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Not for the first time, Simon thought to himself, How in the hell did I get here?
A Mondstadt-born petty criminal, he had grown up on the outskirts of the skyscraping city of freedom, poor and—after watching his mother waste away from booze and blow, orphaned. He bummed around abandoned warehouses, stealing wallets and running a scam every week just for cash.
Joining up with the treasure hoarders was the natural next step. They ran the streets of Mondstadt, or at least they did in the past. Now, they were in a serious turf war with Barbatos’ people.
But, those treasure hoarder guys were a bunch of assholes. They had no ambition. No goals. They couldn't just bum around forever, drinking cheap ale from bottles and shaking people down. That’s why they were losing their turf war.
Simon was a criminal with ambition. The second he got the opportunity, he double-crossed the treasure hoarders.
He stood, the only man left in their group not bleeding out onto the floor, full of bullets and sliced up, too. It wouldn’t have shocked him if a whole gang had come to carry out the hit. But, no, Simon watched in awe as one man, dressed in all black, which only made his ginger hair more vibrant, mercilessly took out each and every one of them.
He put away his gun and began to wipe away the blood on his sharp, deadly dagger.
There was blood on his pale face, but it really only made his fair, almost pretty features stand out more. Blue eyes, the color of the ocean, didn’t have much emotion in them as he surveyed the damage.
He was young. Probably younger than Simon. And yet, he fought with such strength, but graceful too, like a dancer.
“You know,” he said, and his voice was a charming tenor. “Barbatos will probably have you killed, even if you betrayed your men for him. You won’t ever be trusted in Mondstadt.”
Oh, gods. Why was he talking to Simon? Simon, who was still awestruck by this pretty assassin, mouth gaping open like a fish. He waited, far too patiently—spinning his knife in between his fingers like a baton.
“I—I know that.” He finally supplied. “But, there are other cities. This one is run by drunkards and idiots, anyway.”
The assassin smiled. Oh, why did Simon run his mouth? That was stupid, he was stupid and now this angel of death was going to cut his throat.
“Why don’t you come to Liyue?” He asked. “We’re always looking for new blood.”
“Liyue.” He repeated. His overactive brain put the facts together. Liyue was completely dominated by one man. His organization was so powerful that it was said that even the leader of Liyue’s government was on the take.
You’d be hard-pressed to find any drugs, guns, or even legal things, like booze and tobacco, that hadn’t passed through their hands first.
And, allegedly, this empire of crime was in the hands of one man, known only by the name Rex Lapis.
This assassin must work for him, which means that Rex Lapis was at least allied with Barbatos. No wonder he’d made so much ground lately. No wonder most of the treasure hoarders now lay dead in this room.
“Liyue.” The assassin repeated. You can catch a ride with me if you want.”
Simon blanched. Why did that sound like a preposition? He cursed his dirty mind and tried to think with the correct head, for now.
“I appreciate that offer, but I have no connections there. I’d have to start running shakedowns again, and if I did it on Rex Lapis’ turf, it’d be suicide.”
The assassin chucked, balancing the knife on one finger now. “Everywhere in Liyue is Rex Lapis’ turf.”
“Exactly. I do appreciate it. And I appreciate you not killing me. I know I’m a snake, giving people away like that. But—“
“They disappointed you.” He said, finally sheathing his knife.
“Yes.” Simon said, nodding. Did he find a kindred spirit?
“I understand.” The ginger pointed to himself. “If you come into the fold with me, you should be fine. No one will ask any questions.”
“Oh.” He didn’t think of that. Assassins usually kept to themselves, unseen unless they were infamous. Simon didn’t know this man (and boy did he want to), but judging by his work, maybe he was well known.
“Yeah. You could say I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows Rex Lapis.” He said, smiling like he had told a joke.
“Okay.” Simon agreed. He feared he might do anything to see him smile more. “I’m Simon.”
The assassin held out his hand.
“Call me Childe.”
…
The ride to Liyue was mostly uneventful. Childe led him to a covered truck on the outside of town, and there were a few men in it, with the coloring of Liyue natives, dark hair and dark eyes. One man, or—was he even old enough to be called a man yet, rolled his eyes when he saw them.
