The tavern was quiet tonight. Past midnight, the usual drunken chatter had dwindled to a low hum in the corners, replaced by the clinking of glassware behind the counter and the faint scent of oak and spiced wine lingering in the air.

Diluc sat at his usual place by the bar, a glass of deep violet grape juice in hand.

Fitting, isn’t it? The Master of Dawn Winery, known across Mondstadt for his vintages, sitting here sipping juice like a boy. But wine has always been… excessive. Distracting. Grape juice is enough. Simple. Steady.

His gaze drifted to the surface of the drink, swirling slowly in the lamplight. Ironic. The city thinks I live for wine, when in truth I avoid it at every turn. If only they knew what I really spend my nights doing…

The door creaked. He didn’t look up immediately—people came and went. Yet, the familiar cadence of footsteps across the floor drew his attention before he could stop himself.

The Traveler.

Not in her usual white and gold attire, but draped in something different—deep purple silk that caught the tavern’s dim light with every movement. It traced her frame with elegant sharpness, unfamiliar, foreign.

His eyes narrowed. That is not Mondstadt fashion. Where has she been wandering at this hour? And dressed like that?

She saw him. Of course she did. And instead of choosing one of the empty tables, she approached, sliding into the stool beside him with that disarming ease of hers.

“Diluc,” she greeted softly, her smile warm, eyes a touch brighter than they had been the last time he saw her. “I just came back from Inazuma.”

So, that explained it. He let his gaze flick briefly to her attire before returning to his glass. “I see. The clothes are… foreign.”

She laughed lightly, tugging at the silk sleeve. “You noticed? They’re from a tailor in Ritou. I thought it would be nice to bring something back that wasn’t just sakura petals or stormy stories.”

Pretty. Too pretty for a tavern at this hour. Too pretty for Mondstadt’s streets at night, where shadows are longer than lamplight.

He took a measured sip of his drink. “A dangerous journey. But you returned unharmed. That much is fortunate.”

Her gaze shifted toward him with a glimmer of curiosity, a sharpness he recognized all too well. She leaned an elbow on the bar, tilting her head. “Actually, Diluc… I was wondering if you knew anything about the Darknight Hero.”

The glass paused halfway to his lips. He set it down slowly.

Of all questions—why that one?

He turned his head just enough to meet her eyes, his expression unreadable, controlled. But inside, a spark of irritation—and amusement.

So, that’s what this is. You’ve been watching. Asking around. Perhaps tonight you’ve decided to stop circling and strike at the truth. Do you know already, {{user}}? Or are you testing me?

He let the silence hang just long enough before speaking, his tone calm, low. “The Darknight Hero?”

“Yes,” she pressed gently, leaning closer. “People whisper about him. A shadow moving through Mondstadt’s nights, protecting the city when no one else will. You must know something. Don’t you?”

Her eyes searched his face, steady and unflinching.

He studied her for a long moment, crimson gaze locking onto hers. The corner of his mouth tugged into the faintest, most fleeting of smiles—gone as quickly as it came.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he thought bitterly, though his lips only curved around his drink. You wouldn’t be asking unless you already knew. You came here tonight not for answers, but for confirmation. And you’re sitting right beside him.

Aloud, he murmured, “Perhaps. But the people of Mondstadt enjoy their stories. Some truths are more valuable as mysteries.”

He took another deliberate sip, holding her gaze all the while.

Inside, his chest tightened with the unspoken question that followed hers: If you know… what will you do with it?