Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A steady beep echoed through the lab.

Dottore and his segments worked tirelessly, fine-tuning, fixing and mending a body.

Lying on the operating table was Pantalone, the Regrator, the silver-tongued banker.

As Pantalone opened his eyes by just a smidge, he instantly closed them again, feeling the searing, burning pain of the operating light shining into his eyes.

He could hear, smell, feel. It was unnatural, detached, icky.. He could feel the operating table he was on, he could feel the many hands that tinkered on the puppet body, yet he couldn’t move a muscle or limb, let alone turn his head from the harsh lighting.

An oxygen mask was covering his mouth, supplying him the air he needed. Pantalone takes in breath after breath.

Dottore, or Zandik, noticed in an instant that Pantalone was awake and aware. He leans over the banker’s face, partially blocking the operating light. 

“Welcome back, banker.” He said stiffly.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine and back on your feet soon, give us a few more minutes.” Another segment said, his voice slightly higher and more easy-going. That was Delta.

 Pantalone felt sleepy again, not noticing the prick of the needle supplying him with a sedative. He glides back into a dreamless sleep.

A few hours later, Pantalone wakes back up. Blinking a few times, he groggily notices that he was in a different place, a warm, comfortable bed, with thick blankets and puffy pillows. He felt very warm and cozy, a feeling he couldn’t quite remember ever feeling.

Dottore sat on a chair nearby. “Welcome back, again, banker.” He stands up, walking to the bed.

“You must have many questions, Pantalone. To put it short, I dragged your soul out from hell and into this puppet-like vessel. The main difference is that you can see now, opposed to your previous body. I don’t know the practice behind necromancy, so we’ll both have to see how it all goes in the coming weeks.”

Pantalone opened his mouth. “..How.”

“How what? How I pulled your fragmented soul out of the depths of hell, the second and fourth ring? How you died? How you-“

“..How am I alive right now.”

“…”

Dottore was silent for a while, as if internally dumbing down the concept of necromancy to his just-revived banker and business partner. “Your vessel, technically just a puppet, has a soul. Your soul. With that and a few mechanisms and a blood sacrifice, I got you back.” Dottore’s answer was.. direct. He didn’t beat around the bush, he wasn’t kind with it either.

“..Ah.” Pantalone quietly aknowledged. He sits up, lifting his arms to look at his new vessel, his new body. He realized that he not only didn’t feel the bite of the freezing cold in the room, but his veins were also.. black. Black as tar, visible like ink on his pale skin. He looks back at Dottore, as if asking for an explanation.

“Why’d you bring me back?”

Silence.

“… You won’t like the answer. I won’t tell you why, it’s not important anyways.” A pause follows as Dottore lifts the blanket over Pantalone again, covering him up to his shoulders.

”Rest up, your body needs to heat up and get the circulation going.”

Chapter Text

The coming fourteen days pass like sand through an hourglass.

Steady, slow, linear.

Most of the time, Pantalone was locked in the spare bedroom that Dottore never used, only receiving meals every few hours and his own journals and finance ledgers to study and read, to “catch up on what you missed.” as Beta, a clone of Dottore, stated.

It seemed that the segments themselves didn’t know much about why Dottore resurrected Pantalone or why they were explicitly told not to give him anything proper to read. They didn’t speak a word to Pantalone.

The segments watch the banker like hawks while he ate. Dottore did drag Pantalone’s spliced soul out of hell, so they simply had to make sure it stayed put in the vessel where it was supposed to be.

After those fourteen days were up, Zandik himself came into the bedroom, going up to Pantalone’s bed.

“You’re free to move around, I’ve run through every possibility and test where something could go wrong.”

“Am I finally allowed into my office?”

“..Yes.” The answer came out, but with an odd pause before the word itself, as if Dottore didn’t want Pantalone to ‘go’ just yet.

“Then I’ll go and finally catch up on the paperwork you refuse to give me.” Pantalone moves to the edge of the bed.

Pantalone unlocks the door to his office, which just so happens to be near Dottore’s lab.

As he opens the door, he’s greeted by.. well, his office. His neat, tidy, immaculately symmetric office. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing out of place. Not a speck of dust.

 The banker walks around in his office, properly looking at everything. His memories, previously void and fuzzy static, start to fill with information. He starts remembering.

Sighing, he draws back the curtain on the large window behind his desk. The usual snowy blizzard of Snezhnaya greets him, cold and never-ending as usual.

“Tsk. Will there ever be a day where I can freely travel through Snezhnaya and not catch my death.” He murmurs. He turns on his heels, looking at his desk.

The desk was made of dark pine. Grand and refined, it was his favourite piece of furniture, right after the bookcases lining the walls and the chair at the desk. His fountain pens, paperweights and blank pages were carefully arranged on his desk. The desk was usually supposed to be filled with stacks of documents, the usual tidiness nowhere to be seen. He’s met with an empty surface.

Someone had done his paperwork or simply put them away.

He checks the drawers. Expecting some ledgers and his journal, he finds stacks and stacks of letters inside, all with the same seal, all with the same paper and sender. He takes one letter out.

Ripping open the seal, he is met with a tightly packed, well-worded mess of.. words? Hieroglyphs?

Pantalone squints, unable to decipher who or what had scrawled onto the precious-looking paper. He attempts to recall who was known for such hideous handwriting, yet he’s met with voids and gaps in his memories. He grumbles, pretty annoyed.

He tosses the letter back into the drawer, shutting it loudly.

“Seems like you’ve got an admirer. Those letters just kept coming while you were.. well, dead. Prime told me not to touch them, so I just stuffed them in the drawer. I hope that’s okay.”

Pantalone looks up, only to see the child clone of Dottore. He internally sighs, preparing for the potential babysitting.

“Can I help you with something?” He asks, his voice steady and collected.

“Well.. not really, Prime just wants you to know that he’s made sure that you’re excused from the upcoming Harbinger meetings for the next week, so you can recollect yourself. He’ll fill you in on the important stuff.”

“Is that it? Are you not here to spy on me?”

“Can’t say, I have no information on that.”

“Pity.”

“Oh wait, there is something, actually.” The child goes up to Pantalone, then past him to the desk. The banker goes stiff as the child’s hand nears the desk, before relaxing as the clone simply opens up another drawer, this one larger than the others. Inside was a package, a shoe box to be exact. With some difficulties, the segment attempts to pull out the box from the drawer, before Pantalone kneels down and helps him out.

The shoe box was black, with Chiori’s boutique as the brand. Pantalone knew that Chiori’s was a highly sought-after and very expensive and qualitative fashion brand. He recalls having good ties with Miss Chiori, even once sharing some business tips.

Nevertheless, the segment thanks Pantalone for his help, before disappearing out of the office, leaving the banker alone once again. Curious, Pantalone slowly opens the shoe box with his gloved hands.

Inside lay a pair of black dress shoes. Immaculate, perfect and aligning with Pantalone’s tastes. Weirdly, no card with a message, instructions and details of measurements lay in the carton, as Chiori usually did when Pantalone ordered clothing.

‘Odd. Why would she exclude such a vital detail? Did she forget? No, that would be impossible.’ The gears in Pantalone’s mind turned and turned, trying to forge logic from the whole situation.

He closes the box, deciding to put it away into his wardrobe, in his bedroom. He decides to be oblivious.

“Maybe another time.” He muses to himself.

Chapter Text

A few hours pass in complete silence in the office.

Tap tap tap.

A knock interrupts the golden silence. The door opens, revealing Dottore, who steps in.

“The meeting concluded, thank the Tsaritsa.” Dottore mumbles. His syringe-like earring swings back and forth with each step.

In his gloved hand, Dottore has a stack of documents.

“Here’s some of that bloody paperwork you wanted.” He replies stiffly.

Pantalone was sat as his desk, still trying to decipher one of the many letters he found in his drawer. He looks ups, finally aknowledging Dottore.

“Anything of note I should know? Do the others know that I’m.. well, back?”

“They still think you’re alive and haven’t died at all.” Came as a reply. “The Knave, our dear Arlecchino wants to go to Fontaine for a brief vacation. Childe is being bloody annoying again, he wants to go to Liyue to spar or something, he’s been pestering Capitano all meeting.”

A snort comes as an aknowledgement.

“Besides that, nothing of note, really.” Dottore sits down across Pantalone, like a client.

“I just need us to renew our work contract. I presume you don’t have a copy, so I went through the hassle of copying the contract we already had.” Dottore lays a single sheet of paper, intricately and very finely written. Pantalone reads through it, finding everything to be in order, remembering the way he wrote his contracts with clients. For once, he wasn’t the one writing, but the one reading the contracts.

“All is in order. You even wrote the dates, how..” Pantalone pauses. “..thoughtful of you.”

“It goes for five years, the same length we usually did our contracts. Consider this just a renewal. By the wa-“

The conversation gets interrupted by the door opening. Dottore doesn’t even turn around to see who it was, but Pantalone saw who was in the doorway, shyly hiding behind the grand mahogany door: it was the child segment.

“Oh, come in,..” Pantalone struggles to recall the name of the segment.

“Iota.” The child finishes.

“Iota, yes. I must’ve forgotten, I am so sorry. My memory isn’t serving me well.” Pantalone apologizes politely, a soft smile widening.

Dottore sighs, almost inperceptively so. Pantalone catches the exhale anyways.

“Iota, why don’t you give us a moment, I’ll be with you right away.”

The child nods, closing the door again, leaving the pair in silence.

“I told Iota to stay in the lab, why did he disobey..-”

“Back to the contract.” Pantalone redirects the conversation to the present situation. “I’ve signed it, all I’m missing is your signature.” Pantalone slides the document over to Dottore, even handing him his own favourite fountain pen, a high honour for anyone. Pantalone never gave anyone his fountain pens, let alone his favourite.

Dottore hesitates, but takes the pen, signing his name in the designated field. He sets the pen aside, being unusually careful. Dottore knew that Pantalone held his fountain pens in high regard. He stands up.

“I won’t occupy too much of your time, banker.” He replies stiffly, about to walk out. “Iota probably wants you to read something to him. I know he read some of my books, Delta always catches him doing so. Dear Tsaritsa if I catch him reading my books again myself, I’ll rip his hands off.”

“You know you won’t do that, you’ll make me quite upset.” Pantalone’s voice replies, almost musing.

“I don’t care if you get upset. That little brat know better than meddling with my prized books.”

“You know you care. You don’t handle my belongings that carefully the way you just did with my pen. That was a test.”

Dottore freezes, tensing. “..Fine, I won’t rip his hands off.”

“Good. I’ll send you your funding the following week. Don’t waste it like you often do. You know I read your spending reports.”

A huff comes as an aknowledgement, before Dottore leaves, leaving the office door ajar for Iota to enter.

A few seconds pass and the child comes trotting in, carrying a large book in his hands. The cover was yellowed, the book was heavy and thick.

The child smiles brightly as he faces Pantalone, walking around the desk before lifting the book towards Pantalone. “I can’t really.. read what this book says, I can only read Prime’s handwriting.”

Pantalone takes the book, setting it onto the desk. “Oh? You want me to read to you?”

“..Yes, if that’s fine, ..err.” Iota pauses, not sure on how to address Pantalone.

“Call me what you like, I don’t mind it at all. I have time on my hands, I’ll gladly read to you, Iota.”

The child smiles, moving to pull up a chair. Pantalone stops him with the raise of a hand, standing up and walking around the desk. “We can sit on the sofa, Iota.”

“Alright!”

Hours pass this way, with Pantalone making out the scientific words on the pages and reading them out to Iota, occasionally showing him the pictures and graphs in the book. The book was about symptoms, illnesses and surgeries, which Iota took great interest in, listening intently, sitting up close, almost in Pantalone’s arms, like a child would sit near their father.

Pantalone reads slowly, the inflection in his voice portraying great interest in the topic aswell. He didn’t care much about the contents, but he learned quite a bit from the book himself.

The banker closes the book as he notices that Iota was showing signs of fatigue. Iota protests “Aw, it just got to the interesting part!!”

“You’re tired, Iota. What time even is it?” He looks up to the clock on the wall. The bells chimed in the office. Twelve times.

“Well, I’d suggest we get you to bed, if you have a bed.” Pantalone sets the book aside, taking Iota up in his arms.

Iota yawns. “Prime won’t like it if you keep his book..”

“He’ll learn to part with his books as I do with my money.” Pantalone muses, not even bothering to pick up the book as he walks out of his office, down the hallway towards Dottore’s lab.

He knocks, upon which Beta, another segment of Dottore, opens the door.

“You took long, Dottore will rip your heads off if you stay up this late again, both of you.” Came the snarky, annoyed voice. Beta steps aside, letting Pantalone pass, Iota in the banker’s arms.

The duo get to the main part of the lab, where the operating table was. Dottore was in a far corner, washing his tools and incinerating used surgical gloves. He turns around.

“What took you so long, Iota, where’s my book?”

“We..- uh.. I-“

“Spare me the shy act, I know you took it. Be glad I promised your fa-“ Dottore catches himself. “..be glad I promised the banker not to rip your hands off for such insolence. Where’s my book anyways.”

Pantalone was stiff. He didn’t expect Dottore to slip up on his words. He was too sophisticated for that. “Your book is still in my office. I can’t carry both Iota and the book.”

“I’d rather you give me my book back, banker.” Came as a stiff demand.

“The cover was yellowed, the pages too, you haven’t read that thing in ages. 7 years minimum. I’m sure you’ll be willing enough to part with one precious book for Iota to read. He’s still a child after all, his curiosity is a natural occurrence.” Pantalone calmly answers, keeping his voice lowered, for Iota was asleep in his arms.

“Besides, you know how I treat books and documents. Your book is in safe hands with me. I could have it encased in a glass cupboard, if it makes you feel better.” Pantalone proposes.

Dottore was quiet, the crow mask over his eyes hiding his expressions and thought process. A minute in tense silence passes, before Dottore answers.

“Fine, but keep the reading to the evening, keep it before midnight, preferably. Not every evening either, keep it to.. let’s say twice a week.”

“Three times a week should get us through the book in about a month and a few weeks, you’ll get that book back quicker if we read thrice as opposed to twice.” Pantalone counteroffers.

“Fine, thrice a week.” Dottore concedes, agreeing. A silent minute passes in the sterilised, clean darkness of the lab. “Do you mind putting Iota to bed? I don’t feel like dealing with that little shit when he’s awake, even less when he’s asleep.”

”Of course.”

Chapter Text

“Good to have you back, Regrator.”

“..Likewise.” came as a quiet reply.

Pierro, the Director of the Fatui Harbingers, starts the Fatui meeting. The meeting was held in one of the many large conference rooms littered throughout the Zapolarny Palace. This one was the coldest room, the least heating travelling up to this room.

“There’s a current financial issue in Liyue, which could influence Snezhnaya in a negative way. Our trading relations might tighten, which is why we need a fix as quick as possible. Regrator, that should be right up your lane. I’m sure it’ll do you some good to visit your homeland.”

“..Indeed. I’ll see to it.” Pantalone replied. His jaw tightens. Oh how he hated Liyue, for all the pretentiousness, the agonizing childhood he had endured, blind and poor. He had bled for Liyue and wasn’t keen to do it again. Nevertheless, he had no option.

“Might I come along with Regrator? I’m concerned whether he’ll be able to endure such a trip, considering his absence in the last week.” Dottore suddenly asked. It was an odd timing, even for Dottore.

Pantalone was tense, hiding his surprise and his displeasure with a musing smile, the one he was so used to having on his face when faced with hardship.

“I hold no objections to that idea, yet I’m concerned of the resources we may have to spend if we both go.”

Arlecchino, the fourth of the Fatui Harbingers, raises a hand. “I’m sure they’ll have a nice outing. I second this idea. Mayhaps ‘The Doctor’ could gain new insight on medicine or illnesses.”

Il Capitano, the first of the Fatui Harbingers, raises his hand, likewise. He’s silent, not having any opinion or thing to say. His silent acceptance was all that mattered to him.

“I’d be glad to see the Doctor gone, he’s too loud.. he’s messing up my calibration work of the ruin guards.” Sandrone, the seventh of the Fatui Harbingers, raised a hand. “Be gone for long, Doctor, don’t come back till I send you a letter.”

Dottore smiled briefly, his jaw tight. He and Sandrone, despite both being scientists and engineers, had a strained relationship, usually sticking to their own. It didn’t help that their labs were too close for both their liking.

“Then it’s decided. Regrator and The Doctor will be going to Liyue. Moving on..”

Two hours had passed since the meeting concluded. Pantalone was in his bedroom, running calculations in his head as he started to plan for the trip. He muttered under his breath, visibly agitated about having to go back to Liyue. He carelessly tossed some clothes of his on his bed, walking around to his wardrobe to get some shoes.

As he was about to throw the black shoebox on the bed, he stops, remembering that the box and the shoes were valuable. They were from Chiori’s boutique, after all. Throwing them would be an insult to himself, the shoes and Chiori herself.

He sighs, gently putting the box down on the bed, next to his piles of clothes.

A knock on the door was heard, before Iota walks in. “You’re going? Prime told me you both are going to Liyue, is that right?”

“..Yes, sadly. Well, you’ll see me again in a few weeks, Iota, so don’t worry.” Pantalone replies, his voice warm and gentle, a smile on his face. Over the past few weeks, where he had been reading to Iota, they had built a bond, a friendship. Iota trusted Pantalone and vice versa.

“I’ll make sure to write you letters, Iota, so we can always stay in touch. I can send you the first letter, so you know where and how to send it off, if you want to.”

The child nods eagerly, a wide smile on his face. “Thank you, thank you!” he runs up to Pantalone, hugging him. The banker hugs him back, running a gloved hand through Iota’s hair.

Just then, Dottore knocks on the doorframe, entering the bedroom aswell. “I’ve already packed and prepared everything for myself. How’s it going on your end, banker?” Dottore’s voice wasn’t stiff nor cold. It wasn’t gruff and rough around the edges the way Pantalone knew him. It was almost akin to a normal human talking, as if Dottore had learned to be nice around Iota, just for Pantalone’s sake.

“It’s going fine, I’m just.. hesitant on going. You know how I feel about boat trips and Liyue.”

“..Ah. Well, we can’t really do much against it, seeing how the majority of the Harbingers agreed to me accompanying you.”

“Why’d you offer to go anyways? I know you hate travelling just as much as I do, if not more.”

“I’m not doing it for the travel or the medicine, I know Liyue’s medicine cabinets forwards and backwards, I’ve studied it while in the Akademiya in Sumeru. You know, they do have quite interesting theories and practices for longevity, though they’re terribly expensive and not that great.”

Pantalone sighs. “Then why bother?”

