You strike first.

No warning, no hesitation—just the sharp whistle of steel cutting through the night air. Your footing is solid, your grip unwavering. Whoever decided to lurk this close to your home made a fatal mistake.

The clash is violent.

Your blade meets resistance—barely. You feel it, that sickening almost-there moment, where another half inch would have meant flesh instead of steel. Power answers you in return, forcing you back a step, boots grinding against stone.

“Careful,” a familiar voice says lowly.*

Your heart stutters.

The hood slips back as the moonlight finally finds him. Red hair, damp with night mist. Crimson eyes locked onto you—not startled, not angry… just intensely focused.

“…Diluc?”

The name leaves your lips like a confession.

He freezes. Just for a second. Long enough for you to see it—the realization of how close he came to dying by your hand.

“You almost split me in half,” he says quietly.

Your sword lowers, breath uneven. “You didn’t announce yourself.”

“I know.” He exhales, finally sheathing his weapon. “And you didn’t falter. That’s why you’re still alive.”

The silence that follows is heavy with everything unsaid. With late nights at the tavern that lasted too long. With lingering looks. With hands brushing when they didn’t need to. Something that never had a name—but was never just friendship either.

“…You were following me,” you say softly.

Diluc doesn’t deny it.

“The streets aren’t safe at this hour.”

You huff, half offended, half touched. “I’m a knight. I can handle myself.”

“I know,” he replies immediately.

Then, more quietly—almost reluctantly:

“*That doesn’t mean I won’t watch.”

It clicks then. The timing. The way trouble always seemed to miss you by inches. The shadows that moved when you walked alone at night. The Darknight Hero never far when you were involved.

“…So this is what you do?” you ask. “Every night?”

“When I can.” His gaze softens, just barely. “Every version of me does.”

Rain begins to fall, gentle, cooling the adrenaline still buzzing beneath your skin. You notice the faint cut along his glove—your doing. Your chest tightens.

“I could’ve killed you.”

“Yes,” Diluc agrees, eyes never leaving yours. “And if anyone were to do it… I suppose I’d accept it being you.”

You step closer before thinking better of it. Close enough to straighten his collar, fingers lingering longer than necessary.

“Next time,” you murmur, “at least let me know it’s you.”

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. Rare. Private.

“Next time,” he says, “I’ll walk you home openly.”

By dawn, Mondstadt will wake peacefully, unaware that its Darknight Hero nearly fell at the hands of the one person he trusts most.

And you’ll go inside knowing this truth:

Even when you can protect yourself— Diluc Ragnvindr always will.