He shook his head, teal-dyed strands falling into his striking eyes.
“What the fuck is this?” He said.
“He was the only one there with a brain. We should keep him.” Childe said, and Simon felt unusually proud of himself.
The young man frowned. “Whatever. We always need people running cargo.”
He didn’t say much more as they started the truck. He watched as Childe sat down next to him, only to be shoved away. Childe whined, mockingly, but he didn’t push the issue or get angry like he expected, he simply got up and sat right next to Simon.
“Don’t mind Xiao.” He said, nonchalant. “He’s a prickly pear. Spiky on the outside, but really, he’s sweet.”
He ducked then, as a knife flew across the truck, embedding itself into the metal of the wall right where Childe’s head had been.
Simon must have looked shocked because Childe grinned. “You see, if he really wanted to kill me, he’d have thrown it faster.”
Simon was still like a fish out of water, his attention completely taken by this cheery assassin. He had to remind himself that he had watched him murder a room full of men not even an hour prior, just in order to stop his brain from finding him cute.
“What’s Mondstadt like? I’ve never been except for work.” Childe asked. So blasé, like his work wasn’t killing people.
“Uh, parts of it are nice. There’s a lot of taverns and bars, and one is sort of a ‘neutral zone’ for the gangs. It’s called the Angel’s Share. But, now even there’s become a little hostile for a treasure hoarder. I dunno. Maybe Mondstadt’s not the city for me.” Simon shrugged.
“Yeah, I know the feeling.” Childe’s eyes were focused on a spot on the wall.
Simon cleared his throat. How much could he pry? “I take it you’re not from around here, and not from Liyue either.”
Childe met his eyes again. “No. I’m from Snezhnaya. But, Liyue is my home now.” He said, and then he was up out of his seat, moving further into the truck before Simon could say anything.
…
Simon kept his head down and did what he was told, at least for a few weeks. He had to learn a lot, some new terminology, the layout of the harbor, which cops to pay off and which to avoid.
He was running drugs, mostly, and it suited him well. He had the uncanny ability to be unnoticed. He wasn’t terribly ugly or strikingly handsome, he had brown hair, brown eyes, he was of average height. He simply blended into a crowd, so sneaking around had always come easy.
The thing that mattered was that they paid him, and the money was beyond a treasure hoarder's wildest dream. Provided he didn’t sample the merchandise—The poor sod he emptied the warehouse with probably learned his lesson as his fingers were broken.
He followed orders to the letter and worked for a while, and soon, he was ordered to report somewhere else. This warehouse was full of weapons, and he figured he’d been promoted, in a way. The buyers for weapons were a whole different class of clientele.
“Hey, kid.” Beidou, the woman in charge of the shipments, called him over.
“I need you to run this ledger over to this address. Use this key, leave the book on the table in the entryway, and then leave. No detours, okay?”
Simon nodded. “I’m sure that security will be expecting me?” He had to be sure, or else he could come face-to-face with the barrel of a gun.
Beidou grinned. “Obviously, kid. You put a foot on the lawn of that property without permission, and you won’t live to get to the front door.”
“Alright. I’ll be on my way.” He said, and Beidou waved at him before she turned back to her box of weapons.
…
He double-checked the address several times before he gathered the courage to enter the property.
The place he was delivering this ledger to was a fucking mansion.
The man at the gate let him in, after confirming his identity and the person who sent him. He approached the house via the long pathway to the front door, taking it all in. It was a mix of old Liyuen architecture and modern, sleek design. There was a five-car garage around the corner, and he could see a pathway to a large pool in the back of the mansion.
Oh, to be this rich. It was Simon’s dream. Whoever this house belonged to must be a high-ranking member of Rex Lapis’ organization. He had never seen this kind of luxury in his life.
But, loitering wasn’t going to do him any favors. He knew his orders. Simon opened the front door with the key he was given, and he placed the ledger on the marble-topped table in the entryway.
He heard a door open, and he couldn’t help it, he looked towards the sound.
Childe was standing in the hallway.
