleefully accepts.

She takes another bowl and pours a portion for herself. They sit side by side in silence, with the occasional slurping and chewing. The calla lily seafood soup tastes refreshing, quenching her thirst and warming her from the throat down to her belly. If a summer by the beach had a taste, it would be exactly this.

A plethora of questions run through Lumine’s mind, but the mere act of asking means admitting her curiosity of his motives, his thoughts, or worse, his feelings. The fact that Childe thinks she likes him is already troubling enough. She doesn’t need any more leverage for him to hold over her head.

In the end, she settles for a safe, nonpersonal question. “Why does the Tsaritsa want the Archons’ Gnoses?”

Childe is silent, wolfing down the meal. She’s flattered he’s enjoying it, really, but she knows he heard her, so she merely tilts her head, staring at him expectantly. He takes a sip of the soup and looks back at her, his eyebrows raised.

The realization dawns on her. “You don’t know, do you?”

He shrugs. “Does it matter? Do you know who you’re working with?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Lumine repeats, her voice so firm and confident like there’s no other answer to the stupid question he presented to her.

“Really?” Childe repeats, almost mockingly. He takes another bite of the crab meat before speaking again. “Why then would Zhongli give up his Gnosis to the Tsaritsa just like that?”

Her heart starts hammering in her chest at the memory of them in the Northland Bank: Zhongli surrendering the very essence of his power and immortality to their sworn enemy. The very same enemy who had ordered an ambush on her and Venti to steal his Gnosis. The indignation starts to rise from her chest and gets stuck at her throat.

He continues, “It may sound like a ridiculous idea to you, but don’t you think perhaps we might be working towards the same goals? Besides, Zhongli’s just as much of a schemer, if not more. After all, he facilitated the entire thing. I was just another pawn like you were. Can you blame me for following orders?”

The idea of the Tsaritsa fighting the same fight, it both terrifies and angers her. If she really is on their side, why go to such lengths? Why involve innocent lives? Her loyal followers aren’t any better, either. She thinks of the number one offender sitting right beside her, how willing he is to do just about anything for her. And he doesn’t even know what for.

Lumine grits her teeth. “And you’re just so eager to obey, aren’t you? What a coward’s excuse.”

She doesn’t regret her words. Even with the way Childe looks at her, his piercing blue eyes searing through her. Even when his expression darkens from her biting words, ready to bite back. The bruises on his face make him look even more grim in this light. But whatever sharp words he was about to come up with, he swallows it down with another mouthful of food.

Lumine realizes she hadn’t been eating much. Her appetite’s already gone, but she feels lightheaded from an empty stomach. The bruise on her cheek makes it difficult for her to chew, but she starts to feel a little better with a few bites.

She’s almost finished eating when he asks her, “Will you join me?”

“Where?”

“The Fatui. Be the Twelfth Harbinger.”

She stifles her laugh. Childe’s boldness truly knows no bounds. “Even if we had the same goals, I would never work for the Tsaritsa.” She makes sure to punctuate the word, in the hopes of drilling her answer to his head and he won’t ask again.

Still, Lumine appreciates the invitation. If Childe thinks she likes him, then what does this say about him? No sane person would invite their enemy to their den, much less fight alongside them. Then again, this is the same person who had asked her to visit his family, his home, after spending just one day with his little brother.

This man is a walking contradiction at best, she decides. Insane and delusional at worst.

“Shame,” he says, but his tone doesn’t sound remorseful in the least.

It was a taunt, after all. A test to see if she’d bite so easily.

“Is it really a shame, Childe?” Lumine says, shifting closer to him, close enough to feel his hot breath on her face. A minty scent registers on her nose. He leans down at her neck and takes a sharp inhale. She tugs at his jaw, forcing him to meet her gaze.

Lumine whispers, “I know you like it when we fight.” She can see the heat rising to his cheeks.

She half expects him to take the plunge like he’s wont to do when faced with danger. But he doesn’t.

A coward, indeed, she thinks, pushing him away.

With a smirk, she says, “Sorry, pretty boy. Not today.”

When Childe returns the smile, she knows he understands. The game is afoot.

If you liked this work, consider leaving kudos or a comment on AO3↗.