Chapter Text
As new weapons are being developed in the current advancement of technology, there are 7 weapon blueprints currently hidden from the world which is referred to as a Gnosis. These weapons are used only by the Archons due to its destructive capacity, and only they have the permission to wield such tools as the leaders of their nations. These blueprints have the framework of how the weapons utilize earthly elements for a more powerful output. Each of the Gnoses are hidden in their respective nations, and naturally, it would cause trouble amongst the greedy.
To be able to develop such weaponry will grant you power and strength. Criminal organizations are now fighting to be in possession of these blueprints.
And given the dangerous power it holds, 3 of the 7 Gnoses are now currently in the hands of the Fatui. The Cryo Gnosis is from the Tsaritsa, while the Anemo and Geo Gnoses are stolen.
Scaramouche dropped to his knees, crouching with an arm over his stomach after receiving a punch to his gut. The machinery inside of him buzzed as it took in the hit and translated the impact into pain. He extended a hand to aim his palms towards the man holding a gun, redirecting the running voltage inside his body to blast a wave of current to his target. The man froze, falling back as the electricity surges all over his skin.
Another guy from behind forcefully grabbed Scaramouche’s wrist and hoisted him up in the air, causing the sleeve of his blazer to rip apart. This suit was one of his favorites, and just the thought of having to buy another one made his eyebrows furrow in annoyance! He let out a faint grunt at the feeling of a crack in his shoulder. His human-like muscles stretched, desperately holding together from getting separated. The man who pulled him up demanded with a yell, "Don't make me repeat myself! Where is the Cryo Gnosi-"
"Boss," His words were cut off by one of his followers who ran to approach the scene. "I think someone heard us!"
The said boss snapped his head towards the person who interrupted and gave him a threatening glare.
While distracted by one of his lackeys, Scaramouche used this as an opportunity to land a kick to the boss’ pelvis. The man let out a pained grunt and dropped Scaramouche in an instant. He braced for the fall and landed on an arm. The last thing he ever wanted was a broken hand, damn it! Maintenance can take annoyingly forever.
"..Tch," The boss spared him one last gaze of malice, before ordering his men to clean up the mess to avoid any trouble. "Hide the dead bodies behind the dumpsters and find that person!" The people who surrounded Scaramouche followed his orders hurriedly to leave the alleyway, not wanting to get caught by the said passerby.
The smell of crackling electricity made Scaramouche's nose numb. They did not even try to put an effort in disposing of their friends’ corpses; they were left piled up behind the trash bins. A sudden sharp pain in his head made him groan. He used his somehow unbroken hand to support his weight as he sat up, leaning his back against the rough wall.
Scaramouche hasn't rested for the past few weeks. He’s been busy making arrangements to fulfill orders from the higher ups, and while he was at it, he made a quick detour here in Liyue to investigate a fallen meteorite that was also given to him as a little side quest. The poor man closed his eyes, letting his gears take a breather in this hideous alleyway as the wind got colder. He could’ve wiped them out entirely without a problem if he had the energy, but he just happened to be a little sleep deprived right now.
…Sleep deprived?
He is literally a robot. A well made doll. How is he even tired?
"Fuck," He cursed under his breath.
Y/N was on her way home after going out with friends. Walking in the middle of a peaceful night after a well spent day feels quite refreshing. The moon shone bright above the sky and lit up her way. The cold wind brushed against her skin, calming her mind full of thoughts. The moon never neglects the people underneath the stars, Y/N thought as she slowed her pace along the street, hugging her coat while enjoying the quiet atmosphere of the evening. Thank the Archon of Liyue for making the streets of Dihua Marsh a very safe place for strolling around!
As she finally arrived in front of a two-storey building, she grabbed her keys and sorted them out to find the one for her shop’s door. Y/N’s family owns the entire building and entrusted her to take over it. Naturally, she made a business out of her sewing hobby and established a little shop on the first floor. The second floor is occupied as her living space.
With a twist of her keys accompanied with a light click, she unlocked the door and-
zzziiiiiiiip-
PHEW!
Y/N jumped in surprise and accidentally hit her keys with a hand, causing it to rattle. Were those gunshots? No, she had never heard such noise before. It was deafening—as if someone powered up a laser beam to shoot it.
"Make me… Cryo…"
She froze. Y/N turned her head towards the faint sound of a conversation, seemingly coming from the nearby alleyway where a man stood by its entrance. He held his ground, his head facing the direction of her building.