“Oh, hey, uh…” The assassin hesitated, searching for a name.
“Simon.”
He snapped his fingers. “Simon! That was it. How are you settling in?“
Simon barely registered his words. He was too transfixed by the sight of him. The first time they had met, he was head to toe in black, typical assassin fare.
Now, however, he was dressed in short, black shorts that barely covered his perky behind. He still wore a thigh-holster for his knife, and the leather straps wrapped around one muscular thigh, strapping the knife to creamy, pale skin.
His shirt was a tiny thing. It didn’t leave much to the imagination, stopping at his midriff, and baring his defined abs.
And the cherry on top: he wore a choker of black leather, adorned with an orange-colored gemstone in the shape of a diamond. Cor lapis?
“Simon? You good?” Childe waved his hand in front of his face.
“Oh! Apologies, I am a little tired.” He lied, like a bastard, because he was one. “I’m doing good. I think I’ve been doing well at the warehouses.”
Childe nodded. “You must be. Beidou wouldn’t trust you with that, otherwise.” He gestured to the book.
“Ah. Is this for you?” Did Childe own this ridiculous mansion? He supposed that his services didn’t come cheap.
Childe shook his head. “No, but you can go ahead and leave it on the table, and one of the staff will get it where it needs to go.”
“Great. I’ll do that, then. It was nice to see you.” Simon was trying his best to be charming.
“You too!” Chide said. He watched as the pretty assassin walked away.
Damn.
…
After that, every time he brought the ledger—a description of all the product they moved that week—to the mansion, Simon looked for Childe. The first few times, he was nowhere to be found, but then, a shock of ginger hair would appear in an open doorway.
Childe was in that mansion. He just knew it. Maybe he didn’t live there, but he definitely came and went.
And, it’s not like Simon was obsessed or anything, but he had been cursed to replay the vision of leather thigh holsters, chokers and pretty, pale skin. He’d had scars, many of them, in fact, and Simon wanted to kiss them, to grab his little waist, to—
Okay, he had it bad for the assassin.
So bad, in fact, that he started to do the one thing that Beidou expressly told him not to do—he ventured further into the house. There were no visible cameras, and the security outside had already let him in. What was the harm?
Simon was good at moving quietly, at not being noticed. He avoided the quick click-clack of a maid’s heels on the floor, ducked into a dim corner when two men in suits walked past him.
“Fucking Snezhnayan whore.” One of them said, incensed. Simon listened from his corner as the other man panicked.
“You can’t say that, man. Childe is loyal to us. The last person to insult him got shot in the face. Point blank.”
“Like they would dare kill me, Gentry Maocai. Fatui scum on our own turf. Unbelievable.” He shook his head.
From his corner, Simon connected more dots as he listened to the men leave. The Fatui were the largest criminal organization in Snezhnaya by far, and maybe the only real threat to Rex Lapis in terms of sheer numbers. They weren’t on good terms, hadn’t been for a while, since Simon joined the treasure hoarders all those years ago.
So, Childe had been in the Fatui? Made sense. But, how’d he end up in Liyue? Did he double-cross his people, just like Simon had?
He heard loud footsteps, and then a strangled shout. They seemed to be heading closer to him, and that’s when Simon knew that he had massively fucked up. He didn’t even know how to get out of this mansion. Why was he canvassing it like it was some shithole he was going to rob? He had been given such a good opportunity, and he was squandering it all because he wanted a taste of a sexy assassin?
He was smarter than this. He had to do something now, or else he was fucking dead. He took a risk, ducking into a room, praying that no one would be behind the door.
It was, thankfully, empty. Simon took a deep breath to relax, before locking the door behind him. For at least a moment, he was safe.
Now, he needed to get his bearings. He looked around the room, seeing a few chairs lined up, pointed towards what looked like a set of blinds. The rest of the room was pretty drab, especially compared to the opulent hallways—this looked like some employee back room at best, and—
Wait. There were no windows in this room. Especially not on the wall with the blinds, which was definitely adjacent to another room, not the outside.
