Chapter Text
Kaveh should have never taken this client.
But rent was due, and his bank account was teetering on the edge of oblivion, so here he was—sitting in a too-pricey café, forcing a polite smile as a very wealthy man explained the impossible vision he wanted for his newest project.
“I want something grand, but subtle. Elegant, but not too extravagant. Modern, but with a touch of old-world charm. And of course, it must stand out, but not be too flashy. You understand?"
A walking contradiction that Kaveh was somehow expected to materialize.
"Like…uh…the Villa del Balbianello!”
Who would ever call the Villa del Balbianello SUBTLE? Kaveh tried to quell an oncoming headache.
With the patience of a saint, he nodded. "Of course. Subtle but grand. Elegant but not extravagant. Modern but traditional. Simple yet eye-catching." He smiled, hoping it passed as genuine. "Have you considered building a paradox?"
The client chuckled, completely missing the sarcasm.
Kaveh was so tired.
Where would his client even have the land for a place that big?
By the time he finally escaped, he was already late to meet Cyno and Tighnari for drinks. Not that they’d mind—Cyno would probably make some deadpan joke about Kaveh’s "artistic suffering," and Tighnari would give him his usual "I told you so" about dealing with difficult clients.
Tonight, however, there was an extra person waiting when he arrived.
“Kaveh! Long time no see!” the blond smiled, shuffling over to make room.
“Aether, good to see you!” Kaveh greeted the other man. “How long are you in the country for this time?”
Kaveh had seen him around a handful of times—always passing through, quick and fleeting. One day he’d be helping Cyno at the police station, the next he’d be off untangling some political mess in another nation. He’d meet with nobles in Old Inazuma, disappear again, then suddenly show up in a bar like today, drinking like a college student on the verge of graduation.
Kaveh had no idea what Aether actually did for a living—he just did everything.
And tonight, he was talking about Rukkhadevata. The ruler of Old Sumeru who died more than a decade ago. Kaveh didn’t know much, just that he was born there before leaving for Fontaine with his mom. Still, he heard the whispers.
How there was some coup. How the royalty was murdered. But no one knew for certain. It seemed like a topic shrouded in silence, a ghost that no one dared to summon.
And judging from how Tighnari and Cyno left the nation right after it happened, it seemed like no one from the country knew much about that night either.
“I need to find her heir,” Aether said, voice calm but certain.
Cyno frowned slightly. “Wasn’t Her Majesty eliminated along with her child?”
Aether just swirled his drink. “Hmm.”
Kaveh, already two drinks in, sighed. Aether always seemed to be after something. He remembered how, years ago, Aether had mentioned searching for his sister.
He was still looking today.
“I hope you...find your peace, Aether,” Kaveh said, slurring his words.
“Thanks, Kaveh,” the blond smiled his usual golden retriever smile.
Somewhere between their third and fourth round of drinks, Kaveh had managed to spill his drink on himself, cursing the wetness on his already-worn-out shirt. Aether, ever the nice guy, had just shrugged and tossed his own jacket over Kaveh’s shoulders. Kaveh had waved him off at first but kept it on anyway—it was warm, and, well, he wasn’t about to refuse a free coat in the cold weather.
Tighnari had laughed, teasing him about how he looked like a lost kid. Cyno had added in one of his puns: "Looks like Kaveh needed a little... cover-age." Kaveh had rolled his eyes, muttering something about how ridiculous that was.
Another hour passed. They drank. They talked. Then, they all went their separate ways. Kaveh stumbled back after assuring Tighnari that he was fine.
The road was dimly lit, the lights blurry and warm, but Kaveh still knew where to go. His head was full of architecture and nonsense, and he wanted to sleep before thinking of his client again. He turned a corner, noting briefly that it seemed darker than usual.
That was the last thing he remembered before the world turned dark.
Kaveh woke up to the distinct feeling that something was very, very wrong.
For one, his head was pounding. That was to be expected—he had been drinking with Tighnari, Cyno, and Aether. He had been walking home, thinking about his latest architectural project and his rapidly depleting bank account.
And then—
Cement. He opened his eyes to see the familiar grey of unpolished cement above him. Shifting, he felt the cold, hard floor under him. Looking around, he took in an unfamiliar cell, the dim overhead light flickering slightly.
That was not how he remembered ending his night.
What the hell?
He tapped his pockets. His phone was missing. His wallet was missing. He turned everywhere, frantic. Rough cement walls. Bars.
Was he in some sort of cell? Did he do something illegal last night?