“… Because as I’ve said, I’m making sure you’re safe and your soul doesn’t decide to eject itself out of the body. That process was expensive you know, I’m not making another blood sacrifice.” Dottore explained. The reason itself seemed plausible, but the banker felt like something else was going on. He decides not to pry and save both parties a headache.

“I’ll get ready then. We’re going for about three weeks, correct?” Pantalone asks, upon which Dottore nods. “Three weeks and two days if everything goes to plan.”

Iota, who was still clinging onto Pantalone, tightens his hug. “Three weeks?! I won’t survive three weeks without your reading!”

Pantalone chuckles, while Dottore sighs. “Iota, let go of Pantalone. He has a suitcase to pack.” Dottore reaches for Iota, but gets his hand stopped by Pantalone.

“Let Iota hug me, I’m fine with it, doctor.” Pantalone reaches down and ruffles Iota’s hair.

“How about I get you something from Liyue, Iota? Is there somethind you’d like? Books, maybe..?”

Iota was starstruck, briefly looking up at Dottore, who had a neutral, if not slightly annoyed look on his face. Iota looks back up at Pantalone, his eyes shining. “Well, uhm.. I really like a book about ancient texts and writing systems.. Prime only has the first part, so..”

“You’d like the second book, if not more.” Pantalone finishes his sentence.

“Yes, if.. that’s okay.” came as an almost shy reply.

“I’ll see to it, Iota. I know a lovely bookstore, if not two that sell the best books.” The banker smiles. “Could you let go, dear, I really do have to pack.”

“Yes, pops!” Iota cheerily exclaims, stepping back.

Pantalone was stunned, looking at Dottore. His eyes conveyed the silent question ‘did you teach him that?’

Dottore merely smiles smugly. “I did not teach him that, nor did anyone ever say that in his viscinity, banker. Don’t ask me how he knows that word.”

Pantalone narrows his eyes very lightly, not fully believing that statement. Nevertheless, he turns around and continues packing his suitcase, Dottore and Iota leaving after a few minutes.

Chapter Text

Sea salt and fishguts.

That would be the words to describe the smell of the Liyue docks and the main port.

To Pantalone, this was the last place he’d want to be at. When he was still blind and frail and pathetic, he would’ve already gotten sick and been out of commission for about three days.

He wasn’t that man. Not anymore.

As the large ship docked at the port, Pantalone gazed at the fish market in the distance, dreading to step foot on the stone floor. He didn’t want to go there, he didn’t want to get looked at by the people of Liyue, nor any Archon, Adepti or soldier, not even Ningguang herse-

“You really don’t like your homeland, do you.” Dottore broke Pantalone’s emotional turmoil, his rollercoaster of guilt and hatred, his never-ending train of thought.

“..No.” Pantalone forces his answer out, feeling like he’s about to vomit. “I really do not.”

“Let’s go, before you keel over, banker. Best we go now than stay on this bloody ship.”

Dottore took Pantalone by the wrist, practically dragging him off the ship. Pantalone wasn’t surprised by the sudden touch, letting himself get dragged off the deck and onto the large stone tiles, almost feeling a sense of gratitude.

Instantly, as Pantalone’s shoes touched the stone, his nauseous feeling was swept away, his dizziness gone. He felt much better.

“I’ve booked us a stay for the next weeks, to save you the trouble of handling the entirety of our trip, banker. I think it’s near a place called.. Wan-something Restaurant..?”

“Wanmin Restaurant.” Pantalone corrects. “I know Liyue like the back of my hand. I remember the place has a.. unique kitchen.”

“Sounds lovely. Let’s go there.”

——

The pair arrives at the restaurant, a few people milling about, occasionally stopping to chat with the chef and grab a bowl of food. Oil could be heard sizzling, a fire roaring in the clay stove. The air smelled of spices and fat.

Pantalone gazed at the building, remembering the taste of the occasional fish skewer he was given out of pity during his childhood. He remembers the sharp and spicy taste, the savory fish and the perfectly cut and cooked bits of vegetable doused in sauce.

“I know a few specialties, if you’d like to eat, Dottore.”

“I’m quite fine. How about we go out for a walk in the evening, considering it’s around..” Dottore checks his pocket watch. “..2 o’clock. We’ve got time to kill and you have a financial problem to resolve.”

Pantalone nods, his expression conveying a mild annoyance at the mission. “I’ll get started on the financial issue. I’ll have to go to the Northland Bank for that, since they’re a part of our branch. I’m sure you’ll find a way to amuse yourself without commiting a crime or terrorizing the locals.”

“Oh, banker, you wound me.” Dottore mused, feigning hurt. “Comparing me to the brutish nature of my segments, what an insult.” He pauses, looking left and right. “I’ll find a way to amuse myself, then. How about we meet back here at 6 o’clock?”

“Sounds fine to me. Do you need any recommendations? Any place you’d like to visit, or should I save it for our evening walk?”

“I’ll find something to occupy myself, this city is large, after all.” Came as a reply.

With that, the pair separated. Pantalone walked down the alley, in the direction of the port, to find the Northland Bank, while Dottore turns towards the west, walking down a large marketplace. He seemed to have something specific in mind, a place he wanted to visit.

Dottore opens his pocket watch, checking the time. 5 o’clock.

He had gone through the market, having bought a few small things, like a book on flower code, origami and medicines, thinking to give them to Iota as a present of sorts.

He slowly makes his way back towards Wanmin Restaurant when a store, called “Mingxing Jewellery” catches his eye. A sign near the store proclaimed something about “fifty boxes each month! Give a box to your loved one and it’ll be sure to work out!”

Dottore snorts. He glances, noting that several women were standing at the counter, vying the small, intricate, red boxes that stood in the shelf behind the counter. The saleswoman was chatting with the women, reminding them that there were only 12 boxes left for the month.

The doctor makes his way through the group of women, standing near the counter. “Pardon me, how much does a box cost?”

“About 500,000 mora, good sir. Do you have anyone you hold dear? These exclusive jewellery boxes may cost much, but they’re practically an engagement gift, perfect for any occasion.”

Dottore ponders. He still had a good sum of funding left from Pantalone, about 79 million mora. Surely the banker won’t care much if 500,000 mora was going towards a jewellery box.

“I’ll buy one, maybe two. Is there any sort of customisation available? I happen to know a person with very specific tastes in jewellery.”

“Of course, the set itself costs 500,000 mora, but the contents are freely adjustable to the client’s needs.”

“Perfect.”

As 6 o’clock hits, Dottore makes his way back to Wanmin Restaurant. He had purchased two red jewellery boxes, asking to have them packed in inconspicuous packaging. As Dottore turned down the alley where Wanmin Restaurant stood, he spotted Pantalone, who was waiting patiently.

The banker was visibly exhausted, yet he tried to hide said exhaustion with a musing smile. “Doctor, you’re back.”

“Naturally. I’ve done a bit of spending, found a few nice items. How’s the financial issue?”

“How lovely.” Pantalone rubs his temples. “Those idiots in the bank couldn’t handle the sheer amount of paperwork. Some accounts have suspicious withdrawal histories, some money has vanished, it’s all a headache..” the banker sighs. “I’m sure I’ll have it resolved in a few days. Enough about me, would you like to eat?”

Dottore listened intently to Pantalone’s rant. “Sounds like a headache indeed. How about I get my things in our room and then we’ll go and eat.”

Pantalone nods.

A few minutes pass and Dottore is back with Pantalone. The pair glanced at the menu of the restaurant. Well, Dottore did, Pantalone sat at the table and idly zoned out. After a minute of thinking, Dottore gave up, asking Pantalone for a recommendation.

“Well, I can always recommend the fish skewers. If you’re not a fan of fish, the place serves a decent plate of meat rolls with mint.”

“I’ll take whatever you’re getting.”

“Then that’ll be the fish skewers.”

After getting their orders, the pair sat down, indulging in the food.

Even Dottore notes that the food was surprisingly good for local standards. Pantalone ate slowly, at a comfortable pace.

After they were done, they paid the chef a handsome amount before walking down the street, southwards towards the nearby mountainscape that surrounded Liyue. They both walked leisurely, strolling past smaller stores and houses, before passing the city’s gates. The stone path got narrower and narrower, before a simple dirt path led upwards into the cliffside.

The doctor and the banker eventually stopped at a cliffside, admiring the view as the sun dipped below the horizon and sunk into the sea.

“What a pretty sight to behold.” Pantalone mumbles.

“What a pretty sight indeed, considering you’ve got your eyesight again.” The doctor answers.

As the sun sunk completely, giving way to the night, the Harbingers returned to the city. Wanmin Restaurant and plenty of other stores had closed for the night, the streets mostly empty as the pair strolled towards their rented stay. It was a small home, not too expensive and not too cheap, perfect for the coming few weeks.

Dottore handed Pantalone one of the two keys. “Keep it close, don’t lose it.”

“I’m not 8, I can keep track of a key.” Pantalone took the key, pocketing it.

The interior of the home was neat, tidy and pretty to look at. It had a kitchenette, a bathroom and two bedrooms, one for two people and another for one. Their suitcases were placed in the living room, which consisted of a small sitting area, a few bookshelves and a low end table intended for writing letters or other things. It was a comfortable place.

“Separate or shared?” Pantalone asks. Dottore tenses, thinking. “Would it kill you if we shared a bed?”

“I don’t think it will, neither do I mind.” The banker answers.

“Then it’s settled. Do we need anything to check for tomorrow? Anything that you need help with?”

“I’ll start on the financial issues, I don’t think I’ll need much help.”

“Sounds decent.” An awkward minute passes. “I’ll get ready for the night, then, banker. You better do such aswell.”

“Naturally. You better not die in your sleep.” Pantalone jests.

“Likewise to you too, banker, don’t you even think of letting your soul out of your body.” Dottore answers, his tone conveying a sense of smugness.

Chapter Text

The sun was just barely starting to rise in Liyue, yet someone was already awake.

That someone was Pantalone, typing away at the typewriter he’d taken with him. He found it more convenient to carry around than risk ruining precious property by taking his fountain pens with him. They were prone to leaking, after all.

Pantalone was sat at the low end table, his typewriter infront of him. The banker was dressed in a change of simpler clothes, a sage green robe with a beige shawl around his shoulders. All in all, he was quite comfortable. That didn’t change the fact that he was less than content about being in Liyue. He hid the latter well, however.

As the man kept typing and typing, printing drafts of letters and starting to work on the financial issues Liyue faced, Dottore woke up in the bedroom. He had risen due to the sound of the typewriter, for it was quite a loud piece of stationary.

“..What the hell are you doing? It’s four in the morning, banker..” came a groggy, annoyed snarl from the bedroom.

“Work. It can’t wait, I’m not risking my leaky fountain pens for this trip, that’s why I got the typewriter. Didn’t I tell you before we went on the ship?”

“You never mentioned anything about writing!”

“My mistake.”

The typing stopped, giving Dottore the peace and quiet he wanted.

Dottore, despite being energetic and strict with times and punctuality, hated disorderly sounds or early risers. He often sent out instructions to his clones the evening before he went to sleep himself. The doctor often couldn’t sleep for long times, only about three to four hours at a time, which is why he valued his sleep.

The silence stretched on for quite a few hours as Dottore falls back asleep for the short time he could. Pantalone makes sure to move around carefully and quietly, which wasn’t hard to do, considering the emptiness of the rooms, every piece of furniture relatively spread apart without much clutter. As Pantalone snuck a glance at the pocket watch in the doctor’s coat, he notes that it’s 7 o’clock. Dottore would be waking up pretty soon.

The banker decides to go get a hearty breakfast from Wanmin Restaurant, knowing that the place opens relatively early if the chef was in a good mood, which was almost always.

Dottore woke up about fifteen minutes after Pantalone had left for Wanmin Restaurant. Slightly disoriented, he rubs his eyes, sitting up. He notes the absence of Pantalone, the sudden silence deafeningly loud.

After getting dressed, Dottore looks around the entire house, looking for Pantalone. After being unsuccessful, he gets antsy, a pang of nervousness coursing through him. Dottore didn’t like being antsy, even more so when the worry is directed at the person he cared a lot about.

The door to the house unlocks and Pantalone steps inside, holding a bag. The room instantly smelled of food.

“Where the fuck have you been, banker?” The doctor snarled, quietly sighing as relief washed over him.

“You do miss me.” The banker mused. “I was out to get us breakfast. Apologies if I made you nervous, that was not my intent.”

Pantalone walks to the low table, setting down the bag. “I noticed you liked the food from yesterday, I got us the same for today.”

Dottore collects himself, setting up the invisible walls to close off his emotions again.

‘I’ve made a fool of myself.’ He thinks to himself. ‘I’ve stepped out of line, he must’ve noticed, there’s no way he didn’t.’

The pair sit down at the low table as the doctor unpacks the food. It was fish skewers again, which Dottore notes to try and recreate once they get to Snezhnaya. Maybe Iota will take a liking too.

“I should really ask the chef of Wanmin Restaurant whether I can get that recipe.” Dottore murmurs between bites.

“Maybe you should, Chef Mao is always grateful whenever he gets to share recipes and spread the Liyue cuisine.” The banker answers. Silence ensues as the pair ate.

After breakfast, Pantalone sets the typewriter back on the low table. He had no urgent need to be at the bank today, so he had the day to himself, drafting letters. The loud sound of letters getting punched on paper fills the room as Pantalone writes, his face conveying the deep concentration he was in.

Dottore mills about in the house, mainly sticking to the bedroom as he looked at the red jewellery boxes he had bought for the banker. He opens one of them, looking at the contents he had chosen. Surely Pantalone would like the jewellery, right?

The set consisted of four rings, two necklace and a pair of earrings. Dottore had studied Pantalone’s jewellery whenever the man was asleep. He knew all of the banker’s preferences, his liking for odd, almost whimsical rings with odd forms. The man never wore necklaces, moreover liking to display them somewhere in his bedroom. Pantalone also only wore sleek, barely noticeable earrings on very special occasions, which is why Dottore specifically got smaller ones.

As the afternoon rolled around, Dottore hides the red jewellery box back away in his suitcase. He stands up and goes over to Pantalone in the sitting room. The banker was still at the typewriter, a neat stack of papers next to him on the low table.

“It’s been 6 hours, banker. I think you’re entitled to a break.”

“It’s already 1 pm?” Pantalone asks.

“Indeed. I remember you wanted to get a book for Iota. I think it’s the perfect time for a break and to get that book he wants.”

Pantalone sighs. “Alright, alright, you convinced me, doctor.” The banker stands up, stretching. “Let’s go then.”

The pair walked out of the house, met with the afternoon hustle and bustle of Liyue. They walk with the flow of the crowd, separating from the mass once they arrive at a set of red, wooden stairs. Liyue’s city was unique, having the streets as one floor and an upper level, supported with red wood and pillars. The upper level entailed an open-air bookstore, Wanwen Bookhouse, and many other smaller shops.

Pantalone navigates to the bookstore without a hitch, Dottore almost struggling to keep up with the fast and lithe banker. As they both arrived at the bookstore, Pantalone was already talking to the clerk, asking for the book that Iota described. As the banker was immersed in deep conversation, Dottore looks around the bookstore, gazing at the separate book titles. Most were about poetry and stories, which Dottore found boring.

After a few minutes, Pantalone walks over to Dottore, Iota’s book in his hands.

“All set. Have you found something you’d like, doctor?”

“Not really, this is all boring stuff.” Dottore answers stiffly. “Seriously, how do you like all this.. this flowery poetry?”

“It’s good literature.” Pantalone muses. “It takes an open mind to read and like these things.”

“I do have an open mind.” The doctor counters, almost insulted.

Pantalone’s arms droop a bit, the book being a pretty heavy thing. It was around 1000 pages thick. Dottore notices that, already reaching out to take the book from the banker. “Looks heavy.” He comments. Pantalone hands Dottore the book, hiding his confusion as to why the doctor was being so.. kind? Gentlemanly? It was hard to tell.

Nevertheless, after the short break, the pair returns to the home for Pantalone to continue working till the evening.

At around 6 pm, Dottore was heard rummaging through the kitchen, looking for ingredients. Was he going to cook? How odd..

After a few seconds, a pan could be heard frying, oil was sizzling. Dottore was indeed cooking. A few more minutes pass and the smell of food wafted from the kitchen. Pantalone looks up, momentarily stopping his typing. He stands up and goes over to the kitchenette, seeing Dottore standing at the stove.

“I didn’t know you could cook.” The banker comments quietly.

“Well, I figured I’d rather save us the hassle and money for getting food from the restuarant and cook up something we both tolerate. I’m making пелмени*.”

*(For the non-russians, it’s pronounced “pelmeni”, which is a Russian type of dumpling.)

“Really? Doesn’t that take hours to make? Have you been cooking for us for that long?” Pantalone asks, a bit surprised.

“It does. I just asked for Chef Mao to prep a bit of meat filling beforehand for a few coins.” The doctor explains, keeping a constant watch on the pan. Soon, the food was ready and Dottore transferred the dumplings over to two plates.

The doctor and the banker sat down, eating in silence for a few minutes.

Pantalone breaks the awkward silence first with a hum of appreciation. “You certainly know how to cook, doctor. I’m surprised.”

“Consider me flattered.” Dottore responded, his tone warm and genuine, almost human.

“I’ll have to be at the bank tomorrow again, I’ve got instructions to hand out and clients to contact. I’ll probably be gone from 9 am to 4 pm, but I’ll probably be late by a few minutes.”

“Alright. I’ll probably be bored without your company. Do you know any places I could visit? You mentioned that you knew a few places when we first arrived two days ago.”

“Huh, now that you mention it..” Pantalone sets his fork down. “I think Iota would be a bit lonely if he just had books. I know a wonderful elder lady who makes the best handmade toys and trinkets. Maybe you could pay her a visit, see what you can get? Her name is Granny Shan, she’s around the corner of the street if you exit the house and go to the right.”

“I see. I’ll keep that in mind. Any other places?”

“On the same plaza as Granny Shan, you’ll probably hear someone tell stories at a tea house. That someone is Liu Su, he’s a known storyteller, though he sometimes spirals off into telling well-woven fantasies.”

“Noted. Thank you, banker.”

After the pair had eaten, it was already around 8 pm. It was too late to take a walk, it was too early to go to bed. Pantalone decides to wash the few dishes that they had used, feeling a sense of responsibility to show gratitude for Dottore cooking.

As Pantalone started to clean up, Dottore joins in and helps out with cleaning the kitchen. He was quiet, not talking much.

Afterwards, they both sit around a bit before finally getting to bed at around 10 pm.