“Hmm,” he said, approaching. He had a hunch. He pulled the blinds up and was met with a window. But, the glare was weird, like there was some sort of filter on it, and then he realized:
It was a one-way mirror. He could see inside the adjacent room, but no one could see him.
Which was truly a blessing, because there were two people in the room. One was Childe, this time dressed in a pair of teensy sports shorts, knife still strapped to his leather holster, and a t-shirt, cut off at the midriff again. The choker was back too, shiny cor lapis charm catching the light.
The other man, in complete contrast to the assassin, was in a full bespoke suit. Three-piece. Simon had never seen the man, but he radiated power, so much so that it made him nervous just to be nearby.
He had dark hair, gathered into a ponytail at his nape, and his eyes were piercing, golden in the light of the room. He was the kind of handsome that Simon wished he could be, tall, statuesque. In another life, he could be a model.
He had his suspicions that the man in the room with Childe was none other than Rex Lapis himself.
He didn’t dare speak a word, just watched as the two of them carried out their conversation—once the shock wore off, he realized that he could hear them, too.
“We could play cards at Third Round Knockout?” The man asked, and his voice was a rich baritone. Simon was intimidated just by him discussing his evening plans.
“They always let you win.” Childe said, humor in his voice.
“Lies and slander.” The man responded, and for a long second Simon was worried that this man, maybe Rex Lapis, was none too happy with Childe’s teasing tone.
But, the man smiled, and Childe laughed in return. Simon watched, transfixed by mile-long legs, and all that bare skin, prime real estate to be marked up and—
Gods. This was really not the time. He shook his head, clearing his mind of impure thoughts, determined to watch them and listen for an opportunity to slip away. There were still far too many footsteps in the hallway.
A sweet sigh drew his attention back to the room. It definitely came from Childe, who was…sitting across the man’s lap in his chair.
Oh.
Simon’s heart sank as he watched them—they hadn’t kissed, but the man’s gloved hand was wrapped possessively around Childe’s small waist, and his other one had splayed out to grip his muscular thigh.
Of course. Of course someone as beautiful as Childe would have a lover. And why wouldn’t it be this man, probably the very head of this organization, Rex Lapis himself?
He was distracted from his wallowing by the door to the adjacent room slamming open, three men in suits dragging the man he had seen before inside.
Childe made no motion to leave the man’s lap as he watched them force that man—Gentry Maocai, Simon remembered, to the floor in front of them.
“You may go,” said the man in the chair, clearly in charge.
“Yes, Rex Lapis, sir.” The three men said, in unison.
Oh, well, one mystery solved. The man was indeed Rex Lapis. And this was absolutely his mansion.
And if he got caught snooping around, Simon was a dead man.
“Sewing dissent, Maocai?” Rex Lapis said, watching as the man in question cowered at his feet.
“No! My lord, no. I wouldn’t dare.” Maocai yelped from his spot on the floor.
“Snezhnayan whore? Fatui scum?” The man repeated, a look of disgust on his handsome features. “Such harsh words used for our honorable Childe?”
“At least think of a more creative insult.” Childe added, from his perch.
Maocai sat up a little, trying to gain some dignity. “My lord, as an esteemed and trusted advisor, I simply do not trust that a former Fatui member can turn coat, just like that. And, even if he did, what’s stopping him from betraying us next?”
Rex Lapis did not look impressed. “Childe is loyal to me. I believe this to be fact. Do you not trust me, Maocai?”
The man rose to his knees now. “I do trust you, my lord. But I believe that this Fatui was sent here to get into your head, as well as your bed. It is my duty to advise you to get rid of him.”
Simon’s eyebrows nearly rose into his hair. He knew then exactly what would happen next. And it wouldn’t be pretty.
“A honeypot?” Childe said, standing up and circling Maocai. “You think I’m a honeypot?”
Before the man could respond, Rex Lapis, too, was out of his seat.
“An insult. To Childe, as well as myself.” He seemed so calm, but out of nowhere he turned, kicking Maocai in the ribs with full force. There was an audible crack, ribs shattering, for sure, and then Maocai was curled up on the floor once more.