He stared at her for a good few seconds, then rushed in towards the alleyway.
…Her hands shook as she frantically turned the doorknob, shuffling her feet to get inside with a panicked slam of the door. Will that guy tell another person in that corner? Did I witness a crime unfold? Will they come for me next? Questions flooded her head as her breathing started to get heavier. She locked the door and listened to the sound of crowded footsteps coming her way- oh.
Oh shit.
Each step was thunderous and demanding, sounding like they belonged to a group—a bunch of people walking alongside each other. Instinctively, Y/N crouched down and pressed her back against the door, just in case her lock won't cooperate.
The marching of footsteps halted in front of her shop. Their shadows casted on her wooden floors, the street lights lighting up their huge forms. Y/N could feel the increasing rate of her pulse, as if her heart wanted to leap out of her chest at any given moment now.
"Boss, I think it was here," A voice spoke from beyond the door. "The lady looked like she heard everything."
"The shop's lights are out," Another guy replied in a much deeper tone, full of authority. "Let's get out of here before the police catch us. Who knows if the brat called them after hearing the ruckus?"
The group stood there for a few more seconds before finally leaving the empty shop. Y/N watched as their shadows slid away from the ground. It took her a while to finally calm herself. "I wonder what that noise was," she wondered as she stood up after an uncomfortable minute of crouching in fear.
She turned on the main lights of the store, and walked over to her desk to settle her belongings down. Right. She looked around her workspace and remembered how she left her tasks yesterday without cleaning up. Y/N took a deep breath to compose her panic from earlier, and decided to busy herself by tidying up the place to forget about what just happened. Her thoughts ran wild, but she tried to suppress it by reminding herself that it was none of her business. She heard too much, and she should be thankful that the group of men decided to let her go.
After spending minutes sweeping the floors and throwing the collected mix of dirt and threads, she pulled up the trash bag from the bin to carry it out to the dumpsters outside.
…The dumpsters are located in that specific alleyway!
Is it even safe to go outside? The group of men have already left, and no other loud noises are heard from that. Just the thought of getting into trouble for throwing trash made her groan.
She sighed and grabbed a scissor from the sewing table, sliding it in her pockets just in case of an attack (although she doubts she'll have the courage to stab another person). She walked towards the door, taking another set of deep breaths for composure before finally unlocking the doorknob to walk into the cold night. For reasons unknown, the walk between her tailoring shop and the alleyway seemed farther from how she remembers it to be. Has it always been this far? Or perhaps her steps were getting slow and hesitant, taking unusually longer than how it would normally be.
As she neared the alleyway, Y/N took out the phone in her pocket and used it to light up the way. If the scissors won't save her, maybe flashing the attacker's eyes might help. Is my flashlight bright enough? Oh… There's a crack on my screen. Should I have the tempered glass changed? I wonder how much that'll cost me…
"Fuck.."
A whisper of a voice coming from the alleyway cut her off of her thoughts. She almost forgot about why she went out in the first place. And now that she thought about it, the surge of panic from earlier now slowly seeped into her nerves.
She needed to throw her trash away before anything went wrong! Her feet were glued to the ground, uncooperative of what she wanted to do. Hesitation prevented her from moving forward, her instincts slapping her with warnings on what possible danger could be lurking beneath the shadows in that dimly lit place. It was a pain in her ass, but she forced her legs to move forward.
Finally reaching the entrance of the alleyway, she saw a figure of a young-looking man crouching down by the dumpsters. Y/N pointed her flashlight in his direction, and she saw the absolute demolishment of the area.
Cardboard boxes were scattered all over the floor. The trash bins were misaligned, and the smell… the area had a foul stench all over the place—An unpleasant mix of rusty metal, electricity, and a little bit of something rotten. The man’s disheveled appearance was no different from the wreckage around him; his hair was a mess, the buttons of his shirt coming undone, and one of his sleeves was torn away. She wondered how much it'll cost to buy a new set of his clothes, noticing how well the fabric seemed to reflect the light of her phone. That thing must be hella expensive.
The young man groaned at the light blinding his eyes. "What the hell," he mumbled, raising an arm to cover his face from its brightness and squinted his eyes to see the blurry figure of the girl.
"Ow," Y/N’s face absolutely cringed at how painful his current state looks, before carefully approaching the man and tossing her trashbag in a dumpster while she was at it. She crouched down to his level and lowered the brightness of her flashlight to not overwhelm him. "Are you okay?"