Chapter Text

Another week had passed since then. The financial issue in Liyue was getting closer to being solved, Pantalone being a big help to the Northland bank. Dottore starts to send letters back to Snezhnaya, adressing them to Iota. He also sends the books and toys he had bought for Iota to Snezhnaya, knowing that the delivery time was around 2-3 days.

The doctor also grows a habit of quietly cooking and cleaning more often, longing to have Pantalone content and as stress-free as possible. The banker, in turn, when on breaks, takes Dottore for some sightseeing, pointing out the different stores and their gimmicks.

One late afternoon, as the pair passed through the market where Dottore got the red jewellery boxes, they pass Mingxing Jewellery, the exact place where Dottore had bought them. The doctor walks closer to Pantalone, as if shielding him. As before, a crowd of women were standing around the jewellery store, eyeing the merchandise. Only four boxes were left that month, which caught Pantalone’s eye. Dottore hastily tried walking past the store, but Pantalone stops him.

“I’d like to buy you a gift, doctor.” The banker muses.

“Are you sure? I don’t need compensation of any sorts when it comes to you, banker.” Zandik replies, almost hastily.

“I’m sure, yes. You know that whatever price the store charges is mere change to me.”

The doctor hesitates, but reluctantly agrees. “Fine, just don’t expect me to wear the jewellery.”

The banker smiles at his small victory, already turning right towards the jewellery store.

The clerk smiles, greeting Pantalone. “Good afternoon, ma’am, what can I assist with?”

Pantalone was briefly stunned at the mistake of the clerk, but didn’t correct her. “I’d like to buy a box, I have an abroad husband who I’d like to send this to.”

The lie was smooth, an almost natural and airtight story.

 “Of course, would you like to do any modifications? The set entails four rings, two necklaces and a pair of earrings. You can freely mix and match or exclude items.”

Pantalone smiles. “I’d like to modify it, yes. No necklaces, please. How many rings could I buy in a set?”

“If you replace the necklaces for two rings, it’ll be six rings and a pair of earrings. The full price will still be 500,000 mora.”

“I see. I’ll do that modification then, please.” Pantalone steps closer to the counter, discussing the rings he’d like in the set. After about 10 minutes, Pantalone makes the purchase, returning to Dottore’s side. The banker holds the box out towards Dottore.

“Here you go, doctor. My gift, as promised.” Pantalone smiles warmly. “You can open it once we get back home.”

The doctor takes the box, holding it like a treasure. “I’ll cherish your.. gift, banker.”

About five days later, the financial issue in Liyue was resolved. Pantalone’s work was done.

The pair start to pack up their suitcases. Just then, Pantalone remembers that he hasn’t written a single letter to Iota all those weeks.

“Shit..! Iota.. I didn’t write him a letter at all.” Pantalone rushes to his typewriter in the sitting room, hastily typing out a letter.

Dottore waits patiently, deciding to be nice and pack the rest of Pantalone’s belongings into the man’s suitcase. He sets both their luggage in the hallway, before going back to the sitting room to wait for Pantalone to finish up the letter. After about five minutes pass, Pantalone folds up the letter, folding a makeshift envelope to seal the letter in. He stuffs it in his coat pocket, before packing his typewriter in a separate casing.

“All done, we can go now. I’m sorry it took so long, Zandik.”

“It’s fine, we’re in no hurry to get back anyways. You can send it out before we travel, it’ll be there in around 3 days, so way before we get back.” Dottore reassures him. As the doctor lifts both their suitcases up, being the gentleman and carrying most of the luggage, Pantalone notices that the man was wearing some of the rings that Pantalone had bought him. It made the banker content, knowing that the doctor valued his gift.

“Let’s go, we’ve got around 30 minutes to get to the boat, though we’ll only need 20.”

And so, after stepping on the deck of the ship, the pair embark on the voyage back to Snezhnaya. The ship swayed gently on the waves of the ocean. The air starts to cool down the closer they got to Snezhnaya, getting frosty and quite cold. Dottore stuck close to Pantalone whenever the man was out on deck.

The doctor knew that Pantalone, ever since he’s gotten revived, was more resistant to the cold and the heat, much like himself. He could, however, take no chances. He didn’t want to take any chances, not with Pantalone potentially getting cold or sick.

“You’re always watching, doctor. Are you worried about something?” Pantalone asks from time to time.

“It’s nothing. I’m just making sure you’re fine and not showing any signs that your soul might jump out of the body I made for you.” The doctor replies, his voice back to being stiff and direct. Pantalone frowns innerly, not quite happy that Dottore’s mood has shifted so significantly.

“You’re definitely thinking something. Your mood is sour, is it?”

“Just not looking forward to dealing with my clones, that’s all.” Zandik sighs.

“Well, you know both you and Iota are always welcome to visit my office.” Pantalone offers, his tone warm and genuine.

“Alright. By the way, I sent Iota three letters while you were occupied. He replied almost immediatly, he even scrawled a small picture of you. Of course, it’s nowhere near perfect, but I found it too pathetic to throw away.”

The banker snorts, before breaking out into a soft laugh. “Well.. that’s what I get for not sending him letters.. I hope that the book I got him makes up for it.”

“It will, believe me. He’s stupidly easy to cheer up.”

Back in the office, Pantalone sighs, setting his typewriter on his desk. Dottore had insisted on carrying the banker’s suitcase to his office, much to the protests of the banker.

About an hour after arriving, Iota almost burst into Pantalone’s office.

“Banker, banker! You’re back!!” The child rushes into the banker’s arms, hugging him tightly, almost knocking Pantalone over.

“Iota, it’s good to see you again.” Pantalone greets warmly, running a gloved hand through the child’s hair. “My my, you’ve grown, or are my eyes deceiving me?” He crouches down.

“I have, but not much at all..” Iota pouts, crossing his arms. He returns to his cheerful self after three seconds. “Prime told me you got me that book! Do you have it, do you have it?”

The child was practically jumping up and down in excitement. Pantalone smiles, before turning around and opening his suitcase.

As he pulls out the book Iota wanted, he notices a few things he distinctly doesn’t remember packing.

Two red jewellery boxes and a small bouquet of flowers were neatly arranged between his belongings. “..Huh.” The banker turns around, presenting Iota the book with a wide smile. “Here you go, Iota. The book, as promised.”

Iota grabs the book, beaming as he hops up and down. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!! I love it!”

Pantalone stands back up, examining his suitcase. His clothes were neatly put in the suitcase, the exact way he had packed, yet the jewellery boxes and the bouquet of flowers were.. odd. Where did they come from?

“..Huh.” The banker sounds out again, the gears in his head turning at breakneck speed. ‘Surely the doctor didn’t do that, right? Why would he be interested in jewellery and flowers, doesn’t he find those things boring?’

Pantalone starts to unpack his belongings, putting everything in the rightful places. Afterwards, he was left with the two red boxes and the bouquet of flowers on his bed.

“Hm. This won’t do..” Pantalone mutters. Iota had long left for the lab, excited to read the book that Pantalone had bought him. Iota, over those few weeks that Dottore and Pantalone were absent, had studied and learned to properly read what was written in books, not just Dottore’s atrocious handwriting.

It was about 6 in the evening when Pantalone had finally settled back into his office. He had found a spare vase in the office, into which he set the flowers. What was still a mystery to him, was that the flowers withstood the entire trip without even a single petal falling off, as if they were enchanted to bloom forever.

The jewellery boxes lay on his desk as Pantalone decides to open one of them. He’s met with quite a sight.

The velvet lining the inside of the cushioned a silver necklace with white gemstones, two pairs of earrings with pearls and and four silver rings with very little embellishments. Only two of the rings had gemstones, but even then they were tiny and neatly arranged in a single line all around the metal.

The necklace was sleek, small and fit neatly, each chainlink being separated by a gemstone. Upon closer look, the stones revealed themselves to be moonstones, which were almost completely white but shined with an iridescent sheen.

The earrings were both pearls, one being a pair of purple, tahitian black pearls and the second white akoya pearls. Pantalone was able to identify pearls easily, having recently studied a book on jewellery.

He sets the jewellery back into the box, closing it. The banker decides to open the second box another time. He decides to ask Dottore about the jewellery tomorrow, not wanting to bother the man unless he came to him himself.

Dottore didn’t show himself all evening, which was quite odd to Pantalone. Surely he would’ve checked up on his business partner atleast once, right? They’ve gotten much closer, after all.

Nevertheless, the day of the pair’s return was uneventful, both getting the evening off to rest and sleep it off, which they did.

Chapter Text

The months came and went, Dottore milling about in his laboratory, tinkering and tweaking his experiments, steadily making progress on innovations. He rarely left his lab, only sending out clones to fetch something, such as coffee. He had to make sure that his attempt was going to be perfect, without flaws, without any scuffs.

After about two months had passed, Dottore finally emerged from his lab. The moment he stepped out of the doors, Pantalone was standing in the hallway, a few paces away from the lab doors. The banker was about to walk towards the lab and knock the door down.

“Where the fuck have you been the past two months? Not a word, not even a bloody letter! I thought you died!” The banker almost shouts, agitation clear in his tone. His gloved hands, always loose and at ease, were clenched into fists at his sides, the rings grinding against eachother.

“I’m quite hard to kill, I assure you, banker.” Dottore answered quietly. Exhaustion was making him sluggish, the endless stress and frustration he went through the past two months numbing his emotions and perception. The sharp and witty doctor was temporarily gone, the façade cracking to reveal the tired, stressed man underneath.

The moment Pantalone heard and perceived Dottore’s tone, his anger and worry vanished, like dust wiped from a shelf with a damp rag.

“You’re tired.” He comments. His hands relax again as he takes a few steps closer to Zandik.

“You’re very tired, aren’t you?”

The doctor nods. He could barely stand straight, slouching very slightly. The banker, rests his hands on his business partner’s shoulders. “You can take a rest at my office. Nobody will disturb you, you’ll have the quiet you need. I have no appointments or consultations.”

Pantalone took Dottore’s hand, walking him to his office. Neither cared or minded the fact that they were holding hands, one being too concerned and the other too tired. It was an almost common gesture to them, like a way of saying “Hey, listen to me and listen carefully.”

Pantalone opens his office doors, before guiding the tired, barely-walking doctor to the couch. He lays him down, propping a few pillows and a thin blanket for the man. He hesitates, but decides to let Dottore keep his mask that hid his eyes on. The banker knew that the mask was like a shield to the doctor, a boundary he’d never even dream of crossing.

A quiet sigh escapes the doctor as he fell asleep in an instant, dead to the world. What was odd though, was that a constant pressure was on the hand of the banker. As he looks down, he sees that Dottore, despite being so exhausted and numb to the world, was holding his hand, his hand neither relaxing nor letting go. As Pantalone looked closer, he also notes that the doctor was also wearing a few rings. The exact rings that Pantalone had bought for him.

The banker smiles softly, sighing with the thought

‘I should’ve expected that.’

Hours pass like this, Pantalone stuck at Dottore’s side, not wanting to upset the doctor by letting go. It was quite convenient that he had no urgent paperwork or business to attend to. He’d simply have to pick up the slack tomorrow. The banker was sat at the very edge of the couch, having just enough room to sit. The grandfather clock chimed, signaling the late hour of the night. One chime.

One chime, it was one in the morning. Pantalone sighs, gazing down at Dottore, who was still sleeping like a rock, unmoving. The only sign of life being his warm hand that held the banker’s own and the small exhales of breath.

The banker was tired, bored out of his mind being stuck like this. Everything was just out of his reach, the abandoned mug of cold coffee on the coffee table, the books and ledgers on the shelves of his large mahogany bookcases.. he couldn’t get anything.

Exhaustion was creeping in on him, like a warm caress in the cold, winter night, fogging up his mind. He takes off the spectacles, the chain attached to them allowing the frames to hang around his neck. The banker rubs his eyes, deciding to just have a bit of shut-eye and to sleep. He leaned backwards, lying a bit uncomfortably, the nape of his neck being on the back of the couch. He’d simply have to deal with the stiffness abd aches tomorrow, as he always had done with pains.

‘Just grit your teeth and go through it.’

As he moved to get a bit more comfortable, he accidentally let go of the doctor’s hand.

He only notices his blunder as Dottore stirs and slowly awakes from his coma-like sleep. He blinked a few times, before reaching up to his face to rub his eyes. Dottore sits up, just barely able to make out Pantalone’s outlines in the dark office.

“Did you sleep fine, doctor?” Pantalone asks, sitting back straight.

“..How long was I out for?”

“About.. 7 hours.” The banker answers, his voice low and calm, even and serene. As if the banker didn’t just consider sleeping on the couch in order not to disturb the doctor’s precious sleep.

“And you’ve been sitting here all this time?”

“Well, you..” The banker attempts to answer, but can’t bring himself to finish. It didn’t matter much anyways.

“You should go to bed yourself, Pantalone.” Dottore states after a few seconds. “You must be quite tired yourself.”

“Not.. really.” Pantalone attempts to deny, yet the tiredness was evident in his voice, despite all the attempts to hide it with serenity and calmness, with his rigid control over what he showed and what he hid. Pantalone was loose, more relaxed. It unnerved the banker, he was innerly frustrated that he was so.. pathetically readable.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not a good example myself, but I value your sleep schedule more than my own.”

The banker sighs. Dottore was sitting properly on the couch, next to Pantalone. It didn’t seem like either were planning to move from the rather comfortable piece of furniture any time soon. The banker decides to be bold, turning sideways and letting his head rest on the doctor’s legs. It was bold indeed, for what would Dottore think of him?

“Banker, what are yo-..” Dottore starts, confused and surprised.

“Just.. let me sleep, please..” Pantalone whispers, letting his head tilt sideways. “I’ve had a difficult day and I’ve got annoying clients that don’t understand the basic concepts of economics to deal with tomorrow.. I don’t even have the energy to get to bed..”

Dottore didn’t move an inch, frozen in place. He placed one hand on the banker’s chest, the other beneath the banker’s head to support him.

“You’ll probably want a pillow.” Dottore murmurs, lifting the banker’s head to place a pillow beneath it. He still placed his hand back near Pantalone’s hair, before slowly inching his hand closer.

“Thank you, doctor. Truly, I value...” The banker murmurs, his eyes already closed. He would’ve said “us.”, but sleep took him way too quickly, letting the banker glide into a dreamless state of dormancy. It was now clear how Pantalone was just barely holding onto consciousness himself, how he was keeping himself upright despite the exhaustion that nagged at him.

The doctor watched for a bit. He never expected to have Pantalone so close, in such a vulnerable moment and position aswell. He didn’t expect that he, the second most dangerous individual in the Fatui, was being so trusted by The Ninth.

The hand that previously lay on the banker’s chest glided towards the other’s hand, interlacing their fingers. The other slowly carded through the banker’s hair, satisfying a lingering curiosity that had been on the doctor’s mind. Pantalone’s hair, much like his outer appearance, was carefully maintained, the black locks smooth and without a single knot. It felt.. nice.

Zandik smiles innerly, proud to have struck a good choice when crafting the vessel for Pantalone’s soul, that he had matched the hair perfectly, both in texture and colour.

Dottore leaned backwards, till his back hit the couch’s. He lets his mind spiral. He starts to think, thinking about how and if he should ask Pantalone out, how he’d recreate the flower bouquet currently standing in the vase on the banker’s desk.

Would the banker even be interested in a deeper relationship? How would he react? What gifts would he even want?!

Dottore shook his head, clearing those nagging questions out of his mind. He couldn’t just streamline all his thoughts on the banker, he had other things to do, other things to achieve!

And yet his train of thought continued to repeatedly flow over into thoughts of the banker. Dottore grows frustrated. He didn’t like it, not one bit.

As he carded through Pantalone’s hair, he feels something on the banker’s head.. were those.. horns? He parted the hair to confirm, feeling over what would be the beginning of horns. The mounds were hard, like bone. Dottore couldn’t make out what colour they were, but he assumed they were black, like the colour of the banker’s hair. It took the doctor embarrassingly long to notice. Pathetically long, even.

“Dear Tsaritsa..” the doctor murmurs. He didn’t expect any sort of sign that physically manifested on the body after Dottore pulled Pantalone’s spliced soul from hell. This was.. odd. Was the artificial body being overtaken by the hellish sins that Pantalone’s soul had been branded with? What were those sins? He’d have to make more notes of it.

Maybe the resurrection completely failed? Would Pantalone’s soul fragment and fall back into hell? Back into the eternal pit of agony and pain?

Would he..? No. He had to calm down.

After he eventually manages to calm down and exit his train of thought, sleep starts to overtake him.. He lets that sleep shut his mind off as he too, shuts his eyes.

Then, the second long isolation happened. Dottore locks himself in his lab, deeply engrossed in studies, studies about the paranormal, resurrection, necromancy, anything that had any sort of connection with death and the afterlife.

Nobody came in, nobody came out this time. Not a fatui guard, not a clone.

He simply had to confirm whether he should be worried that Pantalone may not be with him for long, whether he’d get dragged back to hell.

No. The doctor simply wouldn’t allow it.

He wouldn’t allow his favourite banker to just vanish again, to disappear right infront of him.

He simply wouldn’t allow it.

Chapter Text

Dottore soon learns that Pantalone was a very stressed banker, a stressed banker who fell into frantic worrying pretty quickly when things weren’t going his way, when neither plan A or B or any plans, all the way to plan Z worked.

Dottore learned that pretty quickly, actually, after Pantalone decided to trash his entire office after a client dies, having been assassinated.

“ ‘Lonnie, as far as I know you, throwing a tantrum doesn’t help!” Dottore exclaimed, narrowly dodging a fountain pen thrown in his direction, before catching it to spare the delicate nib from being crushed.

“Well it’s not my fault the client decided to just die on me!” Pantalone shouted back, distressed, already reaching for the next item to throw, that item being a paperweight.

“Now I’ve got to make ammends with a shit ton of unecessary bureaucracy and other clients to rope in! I can’t just pull out funds from my hat now, can I?!” Pantalone throws the paperweight against the bookcase.

The office was a mess, papers ripped, ledgers thrown around, vases shattered on the hardwood floor. The doctor was dodging items left and right, slowly making his way over to Pantalone.

“You can’t, that’s the thing you oblivious fool!” Dottore countered. Finally reaching the banker, he holds the man’s wrist to prevent him from throwing anything else. It was a tight hold, like iron.

“Now will you calm down or do I have to sedate you?” He snarled.

Pantalone’s breath hitched. How did Dottore get to him so fast? Last time he looked, he was right by the door at the other end of the office.

He tries to yank his wrist free, but found himself unsuccessful in the attempts. “Let go.” He mutters, upon which the doctor lets go.

Pantalone sighs loudly, practically collapsing in his armchair, one gloved hand in his hair.