“I’m sorry, my lord. I won’t doubt you. I won’t!” He sobbed, dragging his beaten body into a bow on the floor.
“Your insubordination has gone on far too long.” Rex Lapis said, and Simon watched in horror as he pulled a gun from his jacket.
He unlocked the safety and pointed the gun directly at Maocai’s head. His finger was just about to press on the trigger when Childe spoke:
“Wait! Don’t shoot him,” he said, and he knelt on the floor next to the man.
“Fine.” Rex Lapis said, and he pulled the gun away.
Gentry Maocai wept, sobbing in relief. He pushed his body into a kneeling position again before looking at Childe.
“Thank you. Thank you, master Childe. I won’t doub—“
Childe interrupted him.
“Let me cut his throat.”
Simon watched as Maocai recoiled in horror.
“No, no no, please! I—“
“Very well.” Rex Lapis agreed, and he sat back down in his chair as Childe unsheathed his dagger, holding it up to Maocai’s neck.
The man squirmed, thrashed, tried to escape, but it didn’t matter, he couldn’t do anything to stop the sharp knife from slicing across his throat.
Blood. So much blood sprayed out, covering the floor all the way to the tips of Rex Lapis’ designer shoes. The man’s pleas and shouts died down to gasps and chokes as he bled out, artery severed.
Childe didn’t need to hold on to the man, limbs losing strength as he died, blood flowing openly out of his neck and mouth. He simply pulled back and watched, as if hypnotized by the sight of it, red and thick as it poured out of him.
Rex Lapis didn’t say a word, watching Childe more than Maocai, uncaring that his fine marble floors were now coated with blood.
It wasn’t long before Gentry Maocai was dead, and his body lay still on the floor. Simon was horrified—he had seen men die, many a time in fact, but never had he seen anything like it, the way they both watched him bleed out with almost uncaring arrogance.
He supposed it came with the territory. Both men were killers, surely they were just numb to it.
Rex Lapis finally stood. Maybe they’d leave, and Simon would be able to sneak out while the clean-up crew got rid of the body.
“Well, that’s that, then.” He said, voice completely unmoved by the sight in front of him.
“Hmm.” Childe didn’t really react. He was still staring at his carnage.
“Cleanup will be here in a bit. We can still go to the bar after we change.”
Gods. How cold do you have to be to consider your dinner plans after murdering someone?
“Yeah,” Childe said, but he sounded far away. He stood and faced Rex Lapis, freckled cheeks tinted red.
“Are you with me, Ajax?”
Who in the hell was Ajax?
Childe smiled. “Zhongli, look at how pretty he bled out. Like a work of art.”
Simon blanched. Surely he wasn’t…admiring his work? He’d met hired killers before, and for them, this was a job. But for Childe…
“Zhongli?” He said, voice airy and light. That’s the second time he heard Childe speak that name. Was that the name of Rex Lapis? And then was he Ajax? He always thought Childe was a code name…now he knew.
“Yes, my love?” Zhongli said, and Simon just about died. My love?!
“I need it so bad.” Ajax said, squirming. Now that he mentioned it, Simon couldn’t help but notice that he was hard in his shorts.
Holy shit. He was insane. Ajax, or Childe, or whoever he was, was totally insane. Getting off on murder like that?
“Darling, let me take care of you.” Zhongli said, and then Childe was on him in a flash, bloody hands grabbing at his handsome face to pull him into a kiss.
It was reciprocated in kind, a sloppy, harsh thing that had them both panting, snarling and moaning as their bodies pressed together.
Zhongli removed his gloves, and then his fingers were ripping the t-shirt off of Ajax, thrown somewhere among the puddle of blood. Ajax wrenched Zhongli’s suit jacket off, and his tie too, pulling at expensive fabric until the man was only in a white shirt. That went too, and when he turned his back to the mirror, where Simon was watching, he realized that the man was tattooed—a large dragon was inked across his entire back.
“Please,” Ajax whined, and Simon deliberately kept his hands glued to his sides so he didn’t palm the bulge in his own trousers. He wasn’t into all this murder shit, but hell, he was into Ajax, and he was watching him shuck off his leather holster, and his tiny shorts. His barely there underwear were next, and he was naked for Zhongli’s (and Simon’s) viewing pleasure.