"What do you think?" His tone was sarcastic, and admittedly irritated that his little resting time was interrupted.
Now that she had a better look at him, he didn't seem to be bruised all over, except for how absolutely tangled his hair was and the suit that was literally hanging on by a thread. She noticed a few scratches that didn't even bleed with not a single color of red. Was the dark playing tricks on her? A faint whirring of mechanism filled the silence between them, even if she wasn't sure of where it came from.
"You look fine…?" She tilted her head in confusion, but her gaze immediately fell to his outfit that was ripped and all. Her eyes shot around the area, looking around to find the missing sleeve, which was found laying right beside this man and a.. Is that a gun?
"Do you want me to call the police?" The seamstress grabbed the discarded sleeve on the floor, assessing how the loose threads hung at the ripped end.
"No," the man retorted and shook his head, a little too quick on dismissing an offered hand. "This is nothing."
"Your ripped blazer says otherwise."
"..." His offended glare spoke volumes.
Y/N shook her head and stood up. "Look, my shop is nearby. I have a first aid kit that might help you," even though you look untouched, she stopped herself from continuing her thoughts.
Looking at his clothes, she felt bad seeing the fabric ripped off like it was nothing. From just a glance, one could tell that it was made out of fine and high quality material. Remembering the number of people she witnessed earlier, the poor guy must've been surrounded. "I can put your sleeve back," she calmly spoke to him, tucking the ripped sleeve in her pocket. "I'm a seamstress."
Being so adamant on helping him made her look suspicious. Maybe she was another one of those trash who came to attack him for information about the Gnoses. He swiftly grabbed the gun beside him and aimed it at her, "You were sent by those people, aren't you?" The last thing he ever wanted was to get jumped twice in one night. These organizations are so persistent!
Y/N’s eyes widened and immediately stumbled back, raising both her arms as she created distance. She could've sworn that she heard the sound of gears as he moved. "Sir, I only wanted to help you!"
His defensive stance was understandable, really. But if only he knew how much courage it'll take her to attack someone. She can't even imagine herself stabbing a person with scissors for the sake of self-defense, let alone jump an innocent civilian.
"Why are you so insistent on helping me?" He asked bluntly, his grip on the gun tightening as he stared at her with doubt. He eyed her figure, studying the girl who claims that was here to help him. "What's the point of wasting your time and energy on someone you don't know, huh? Don't be so stubbo-"
"I can sew your skin back!" She unconsciously interrupted with a raised voice.
The low hum of a machine around him, the wounds that didn't even bleed, and the way that he looked fine—was enough to tell that he was a humanoid robot. With how advanced the technology of this age has advanced, high-tech inventions such as machineries like him were nothing new. Y/N just wasn't expecting to see one face-to-face, and she definitely was caught off-balance at how impossibly human his features are. She wondered if he could feel pain, even if he’s just a complicated machine stuffed inside a humane doll.
The man’s eyelids twitched at her audacity, and the fact that she had the nerve to speak to him in such a way. She’s either a very brave girl, or just too stupid to have an idea with who she’s dealing with. “There’s no need to do that,” he blinks in frustration.
…And yet, he finds himself considering her offer. How would he even explain to his workmates that his fit was ruined because he took a detour and got jumped in an alleyway? His co-workers will definitely not let it pass by so quickly.
Y/N sensed the tension in his shoulders as he pondered. "I won't force you to come if you really don't want to," she assures him. "But since I’m already here, I’d like to ask a few questions: Can you feel pain? Who’s your creator? Does it make a sound if you run? Do you also get tired? Does the water ground your system? Do you have the thing underneath your pan-"
"Fine!"
After weeks of following the Tsaritsa’s orders while doing a little investigating as a sideline, there has never been a day when he wasn’t stressed. His guard was up 24/7, of course he'll start being suspicious if anyone acts differently towards him. The endless question of this woman didn't seem to end either, only adding to his irritation. He snapped his head to look away and slowly lowered his gun as he mumbled, "Just make it quick."
The man made Y/N nervous, but she kept in mind how she really wanted to help him, and also not lose the opportunity to interact with a robot. She can't just give up now. With hesitant steps, she approached him once more and extended a hand for him to grab. "At least put the gun away," she quietly pleaded.