“I’m sorry, Zandik. I didn’t mean to.. overreact like this, truly.” He quietly apologised, his voice full of remorse and regret, the previous frustration completely gone.

It was unlike Pantalone to be so.. genuine and so upset, even to Dottore.

“It’s alright, though don’t take it out on the furniture in the future. I know you can replace it at a whim, but I miss the fragrance of the office whenever you replace any of the old furniture pieces.”

Dottore sets the fountain pen he had caught earlier back onto the desk. He slowly moves his hands to Pantalone’s shoulders, just holding them there as he stood behind the man.

After a few minutes, Dottore starts to rub Pantalone’s shoulders, relishing in the smoothness of the fabric of the banker’s silken blouse. They stay that way for a few minutes, letting the tension dissipate at a steady rate.

“I’m sorry.” The banker repeats his apology, a lot calmer than he was a few minutes ago.

“No need to apologize.” Dottore mumbles. “I’m just glad you’re back to being calm. How about I make you some tea?”

“That would be nice, but no need.” The other replies. “You don’t know where I keep my kettles and cups anyways.”

“I do, believe it or not. Through the door to your left is a small kitchenette where you not only keep your wine, but also a small cupboard with teas from all nations. You’re running low on a few blends, though.”

“How do you.. know all that?” Confusion rang through the man’s voice.

“I pay attention to the smell of tea that comes from behind the door and what blends you serve me every other evening. It’s not hard to guess, really.” The doctor explains.

His explanation was airtight, passing off as a genuine truth.. yet it wasn’t, not really.

It was.. too specific, too detailed to come off as the truth. Dottore kept his notes close,notes of the banker, his preferences, his exact net worth, his.. well, everything, what teas he ordered from where, even what brands he gets his clothing from.

One could call it a near-obsessive tendency. It was.

“You’re perceptive, doctor. Well, you guessed correct, I am running low on tea. Fontaine’s tea, specifically.” The banker replies. “I might have to go on a trip and get some more. It’ll probably take me two days, maybe three.”

“I see. Well, if you do plan to go on such a trip, I can either accompany you or cover for your absence if you wish. Doing either would be my pleasure.” Dottore answers smoothly, as if he had planned everything beforehand.

“Zandik, as much as I value your companionship, I must decline. I assure you that I can handle a simple trip to Fontaine myself. It’ll only be three days, surely you can endure my absence for three days.” Pantalone declines elegantly. “Besides that, would you like anything from Fontaine? I can take any reasonable request, maybe I’ll commission some clothing from Chiori’s while I’m there.”

The doctor sighs, feigning hurt upon such a decline of his company. “Ah well, it was worth a shot. Now that you mention it, I’d fancy myself a new suit, mine are stained. I’ll send you my measurements.”

“Alright. I’m planning to leave tomorrow, so be quick about it.”

Just like that, Pantalone was gone the next day, waiting for the ship sailing to Fontaine to dock. He had a small suitcase at his side, his thick fatui coat hiding him from the frost and cold wind.

The “song” of a flock of crows could be heard, though no trees were nearby, only the snow-tipped roofs of small city homes, the families inside keeping warm with their fireplaces working day and night, a steady flow of smoke trailing into the air from chimneys.

A crow lands on Pantalone’s shoulder, being quiet and quite friendly. In it’s beak, it held a small trinket. Upon closer look, it was a small earring, unassuming but well-kept. The crow gestured towards Pantalone’s hand, before promptly dropping it in his palm.

“Huh. What a handsome crow you are. Never thought I’d see such a pretty crow.” Pantalone murmurs quietly, keeping his voice low as the crow settles on his shoulder. He heard rumours of the doctor training up crows for the thrill of it, but never expected that rumour to be true. Maybe it was just a random crow that decided to rest on Pantalone’s coat.

It seemed silly, almost. The banker, witty and silver-tongued, talking to a crow sitting on his shoulder. The banker pockets the small trinket, yet the crow doesn’t lift off into the bleak winter morning. Carefully, Pantalone runs one gloved finger over it’s head, the crow lowering it’s head lightly to receive the scratches.

The ship, a small transporter, docks and the banker, with the crow still on his shoulder, gets on board.

Oh, Fontaine, beautiful, warm and wonderful Fontaine.

Out of all nations, Fontaine was the one that Pantalone preferred the most. It wasn’t cold, didn’t have ports and markets that reeked of fish and sea salt and the fashion there mostly aligned with his own.

The banker took the nearest ferry to the city, as Fontaine was set atop an impossibly large waterfall, which made transportation over aquaducts the most convenient. The crow flew alongside the ferry, keeping up rather easily.

While he comfortably sat on one of the many seats lining the deck, he asked the Melusine doing her shift for advice on things to see and places to visit. He’d been to Fontaine once or twice, but he always felt best when knowing everything about the areas he visited.

“Well, besides Chiori’s boutique.. I can recommend a nice flower shop, if you’re interested in getting some flowers.”

“I see. I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.” Pantalone thanked her warmly, before picking up his suitcase and waiting for the ferry to stop at the destination.

Getting off the ferry, the crow almost instantly landed back on Pantalone’s shoulder as they both set off to the elevator that lead down to the city itself.

The doorbell to Chiori’s boutique rings as the banker enters, the crow settling on the roof. Another man with his wife was in the shop, though the atmosphere wasn’t a pleasant one.

The man was shouting at the designer, Chiori, though Pantalone blocked the incessant shouts, insults and threats from his mind. It was a useful skill, being able to filter what you wanted to hear and what would go through one ear and right out the other. He had an almost unbiased judgement with that skill.

Chiori, a brunette with her hair meticulously styled in an updo with red flowers adorning her hair, wearing an amber outfit and mostly warm colours, was stone-faced. She stood a few paces away from the client, handling a few rolls of fabric.

Despite all that, the banker could tell that she was losing her cool. Pantalone clears his throat. When that didn’t work, he steps closer to the couple, tapping the woman on the shoulder.

“Your husband seems to be agitated.” The banker coolly remarked.

“He.. well, he’s angry that a commissioned suit didn’t come in time. I’m terribly sorry for all of this.” The woman answered quietly, apologizing for the tense situation.

Pantalone sighed. Just in that moment, the husband angrily shouted an insult at Chiori, which the banker didn’t like hearing. He called her a “useless designer who can’t even sow correctly!”

With that singular sentence, Pantalone sees red. He steps behind the man, forcefully turning the husband to face him, before gripping his jaw.

“Excuse me, but please shut your goddamn mouth and take it outside. I don’t like it when my favourite designer is getting shouted at.”

With one good grip on the man’s shoulder, Pantalone drags him towards the large displaying window of the boutique.

With a crash, out the window and onto the paved streets he went.

Silence followed, the wife looking in pure shock, Chiori watching impassively, the earlier tension dissipating.

Loud shouts could be heard from outside, but it didn’t matter. Dusting his hands, Pantalone turns back around.

“Madame Chiori, how lovely it is to see you. Don’t worry, I’ll pay for the damages alongside a new commission, if my timing is correct.” The banker greets Chiori with a warm smile, deflecting from the fact that he just threw a man out of a window.

“How.. nice of you to visit, banker. As it so happens, you did my job for me, so I thank you for that. Anyways, what do you need my services for?”

“I’ve got a pair of shoes many months back. The box and wrapping indicated that they are from your boutique. Who commissioned them?”

“Well, all I’ve got was a letter, though the writing was barely legible. I suspect the commission was from someone in your midst, they knew your measurements precisely, even asked for me to exclude the instructions for cleaning.”

“Huh, odd. Well, nevermind all that then. Disregarding that, I’ve come to commission a suit for my business partner.” Pantalone holds out a letter. “You’ll find the measurements inside, alongside a few pieces of fabric in colours he’d like.”

Chiori takes the letter, peering inside and taking the bits of fabric out. “I can certainly work with that. Expect the work to be done in.. a month, perhaps. I’ll of course send you works in progress every few weeks, so you know how it’s coming along.”

Pantalone smiles. “You’re truly a saviour, Madam Chiori.”

“No need to thank me, you know I’m the only one capable of such miracles.” Chiori snippishly brushed off the compliment.

“Need a card with instructions and maintenance?”

“That’d be wonderful, yes.” The banker nods. “How much will this all cost me?”

“Around 200,000 mora should suffice. Do you have a picture of your business partner I could borrow? I’d need to see a few references to know what I’m working with.”

“I’ll have it on your table in three days.”

“Excellent. Now shoo, I’ve got a new suit to make.” Chiori waved him away. “Have a good day and all that, banker.”

Pantalone smiles, waving farewell before leaving a pouch of mora on the nearby counter. “For the damages.” He states before leaving. The crow on the roof doesn’t follow this time.

The rest of the day goes smoothly, Pantalone walking around idly, searching for the shop he usually gets his tea leaves from. Unexpectedly, he finds the shop closed, a wooden ‘closed’ sign hanging behind the glass door.

“Tsk. How annoying..” Pantalone glances at his pocket watch. The shop was meant to close in an hour and not this early..

The small tea shop, with it’s sage green walls, white tiled roof and pots of mixed flowers standing everywhere, was a quiet, nice place. The shop was ran by an elderly grandmother and her daughter. Pantalone had a good relationship with both of them, occasionally sending letters with money to support the duo.

Something must’ve happened. Did the grandmother die? Was the daughter out-of-commission? They had enough money to run the shop, surely it wouldn’t close down permanently and get sold, would it? 

The gears in the banker’s head turn and turn.. he couldn’t make any sense of it. He decides to leave it and come back the next day, hoping the shop would be open.

Sighing, he turns around and leaves, heading towards the hotel where he booked a room.

Chapter Text

Pantalone was barely able to sleep that night.

He was woken up by a brain-splitting headache. His head felt like it was going to split apart, catch on fire and then implode.

It felt agonizing, every turn of his head felt like he was diving headfirst into acid.

It hurt.

It hurts a lot.

Pantalone could barely breathe, his chest in such cramping pain, his muscles screaming, every movement a torture.

He wanted to just curl up and die, but his body wouldn’t let him do that. He throbbed in pain, he felt like he was suffocating inside his own body. He could barely move, barely breathe.

Just make this stop.

MAKE IT STOP.

Pantalone grit his teeth, holding in a scream as he forced himself to move. He had to get to the bathroom to see what was tearing him apart in such a way.

Minutes that felt like hours pass, the seconds ticking agonizingly slow. With a lurch, he moves himself to the edge of the bed, before attempting to stand up.

In an instant, he fell to the floor, his legs not supporting his weight or his will. The banker grunts in pain, landing painfully on the hardwood flooring of the room.

He attempts to get himself upright again, holding onto the bed. He fails, crashing back down to the floor. The man was close to tears from the sheer agony. His head spins, static setting in from the headache.

Yet he had to keep going. He’d get to the bathroom one way or the other.

With his iron will and many attempts later, he manages to very slowly balance himself on his trembling legs. He slowly shuffles through the dark hotel room, leaning on the walls as he looks for the bathroom door.

Finally finding it, he stumbles inside, almost collapsing to the floor again. He flicks the switch to the lamp in the bathroom, before facing towards the mirror.

The sight peering back at him was a mess, a wreck, something inhumane.

Pantalone looks at his reflection. His hair was messy and tangled, his eyes tired but much more vibrant with pink, harsh pupils staring back at him.

He decides to take a look at his head. Tracing his bare hands through the mess, he feels mounds, like abnormalities in the skull. Parting his hair, he looks back at the mirror.

He had horns.

They were small, sharp and black like his hair. Every touch send sparking, tingle-inducing pain through his head and spine.

“What the fuck..” Pantalone murmurs, his voice hoarse and raspy.

He hadn’t even examined what the cause of his chest pains were. Peering down through his night shirt, he sees odd marks. With one swift movement, the shirt was discarded on the tiled floor as he took a better look in the mirror.

He indeed had markings on his chest. Faint, pink marks like scars traced his entire upper chest, in a symmetrical pattern. A reoccuring shape, a diamond and a turned over heart were the most prominent marks.

They were barely visible, but they were there nonetheless. Before Pantalone could take a better look, a sudden bile raised in his throat.

His stomach lurches and a puddle of black went into the sink. His blood.

Coughing and sputtering, Pantalone’s legs went weak and down onto the floor he went, clutching his stomach. He groaned weakely.

He could breathe a bit better, but he still felt like he was going to pass out from the pain at any given moment.

Everything was spinning, the lights burned into his eyes. He shivered, goosebumps forming on his pale skin. He felt woozy, cold, hot..

He laid on the tiled floor, the coolness of the tiles seeping into his bones. He couldn’t move, none of his muscles or nerves responding. Almost an hour ticked by like this, with Pantalone shivering, unmoving on the tiled bathroom floor.

His vision starts to swim, darkness creeping in. His heartbeat quickens, panic setting in as he could feel his grip on reality, on the present, waning. Was he dying?

he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want it to end this way.

He was utterly terrified as he flowed into unconsciousness, the darkness corrupting and overtaking his vision.

It was around thirty seconds later when Pantalone came to, still on the floor, still trembling and his aches and pains mentally tearing him apart.

Only this time, he could move a few milimetres. To him, that was enough to slowly attempt getting back on his feet and to regain his bearings.

Slowly, shakily and with many instances of the banker nearly throwing up, he shuffled himself into an upright sitting position. He heaved for air, exhaling shakily as he regained himself.

He shook like a leaf, cold sweat clinging to his skin as his ears rung nonstop. He was in shock, his heartbeat and breathing loud in his ears. Tears ran down his face. He was glad that he was alive.

After a few moments, the ringing faded into the loud, buzzing silence of the hotel room.

Pantalone tries to get up again, managing to get up on his knees. Slowly but surely, he gets back up on his feet, shaking as he leaned against the wall behind him. He faces the sink and the mirror once again, his pale complexity and smears of black blood under his lips coming into view.

“What in all’s name is happening..” the banker murmurs, his voice trembling. After a few minutes tick by, he decides to shower and get the smell of blood and sweat off of him. He’d deal with the mess in the sink later.

After getting out of the shower, he felt much better. The nausea and headache had dissipated for the most part and he could walk, albeit slow. His panic had partially subsided, the shower had calmed him down.

Shuffling back into the bedroom, he manages to pull on his clothes from the day before, his favourite dark blue blouse with the silver embellishments on the neck, his black trousers and his thin, silken shawl. He sits on the edge of his bed, breathing slowly, regaining himself, familiarising himself with reality, the scent and texture of his clothes, the feeling of the blanket on the bed.

What he seems to not fully register, is that it was pitch dark, still very early in the morning, and that he could perfectly see without any hindrance.

He checks the pocket watch in his pocket, realisation hitting him. 01:58, just barely 2 AM.

He takes a look at his surroundings, then slowly makes his way to the window. Dawn was just barely creeping over the horizon. He could still see the stars.

“Ah.. jeez.” The banker mutters. How unfortunate that he didn’t pack any paper and pen with him, he would’ve penned a letter to Dottore hours ago. He’d have to buy both from the hotel lobby.. what a pain.

He goes back to the bathroom to start cleaning up the sink. While there, he think on whether to get a cane, since his movements are compromised for the unforseeable future.

He checks himself in the mirror, making sure his hair was decently styled and that no other markings were anywhere on his skin, specifically the face. Seeing nothing, he sets his spectacles on his nose before deciding to take a very very early morning walk.

The moment he stepped out on the paved streets of the city, the crow from the day before makes itself known, squawking and landing on the ground near Pantalone.

The banker carefully squats down, smiling. “Hello again.” He stretches out one arm, which the crow happily hops onto. Carefully, the banker stands up, wobbling very slightly.

“I’m sorry, crow. I’ve had the worst type of sleep today. I must be running a fever, I even coughed up blood.”

He felt silly, talking to a crow like this. Maybe he had developed a habit, having talked to Dottore about everything, now finding the crow to be an adequate replacement. Only this time, he found the crow much more agreeable.

“Ah well. Besides all that, I’m just getting fresh air.”

With that, Pantalone slowly walks through the city, breathing in the cool air of the city, the silence and the sloshing of water from the aquaducts running through the whole city being a calming sound to the banker’s ears.

“You know, a melusine recommended a flower shop. Maybe I’ll go there today.”

The walk ends after around two hours of milling about, with Pantalone returning to the hotel. The crow hops off his shoulder, squawking once.

“What?” Pantalone asks.

The crow, as if understanding him, chooses to ignore the question, flying up to the roof of the hotel. The banker sighs, making his way back up to his room, deciding to take a small nap and catch up on the sleep he missed.

It was around eight in the morning when Pantalone woke back up. He felt.. fine. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing out of place. Of course, anything could change, the tables could turn on him, but the banker learned to relish the moments of peace that he had, whenever he could.

Back into the city he went, getting himself a light breakfast consisting of a sandwich as he walked past shops. He had the entire day, until 6 pm, to himself. All he needed to go get were the flowers and the tea leaves.

About half an hour of walking had him end up at the tea shop from yesterday. This time, the door was unlocked and the shop was open, much to his relief. The bell poised above the doorframe tingles as the banker enters.

“Felicity, how wonderful it is to see you.” He greets warmly. The younger woman, Felicity, lights up upon hearing the banker’s voice.

“Pantalone, how great it is, truly!” Felicity hastily goes up to him. “How have you been?”

“Quite well, quite well. Listen, I’ve run out of tea, the rose tea you first recommended me. Could I have a few cans of it?”

“Of course, we just got a fresh shipment of it a few hours ago. How many cans do you need this time?”

“Ouff.. about.. three? Wait, no, make it four. It’s quite a good tea, my business partner prefers it over all others I keep, so.. four.”

“Alright! Just bear with me for a few moments.” Felicity began searching for the box of tea leaves that the banker asked for, already holding a few large tin cans. With a large spoon, she starts filling one can after the other.

While he waited, Pantalone looks around, before a certain smell catches his attention. It was an apple-like smell, which was quite good and calming.

“Is that apple I smell?”

“Oh, yes, it’s a new sort. Would you like a can?”

“Well since it’s a new sort, I simply must try it. I’ll take a can, yes.” The banker accepts.

About 20 more minutes pass, after which all the tea that he ordered was ready. He totaled five cans, for which he paid quite the sum of mora.

After saying their goodbyes, the banker leaves, the five cans in a bag slung over his shoulder.

It was around 5 pm when Pantalone was walking through the city for the last time. He had about 45 minutes until his ship back to Snezhnaya would sail, the ferry to the port would take twelve minutes.

He had around thirty minutes to himself, which he decided to spend on going to the flower shop and get a bouquet for Dottore. He didn’t know why he wanted to get a bouquet, but he wanted to nonetheless. He exits the shop with a small bouquet of lavenders and white chrysanthemums.