He can’t believe Cyno put him behind BARS.
Then, he noticed a man standing outside the bars, watching him with a look of sheer, bone-deep exhaustion. A tall figure with steel-gray hair and sharp teal eyes. Clad in all black. He didn’t say anything. He just… stared.
Kaveh blinked at him.
The man sighed. Then turned around and walked away.
Kaveh sat up immediately. “Wait-”
As soon as the guy was out of sight, hushed voices broke out just beyond the doorway.
“—That’s the wrong one.”
“But he’s blond!”
“You’re blond too. Are you who we’re targeting?”
“…Um. No, sir.”
Another voice chimed in. “But the jacket matched what he was wearing all night!”
Kaveh just stared.
A slow, horrifying realization crept over him.
He had been accidentally kidnapped. Kidnapped by idiots.
His eye twitched. He looked at the jacket he was still wearing. Aether’s jacket.
Once again, he wondered what exactly Aether did for a living. Because why is this man supposed to get kidnapped?
And now—
“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t have time for this. He had deadlines. He had client meetings. He had a very precise schedule—
The gray-haired guy walked back in, looking even more tired than before.
Kaveh stared at him. The guy stared back.
And then, he frowned. Like Kaveh was at fault or something.
And then Kaveh’s mouth started running before he could stop it.
“Hi. So, do I at least get an explanation for this? Or are you the kind of criminals that just grab random people off the street and hope it works out?”
Silence.
Kaveh pressed on. “Let me guess. Human trafficking? Or no—an illegal organ trade? Am I about to wake up in a bathtub full of ice? Because I have to tell you, my kidneys are not in peak condition after years of coffee and alcohol, you’re not getting a good price for them. Maybe if you had gotten the right person, it’d pay off better.”
More silence. The same judge-y stare.
“…Oh my god, are you one of those broody, emotionless criminals who think they’re smarter than everyone else?” Kaveh groaned, exasperated. “I bet you’re the type to read philosophy books in the original language and act all superior about it.”
The man let out the deepest, most put-upon sigh Kaveh had ever heard in his life.
Honestly, Kaveh was offended. He was the one kidnapped.
Then the guy turned around and left again.
Kaveh gaped. “Hey—don’t just walk away! Come back here, you coward—”
Kaveh sat on the cold floor, arms crossed, his expression a mix of irritation and resignation. He’d been in this godforsaken cell for what—two days? Three? The days blurred together in a cycle of stale air and growing frustration.
He didn’t even know what time it was anymore. His hair felt greasy, his clothes were wrinkled, and he was pretty sure if he had to sit in this same position for another hour, his spine would snap.
And then he walked in again.
The tall, broad-shouldered man with the stupid grey hair and those stupid teal eyes. Looking pristine, as if he hadn’t been stuck underground in a musty, glorified storage room like Kaveh. His shirt was crisp, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing strong wrists. Unfair.
Kaveh scowled immediately. “Oh, fantastic. It’s you again.”
Alhaitham—Kaveh had finally caught his name in the midst of hushed conversations outside his cell—gave him a single unreadable glance before sitting on a chair. He barely reacted to Kaveh’s snide remark, which somehow made it even more infuriating.
“We’ll be holding you as a hostage,” Alhaitham said, voice clipped and businesslike. “We’ve already sent one of your earrings to one Commissioner Cyno as proof.”
Kaveh inhaled sharply, hands raising to an empty ear. It was on him just yesterday! Did they sneak into his cell and take it off? Those bastards—
But before his anger could even fully bloom, a much more important realization crashed over him.
“Oh. Okay. That’s good news for me, no?”
Alhaitham narrowed his eyes slightly. “Excuse me?”
Kaveh leaned back against the wall, exhaling loudly. “It means they’re going to get me out of here. Though, hmm...”
Alhaitham’s expression remained unreadable. “It may take them longer than you expect.”
“They’re efficient.” Kaveh waved a hand like he didn’t mind. “I can wait.”
Except he couldn’t.
Because these idiots had kidnapped the wrong person, and now he was stuck here, unable to work on his project, unable to meet deadlines, unable to make money.
He had already missed a follow-up meeting with a client—yesterday.
Which meant rent? Gone. Food? Gone. His life? Spiraling into complete and utter ruin.
He’s absolutely freaking out.
Kaveh pursed his lips, trying not to let it show. “Actually, while I wait, can I get a shower or something?”
Alhaitham's eye twitched. “Do you…understand the position you’re in?”
