Henry stood frozen, his heart pounding as he stared at the man before him. The blue hair, the red eyes hidden behind the cow mask, the unsettling smile that seemed to stretch too wide—it was unmistakable.
Dottore. The Second Harbinger. Right here, in front of me.
He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His mind raced, trying to process what he was seeing. The manga. The panels he had read years ago. This was the scene. Dottore's appearance was the exact moment where everything started.
Dottore's smile widened. "My apologies. I didn't see you there."
His voice was smooth, almost pleasant. There was no menace in it or no hint of aggression.
Henry forced himself to speak. "I... sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going."
"No harm done." Dottore tilted his head slightly as he smiled, his red eyes glinting behind the mask. "It's quite crowded tonight."
Henry nodded, not trusting his voice. Why is he being polite? Why isn't he— He didn't finish the thought. The answer was obvious. Dottore was here for a purpose, and Henry was just a small ant beneath his notice.
Dottore's gaze drifted past him, landing on something across the room. "Excuse me," he said. "I have business to attend to."
Henry stepped aside, and Dottore walked past him. A mustached man followed close behind—Krupp, Henry realized. The servant who would later get stabbed in the hand by Diluc.
It's happening. It's really happening.
Henry watched them go, his eyes tracking Dottore's path across the room. He was nonchalantly heading toward Diluc.
His gaze drifted across the room, scanning the crowd. He spotted a blonde man in priest attire, probably from the church, engaged in quiet conversation with a man besides him. But it wasn't the priest that caught his attention. It was the man standing beside him.
He had dark skin and blue hair tied back in a low ponytail, an eyepatch covering his left eye. He wore a flowing coat with a fur collar and stood with a relaxed but alert posture, his attention fixed on what the church person was saying to him.
Well, this guy needed no introduction. The Cavalry Captain. The descendant of Khaenri'ah. Kaeya.
Henry had never met him personally, but he recognized him instantly from his in-game features.
He's here. Of course he's here.
The scene unfolded before Henry like a movie—Krupp introducing Dottore to Diluc, the brief exchange, the two of them leaving toward the stairs. Henry watched it all, his heart pounding.
Dottore. Krupp. Diluc. Kaeya. This is the start of everything.
He knew what came next. Dottore and Krupp would demand child subjects under the guise of recruitment. Diluc would refuse. Things would escalate. And then—
Henry shook his head and forced himself to move. He needed to act normal to blend in.
They'll be upstairs for a while. I have time.
He turned and made his way back toward Jean, weaving through the crowd. The music swelled around him, and the laughter of the guests washed over him. Jean was still with her friends, her laughter carrying across the room. She spotted him approaching and waved him over.
"Henry! There you are." Her smile was bright. "Come meet everyone."
Henry stepped into the circle, and Jean began the introductions.
"This is Hertha," Jean said, gesturing to a tall woman with a no-nonsense expression. "She's one of our most trusted knights. She guards the headquarters."
Hertha extended her hand. "Henry. I've heard about you. Your noodles are legendary."
Henry shook it, a grin forming on his face. "Legendary? That's a high bar."
"It's not too high," Hertha said, but then she frowned. "I used to visit you daily to get your noodles, and then you suddenly stopped selling them."
"Sorry, I was busy with other stuff," Henry said, embarrassed, as he smoothed his coat. "But the noodles will be available to you from the café."
"Really?" Hertha's eyes widened as she clasped her hands in excitement. "Thank you! If you ever need any help or someone is bothering you, call me and I'll help you."
"Thank you. I will contact you if I encounter any difficulties."
Jean moved on to her next friend. "This is Belinda. She was my partner when I was a knight. You might have seen her—she patrols near the main square."
Belinda was slightly shorter than Hertha, her smile warmer. "I've seen your café. It's beautiful. And the air—" She shivered. "It's like a constant magical spring breeze."
"Thanks," Henry said. "That's the AC."
"AC?"
"Air conditioning. It's not magic. It's... science."
"Science? Like alchemy?" Swan questioned, intrigued.
"Yes, it's similar, but unlike alchemy, it doesn't need any external elemental energy."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Huffman," Jean said, "one of our junior knights. I've been mentoring him."
Huffman was younger than the others, his eyes wide with admiration. "It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Henry."
"Just Henry," he said. "Mr. Henry makes me sound old."
"Sorry. Henry."
Jean moved on to her next friend. "Meet Grace. She is a nun and mothers all the children in Mondstadt."
Grace blushed at the compliment from Jean, her expression warm. "I've heard about your food. People are saying it's the best in Mondstadt."
Henry laughed. "I don't know about the best. But I try. Please do visit sometime."
"I will," Grace smiled.
Jean continued the introductions—Eija, Hedwig, and Freda—each of them offering warm smiles and curious glances.
"We've heard about your noodles," Eija said.
"And your bicycles," Hedwig added.