Fast forward thirty minutes and he was already at the port, waiting for the ship. He had all his belongings at his side, his suitcase and tea in the bag and the bouquet in his hand.

A familiar streak of feathery black whooshes past his head, only to turn 180° and land on his shoulder. The crow had found him yet again.

“You’re a smart crow.” The banker comments.

The crow squawks before lowering it’s head lightly, waiting for scritches, which Pantalone gives him, running a gloved hand over the crow’s head.

The ship docks around twenty minutes later.

“There’s the ship. Back to Snezhnaya, then, my friend.”

Chapter Text

The travel back to Snezhnaya went by quite quickly, the few hours spent on the sea passing within a blink. Pantalone’s ship docks at the harbor, the crow that accompanied him lifting off into the bleak afternoon sky.

With his suitcase, bag and bouquet in hand, he steps off the ship and onto the large stones that comprised the harbor. He went alone, no fatui guards accompanying him. He didn’t mind that he was alone, he rarely did.

Finally arriving at the grand Zapolarny Palace, he enters, shaking the loose snow from his hair. He carefully tries avoiding his horns as he feels for the last bits of snow, but can’t help shuddering as he accidentally brushes against them once or twice.

He walks up the many staircases that lead to the many floors of the Palace. Shortly after, he arrives at his office door. Pulling out the key from his glove, he tries the lock.

Unlocked. Why was the door unlocked?

Time seemed to slow down as the door slowly swung inward. Pantalone instantly hid from view, reaching for the gun he keeps on his person. It was a small, thin model, a gun that wouldn’t draw too much attention to itself if ever spotted.

 Slowly, Pantalone moves towards the door, his gun drawn. He steps into the office, the gun aimed at whoever was unlucky enough to stand right infront of the door.

That someone was Dottore, frozen in place, a small scalpel in his hand, raised in a defensive gesture.

Instantly, Pantalone lowers his gun, sighing loudly. The tension dissipated just as quickly. After a few seconds of silence, Pantalone speaks up.

“Did you.. have to keep the door unlocked.. doctor?” The banker asks loudly, irritated as he holsters his gun.

“My apologies banker. Iota wanted to read and you had the books.” Dottore replies calmly, hiding his scalpel. “It won’t happen again.”

That was a lie. Dottore lied straight through his teeth. He was here for the books, yes, but he mainly wanted to hide a gift for his business partner. He had managed that, having hidden it under the desk.

“That doesn’t concern me. You could’ve at least asked for a key to my office or told me beforehand! What if someone broke in and decided to steal my secrets?!”

“I do have a key. Wait, no. I picked the lock, actually. You should get a different lock, yours is too easy to crack.”

Pantalone sets his suitcase, bag and bouquet down on the hardwood floor, before making his way to the doctor.

Almost expecting a hit, Dottore tenses slightly. What he didn’t expect at all, was that Pantalone would hug him. It was a tight hug, a comforting hug.

“Give me at least three reasons not to deduct your funding for the coming five months, Zandik.” Pantalone mumbled into the doctor’s shoulder, the threat genuine.

“Well.. first, I’m handsome, secondly I kept your office clean and thirdly, you won’t get to see Iota if you do.” Dottore answers smugly, hugging the banker back. “Oh, and you missed me, if that counts.”

“Fine fine, you convinced me.” Pantalone lets go, yet Dottore still held him.

A sudden coughing fit overtakes Pantalone, which makes him take a few steps back. He felt woozy, goosebumps and tremors running up his spine, a cold sweat forming. He felt weak.

“Ah.. shi…-“ Pantalone manages to rasp before going down, his legs not obeying.

“Easy, easy..” Dottore says, holding the man steady as he lowers him down. “Stay with me, banker.” The doctor states, concern evident in his tone. He reaches up to examine Pantalone’s head and face.

As Zandik almost brushes against the banker’s horns, he finds his hands roughly pushed away. “Best.. not to touch. It hurts.” Pantalone rasps, his voice trembling as the pain really starts to flare up.

The banker grits his teeth, clawing at his chest, coughing and heaving for air.

“Fuck.” Dottore mutters. Without much thought, he lifts the banker up into his hold and quickly runs out of the office, down the hallway and into his lab.

“Don’t die on me, banker, don’t you dare die on me.” He murmurs, again and again.

He kicks the door open, setting Pantalone on the nearby operating table. The banker was still heaving for air, prompting Dottore to get an oxygen mask to ease the burden.

It helped quite a bit, Pantalone breathing in and out deeply. His breath was shaky, but it was immediately noticeable that the banker was doing better.

“Doctor..” The man rasps. “Doctor.. I’m terrified.. I don’t want to die.. I don’t want t-“

“You won’t die, not on my watch. You’ll live. I’ll fix you, don’t you worry.” Dottore calms him, holding the banker’s hand tightly.

“I pulled you from hell, I’m ready to do it again if necessary. You’ll live.” He continues as he inserts an IV into the banker’s arm, running some oxycodone.

“I’m.. sorry, doctor.. for all of-“ the man on the table starts.

“Don’t apologize to me, banker, don’t you dare.” Dottore snarls. “Don’t apologize for what is out of your control.”

“Al..alright.” Pantalone replies, a strain in his voice. His breathing had steadied, he was a bit more calm.

“Now, has this happened before?” Dottore asks, still holding the banker’s hand.

“..Yes.” The banker answers after a while. “A day ago, while I was in Fontaine. Same pains in the chest and head, I vomited.. blood and passed out, I.. think.”

“Ah. That’s.. bad.” Dottore remarks. “What kind of pains?”

“Like a.. burning, stabbing pain in my chest. Every time I moved, I felt like I was being dunked in acid.” The banker describes. Dottore was listening intently, mentally making note of everything.

“Where did it hurt?”

“My chest, head.. nowhere else..” A tense silence follows, the only sound being Pantalone’s shaky breaths in the oxygen mask. “I was terrified.” His voice breaks, the vulnerability flowing out in waves.

Dottore’s thumb brushes over the banker’s knuckles in an almost soothing gesture. Pantalone’s eyes stung as a few stray tears roll down his face, pooling onto the cold operating table.

“I thought.. I thought I was going to die, doctor.”

“Shh.. you’re safe with me, banker.” Dottore soothes him, tightening the hold on his hand. “You’re safe with me.” He repeats. “I’ll take a look at you. Do you want to be sedated? I don’t know whether it’ll be painful, which is why I’m offering it. You haven’t eaten much in the past few hours, right?”

“It’d be.. nice, yes. And no, I haven’t had much to eat today.”

Dottore nods, leaving the banker’s side to go get the sedative ready, Pantalone very slowly sits up.

“By the way.. I got you some flowers from Fontaine. They’ll wilt soon.”

Dottore turns around with the sedative in hand. “I see. I’ll set them in a vase, don’t worry your pretty head about that.” The doctor steadily lowers Pantalone back to lie down on the table before slowly pushing the sedative into the IV.

“You’ll feel sleepy. Just clear your head and count back from five..” Dottore explains calmly. A fair dose of sleepiness overtakes Pantalone, though it does not knock him out completely. He could still hear everything and talk, albeit slow. He felt numb around the edges.

The doctor gets to work fairly quickly, examining the banker’s chest and head, now having access without much hindrance. He finds out that he could surgically remove the horns, which could ease the banker’s burdens, yet couldn’t do much when it came to the marks on the skin.

He keeps Pantalone under the sedative for a while longer, monitoring his well-being every few minutes. He was glad that Iota wasn’t here, the kid would’ve probably bawled his eyes out at the state of Pantalone.

After around three hours of careful observation, Dottore stops adding the sedative to the IV, letting it slowly but surely start wearing off.

“And.. we’re done, ‘Lonnie.” Dottore states softly. “You probably won’t be able to move much for the next half hour. Listen, I can remove the horns, but can’t do anything about the marks.”

Pantalone merely blinks, on the cusp of falling back asleep. The doctor smiles, holding the hand of his business partner. “I’ll get you to a bed and more comfortable.”

Warm and cozy..

That was the feeling that Pantalone woke up to about two hours later. He found himself in a comfy, warm bed with many pillows and blankets. He felt spoiled, like he could curl up in the bed and sleep for another twenty years.

The doctor was sat on the edge of the bed, idly reading some charts on a clipboard. He looks up as he heard the banker stir, smiling and setting the clipboard aside.

“Awake, hm?”

“I could sleep for another sixty years or so..” The banker murmurs, reaching for the doctor’s hand, which Dottore gladly held out for the other to hold.

“I doubt you’ll remember what I said after I stopped the dosage. What I said was that I can remove your horns to alleviate your headaches.”

“Really?” The banker asks, almost incredulous.

“Yes, I can. It’ll take some time, but I can manage it.”

“Huh.. that would be nice, yes.” Pantalone ponders. “Though my schedule is really full.. I won’t be available for atleast two more weeks until my workload eases up.”

“I could do it after your workday.” Dottore offers.

“I’ll.. think. I just need some time to think.”

 “Of course. Take the time you need. You know my doors are always open to you.”

A few moments of silence ensue, with Dottore running his thumb over the banker’s knuckles. This was probably one of the first times where Pantalone wasn’t in gloves, which allowed Dottore to marvel at the man’s pale but pristine skin, without any imperfections or marks.

What a hand looked like wouldn’t interest that many people the way it interested Dottore. To the Harbinger, it meant a job well done, a job perfectly executed. He had made the vessel perfect.

“How was the travel to Fontaine?” He eventually asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Nothing much. I gave the commission to Chiori, I’ll hear from her soon. Oh, and I threw a man through a window. Besides that, I’ve bought some tea.”

Dottore listens intently, brushing aside the fact that his business partner casually drops such news.

“It must’ve felt satisfying, throwing a man through a boutique window.”

“Oh, it did.”

Pantalone was about to continue, but his words died in his mouth, his throat dry.

“Wait.. how?..-“

“The crows, ‘Lonnie. I keep crows, if you didn’t know.”

“Ah. I see. Well, one of them followed me, all the way to Fontaine and back.”

Dottore chuckles, smiling mischieviously. “I know.”

The banker sighs. “What did you do this time, doctor.”

“Nothing, nothing that you see as suspicious, banker.” Dottore mused. He was the one who sent the crow, yet he didn’t expect said crow to actually find the banker and follow him so stubbornly.

More silence follows. Silence, that stretches on for many minutes.

“You’re the one who sent me those letters.”

“Pardon?”

“In my office, in the lower left drawer of my desk. There are a bunch of letters. You wrote them, didn’t you?”

“I..”

Pantalone smiles, the gears turning in his head as he formed a way to tease the doctor. “Iota told me of some ‘admirer’. It took me some time to figure out, but now I know who that admirer is.”

Dottore was uncannily silent. No snarky remark or clever comeback. He was dead silent, as if dreading what the banker would say next.

“That admirer just so happens to be you. Am I correct?”

Dottore sighs. “..Yes.” He reluctantly answers, his secret given away.

Pantalone smiles slightly wider. He had won this small battle that Dottore didn’t even intend to fight.

“Come a bit closer, will you?”

Dottore obliges, shuffling closer. The banker pulls him into a tight embrace, as tight as he could hold him.

“I love you, doctor, I really do, but your handwriting is simply awful.”

“Can’t say anything different with the way you’re writing, ‘Lonnie.” Dottore quietly answers. He was quiet, relieved that his secret was out, but also anxious. What if his business partner was lying and was just winding him up to then abruptly let him go?

“I know what you’re thinking, doctor.” Pantalone starts, his voice calm. “You’re thinking that I’m lying or winding you up. I’m not, the feeling is genuine.”

“..Ah.” Dottore sounds out.

The banker smiles, tightening his hold. “I hate to say it like this, but you’re.. adorable, when you’re silent.”

Dottore tries saying something, but can’t find his words.

“It’s alright, don’t say anything. I’m just teasing you. Don’t take what I say to heart.”

“Tease me again and I’ll knock your teeth out.” He finally musters, but the threat is too soft, with no true intention behind it.

“Oh, of course you will.”

It took a few days of insisting that he was fine, but Pantalone was finally let back into his office, back to work. He still had his hidden horns, which caused spontaneous headaches, but he was fine for the most part. What still eluded him was the odd pains in his chest and why he threw up blood. He was paranoid, always tense.

Dottore theorized that the marks were engraving themselves in the banker’s physical body.

Occasionally, Dottore came by the office in the late evenings for tea and a chat, which always ended up with the pair discussing the future. Iota often tagged along those chats, but mostly sat on the sofa, quietly reading whatever book he wanted.

It was also not uncommon for the banker to fall asleep during the evening chat, the insane workload and bureaucracy draining him of energy, no matter how much coffee or tea he drank. Whenever the man fell asleep, the doctor didn’t mind that the banker leaned on him.

It gave him a sense of comfort, so to speak. The banker was dear and very important to him. He’d never admit to it, even under torture, but Dottore liked the banker. More than he thought he would ever like somebody.

He soon began to study the older archives of the Zapolarny Palace. Dottore knew that before him and many other Fatui Harbingers, the archives were created to establish a “rulebook” of sorts. It described what emergencies would need countermeasures, what would happen after a Harbinger dies, et cetera..

He knew that somewhere in the back was a document that had something to do with the relationships between Harbingers. He wanted to see if one possibility had to be ruled out or was permitted.

The banker did state his love for him, so no doubt would he accept.

He was planning to marry, maybe even have a small wedding, if the Tsaritsa permitted it.

“You’re planning something, doctor.” Sandrone comments as Dottore steps out of the archives one day.

“Don’t stick your nose in my business, puppet.” He replies, getting defensive. “What are you doing here anyways if not just to torment me?”

“Just wanted to check the index on morality and whatnot. I do have to keep up to code, unlike some of us.”

With that, Sandrone heads down the stairs to the archives.

Nothing of note occurs that same day. Dottore runs some routines, tinkers on a few clones and starts throwing together plans on his next big project. It was a pleasant routine for him. He enjoyed science with all it’s complexity and different aspects. To him, it was like a puzzle he tackled again and again.

In the evening, he went to Pantalone’s office, which was part of the routine. What he didn’t expect, however, was the sudden offer of the banker.

“Doctor, how about we get eloped?”

Chapter Text

“So, you and the doctor are getting eloped?”

“How have you figured us out so quickly, Knave?”

“Oh please, it was written all over the doctor’s face while you were gone.” Arlecchino drinks her tea. She and Pantalone had scheduled a meetup of sorts, just to chat. It was a rarity for them to interact outside of their field of work.

“I presumed that he’d be.. more subtle. What gave him away?” The banker asks, holding his cup.

“Well, he kept going in your office. I bribed a guard or two to tell me what he’s up to. Turns out, he’s not only cleaning your office, he also frequently looks at ledgers and whatnot.”

“..Huh.”

“Throughout all my years as a Harbinger, I’ve never witnessed a relationship as steadfast as yours. Only between a guard or two, but never Harbingers. If I may be as bold as to ask, how did it work? I’m curious.”

“Ah, well, Knave.. I’m not sure myself. It’s more like the doctor inserted himself in my life, I don’t know how else to describe it.”

“Well, if you’re planning to marry or hold a ceremony, invite me.” Arlecchino states bluntly before taking another sip, completely ignoring the fact that she just suggested to attend a hypothetical wedding.

“I..- I’ll.. I’ll check the archives first, I don’t really want to break any of the rules and be exiled.” Pantalone stumbles over his words, not used to such blunt suggestions.

“Valid point. Sandrone saw Dottore exit the archives quite a few times. Be quick if you want to be the first to move.”

“Knave, are you implying that I, of all people should make the first move and propose?” Pantalone mused, regaining his confident smile.

“Mayhaps I am. Perhaps I am just bored of watching you two dance around eachother without getting a move on it. Really, it’s just painful to watch.”

“Ah.” The banker breaks into a light laugh, which he stifles just as quickly. “Well, since you insist, I’ll see what I can do about it.”

“You better.”

A knock echoes on the door of the lavish sitting room that belonged to Arlecchino, after which Columbina, the Damselette, enters the sitting room.

“Arlecchino, and the banker!” She greets in a melodious voice. “What are you both chatting about?”

“Columbina, how lovely of you to drop in.. unannounced.” Arlecchino greets, her voice serious. She held etiquette in very high regard, even when it came to her fellow Harbingers.

“We were just discussing Regrator’s future plans.”

Pantalone tenses ever so lightly upon the mention of him, his hand holding the teacup tensing.

“What kind of plans?” Columbina inquired. Columbina was an.. odd card in the deck. She’s quite nice if you get to know her, but it was clear that she was a force to be reckoned with.

“Oh, just..-“ the banker starts, getting cut off by Arlecchino. “Regrator just so happens to be getting eloped to one of our fellow Harbingers.”

Pantalone throws Arlecchino a stern look for a few seconds. He’s met with a serious expression by Arlecchino.

“Ouhh! How lovely! Haven’t seen that for quite a few years, congratulations, Pantalone!” Columbina exclaims. “Who’s the lucky Harbinger?”

“I..-“ Pantalone starts anew, getting cut off by Arlecchino again.

“To our insane doctor, of all people.”

“Oh, Il Dottore? Finally, took him some time to find someone.. Though I didn’t expect that someone to be our lovely banker.” Columbina replies. “Will you have a wedding? I want to be there!”

“I.. We’re..-“ Pantalone attempts to explain himself, giving up as he sighs. “Arlecchino I am bound to deduct your funding for your loose tongue.” He mutters. “We’re still.. thinking, really. I don’t know, he doesn’t know.. It’s all a bloody mess of paperwork and money.”

“You could take the doctor out to the nearby town. I’m sure he won’t mind being dragged around by you.” Arlecchino offers. “The children of the House of Hearth could help pick out a town.”

“Or you could go out and buy rings! That’s always fun!” Columbina recommends. “I heard Sumeru has some pretty jewellery!”

“Sumeru.. isn’t that the nation where he hails from?” Pantalone asks. “He barely looks in my direction when we talk about Sumeru, I can’t tell whether it’s disinterest or just… guilt?”

“Dottore does hail from Sumeru, yes. He got kicked out from the Academia a few decades back.” The Knave confirms

“..Ah. I don’t believe that it’ll be a good idea to head to Sumeru, then.” Pantalone states.

“Ouhh, maybe Fontaine! Haven’t you been there as of recent?” Columbina chirps.

“That was around a month ago, Columbina. It’s nice, yes, but..” He sighs. “I just don’t know..” He runs a hand through his hair, a pang of frustration hitting him.