“I do,” Kaveh deadpanned. “You people are amateurs. You weren’t even supposed to kidnap me, were you?”
Alhaitham didn’t answer. But the way his lips pressed together ever so slightly, like he was holding back the smallest smirk—
It pissed Kaveh off. The sheer audacity.
He groaned, dropping his head back against the wall. “Look. At least let me have some dignity while I’m stuck here.”
Alhaitham stared at him for a long moment, as if weighing his options, then simply turned and walked out without a word.
Kaveh watched him go, jaw clenched. “Oh, come on—”
The door shut.
Kaveh sat there, fuming.
Unbelievable.
Absolutely unbelievable.
Kaveh counted every creak in the room from his dingy cell, rubbing at his face with a groan.
Only twenty-nine. He counted again.
He was so bored.
Then, while he was in the middle of counting the number of times the light flickered in the last hour, he heard footsteps. The door creaked open and he sighed dramatically before even looking up.
Another day in this dingy cell, another visit from his captor. It was almost routine now, except the routine was annoying as hell.
Alhaitham stepped in, looking as put-together as ever, which only served to deepen Kaveh’s irritation. It was absolutely unfair how this man always looked like he belonged in a fashion magazine while Kaveh was stuck in the same stained clothes, his hair a tangled mess.
“Morning, Alhaitham,” Kaveh drawled, stretching exaggeratedly as he leaned back against the wall. “That is your name, right?” He cocked his head. “I have a request.”
Alhaitham’s lips tightened, barely. “You’re in no position to make requests.”
“I haven’t showered.”
A pause. Then, without a word, Alhaitham turned on his heel and left. Kaveh blinked. Huffed.
A few minutes later, the door opened again, and Alhaitham tossed a neatly folded set of clothes in front of the cell. Kaveh eyed them, then looked up. “Great, thanks. But I still haven’t showered.”
Alhaitham merely raised an eyebrow before stepping out again, leaving Kaveh to grumble as he changed into the clean outfit anyway. After the alcohol stain, his sweat, the smell, the dirt on the wall—anything was better than his clothes.
When Alhaitham returned again, his sharp gaze swept over Kaveh, and Kaveh swore he saw judgment in those teal eyes.
“What now?” Kaveh huffed, crossing his arms.
Alhaitham pulled out a tablet, tapping a few times before speaking in a dry, impassive tone. “Kaveh. 24. Architect. Fontaine-accredited. Designed the renowned Palace of Alcazarzaray in New Sumeru and Tower of Putra in Persia—yet somehow managed to land himself in massive debt after their completion.”
Kaveh twitched. “Oh, amazing. Are you going to start reading my horoscope next?”
Ignoring him, Alhaitham continued. “Ongoing payments totaling an amount that exceeds your current income. Declined for at least three loan applications in the past year. Frequently overdrafted accounts. Oh, and this one is most intriguing—” he scrolled, his lips curving slightly, “—once filed a complaint against a client for refusing to pay and got counter-sued instead.”
Kaveh groaned, throwing his head back. “I know. Shut up.”
Alhaitham lowered the tablet. “Why were you at the site of the kidnapping?”
Kaveh scoffed, leaning back against the wall. “Like I’d tell you.”
Alhaitham didn’t react. Instead, he scrolled again and said, “Graduated with high honors. Your final thesis was on Sustainable Utopian Architecture and Its Viability in the Modern Era—” he paused, raised an eyebrow, “—idealistic.”
Kaveh’s eyes snapped up. “Excuse me?”
“You’re an architect in a city run by money, not morals,” Alhaitham said plainly. “Your thesis argues for a system that values artistry over profit. Your solution was beautiful but flawed. You underestimated the realities of cost and human self-interest.”
Kaveh bristled, standing up. “You didn’t even read it. You’re just making assumptions based on the title.”
“I read the abstract,” Alhaitham corrected, his head tilting slightly in thought. Or maybe in more judgement. Kaveh couldn't place it. “And your references. I didn’t need to read the rest to know what your argument boiled down to.”
Kaveh narrowed his eyes. “Then you wouldn’t know I accounted for cost. I designed models that proved sustainable architecture can be profitable—”
“Only in theory. Your practical applications lacked funding, and your case studies didn’t account for economic downturns.”
Kaveh was stunned silent for a moment. This was the most his captor had spoken. He hadn’t expected this guy to actually engage with his work. And worse—he had counterpoints.
He opened his mouth to argue back, but before he could, Alhaitham turned on his heel and strode toward the door.