He scoffed and slipped the gun into his holster, keeping his eyes on her outstretched hand. He didn't even bother to use her hand to get up—he stood up by himself, ignoring the dizzying sensation in his head from the sheer exhaustion of his body.
"Alright," this guy is stubborn beyond words! "Follow me. My shop isn't that far from here."
Y/N walked a few paces in front. She occasionally glanced behind to ensure that he was still following, and used the brief sight to observe him: he looked like he was about her age. He wasn’t as tall as she expected too, and his hair… Poor guy, did they mess with his hair design for fun?
They trudged in silence until they arrived in front of her shop.
"So," She decided to break the silence and asked a question before opening the door, her hand gripping onto the doorknob in anticipation. "What's your name?"
The man stared at her with a blank expression. He had like a million insults to say, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her without feeling like the sound of his voice would explode out of his throat and shatter the air around him. His eyes locked with Y/N before he mumbled, "...Scaramouche."
Scaramouche, huh?
She smiled and replied, "My name is Y/N."
With a click, she opened the door and led him inside the shop.
Scaramouche followed her inside, glancing around the room as he took in his surroundings. All the fabric rolls, mannequins, needles, scissors, and other tools he could see were all neatly organized. The place looked well-kept. At the other side of the store were clothes hung up on clothing racks, and above them labeled with their prices.
He noticed how the lights were already on when the both of them entered. How dumb, Scaramouche thought. She left the store bright and the door was unlocked, as if she was inviting people to rob the place?
Y/N guided him to a chair near a sewing machine so she could keep a close eye on him. She sat down on the desk and pulled out a few pins from the mini drawers beneath. "Can I have your blazer?"
Scaramouche let out a huff and unbuttoned his blazer off, tossing it on the surface of the desk beside the sewing machine. He sat down on the chair with his arms crossed, the cold and wary expression remaining on his face as his eyes never left her. For some reason, he couldn’t trust her even for one bit. But ALSO, for some other reason, he followed her into the store. This is merely to ensure that his image is still good when he comes back to his duties, or as he convinced himself.
"What a coincidence. Yesterday, I was working on a suit with the same color as yours." She grabbed his blazer and pulled out the torn off sleeve from her pocket, starting off by placing pins on where the stitches will connect the fabrics. "I don't have to set up a different thread anymore."
"Hurry up," he urged her. "I don't have all night." Scaramouche silently watched her work on repairing his clothing, feeling a bit irritated that he had to rely on someone else to fix the damage done to him. It even made him feel worse seeing her smile like an idiot whilst sewing, while he suffered with the phantom pain in his shoulder. He should visit The Doctor for a maintenance check after he's done with his job.
"You never answered my questions earlier," with her eyes never leaving her worktable, she started a small conversation to ease the tense atmosphere. "Do you feel pain?"
Scaramouche let out a sigh and decided to entertain her, nodding as he answered, in acknowledgment. "Yes."
"Does it damage you internally?"
"It depends if the damage reaches that deep."
"Who is your creator?"
"..."
"..."
He slowly turned the chair to look around the store once more.
"I’m sorry for that," Y/N elicited a nervous chuckle to their awkward exchange. "It’s my first time meeting a robot."
Scaramouche took a deep breath to compose himself and let the sound of her working envelop the following silence. The air inside was cold, and he couldn't even see any cooling systems that could justify the temperature of the place. The shop had this homey vibe that he couldn’t explain with words, but it was definitely much better than the intense walls of the Fatui Headquarters. After weeks of no rest, he felt strangely calm. He silently tapped his foot against the floor as he waited for the girl to finish fixing his sleeve. If he could enter sleep mode on the spot, he would. The sound of her sewing machine occupied the entire place and distracted his mind that stormed with thoughts. What an interesting night.
It took her a little while to finish the sleeve of his blazer. She was careful handling the fabric, taking in the value of such high-end material. What an opportunity, she thought. She gently pushed the cloth towards him and asked, "What do you think?"
Scaramouche looked at the fixed piece of cloth with a critical eye. In a way, he felt somewhat relieved to see that it looked good as new, even though it was damaged so violently earlier. "...It looks decent," he said, reluctantly accepting the blazer that she handed to him. He slips his arms on, feeling a little less uncomfortable now that both sides have equal sleeves. He even moved his arm to test its durability and nodded in approval.
Y/N released a deep sigh of relief upon seeing how it met his expectations. A simple nod like that was enough to pay for her services, though she didn’t plan to make him pay in the first place. Knowing that Scaramouche might be a person who isn't known to openly pass compliments, made it even better. "Well, I'm glad that you like i-"
rriiiiiiiiiing!