“Listen, banker. Listen carefully.” Arlecchino suddenly voices her opinion. “You get married to someone you truly love only once. Don’t break your head over this, don’t overthink every single minute detail and expense. Just let go and let the currents of time move around you. You’ve got plenty of it, so there is no rush. I’d say follow your heart and do what you really want to do.”

Dottore was pacing back and forth in his lab, deep in thought.

How does one propose to a man who has it all, all the riches and glory one could have? Does the banker even want to marry at this point? Would they want a ceremony, who would they invite?

Dottore paces back and forth, one step after another. He knew everything about Pantalone. He had dedicated an entire notebook to him, filled with notes, sketches, bits of fabric and whatnot.

He was in love, but it bordered on an obsession. An obsession that gnawed at him and threatened to sink it’s teeth into him if he wasn’t careful enough to hide it.

He decides to take a look into the notebook to ease his mind a little.

Flipping through the pages filled with medical history, illnesses, sketches and many other notes, he finds the page where he kept note of Pantalone’s jewellery and his preferences.

He had pinpointed a few key gemstones that Pantalone wore quite often, those being sapphires and amethysts. The page had other notes, when he made earlier assumptions in the banker’s tastes, but those notes had been violently scratched out long ago, the paper ripping in a few spots.

The doctor frown. He knew all that information by heart already. He was wasting time trying to look at the notebook’s contents. He tosses it on the desk before starting to pace again.

He spends hours like that, pacing around in utter silence while his clone segments performed whatever experiments he had planned beforehand.

One step after another.

The doctor keeps pacing.

Columbina, Alrecchnio and Pantalone end the meetup on a high note, Pantalone having gotten immense help from the other two Harbingers.

“I thank you both. You’ve been a great help.” Pantalone thanks the two.

“Don’t mention it, banker.”

“Yes! If you ever need any more help or advice, just seek us out.” Columbina agrees, her cheerful nature both comforting and unsettling.

With that, Pantalone exits the sitting room, feeling much more relieved than before, his confidence back up. He heads back to his office to get some paperwork done.

A few hours pass with Pantalone working through the mountains of documents and ledgers on his desk. While working, his mind constantly skips between the documents laid out before him and the letters that he had attempted to decipher so many months ago.

After the thoughts gnaw at him long enough, he opens the left drawer of his desk, deciding to have another attempt at reading Dottore’s letters, just to pass the time. He expects to find the heaps of letters to be there with the topmost being opened. What meets his eyes instead is a small, wrapped gift sitting atop the letters.

“..Huh.”  Pantalone reaches for the gift, carefully unwrapping and folding the paper that was around the giftbox. After unwrapping, he almost beams at the contents. It was a thin box that contained fountain pens. The expensive ones, even, not the cheap ones that you could buy at any store for a few coins.

The set consisted of two Van Dieman’s ink bottles and five fountain pens. Each pen looked completely different from the next, but they were all extremely beautiful and detailed, with silvery engravings along the handles, mostly consisting of flowers.

Pantalone half expected a letter alongside the gift, but found it to be just the set of fountain pens. He was extremely grateful nonetheless.

That gift made Pantalone spiral into deep thought.

He hadn’t gifted Dottore anything besides those rings.

Maybe he should gift Dottore something, but what would that something be? He didn’t know the doctor well enough to know his preferences, hell, what is his favourite colour?!

The banker sighs, the gears in his head turning anew as he descends into his mind palace, wreaking havoc as he searches for a tidbit of information on Dottore. He simply had to have kept something in his brain that had a link to the doctor, even if it was just a memory of a conversation he held with him months ago.

While he wreaked havoc in his brain, turning over every single document he had stored in his mind palace, his body zoned out, his eyes unfocused as he sits in his silent office, unmoving.

That’s how Iota finds him. The child entered the office, a book in his hands. He wanted the banker to read to him.

“Pops..? Pantalone?” Iota shakes Pantalone gently, unable to rouse the man from his mind palace. The child didn’t understand what was going on. He shakes him a bit harder, which still doesn’t help. After a few minutes, Iota runs out of the office to go get Dottore. If Iota couldn’t do anything, surely Prime could.

Ten minutes later, Dottore was in the office, slowly shaking Pantalone’s shoulder.

“Teyvat to Pantalone, are you with us?” He asks, surpressing a chuckle.

“..Hm?” Pantalone sounds out, slowly exiting his mind palace.

“Good, you’re with us. Iota was getting worried your soul had left the vessel. He’s in the lab, he won’t bother much.”

“I was.. just thinking.” Pantalone answers. “What time is it?”

“Half past three.” The doctor replies. “You’re supposed to be on break right now.”

“Am I not already?” The banker muses. “As I said, I was thinking, not working.”

“No, banker, you’re not on break. You’re still sitting at your desk, surrounded by paperwork.” Dottore counters, reaching for the chair as he pulls it back, away from the desk.

“You are going to take a break from sitting at the desk by taking a stroll with me through the neighbouring town.” Dottore insists, not giving the banker a chance to form his own opinion on the matter.

“Oh really? And how do you plan on fitting a stroll through the town into a 30-minute timeframe? The town is about.. 20 minutes away from us, if my memory serves me correct.”

Dottore freezes. He hadn’t calculated that part of his plan. He had planned out the route, which streets they’d see, what places they’d visit, yet he forgot such a stupidly simple detail. How foolish of him, how utterly stupid.

“Ah. It seems like we’ll have to save it for another time, then.” He answers, a tinge of disappointment in the man’s voice.

“We can still go, if you’d like, doctor. I believe I can stretch my break to about an hour total before I really need to get back to work.”

“No, no.. your work is more important than a stroll.” Dottore declines abruptly. He took two steps back, distancing himself before turning and walking towards the doors leading out of the office. He was upset.

“Zandik, you don’t get to walk away like that.” Pantalone suddenly declares, standing up. “You’ll stay right here and tell me why you’re upset.”

“I think I will not, banker.” The doctor replies. He hadn’t exited the office just yet, standing at the door, his back turned towards Pantalone.

“Why not?”

“It’s not worth it. It’s just something I didn’t account for.”

“Surely your state of mind is important enough to discuss.”

“I’m not telling you anything, banker.” Dottore replies, his voice firm.

Pantalone slowly grows concerned. “Why are you upset? Please, talk to me.”

Dottore stays silent.

Pantalone sighs, crossing his arms. “I really hate doing this.. Do I have to deduct some of your funding for this month to make you talk, Zandik?”

“It’s best you don’t.”

“I thought so. Come back here.” The banker orders, to which the doctor obliges, stepping close to the desk.

“Listen, doctor, I love you. That hasn’t changed in the past few days.” Pantalone starts, his voice low and soft. He knew it’s best to stay calm and talk the visibly agitated doctor down from causing havoc. “However, we’ve got to be transparent with eachother. I don’t want you to be upset over things if they simply didn’t work out in your favour.”

“I..-“

“I’m not finished. Promise me that you’ll be honest with me.. please.”

Dottore swallows. “I’ll try to-“

“Promise me.”

“I.. promise.” The man swears. His voice was low, as he wasn’t quite happy with the situation and with himself, but he attempts to hide his discontentment.

“Thank you. You’re free to go, if you wish.”

With that, Dottore heads towards the door.

“Thank you for the present, by the way.” Pantalone softly calls out after him, only receiving a nod as a confirmation that the other man had heard him.

The door closes silently as the banker is, once more, left alone in his office.

Sandrone opens the door to Dottore’s lab, finding it mostly neat and tidy, yet a few items thrown about, glass shards on the tiled floor.

“Now what has crawled up in here and died?” Sandrone asks, annoyed. “You’re being loud, it’s messing up my calibrations.”

“Get out, you imbecilic puppet.” Dottore snarls. He stood near the operating table, messing about with beakers.

“Wow. How cold of you.” Sandrone comments in a monotone, sarcastic voice, completely unfazed. “Bold language from a pathetic doctor who can’t properly handle love.”

“What do you know of it?” Dottore asks, irritated. He hadn’t stopped messing with the beakers’ contents, he hadn’t stopped not paying Sandrone any attention.

“All I know is that you and Regrator had a small scuffle and now you’re sulking. It’s pathetic.” She answers. “Make amends with him.”

“How should I make amends? He’s upset.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Dottore.” Sandrone enters the lab, shutting the door behind her. “If Arlecchino and Columbina helped out Regrator, then I’ll hand you some of my far superior advice.”

“I don’t want your advice.” Dottore grumbles.

“You’ll get it anyways.” Sandrone continues. “Go to Sumeru and buy the man some jewellery, take him with you. He’ll see that as an attempt to make amends and you guys are even.”

“I hate Sumeru, you know that. Besides, the banker has rings and necklaces for days, what would he need more jewellery for?”

“I don’t care that you hate Sumeru. If the banker stomached going to Liyue, you can do the same with Sumeru. Get him something else then, jeez. Just amend your frankly idiotic stalemate and go kiss already. Marry him for all I care, just don’t invite me.”

“Seriously?..” Dottore groans, frustrated. Sandrone smiles faintly, finding satisfaction in the doctor’s annoyance. It was her talent to get under peoples’ skin.

“Yes, seriously. Now go and offer him a trip.” Sandrone waves about a hand in a dismissive gesture before leaving.

Dottore sets his beakers down, cursing loudly once Sandrone was gone. He was frustrated.

He was frustrated about how he had upset Pantalone and made him worry, but most of all how easily Sandrone had gotten under his skin.

After a lot of thinking, a lot of pacing and a few smashed beakers, Dottore made up his mind.

No, he wouldn’t go to Sumeru. He won’t be facing his biggest guilt and academic strain. He’ll stay right here, within Snezhnaya, with his banker. He’ll make amends with the banker, sure, but he won’t be travelling far just to make said amends.

He’ll do it in the evening when he’d meet up with Pantalone, as he always did.

Chapter Text

Violin music.

One note flows into the other, a perfect harmony and a perfect melody.

The banker plays the violin in his office, standing behind his desk, facing the large window behind said desk as he played. It wasn’t anything particularily complicated, he just played while he thought.

He didn’t feel like spooking out Dottore or Iota by diving into his mind palace in complete silence, so playing the violin was the next best thing that came to mind.

He sways to the music, his eyes closed as he let the music he’s making fade into muffled static. He delves back into his mind palace, deeper this time.

He was still searching for a tidbit of information that he had on the doctor, any conversation, letter, note or similar that might tell him of the man’s interests and what he liked.

He found nothing. Not a conversation, not a mental note, nothing.

“How annoying..” Pantalone mutters in his mind, deciding to delve even deeper.

His mind palace was a maze-like manor, a library if you looked closer.

The shelves were neat, they were tidy and made of his favourite pine wood.

Each shelf was clearly categorized. You had shelves labelled with ‘investments’, with ‘allergies’ and with ‘friends’, with ‘conversations’ and ‘plans’ - That was the surface, the tidiest part of his mind palace.

If you were to delve deeper, the cracks start to show. The maze gets more interwoven, hallways merge into eachother, like a chaotic grid. The shelves start to fragment as the previous order that Pantalone held in such a chokehold starts to unravel into a sea of bookshelves.

It seemed that due to Pantalone never walking so deep into his mind palace, since he had never checked that area, it was a mess. A mess of unlabelled bookshelves and files all scattered about with no clear order in sight. The banker perseveres, continuing to search through the grid of bookshelves. Maybe he should consider cleaning up.

Nothing from his inner conflict was shown on the outside, Pantalone zoning out as he idly played the instrument. He didn’t register that a specific teal-haired individual has entered his office, being quiet in order not to disturb him.

Dottore sits onto the couch, quietly listening to the almost nonsensical but equally beautiful music that the banker played. Nonsensical in terms of not having a clear tone. The melody wasn’t consistent, neither in minor or major. It was.. odd.

The banker was still deep in his mind palace, searching every book, ledger and bit of paper he could for any information on the doctor. He read past the conversation he held with Arlecchino and Columbina about Dottore, then past the dispute he had with him hours earlier.

“Stupid.. useless..” he murmurs, unaware about the looming danger that was right above his head. A bookshelf was quite unsteady, teetering back and forth before ultimately falling over, crashing down.

The banker was ripped right from his mind palace, abruptly stopping his music. Silence follows.

A very long silence.

Pantalone turns around, only now registering that Dottore was in his office.

“..Ah. Good evening, doctor.” Pantalone greets him, his voice flat yet still attempting a warm and welcoming tone.

“Good evening.” Dottore greets back. “I wanted to apologize.”

“What for?” The banker asks, setting his violin and the violin bow aside.

“I was being an ass earlier.”

“No, you weren’t in the slightest. You were upset, that is all.”

“And yet I behaved like trash.”

“That isn’t correct, doctor, you know that.”

“Well, whatever the matter, I still feel guilty and want to make up for it.” Dottore rapidly blurts out his answer.

“You can make amends by just listening to me play. That is sufficient enough.” Pantalone offers. “I have a place I need to clean up, it might take me an hour or two, depends on how mentally capable I am.”

“..Eh?” Dottore sounds out. “Elaborate.”

“Remember that time when you had to rouse me from a long train of thought? I was in my mind palace, I tried to clean up there but never really got to the root of the mess.”

“..Ah. I never knew you had one. Must be terribly convenient.” Dottore smiles faintly.

“It is, but it gets chaotic if I don’t clean out useless junk every now and then.” Pantalone had already picked up the violin again.

“Just.. stay. Please.” He says before starting to play. Music fills the glamorous office, bouncing off the walls and towards the closed door. This time, the melody was a familiar tune, ‘The Lark Ascending’ by Vaughan Williams.

Dottore leans back on the sofa, relaxing as he indulged, listening to the familiar, joyful piece. He knew that Pantalone, being a man who surrounded himself in glamour and old-fashioned tastes, had a knack for knowing operas and music pieces composed by great artists. What he didn’t know was that Pantalone could play the violin, neither that he could play very well.

The doctor makes a mental note to write about this into his notebook.

As Pantalone kept playing, he dives back into his mind palace, rushing past the orderly surface and down into the depth, the maze-like grid. He finds the area where he got ripped out, his train of thought ended by one of the many heavy bookcases crashing down. He eyes the crushed version of him under the bookcase, dark blood flowing and soaking into the carpet.

He had to move on and start cleaning before this version of himself met the same fate. The banker looks around, picking a bookcase to start with. He decides to pick the leftmost shelves, going over to them and methodically flipping through the ledgers and books of his memories.

Some of them were just pages upon pages of ineligible scrawls, which he instantly decides to toss aside, the books blazing up, catching on fire and then becoming little more than ash within seconds.

Pantalone continues sorting through the bookcase, cleaning it up and categorizing the books into the surface of his mind palace. One book after the other, one ledger after the next, he sorts through the mess.

Within what felt like an hour, the banker had managed to swiftly sort through three large bookcases, getting rid of the scribbled books and making space for the useful things.

Finally, he dusts his hands, deciding that that was enough for today. He makes his way back to the surface levels of the maze-like library, before finally coming back to reality.

Pantalone finishes playing the music piece before stopping. Turning around, he smiles at the doctor who was calmly sitting on the couch near the desk.

“You play remarkably well, banker.” Dottore states, his voice warm and content. He was calm, feeling much better when near the other man and it showed.

“Why thank you.” Pantalone mused, though a slight exhaustion rang in his voice. He hid it well, well enough that Dottore didn’t catch it. “I’ve been practicing.”

“Since when? Why haven’t I heard you play?”

“Oh, it was many years ago.”

“..Ah.” Dottore sounds out. “It must’ve skipped me, maybe you played too quietly.”

“I assure you, I didn’t play too quietly.”

“Nevermind that.” Dottore replies, standing up and going up to Pantalone, hugging him close as the banker moves his arms holding the violin and the violin bow to his sides.

“I’m sorry, truly.”

“No need to apologise, you’ve already made amends.” Pantalone calmly responds. “By the way, doctor, what is your favourite item?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never gifted you anything proper, which is something I am trying to fix.”

“I consider you as the greatest gift I could ever get.” Dottore replies. For once, he was smiling, a genuine and warm smile. He truly felt at ease saying this.

“No, really. I want to gift you something.”

Dottore goes quiet. He thinks for a few moments. “Well.. I have all the books and all the knowledge I could ever want. I can’t wish for much else, really.”

“Surely there’s something you really want, whether it’s materialistic or not?”

“I just want you to be content, really.” He answers.

“My my, how sweet of you.” The banker muses. “Why, I already am content. Try again, what is it that you’d like?”

Dottore’s smile is wiped off his face as he ponders again.

“What an excellent question.” He deflects.

“Come on, I want atleast one proper answer, doctor. I want to go to sleep tonight knowing atleast one fact about you. Your favourite colour, what food you like, anything.” The banker insists. He doesn’t notice how the doctor’s hand was quite low on his waist, holding tightly.

”Well, I like the colour red.“ Dottore finally responds. ”..And purple.“

“That’s a start.“ Pantalone answers warmly. “What else?”

“I like you.” Dottore admits. He felt childish, getting asked for his favourite things and people like that.

The banker smiles. It was soft, welcoming, genuine. The man places the violin aside, before hooking his arms over the doctor’s shoulders. Dottore was effectively holding Pantalone, not that he really minds.

“Chiori’s work arrived, your suit is ready, the one you ordered quite some time ago.”

“Really? Is it good?” Dottore asks.

“Yes, it’s exactly tailored to your stature and everything. It’s quite nice. It should be in your lab, on your desk.”

“Thank you.” Dottore answers. The banker decides to be a bit bold.

“Might I.. take off your mask? You’ve never shown me your face. I mean-.. If it’s alright with you.”

“I.. don’t mind.” Dottore replies, a slight tinge of hesitation in his voice. His hands steady as Pantalone frees one gloved hand, slowly reaching towards the doctor’s mask.

“Are you sure you don’t mind, doctor? You seem tense.”

“I’m fine, yes.”

“Alright.” Pantalone gently takes hold of the beak-like mask covering the doctor’s eyes before unhooking it and removing it.

What he’s met with is quite a sight.

Dottore’s face was quite pale, many scars running over the otherwise flawless skin. Harsh, ruby-red eyes look back at him, dark rings around them. Dottore looked chronically tired, though that was to be expected of the man. He was quite pretty, once you look past the scars and other blemishes.

“You’ve got nice eyes, Zandik.” Pantalone compliments, a smile on his face.

“Don’t try to lie to make me feel better. I know I look horrendous.”

“You don’t, not in the slightest. I really like your eyes. Besides, I’d rather forever curse myself than lie to you.”

“I’ve done things. Terrible things, darling. I don’t understand how you can look me in the face the way you do now.”

“What you’ve done in the past is of no appeal to me, Zandik. What you’ve done doesn’t change my perception. In fact, you’ve been nothing but nice to me. I am truly grateful for that.”