Zhongli ripped off his own belt, but he kept his trousers on. He moved close to Ajax, one hand coming up to pull on his leather choker, the only thing he still wore.
“What does this mean?” He asked.
Ajax groaned. “It means I belong to you,” he said. “It means I’m yours.”
Zhongli grinned, a proud, smug thing. “Yes, my love, you’re mine.”
Ajax seemed to melt at his words, leaning into the taller man, pressing his face into his neck.
Zhongli spoke again. “Tell me what you need.” His voice was patient, but his hands betrayed him, they wandered down the planes of pretty, pale skin, one hand already grabbing at a plump asscheek.
Ajax said something, but it was so mumbled and quiet that Simon couldn’t hear it.
“Speak up, dearest.” Zhongli, too, was unhappy with his volume.
“I need you to fuck me.” He said, and to Simon’s surprise, he continued. “I want you right here, on the floor. I want them all to know what happens when they doubt how much I love you.”
Zhongli growled, and in a quick maneuver, he pressed Ajax’s naked body onto the blood-stained marble. Holy fuck, they were really going to do it, not even three feet away from Maocai’s still-warm body? Simon’s blood crawled, but it rushed downward nonetheless as he watched Zhongli shove three of his fingers into Ajax’s mouth.
“Get them nice and wet, my treasure.” He said, voice adoring, kissing the legs he had thrown over his shoulders. Gods, he had him bent nearly in half. Simon always thought he’d be flexibl—Fuck it. He unzipped his own trousers until he could get his cock out, and give it a few strokes.
He increased the speed of his own hand as Zhongli pulled his wet fingers out of Ajax’s lips, trailing them down his body, over his pretty cock, until he reached his hole. He didn’t waste any time, two fingers fucking into a tight, little hole—Ajax whined, he whined so beautifully as he took him in. Far too soon, one more finger joined the rest, and it couldn’t have been an easy fit. But Ajax only moaned and cried out, as Zhongli’s fingers stretched him apart.
“Fuck, Zhongli, that’s enough!” He demanded, thighs shaking as the man curled his fingers up towards his prostate. “Fuck me. Fuck me now! I don’t care if it hurts.”
“Shit.” Simon whispered under his breath. He thumbed the head of his own cock, eyes glued to the spot where Zhongli’s fingers disappeared into Ajax’s ass.
Zhongli complied, pulling his fingers out of Ajax and giving Simon an eyeful of his twitching, pink insides. Simon watched as Zhongli unbuttoned his trousers, obscene bulge tenting them still, and then unzipping them, before pulling his own cock out, and—honestly, some men had all the luck. That thing was huge.
Zhongli spat into his hand, slicking up his cock. He hissed at the contact, and Simon watched him shake his head.
“How undignified. I should start bringing lubricant to all of our executions.” He said, and without much warning, he was pushing the fat head of his cock inside Ajax.
He screamed, but after a few heaving breaths, he was able to relax, and—Simon had to admit it—Ajax took his cock like a champ. Really, it must have been a lot, maybe too much, but he didn’t seem to mind. Tears dripped down from his blue eyes, but they still rolled back in pleasure as Zhongli pressed all the way inside him.
Ajax locked eyes with the man, and he spoke: “Fuck me so hard that Maocai feels it from the fucking afterlife.”
Zhongli smiled, something proud and wicked. “Of course, my love.”
Simon could only watch then, pathetic hand around his pathetic cock as he watched Rex Lapis fuck his prized pet assassin into the nth dimension, until he was a sniveling, crying, mess—drooling as he was pressed into the blood-soaked marble. His hands scraped against the floor only to slip on blood, or clung onto Zhongli’s shoulders, scrambling for anything to ground himself.
It didn’t take very long for Ajax to cum, excited as he was by all the violence around him. His spine arched, and he covered his chest in pearly white ropes—and it was all too much, the little gasp, the sight of him coming untouched, his thighs trembling. Simon, too, shot off into his hand like a rocket, biting his tongue hard so he wouldn’t cry out.