"And your café," Freda finished.
Henry grinned. "Word travels fast."
"Fast?" Freda laughed. "Word travels like a storm. Everyone in Mondstadt is talking about you. You're a good-looking, successful young bachelor."
"Yeah I agree with Freda, don't you think you're too handsome?" Hedwig asked, winking at him.
Henry felt a hint of pink touch his ears as a small cough escaped Jean.
Jean watched the exchange, her smile slowly becoming strained as Eija, Hedwig, and Freda kept finding reasons to praise Henry's build, his businesses, the crimson coat he was wearing—each time making Jean's eye twitch just slightly. Her smile remained, but her eyes narrowed. She stepped closer to Henry, her hand brushing against his arm.
"You know," she said, her voice light but pointed, "we should dance again. Before the night ends."
Henry glanced at her, a grin forming on his face. "Didn't I step on your foot enough for one night?"
"I can handle a few more stepping." She tugged at his arm. "Come on."
Henry let her drag him back to the dance floor, catching the grins on all her acquaintances' and friends' faces as they watched Jean drag him away.
The music was slower this time, a soft melody that wrapped around them. Henry placed his hand on her waist, and she stepped closer than before, her body nearly pressing against his. She paused for a moment, as if considering something, then impulsively brought his hands from her waist lower.
Henry wasn't complaining—he was in bliss, feeling Jean practically draped against him. He could feel all her curves and was very well aware of exactly where his hands were resting.
"Jean," he said, his voice low. "You're awfully close."
"I know," she said, her eyes holding his. "Is it a problem?"
Henry's grin widened. "Not at all."
They moved together, their steps now smooth and practiced. Jean's arm came around his shoulder, her hand resting there while her other hand settled on his back, her body swaying against his.
She got jealous, didn't she?
And I'm not complaining.
Jean looked up at him, her eyes soft. "You're getting better at this."
"I had a good teacher."
She laughed, the sound light and musical. "You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
They danced in silence for a moment, the world around them fading. Henry was aware of nothing but the music and the warmth of Jean's body.
Then he felt it—a cold stare boring into the back of his neck. He turned his head slightly, scanning the crowd, and his eyes landed on a familiar face. Schubert stood near the edge of the dance floor, his gaze fixed on Henry with undisguised contempt.
Henry's expression shifted from surprise to amusement. Who invited this old geezer?
Then he realized—Diluc probably had to invite him out of courtesy. Schubert was a noble. The Lawrence name still carried weight, even if its reputation had faded.
Henry turned back to Jean, ignoring the glare. She searched his face, seeing him suddenly grin.
"What's funny?"
"Nothing," Henry said, his grin widening as he got someone to share gossip with. "Just an old man who doesn't know how to mind his own business."
Jean followed his gaze, her expression shifting. "Schubert."
"You know him?"
"He's Eula's uncle." Jean's voice was careful. "He's... not a fan of change."
"Or me."
"That too."
Henry shrugged. "He can glare all he wants. I've dealt with worse."
Jean smiled, a hint of warmth in her eyes. "That's a good attitude to have."
Henry's eyes suddenly caught Kaeya leading Krupp downstairs, with Dottore following at a distance sneakily, keeping his distance as if he didn't want to be followed.
It's time.
"Jean," he said, his voice steady. "I need to go."
Her eyes widened. "What? Why?"
"Something came up. I'll explain later."
Jean started to protest, but Henry was already moving, his strides urgent as he wove through the crowd, his eyes fixed on the path Krupp was taking. The music seemed louder now. His heart pounded in his ears as he slipped through a side door, following the figures into the darkness.
He had no intention of intervening. He knew how this story went—he just wanted to see it for himself.
The air was cold and the darkness thick as Henry moved along the corridor, his footsteps silent. He could hear voices downstairs—Diluc's voice, hard and cold, demanding answers, and Krupp's voice, stammering in fear and pain. Henry pressed himself against the wall and peered down the stairs, where he saw Dottore waiting behind the closed doors.
Dottore opened the basement door and stepped out of the shadows. Strange mechanisms rose around him, and then a scream pierced the air—one final cry before silence.
Henry knew exactly what had happened. Dottore had killed Krupp to silence him.
But Henry was unaware that in the room where he was standing against the wall, peeking below, Fatui agents had been present from the start, waiting in the corner. A hand clamped over his mouth. Another hand grabbed his arm, dragging him backward into the shadows.
Henry struggled and actually managed to break free easily due to his superhuman strength, but then a cloth pressed against his face, the smell of some sort of chemical potion filling his senses. His vision blurred. A black bag was pulled over his head, and Henry felt himself being lifted and carried through the darkness. He tried to fight, tried to call out, but his limbs wouldn't obey.
And then, just before unconsciousness claimed him, he could only curse at his current predicament.
Well, fuck.
___
My apologies for uploading the chapter late
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