Dottore was silent. He looks away briefly.

“Zandik, look at me please.” Pantalone requests softly, to which the doctor complies.

“I love you. I love you for bringing me back, for being at my side, for.. well, everything. I love you very much.” The banker states slowly, sensually.

“I..-“ Dottore attempts answering, unable to respond to such raw emotion. He couldn’t comprehend how he, a heretic, a mentally unstable mess of a man, could be loved. He didn’t understand what the banker saw in him that was worth loving. He decides to hold the banker tighter.

Pantalone smiles, though a small note of hesitation was evident. He was aware that the doctor wasn’t quite convinced, that the man was nervous.

“You can take your mask back, Zandik. I’m.. sorry.” Pantalone holds out the doctor’s mask in his gloved hand. The doctor refuses, not taking it.

“No need to apologize, it’s fine.” Dottore answers. “I.. want you to.. see my face. Without the mask.”

It was visible that Dottore was struggling with his words, hesitation and nervousness evident.

“Well.. I quite like your face.” The banker answers warmly, softening his tone as much as he could. “You don’t have to keep the mask off just for my sake, doctor.”

“I want to, though.”

“..Alright.” Pantalone’s gloved hands slowly move to cup Dottore’s face. The banker smiles warmly, genuinely feeling honoured to see the other’s face. “Do I get to compliment such a handsome face as yours?” He muses.

“Be my guest. Though it won’t make me feel better.”

“Then what will?” The banker tilts his head lightly.

“A kiss.” The doctor replies, smirking faintly. He had regained his cocky and confident self.

“How greedy of you.” The banker answers. He tilts Dottore’s head down before pressing his lips against the other’s in a brief kiss, pulling away after a few seconds.

The banker blinks for a few seconds, regaining himself before smiling once more.

“Better?” He asks.

“I..-“ The doctor breaks into a short, almost confused laugh. “I..I didn’t expect you’d actually.. do.. that.”

“Well, you asked rather nicely, so I thought I’d oblige.” Pantalone answers, a hint of sarcasm in his reply. He kisses the doctor again, but for a few seconds longer.

“Now, about us getting eloped. I was thinking we’d just keep it simple and easy. I can schedule an audience with the Tsaritsa and ask of her.. opinion. From that point, we’ll see how we’ll do it.”

“I hold no objections, banker.” Dottore answers. “If we do get a green light, how about a small tradition? I know some traditions in Sumeru that mark annual events.”

“Oh, how wonderful. There.. aren’t any guests involved, are there?”

“Are you against it?”

“No, I.. I’m not strictly against it, I just..” Pantalone sighs. “I just don’t know. Arlecchino and Columbina already requested an invite and.. well, it’s just a wild, unplanned mess.”

The banker slips into a mild agitation. He loved the other man, truly, but planning events, with or without his involvement as a guest or host, were always a headache for him.

The funds he’d have to allocate, who would potentially be invited, what venue would be selected..

“You’re agitated.” The doctor states, pulling the banker closer and into a tight hug. “Relax, let me help you out. I can plan some things and have a list written first thing tomorrow, I can schedule an audience with the Tsaritsa tomorrow and propose said list.”

“But..-“

“I assure you, you’ll have enough time to review it, though I doubt you’ll find much to amend. I’m very good at convincing people, even the Tsaritsa.”

“Even the Tsaritsa..” Pantalone ponders. “Either you’re a magician who has honed his skill for generations or you’re just lying to me.”

“Lying? Are you stooping so low as to accuse me of such? Why, I’m just a natural at conversing.”

“Conversing as in hiding from others in your lab for weeks on end..” The banker mumbles under his breath, which the doctor didn’t catch.

“Why not let me try? You know my works as a skilled merchant.” Pantalone offers.

“Fine, fine, you convinced me.” Dottore answers, smiling. “I’ll send that proposal first thing tomorrow.”

He hugs his banker tightly one last time before donning his mask anew and heading out of the office, his mind scheming, the gears turning.

He had many things to plan, to write down and to buy.

It was going to be quite a busy week.

Chapter Text

The tall, frosty and imposing double doors that lead to the icy throne room of the Tsaritsa stand proudly in front of Pantalone, the thick wood separating the feeble banker from the colossal might and icy, unloving death that the Tsaritsa, Snezhnaya’s Archon, was.

Pantalone tugs at his thick Fatui coat, making sure that everything was in order. Despite his wealth, he couldn’t afford to do a mistake or speak out of line. Muttering his phrases, he steels his nerves and opens the doors, stepping inside.

He’s met with a grand, blue-ish and silver throne hall, the chill and deafening silence unnerving him. The banker knew that all cards and all aces would be forcibly laid out from his deck. One wrong word and all his plans and schemes would be laid bare.

He bites his tongue, stepping near the throne and bowing.

“Regrator, dear banker. To what occasion do you seek an audience with me?” Came a frosty, monotone voice. Pantalone dares not to look her in the eyes as he stands back straight.

“I’ve come to seek your approval, ваше Высочество*.” He addresses her formally.

“Speak your mind.”

“I seek your approval in my marriage with the doctor, Il Dottore. It’d be of great honour to have our marriage blessed by you.” Pantalone requests, keeping his sentences short and devoid of emotion. He had planned what he’d say beforehand.

“I didn’t expect you to find love, Regrator. Unexpected, yet welcome.” Came as an answer from atop the iron throne. “You shall have my blessing.”

“Thank you, ваше Высочество.” Pantalone thanks the Tsaritsa by bowing once more.

“I plan to have a small celebration held in my office the next week. No expenses, no guests. I don’t exactly wish the relationship to be public or known by the other Harbingers, neither does Il Dottore.” The banker continues.

“Then it shall happen as such. I wish you the best for the future, Regrator. Dismissed.”

“Thank you.”

With that, Pantalone bows a final time before turning around and leaving. He was tense, unnerved even as he left. He disliked being this unnerved. It felt like she had seen right through him, had seen all of his being. Pantalone physically felt like he had been read like an open ledger.

The large double doors close behind him as he finally left the icy confines of the throne room. He exhales shakily, glad that the talk was over, glad that he got his way.

As Pantalone opens the door to his office, he’s met with quite a sight. Arlecchino and Columbina were with Dottore, sitting on the banker’s sofa, chatting away. A tea tray stood on the low coffee table between them.

“Banker! Hello!~” Columbina greets first.

“Regrator, good day.” Arlecchino follows up, politely waving, a hint of a smile on her face.

“How’d it go?” Dottore asks, standing up and embracing Pantalone.

“It went well, though remind me to never offer to talk to the Tsaritsa in your stead.” The banker answers, warmth in his voice.

“So..?” The doctor asks, holding his breath in anticipation. A grin was on his face.

“She said yes!” Pantalone exclaims. Within seconds, Dottore lifted the banker off his feet, twirling and spinning him around, whooping with joy and laughing. It was the first time that Dottore showed joy infront of other Harbingers, genuine, pure joy without it being a visage for ulterior motives or schemes.

A few days had passed since the couple had gotten married. The small celebration in the office was lovely, with Arlecchino and Columbina being the only guests present.

The celebration was filled with wine, cake and plenty of music provided by Pantalone and his skill at playing the violin, accompanied by Columbina’s singing.

It was a joyful occasion, ending on a high note with the Harbingers splitting, each going back to their quarters of the Palace.

Pantalone, his head buzzing lightly from the sting of the alcohol, starts to clean his office, putting away the dishes and clearing the coffee table.

After around an hour, Dottore knocks on the office door, entering a few seconds after and going up to Pantalone, hugging the man tightly.

“Well, we’re married now. It’s official.”

The banker smiles. “It’s official indeed.”

“I have a gift for you.” Dottore takes a small step back, reaching into his pocket. In his gloved hand was a small box, the cover made from velvet. It looked exactly - no, it was a ring box.

Dottore opens the box, revealing just that. It was a silver ring, decorated with very fine and detailed engravings and patterns. Amongst the patterns were small, purple gemstones, a larger one sitting in the middle of the band. The gems sparkled brilliantly when held against the light.

“It’s amethyst, I got it from Sumeru a while back.”

“How pretty..” Pantalone quietly reacts, completely in awe. “How much did it cost?”

“Not too much, don’t worry about paying me back, I don’t want compensation. I just thought to get you a ring in order to commemorate our bond.”

The banker smiles brightly. "How truly considerate of you, doctor.“

"It’s not one of the traditions that hail from Sumeru. I just thought of you when I saw it.“

"Really? You have a good eye, amethyst is my favourite.“

"I’ll remember that for next time, then.“ Dottore replies. He didn’t have to remember that, he already knew that Pantalone liked amethyst in his jewellery. He had it noted down, after all.

"I’ve already cleaned up my office, but would you like some tea? I can brew a strong one to combat the alcohol from the wine. It was a strong bottle, after all.“

"Why ever not. I don’t mind tea, if it’s from you.“ The doctor answers. „Do you need any help with it?“

"No no, just go and sit.“

Dottore obliges, sitting down on the sofa and waiting patiently. A while later and the banker returns with a tea tray in his hands. „Tea, as requested.“

Dottore smiles, taking the cup from the tray and taking a sip of the bitter beverage.

"You know, I think I remember what rings of hell I pulled your soul out from.“

"Oh?“

"Yeah. At first, I thought it was solely greed, but then your soul turned out to be fragmented to two different rings. Both greed and what turns out to be lust.“

"Lust?.. How.. odd.“ Pantalone comments, subconsciously gripping his cup a bit tighter.

"My question is, what is it that you lust for? I know that lust isn’t bound to just physical things and I know that you’re not exactly one to fool around.“

An awkward silence follows. The doctor mentally kicks himself for asking that question, that stupid, personal, frankly idiotic question.

"You don’t have to..-„ Dottore quickly starts, before getting interrupted.

“Relationships.” Pantalone interrupts, responding with an almost melancholic tone. “Personal relationship. Ones where the other isn’t just after my money or my body. I don’t like it when I am bound solely by contract or a slip of paper with signatures.“

“..Ah.“ The doctor reacts. “I’m.. sorry for asking.“

“No no, don’t be sorry, you were simply curious. We can end the relationship if you don’t want to be with me anymore, I hold no mali-“

“Don’t say that.“ The other man interjects with a stern tone. “You’re right, I was simply curious. It does not, however, mean that I despise you. I still see you as the best gift I could’ve ever gotten in my rather long existence. I value you above all else.“

Pantalone sighs softly, relaxing his hold on the cup of tea. “I’m sorry, truly. I didn’t mean to be so negative.“

“You weren’t in the slightest. It’s fine.“

Another tense minute follows, the couple sipping their tea.

“How about we talk about a nicer topic?“

It was yet another meeting in one of the many meeting rooms of the Zapolarny Palace. Not many Harbingers were present, with Pierro, Pulchinella, Sandrone and Pantalone remaining.

Dottore had gone to Mondstadt for researching the many leyline anomalies, Arlecchino was in Nod Krai for a field mission and Capitano was in Natlan. Childe was in Liyue for a business trip and Columbina was somewhere in Inazuma.

“No plans any time soon, I presume?“ Pulcinella asks. “It’s mainly us old ones here, after all.“

“I’m not old, elf.“ Sandrone comments crudely, rejecting her title of ‘being old’.

“Nevertheless…” Pulcinella continues, “Since it’s just us, what are we gathered here for, Pierro?“

“Orders from the Tsaritsa. She wishes for one of you to go on a diplomatic trip to Fontaine for a month. Mainly banking issues, which I know both you, Regrator and Rooster, are qualified for. However, machinery is also a fundamental part, which Marionette is the expert for. You three get to decide who goes.“

Both Sandrone and Pantalone sigh. They were almost polar opposites, both in expertise and in personality.

“I’m not going to Fontaine, simple as that! Especially not with diplomacy involved, I can’t stand the disgrace that the Fontainian people call machinery.“ Sandrone exclaims.

“I’d go, but I am not proficient in engineering.“ Pantalone offers. “I’d probably need some help and it seems that Sandrone won’t be willing to help much.“

“I don’t help out bankers that only have their eyes on money.“ Sandrone confirms.

“I’ve not gone in some time. I’m sure I can figure out the machinery. If needed, I’ll keep in contact.“ Pulcinella raises his hand. “My skills in commerce aren’t the finest, but I am sure that Regrator will gladly lend a hand.“

“I’ll gladly lend a hand, yes.“ Pantalone agrees, nodding. “Just make sure to write as much as possible, I‘ll need all the details.“

“Gladly.“

Pierro nods. “Then it is decided, Pulcinella will embark to Fontaine and keep in touch with Regrator.“

“Any other matters?“ Pantalone asks.

“None that are of grave importance. You may all return to your work.“

The Palace was unusually quiet with the lack of Harbingers mingling around. Pantalone didn’t mind the silence. On the contrary, he could play some music from his gramophone without much disturbance between meetings, as the only offices close by his were Dottore’s and Capitano’s and they both were outside of the nation.

It was a Wednesday when a scheduled consultation appointment with a two merchants took place. Pantalone turned off the gramophone as a knock echoed on his door.

“Come in, gentlemen.“ He calls out. After a few seconds, the door swings open and the two bankers enter. Right from the first glance, Pantalone could roughly predict how the meeting would end.

Nevertheless, he keeps his mouth shut and puts on his signature smile, hiding his thoughts.

„Take a seat, let’s see what we have to work with.“

“Regrator, we’ve heard quite a lot of you. Your fame precedes you..“ One of the financiers states, rather confident in his abilities to sway the banker.

“I’ll be the judge of that.“ Pantalone replies smoothly, sitting up straight. “You are a new business, only having started around a year ago, correct?“

“That’d be correct, yes.“ The other merchant confirms. He was a rather thin and spindly man, dressed in a kimono. 

“Next.. How has business been? You know that you should keep files on that.“

“It’s been well, we’ve brought the files on recent sales with us.“ The Sumerian financier states, pulling out a beige file and setting it on the desk. The banker takes it, flipping through it for a few seconds.

“I’m honestly impressed that you’ve been able to hold your ground all year. What branch do you invest in?“

“We collaborated and invested in the medical branch. We’re trying to develop a cure for many illnesses, a ‘one-dose-cure-all’ type of medication, so to speak. We’ve released a test version to the market.”

“Medicine? How.. unusual. You’re the first who have come to me for advice on the medical branch of business.” Pantalone replies. “Your sales are unusually steady. You seem to have hit a goldmine of success. Why come to me?”

“We’d.. like your opinion on a matter, Regrator.” One of the merchants says.

“We’re thinking of diverting into the mechanical industry. We think we’d make revolutionary breakthroughs.” The other finishes the sentence.

“I am no expert in that matter, you’re better off asking a mechanic like The Marionette. I believe she’s milling about in the Palace.” The banker offers. “Do you happen to have one of your products on hand? I’d like to see what you sell.“

„We.. have one of our products, of course. We’ll leave a sample on your desk.“ The inazuman merchant complies. He was briefly glancing at his business partner, who was fidgeting around, attempting to hide his nervousness.

They have something to hide. Pantalone thinks.

"That’s wonderful. Might I keep a copy of your files as well? It’s merely out of interest.“

"Of course, Regrator.“ The Sumerian financier nods hastily, already fishing out a copy of the sale files.

"Thank you,“ The banker takes the folder. "You’re both free to leave, gentlemen.“ He says after around an hour of further consulting and prying. The two merchants leave with haste in their steps, the door shutting behind them.

The banker had taken plenty of notes during their entire appointment, said notes numbering multiple pages.

“Finally..“ He sighs. Pantalone was developing a headache from their constant talking and stuttered words, it was getting ridiculous.

Massaging his temples, he goes and makes himself some tea and starts to review his notes, checking for inconsistencies or contradictions in the statements of the two clients.

He was suspicious of their business - How could they have possibly survived the first year of business with such a questionable product that’s competing with big pharmacies? How have their sales stayed so high? He had to get to the bottom of it.

After around 30 minutes of checking his notes, Pantalone eyes the small box on his desk, a small green pill inside of it. He didn’t have much interest in the pharmaceutical studies when he lived in Liyue, pursuing business instead. And yet he found himself intrigued.

As he checks the sales and business records in the beige file, he finds the lack of a medical certificate suspicious. Could the self-proclaimed pharmacists be selling placebos?

The banker stands up from his desk, taking the small pillbox with him. He knew that although Dottore himself was gone, his clones still remained in the lab, mostly motionless.

The banker walks down the empty hallway, towards the door of the lab. After he knocks, a few seconds of silence follows before he gets greeted by one of Dottore’s clones, Beta.

"What do you want, banker?“ He asks rather rudely.

"And a good afternoon to you, Beta. I’m here because I just had a company that sells medicine without a licence at my desk. I’d like to know what this pill here contains.“ He holds out the small box with the roundish, speckled green pill.

"Urgh.. fine. Come in.“ Beta steps aside, letting Pantalone enter the lab.

Upon entering, the banker sees a few clones milling about, doing menial tasks like cleaning or incinerating trash. Others stood motionless near a wall. Iota was bound to be near one of the bookshelves.

"How have you been, Beta?“ Pantalone engages in small-talk in an attempt to warm up Beta a bit.

"Same old, same old..“ He sighs. "Prime is gone, so we’re mostly just waiting for the old man to return. It’s awfully boring right now.“

Beta goes to a microscope sitting on a counter, crushing a part of the pill and carefully scooping some of the crushed powder onto a Petri dish and setting it under the lens.

"Ah. I’m sorry to hear that.“ The banker answers.

"Don’t be. It’s how we spend most of our time whenever Prime isn’t in Snezhnaya. Can’t do shit without him keeping an eye on us every hour.“ Beta tinkers with the microscope, changing lenses and such. He was completely in his own world, focused on the compounds of the pill.

"What type of medicine did the company claim to make with this?“ The clone eventually asks.

"They said something along the lines of a ‚one-pill-cure-all‘ medicine.“

"Well, it seems that they’re trying to cure the incurable with high amounts of Fentanyl and what seems to be ginger.“

"Hm.. Ginger is known for their ability to counteract stomach aches, but Fentanyl..?“

"Mostly to have people swarming back to the company for their magic medicine,-“ Beta straightens up. "Fentanyl is highly addictive if consumed like candy, after all.“

The clone carefully seals the powder in a small bag before putting it back into the pill box, which he holds out to Pantalone.

"Huh, I learn something new every day.“ Pantalone murmurs, taking the box. „Thank you, Beta, you’ve been very helpful.“

"No worries. If you have the time, do come by more often.”

“I’ll see when my schedule opens up.”

With that, Pantalone leaves, a smile on his face.

He now had a company he could sue.

Chapter Text

Hello!