Zhongli followed not long after when Ajax had gone slack, limbs lazy, still in orgasmic la la land. He growled, and Simon watched the satisfied grin appear on Ajax’s face as he dumped his load inside of him.
They lay there for a few moments, still pressed together. It felt hard to watch, it was too intimate. Simon busied himself with shoving his own cock back in his pants and wiping his own cum on his shirt.
When he looked in again, they had sat up. Ajax’s bare back was covered in drying blood, it even made its way into his hair, deepening the ginger strands. He was covered in it, but even Zhongli wasn’t spared. His face, his pants, and his shoulders where Ajax had gripped him were stained with deep red, too.
“Cleanup crew will be here soon. We should go clean up, too.” Zhongli said, standing up. He offered a hand to Ajax, who accepted it. The assassin stood, even if his legs were still trembling.
“Yeah,” Ajax agreed. He watched as Zhongli picked up his discarded suit jacket from its spot, unscathed by the carnage.
“Here, wear this at least until you reach our bedroom. And you know, you never answered my question. If you don’t want to play cards, then how about my private box at the opera?”
His voice and Ajax’s response became muffled by his thoughts. Our bedroom. There was really no way this was a one-time thing, huh? Simon was disappointed, but, on the other hand, Ajax was maybe a little too crazy for him. And, he wasn’t dumb enough to go after what clearly belonged to Rex Lapis.
Shit. What was he still doing there? He needed to get out now, before the cleanup guys came to dump the body before anyone noticed that he had locked himself in a room. The footsteps had receded long before, so he took a chance, sneaking out into the hallway, and backtracking until he found the front door.
Once he was out, he realized that he was shaking. Oh gods, he had just seen so much more than he ever wanted to know about Rex Lapis, especially if he wanted to keep working for him. Or keep his head attached to his shoulders.
He booked it off the property and resolved to stop being so damn curious. He would simply keep his head down, for the rest of time.
…
Of course, Beidou still made him deliver the book.
Simon made excuses, but she wasn’t having them, and he found himself on the mansion’s property once more the very next week. He opened the door and placed the ledger on the table. He turned to leave when a familiar voice called out.
“Hey, Simon.” It was Aja--Childe. It was Childe. Who was wearing his all-black assassin garb again. He noticed the choker was still there, only tucked into his turtleneck.
“Oh, I didn’t see you there.” He said. He really didn’t. Honestly a great skill for an assassin.
“So, what’s up? How’s the gun trade?” Childe asked, balancing from foot to foot.
“Oh you know,” Simon said, shrugging. “It’s booming.”
Act natural. You don’t know jack. You’ve definitely never watched this man get railed into the fucking floor before. And you definitely didn't see him commit (more) murder.
“Nice.” Childe said. “Well, I won’t keep you.”
“Okay! Bye, Childe.” He said, turning around to leave. Oh my gods, he had done it. He managed to sneak away, he was getting away with it.
“Oh.” Childe said, and Simon stopped in his tracks. “There was one thing.”
“Yeah?” Simon asked.
Be cool be cool be cool
There was a dangerous glint in his ocean-colored eyes. “I don’t really mind putting on a show, Simon.”
He took a step forward, getting in his space, until Simon had to look up to meet his eyes.
“But, if my husband were to ever find out, well, I’m afraid there’s no place in Teyvat you could go that he won’t find you.”
He was smiling, a grin just this side of sadistic.
“You oughta keep your head down, and play by the rules of this organization. Or else, who knows what my dear husband will learn?”
Simon was frozen, too afraid to speak. Was his life really dependent on this unhinged assassin’s whims now?
Childe continued. “And, Rex Lapis really likes poetic justice. So, he’d probably order me to kill you myself.” He tutted.
When their eyes met again, there was no emotion in his blue eyes. He didn’t pity him, he didn’t hate him. To Childe, Simon was nothing but dirt under his feet. Inconsequential.
Childe spoke:
“Let me be perfectly clear, Simon: I would do anything for Rex Lapis.”
FIN