Kaveh scowled. “Oh, of course. You always leave the moment the conversation gets interesting.”
Alhaitham paused briefly at the doorway. “No. I leave when you become predictable.”
And then he was gone.
Kaveh stared at the door, fists clenched, jaw tight.
He had never wanted to win an argument so badly in his life.
Kaveh had officially reached his limit.
At first, he'd tried to remain calm, rationalizing that he would be rescued soon. After all, it wasn’t like Cyno, Tighnari, and the rest of his friends would just let him rot here.
But it’s been a week. A whole week! What were his friends doing? Had they forgotten him? They managed to escape a whole corrupted nation before, surely they could handle this!
Kaveh groaned, sprawled out on the pathetic excuse of a cot in his cell, staring up at the ceiling. His deadline had passed. His client was probably furious. He wasn’t getting paid, which meant he was going to simply die. Wonderful.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Kaveh didn't even bother to sit up.
“Are you finally seeing the pleasure of silence?” Alhaitham’s voice was as dry as ever.
Kaveh let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, I’m having the time of my life, can’t you see? I love being held hostage by absolute morons.”
Alhaitham didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he lifted something in his hands. A small chess piece. A knight.
“Aside from model buildings," he said, as if reading from a file in his mind. "You also won a few chess tournaments when you were in Fontaine.”
Kaveh eyed him warily. “Yeah, so?”
Alhaitham tilted his head slightly, regarding Kaveh like he was some puzzle that had yet to be solved. “I propose a deal.”
“Why?”
Alhaitham ignored him. “If you win three consecutive games, you get what you’ve always asked for. If I win, you answer a question about the people you associate with.”
“You mean my friends?” Kaveh scoffed. Alhaitham probably didn’t even know what those were. “And what do you mean what I’ve always asked for?”
“A shower.”
Kaveh sat up properly, frowning. His hair was a mess. He was disgusting. So it did sound tempting. But—
“Oh, yeah, sure, and what? You’ll cheat somehow and force information out of me?”
Alhaitham simply hummed, already turning to leave.
And that was so frustrating. Kaveh felt like he was being toyed with. For days.
Kaveh ground his teeth. his mind whirring. The chess and shower offer was bait—Alhaitham knew he’d want it. And the alternative? Sitting here. Doing nothing. Letting Alhaitham win without ever moving a single piece.
Kaveh groaned, throwing his head back. “Wait—ugh, fine. All I have to do is beat you, right?”
Alhaitham turned back around. “That’s how chess works, yes.”
Kaveh rolled his eyes.
Two hours later, Kaveh leapt to his feet, arms raised in victory like he’d just conquered an empire.
“HA! I WON! I GET TO SHOWER!”
Alhaitham, meanwhile, simply leaned back on the floor, arms crossed, eyes flicking over the board as if replaying their entire game in his head. “Not bad.”
Kaveh pointed at Alhaitham, a victorious smirk stretching across his face. “Not bad? I destroyed you! You didn’t even win once!”
Alhaitham merely regarded him with a flat stare. “Congratulations,” he said, voice as dry as the desert. “You get your prize. Go shower before I start regretting this arrangement.”
Kaveh scowled as two guards came into the room with blindfolds and handcuffs, but he was too elated to properly argue. He was free—well, not actually free, but free enough to escape the confines of his disgusting cell and wash off the grime of captivity.
And then the next night, Alhaitham won.
Kaveh had slumped back, arms crossed, glaring at the board like it had personally betrayed him. “You cheated.”
Alhaitham raised an unimpressed brow. “How does one cheat at chess?”
“You used an illegal move when I wasn’t looking. You must have.”
“Or maybe you just made a mistake.”
Kaveh scoffed. “Unlikely.”
“Tell me something about the Traveler,” Alhaitham prompted, leaning forward slightly.
“Traveler?”
“The man who’s jacket you wore when you arrived.”
Kaveh groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. But I don’t actually know much about him, okay? I see him like once every few months. We were just drinking that night. All I know is that he’s looking for someone.”
He wasn't about to tell this stoic jerk about Aether's missing sister. So instead, he said, “Probably related to the whole Rukkhadevata thing a few years ago.”
Alhaitham hummed, contemplating as he reset the board.
“And what do you know about the…Rukkhadevata thing?”
Kaveh narrowed his eyes. “I thought it’s one game per day.”
“You can ask for another shower if you win.”
And so it began.
