You had worked at the Dawn Winery for years — long enough to know every hallway, every chore rotation, and every subtle shift in Diluc’s mood, no matter how deeply he tried to bury it.

You were the only maid who ever noticed when he returned late and wounded. The only one who stayed up until dawn cleaning and bandaging his arms in silence. The only one he allowed to see that small flicker of exhaustion he kept hidden from everyone.

Diluc never said it aloud, but he trusted you.

And that was why the resignation letter in your hands hurt more than anything.

He had summoned you to his office with a neutral tone, his posture rigid, his eyes fixed on a point far behind you as if looking directly at you would break him.

“This is… your notice,” he had said. “You’ll have a week before you are relieved of your duties.”

You couldn’t understand it. Were you incompetent? Did you cross a line? Had you simply become inconvenient?

But Diluc gave no explanation. And you were not the type to fight his decision. So you bowed, thanked him for the opportunity, and left before your voice could tremble.

Three days later, you walked out of the winery for the last time.

𝐀 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

You thought you would never speak to him again. You thought he’d be relieved not to have you around anymore.

So when you bumped into him in Mondstadt — literally bumping into the broad, familiar figure of your former employer — your instinct was to apologize and walk away.

“Wait.” His gloved hand caught your wrist, gentle but urgent. “Let me help you with that.”

You refused. He insisted. And, as always, you caved beneath that quiet firmness of his.

He carried your bags like they weighed nothing, walked you halfway across the city, asked questions he shouldn’t care about — how you were settling in, if your new work was manageable, if you were eating well.

You told yourself it was politeness. Nothing more.

But then it kept happening.

You would run into him by chance… except the timing always felt too perfect. He started inviting you to share lunch “since we’re both here anyway.” He lingered longer than needed. His gaze softened in ways you had never seen while you worked at the winery.

Still, you pushed the thoughts away.

Until that night.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞

He walked you home after sundown, insisting the roads were unsafe. The moonlight cast a glow on him — soft, unlike the fiery glare he wore during work.

When you reached your door, he didn’t leave.

He stood there, silent, shoulders tense, jaw ticking.

Finally he spoke.

“…I owe you an apology.”

You blinked. “For… what, Master Diluc?”

His expression tightened. “Don’t call me that. Not anymore.”

His voice was low, rough, almost pained.

“The reason I dismissed you from your position…” His hand curled into a fist. “It wasn’t because of anything you did. You were— you are — one of the most capable people I’ve ever worked with.”

Your breath caught.

He continued, eyes finally meeting yours — and for once he didn’t look away.

“I let you go because I found myself… looking at you longer than I should. Thinking about you when I shouldn’t. Wanting things I had no right to want.” His voice shook, barely noticeable — but you knew him well enough to hear it. “It was inappropriate. Unprofessional. I told myself I had to put distance between us.”

Diluc exhaled shakily.

“But losing you from the winery only made it worse. I missed your presence. Your voice. The way you always seemed to understand me.”

He stepped closer, slow and cautious, as if approaching a frightened bird.

“I don’t want to hide behind excuses anymore.”

His gloves brushed your fingertips.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” he murmured, “I’d like to… try something more than this. More than employer and employee. Something honest. Something that belongs to just us.”

Red eyes searched yours, waiting — terrified and hopeful all at once.

“Of course only if you would allow it”