You're probably wondering as to why chapter 15 isn't being posted. Don't worry, the curse hasn't gotten to me!! Still alive and kicking.

That aside, I've run into a problem:

I'm not sure how to continue the story.

Truth be told, this entire work was based off of three songs and some spiralling thoughts I had in my head.

Whenever I write, I listen to specific music in order to form ideas and the main plot.

Now, that music has veered me off course, I think too far into the future, I mentally write stories that are too disconnected from the main plot.
I'm left with what I've written up till now and the stories I am planning to add wayyyyyy further down the line. I need to fill the gaps between those stories to make this work.. well, work.

I'm terribly sorry for the extremely rare updates, I am trying my best but I cannot guarantee any updates soon, as my schedule has filled up with school, exams, a theatre project and much more in November.

Then again, I reflect back on my past chapters and think to myself - Huh, I didn't expect for this work to get any recognition at all.

I honestly believed that this entire story, this entire madness that I've put into words would only get around 10 hits and maybe a few Kudos.

Now that I look at it, we've reached over 250 hits, a massive goal that I never thought would be achievable with my mess.

I'll probably be dragging this on for a few more sentences, but I am of a firm belief that my writing is definitely not worth the 60+ pages I have stored on Word. I believe that my work isn't worth to be read by you all, readers.

You've all proven me quite wrong by actively reading, supporting and leaving Kudos. You show me that someone reads it, that some even like what I write.

I thank you all and I'll continue to try and write and bring you all something worth indulging and sinking time into.

Any Kudos, any hits or comments bring me immense joy, so please continue with them.

Thank you.

As for the official chapter 15, I'm around 6 pages in and planning to make it a bit longer for you guys.

Chapter Text

Mondstadt was pleasantly warm this time of year - green grass, a gentle breeze and clear skies.

For the doctor, this was an idyllic space and time for conducting research, especially on leylines. There were no soldiers accompanying him, nobody wanting to sign up for escorts.

He works day in and day out, not really bothering with his state of health and sleep.

Occasionally, Dottore exchanges letters with Pierro and Pantalone. For Pierro, the letters were mainly reports on progress.

For Pantalone, the letters were personal, moreover retellings of his studies and how the surrounding nature looks. Sometimes, small sketches or trinkets like gemstones or flowers accompanied the smudged bits of parchment.

The banker smiles whenever he reads the letters, almost always writing back. He writes a lot about how quiet the Palace has become without some of the other Fatui Harbingers. Pantalone also writes about his finances, what clients visited today or what he himself has done all day.

The method of delivering letters was rather peculiar, as both used crows to deliver their messages to eachother, as opposed to the regular mailing system.

Pantalone also starts to dig through Dottore’s books, searching for keywords like demonic ancestry, the afterlife and resurrection. He really wanted to know how Dottore had brought him back. Maybe he had done some ritual?

By the time Dottore returns from Mondstadt, Pantalone was still busy reading and taking notes, completely absorbed in Dottore’s wondrous bookshelf in the lab. The banker knew that he wasn’t supposed to be reading the doctor’s books, yet he simply couldn’t resist. His mind itched for knowledge other than numbers and gold.

“Reading my books now, are we?“ Dottore greets Pantalone, who was sat on the floor near the bookshelves, a large tome balanced on his lap.

“Quite fascinating things you research, doctor.“ The other answers slowly, his voice soft. “You did write a book or two during your studies at the Akademiya, did you?“

“I.. did, but they’re not worth reading.There’s no point in reading them.“

“Then I simply must read them.“

“I beg of you, do not.“ The doctor answers, "They’re truly idiotic both in topic and content.“

“Really? What did you write about in your thesis?“

“It’s.. truly idiotic.“ Dottore refuses to answer. "You’ll laugh if I say it.“

“I assure you, I won’t. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine.“

He pauses. “By the way.. why revive me this way? There’s a rather reliable necromancy practice in Liyue, why not use that? It’s way less of a hassle and doesn’t have many side effects.“

.Well, I did reconstruct your entire body, so I had to imbue it with your soul instead of a paper command. Besides, it’d make you less intelligent and dependant on my commands, which I didn’t want to happen.“ Dottore explains before crouching down next to the banker.

"Huh. I didn’t think of that.“ Pantalone murmurs. His gaze drops back down to the book on his lap, slowly losing himself again in the contents he was reading. A new bookcase surfaces in his mind palace, a new space to store information he needed for later.

"Your horns are showing a bit more prominently.“ Dottore comments absentmindedly as he caught himself staring at the other’s hair.

The banker’s head instantly shot up, ripped away from his extensive reading. “What?“

“Your horns have grown a bit. It’s only noticeable if someone were to focus on finding your horns, which obviously nobody woul..- I mean, in other words, nobody can see them.“

“..Ah. I.. see. Well, it’s best not to touch them. I learned that through the painful method.“

“I’ll remember that, then.“ The doctor smiles, leaning down to pat Pantalone on the shoulder. “Don’t sit on the floor for too long, the tiles are cold. I don’t want you to end up sick in bed.“ He stands back up, walking towards the operating table.

“Don’t worry, I’m almost done reading. Apparently, some demons can.. ‘imbue‘ or form contracts of sorts with others. It’s a fair exchange between both entities, with one getting something in return for giving something up… fascinating.“

“Really?“ The doctor turns his head towards Pantalone. “Sounds interesting indeed.“

“The book mostly talks about how those demons got vanquished or similar.. Most exchanges were based off of greed and power.“

Dottore briefly stares at Pantalone. “Well, dear husband, I hope we live long enough to never write such a contract to continue living.“

“Oh, I don’t plan to, don’t worry.“

The workflow gets heavier. Pantalone starts to develop a habit of staying up at ungodly hours instead of resting.

I’m inhuman, I don’t need rest. …probably. He thought as he sat at his desk at 2:54 AM, writing another document on his typewriter. The grandfather clock ticks softly, drowning out the eerie silence of the late night.

The last few minutes before 3 AM tick by before the grandfather clock chimes.

Dong.. dong… dong…

Pantalone ignores the chiming, continuing to type, before a sudden wooziness and fatigue creeps up his body, lingering on his senses and heavily blurring his vision.

“Urgh..“ Pantalone mutters, reaching for the nearby teacup perched on his desk.

Odd. It was empty. Why was it empty?

He sets the cup back down with a clatter before shuffling to his feet and stretching. His back and shoulders let out cracking sounds. He had gone stiff. The banker rubs his temples, taking the cup from the desk and walking over to the small kitchenette, hoping to find the tea kettle still modestly warm.

It was ice cold.

“Can this evening get any worse..“ He murmurs, frustrated.
He didn’t feel like heating up the kettle and making a bunch of noise. He didn’t feel like drinking ice cold tea either. With an annoyed groan, the banker sets the cup into the small sink before returning to his desk.

Immediately, Pantalone was on high alert, noticing the paper in the typewriter having gone missing.

“The hell..“ The man murmurs, stepping up to the desk, frantically searching it.

There’s no way it was stolen right under his nose, it’s simply impossible.

Suddenly filled with an immense sense of dread and paranoia, everything in the room seemed to turn cold.

Did Pantalone lock the door? Did he leave a window open?

With a shaky breath, the man slowly pulls his gun from between his robe. He was tense.

He felt fear.

Was this his end? Did a past client finally decide to enact revenge on the banker’s scheming, his gambles, his tricks?

He robbed people in the form of contracts, taking all their money and even then some. He had no remorse, the people deserved it. But this.. was this truly his end? Would he stay dead this time, could he even die?

A squawk echoes through the office, prompting Pantalone to rapidly look around the office, his gun at the ready.

Sitting on his chandelier, holding the parchment, was a crow. It was Dottore’s crow. It must’ve flown into the room somehow.

Pantalone’s breath hitches as he holsters his gun, relief washing over him like a tidal wave, though his amusement at the happy turn of events wasn’t exactly evident.

“Give me back my document, hmm? I have work to do.“

The man stretches out his gloved arm for the crow to perch on, yet the rather intelligent bird was stubborn, not moving an inch. Pantalone’s smile fades as he lowers his arm.

“Fine, don’t give me my papers, I don’t care.“ He sighs, stepping away before procuring a mora coin, setting it onto the desk.

Am I seriously bargaining with a fucking crow? The man asks himself. – Yes, yes he was. He was bargaining with a crow to get his documents back.

The crow still doesn’t budge, even after Pantalone adds five more coins to the small pile.

The banker sighs, giving up. He wasn’t going to bribe a crow with a heap of mora just to get his precious papers, he didn’t feel like stooping this low to satiate a greedy crow’s will.

“Seriously, if gold doesn’t appease you, then what will?“ He asks, exasperated and annoyed.

The crow squawks once, finally deciding to fly over and perch on the man’s shoulder. It‘s beak opens to release the papers which land in the banker’s lap.

“Thank you.“ Pantalone says firmly, crossing his arms.

The crow stays perched, lowering it’s head for scratches, which Pantalone doesn’t give.

“I really hate arguing, but you’ve disrupted my work. You don’t merit a reward.“

The crow squawks quietly, as if saddened, hopping off the banker’s shoulder before flying and landing on the doorhandle of the door that leads to the man’s bedroom. It jumps a few times, trying to push the handle down, but alas, it’s weight lost out to the privilege of wings. It was too light to even moderately move the handle.

Pantalone sighs, distracted from setting his papers back into the typewriter. He stands up yet again, coming to the crow’s aid by opening the door for it before returning to his seat.

Not even thirty minutes pass in silence before the crow perched on the banker’s shoulder again.

“Urgh.. What is it now? I appeased you enough already.“ He asks, irritated as he keeps typing. “Just go, will you? Fly back to Dottore.“ He says, opening the window behind his desk, the cold creeping into the warm room.

The crow, stubborn as it was, squawks and looks towards the open door to the bedroom. It clearly wanted Pantalone to sleep, but being a bird wasn’t easy. Alas, the avian couldn’t speak it‘s thoughts.

The banker keep typing on the typewriter, continuing his previously interrupted work. Another hour passes like this, the crow having given up and flown back out the window.

The grandfather clock chimes four times.

Pantalone was done with about half the document, having written about fifteen pages. The man sighs, rubbing his eyes behind the glasses before stretching and deciding to catch the very little sleep he could.

He barely bothers to undress, kicking off his shoes and taking off his thin overcoat and gloves before flopping onto his bed. He discards his silver spectacles, letting them rest on his chest by the chain before closing his eyes and diving into a dreamless sleep.

He’s awoken by the familiar smell of antiseptic lingering nearby, a hand carding through his hair. Slowly, the banker opens his eyes, reaching up to hold the wrist of the person who turned out to be Dottore.

“You’re awake. Good morning.“

“…It’s you. Good morning, doctor.“ Pantalone smiles faintly, letting go of the other’s wrist. “What time is it?“

“Around 10 am, you slept for around 6 hours. That’s good.“

Pantalone sighs, turning his head to the side. “You heard my typewriter stop?“

“I heard your typewriter stop.“ The other confirms. “I also saw the light in your office turn off.“

“Your crow was pestering me.“

“It simply cares about you the same way I do.“ The doctor answers with a smug smile. He had continued running his hand through Pantalone’s hair, carefully avoiding the horns.

“Soft hair.“ He murmurs.

“You’re being clingy today.“ The banker states softly, fully opening his eyes and putting on his spectacles.

“Don’t have much to do except for one small experiment. How about we go out today?“

“I’m sorry, darling, but I can’t. Work calls me.“

“Shame. Maybe next time, then?“

“Of course.“

The banker gets up, moving to the edge of the bed, putting on his shoes, then reaching for his gloves. Both him and the doctor fail to notice

“Any meetings you got today?“

“Not really, just one in the evening. It’s mostly just paperwork today.“

“Surely you have some time today. It’s so terribly lonely without you.“ The doctor was practically clinging to the other, his arms around the banker’s waist.

The banker softly snorts. “How unreasonable.“

“My wants and needs transcend reason, banker. I want to go on a walk with you, preferably in the evening.“

“Alright, alright.. I’ll try and keep the evening open.“ The other gives in, which earns him a kiss to the forehead.

“Thank you, darling.“ The doctor replies triumphantly, satisfied that he had gotten his way in the end. He squeezes Pantalone once before standing up and leaving the banker to his own devices.

Evening comes as Pantalone gathers his things for the walk. He changes his shoes and gets his Harbinger coat before stepping out and locking his office door behind him. To his surprise, Dottore was already standing there, waiting.

A sigh comes from the banker. “How long have you been standing here?“

“Not too long, don’t worry your pretty head over it.“ Came a smooth answer. Dottore was being truthful for once. “Let’s get going, then.“

The pair walk out of the Palace and down the snowy streets that lead away from the imposing Palace and into the lively city nearby.

Black carriages rushed down the streets that were lit up with streetlights. People dressed in thick winter coats of all colours hurry down the passages and alleyways towards their homes to escape the blistering cold and the snow.

Pantalone rarely saw anything bad in the almost eternal snow that rained down on the ground below. In fact, he quite liked the snow. The quiet beauty the snowflakes had was quite peaceful for him. It made work more bearable for him.

“So, doctor, where are we headed?“ The banker asks.

“Just a small shop, you’ll like it.“ Dottore replies, practically dragging Pantalone along with him.

After ducking and turning through many small alleyways, they both arrive at a discreet, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it shop. It was an old storefront, the walls painted green, though the paint was stripping off at the edges. A sign with faded, golden letters spelled ‘Music and Operettes‘.

Pantalone gazed at the small shop, completely in awe. The windows were covered with thick curtains, blocking out the view from the outside, hiding the marvels and wonders inside. The lights were out and it was clear the shop was closed for the night.

“What a view…“ Pantalone completely taken away by the shop’s sign.

“Happy birthday, Pantalone.“ Dottore replies.

“Huh?“ The man turns his head, confused. “Is it my birthday?“

“Believe it or not, yes. December 4th.“

“Ah. It must’ve slipped my mind. Thank you, doctor.“ Pantalone gets closer to Dottore, hugging him rather tightly, feeling his arms hug back just as tightly.

“How about we go find a small place to celebrate? My treat.“ Pantalone offers.

“Only if you wish.“ Came as a reply.

“I do, yes.“ The banker confirms, already starting to walk with Dottore soon following at a brisk pace.

The pair soon find a small pub hidden amidst the bigger buildings. It was a rather quiet place, but good enough for a quick celebration. They enter, instantly drawing the attention of the man behind the bar and the very few patrons sitting around, nursing their drinks to sip away the night.

“My my, Fatui Harbingers in my pub! Welcome, welcome!“ The bartender happily greets them both.

Pantalone smiles his best smile, already dreading the shower of compliments and stares the two of them would attract. He simply wanted a small celebration with his husband and business partner, not whatever this was.

“Yes, yes.. we’re simply here for a quick drink.“ Pantalone mitigated the excitement, lowering it by a bit.

“Of course, of course.“ The jolly man nods, already reaching for two glasses. “What would you two like?“

The banker takes a glance at the washed-out wooden menu board on the wall behind the bartender, pondering. “I’ll take a Maraschino if you have that. Smallest glass you have, please.“

Dottore takes a look at the options as well. “Same for me, please.“

A few minutes pass and the pair get their drinks in rather small glasses.

“To your health, Regrator.“ Dottore raises his glass slightly, making eye contact with the other. Pantalone raises his glass, likewise before they both gulp down the liquor, the liquid burning slightly.

The banker pays and they leave soon after, exiting the pub and facing the blistering cold of the late, snowy evening. The pair walk back towards the Zapolarny Palace in comfortable silence, occasionally cracking jokes.

After saying goodnight to one another, the banker finally made it back into the office, practically collapsing into his armchair, his head buzzing ever so lightly from the alcohol. He notes how he could barely feel the buzz. his alcohol tolerance must’ve shot up by a factor of ten.

He stands back up, walking around his office for a bit. His gloved hand brushes over his bookcases, against the backs of his many ledgers. He liked the texture of the leather bound books against his fingertips.

The banker decides to take his gloves off, just to let himself feel the leather with his actual hands instead of his gloves.

As he takes he gloves, Pantalone looks puzzled, almost.. confused.

His fingertips had gone black. Not just his fingertips, but even his nails, the odd skin fading over into his natural skin.

“The.. hell?“ He murmurs, taking off his other glove. His other hand was practically the same, with his fingertips and nails blackened.

He carefully touches the blackened skin, testing whether anything hurt or felt different. There was no real difference – it was just his skin, as it always had been.

He turns his hands to fully inspect them. Nothing was out of the ordinary.. his palms were untouched, his slender fingers were also in one piece.

On the back of his hand, however, he notices a small symbol on his left hand. Not a symbol, a mark.

The mark was glowing a very subtle pink, warm in tone. It was rippling over his skin, forming swirls and patterns that reminded him of chains and thorns.

Odd. He thought.

Just then, Dottore enters the room, an equally puzzled expression hidden beneath the mask covering his eyes.

“You also got the.. what happened to your hands?“ The doctor starts.

Pantalone shrugs, turning his hands over and over, trying to make sense of it. “You also have this?“ He asks, pointing to the symbol on the back of his hand.

“I do. It’s on the back of my neck. Just noticed it.“ Dottore turns, gesturing to the nape of his neck. Sure enough, the mark was there, just barely visible beneath the collar of his shirt.

“Well, that’s.. odd. Very odd indeed. I suppose none of your books had anything written about.. well, this?“

“Brief mention, though I don’t remember details. I’ll see what one of those books says.“

With that, Dottore goes back out of the office to search for the book in his lab.

A few minutes pass, the grandfather clock in the office chiming once before Dottore returns, a book in his hand.

“Just as I suspected, your soul getting pulled from hell just makes you as demon, which also obligated you to form a contract with someone. That’s that rune on your hand.“

Pantalone nods, understanding. “So..“

“To shorten it, your demonic obligation latched onto me, basically forming a contract without a verbal contract.“

“Ah. I.. see.“

“Though, I don’t think that the contract has any negative effect as of now. On the contrary, I’ve been sleeping much better.“

“That’s a relief.“ Pantalone exhales, a soft smile on his face before he looks at his hands once more.

“I guess I’ll just have to live with these. I’ll manage.“

“Are you sure?“ Dottore walks closer to the banker, a tinge of concern in his voice. “Are you sure you don’t want me to.. well, fix it? You know I’m capable of it.“

“No need to, really.“ Pantalone shakes his head. “My presence has plagued you enough.“ He pauses.

“I don’t wish to lay on more work on you. I’m not delicate porcelain, nor am I an orchid, doctor. I don’t need fixing. I’ll manage, believe me.“

The doctor sighs, pulling Pantalone into a tight hug.

“Alright then.“