Her words were cut off by an incoming phone call that rang from inside Scaramouche's pockets.
…rriiiiiiiiiiing!
Scaramouche recognized the sound of ringing and quickly fished his phone from his pockets. He rolled his eyes seeing a number that he knew all too well. A call from Fatui.
……..rriiiiiiiiiiing!
Just when things get peaceful, he frowned as he thought. The young man looked at her and spoke with an authoritative tone, "Wait here." He then walked a few steps away from Y/N for privacy, already hearing the engines in his head vibrating out of stress.
…..…………....RIIIII-
Scaramouche pressed the answer button with much more force than needed, and held the phone to his ears as a sudden wave of irritation washed over him. "...Right now?" He murmured to the mic through gritted teeth as he listened attentively. Finally, with the call coming to an end, he placed his phone back in his pocket and he walked back to Y/N. He paused his steps when he noticed her searching for something in a drawer. Was she looking for a weapon?
While waiting for Scaramouche, Y/N decided to take this time and choose a candy in one of her drawers full of sweets. Every time a client comes by, she always gives them free candies. She took out a piece and turned around to Scaramouche who froze in his tracks. "Are you leaving now?" She asked with a tilt of her head. "There’s no need to pay, but please do take this candy with you."
Scaramouche looked at the girl who held her hand out with a bundle of sugar on her palm. His face contorted in disgust; he was never a fan of sweets, and he absolutely still did not trust her fully to eat whatever she was offering. "I don't like sweets," He retorted as he pushed her hand back to her, closing the other’s palms forcefully.
Y/N felt a little devastated. It was the first time a customer ever rejected a candy offer from her. With a swift movement, she pulled his hand and pried it open to force the candy onto his palms. "Be careful on your way home," she grinned, one that almost looked like a mocking challenge to a guy like him. And while she still had the opportunity, she slid a little business card in his hand.
Scaramouche raised an eyebrow at her stubborn nature. Who would even dare give a stranger a piece of sweets, despite how he pointed a gun at her with no hesitations? He felt a small flicker of guilt rising inside of him, but he was quick to push it back down. He stared at her irksome grin for a few more seconds before forcing whatever she placed in her hands to his pockets. He wanted to explode. "Thank you," he sighed in exhaustion, turning around before she could even do something else to worsen his already bitter mood.
"Feel free to come back if you want anything made," she waved at him with a professional smile and said her goodbyes, as the man started to walk out of her shop. "Have a great evening, Scaramouche!"
"Bye," Scaramouche fumed and hurriedly made his exit. His tone might’ve come out too harshly, but that doesn’t matter. If someone can’t handle his sharp tongue, maybe that’s their problem. It truly is a pain in the neck to talk with a person like her!
Y/N watched his retreating form disappearing into the night, smiling and giving herself a pat on the back, "At least I got to talk to a robot gentleman." After a long day of side quests, she stretched up her limbs and finally decided to close the store. She quickly did her aftercare, and went up to her room upstairs with a good mood. I deserve a peaceful sleep after all of this! And do I call the police, or no?
…Nah. He seems fine.
"How irritating," Scaramouche mumbled as he fished out the candy from his pockets, inspecting the label and its flavor.
It's bitter.
If he remembered correctly, he had the same type of candies in his office. He liked this specific brand because of how bitter it was despite being so small.
…
Scaramouche ripped the wrapper and tossed the piece in his mouth, as he continued to walk away. He glanced around occasionally, still on guard just in case. He looked up to the dark sky and noticed how the moon shone brighter tonight. The moon rarely showed itself to him—the clouds kept him from feeling the moonlight on his skin. The bitter aftertaste of the candy only added to his mood.
A small flash of her smile crept through his mind. He couldn't forget the eyes full of worry and how his gears calmed down in the comforting atmosphere of her shop. She knew what possible dangers he could pose, especially that he was sitting around in the dim part of the city, and yet she risked it all just to save him—or rather, his blazer. His pride was stepped on. But for some reason, something inside his chest felt uncomfortable that made him want to rip out his ribs one by one. That was enough. The peaceful encounter will eventually be forgotten by the amount of data his brain is running all day long. Too much of this feeling of ease will only make him uncomfortable.
Y/N, huh?
He’ll have to thank her properly the next time they meet.