Every night, they played. Sometimes Kaveh won, sometimes Alhaitham did. But regardless of the outcome, the banter never stopped. It wasn’t long before the guards started learning to avoid the room whenever they spotted a chess board in Alhaitham’s hands—because if those two were playing, it was only a matter of time before an argument broke out.
When Kaveh won next, he asked for pillows. The next time, he asked for paper and pencils. Though he never got the pencils. Instead, they had the audacity to hand him crayons.
Crayons. Like he was a kindergartener.
When he held them up in disgust, Alhaitham had merely blinked at him and said, “To avoid potential assaults.”
“You think I’m going to stab you with a pencil?” Kaveh had scoffed, scowling as he grudgingly took the box.
“Statistically, it’s a possibility.”
“You are unbelievable.”
The worst part was that his captor kept criticizing Kaveh while they played.
It started when Kaveh lost another game after sacrificing his queen. Alhaitham simply said, “You rely too much on self-sacrificial strategies.”
“It’s called betting on a different outcome,” Kaveh snapped, arms crossed. “I had my bishop lined up. I thought your knight wouldn’t move there.”
“You make it a habit of prioritizing your queen wherever you move. It’s reckless.”
“Well, why don’t you ever use your queen to take my pieces?"
“I prefer using every piece on the board.”
His fingers lingered on his queen piece for half a second longer than necessary, his gaze flicking up to meet Kaveh’s. “In many cases,” he added, “even a pawn can check the king.”
Kaveh scoffed, crossing his arms. He was still grumbling about it when Alhaitham—because he was the worst—effortlessly transitioned into his winning question.
“Why is the Traveler looking into Rukkhadevata?”
Kaveh blinked. “What?”
Alhaitham glanced at him. “You were there when he brought it up that night. At the bar. I assume you have thoughts.”
Kaveh frowned, shifting in his seat. Had Alhaitham’s men been listening that night?
“I don’t know,” he said. Alhaitham shot him a look. “No, really. I don’t know much about anything aside from what he said and what the rumors have said.”
“And what exactly have the rumors said?”
“Well…” Kaveh hesitated. “That she was murdered and some corrupt government took over.”
Alhaitham started to reset the pieces. “Weren’t you born in Old Sumeru? Shouldn’t you know more?”
“Yeah, but I moved to Fontaine after that. Even before the murder.” His gaze narrowed slightly. “You know that. You read my files.”
Alhaitham didn’t say anything. He simply began the game, moving his pawn. Kaveh made a frustrated noise and turned back to the board.
A few moves passed in silence before Kaveh spoke again. “What do you know about Rukkhadevata?”
Alhaitham raised an eyebrow.
Kaveh gestured vaguely. “Since you’re so interested in the topic.”
Alhaitham studied him for a moment. “She was a ruler who tried to balance power between the people and the nobility. For a while, it worked. But eventually, her own people rioted against her. Or so they say.” He idly adjusted his knight. “The politicians—the sages—who were meant to protect her turned their backs. And when she was at her weakest, they eliminated her entire family.”
Kaveh’s hand stilled over his next move. “Her weakest?”
“Right after she gave birth. The moment the child was born.”
The chessboard between them remained untouched for a long moment.
“…That’s horrible,” Kaveh muttered, the words settling uneasily in his chest. “And the child?”
Alhaitham’s gaze flickered toward him, then back to the board. A chill crawled up Kaveh’s spine. He didn’t want to ask, but the silence between them seemed to demand it.
“It’s said they took the child first. As insurance,” Alhaitham said. “Rukkhadevata surrendered herself willingly, asked to at least spare the baby. They paraded her through the city as a traitor. And when the people—her own people—threw stones at her, the sages didn’t stop them.”
Kaveh felt an odd tightness in his throat.
“When she could barely stand, they dragged her to the throne room. Made her kneel before the very council that once swore loyalty to her. And right as they pronounced her ‘unfit to rule’—” His voice was eerily measured. “They placed the child in her arms.”
Kaveh exhaled sharply. “…they killed them both?”
A beat of silence.
Alhaitham shrugged. “Well, it is all alleged.” Something flickered in his eyes as he waited for Kaveh to move his piece. “Nobody actually knows.”
Kaveh swallowed. Moved his pawn. His hands shook. “Is that why you’re wondering what the Traveler knows?”
Silence.
Alhaitham took his pawn. “Perhaps.”
Kaveh exhaled. He couldn’t even find it in him to be annoyed at the vague answer. The game resumed, but something in his stomach felt unsettled.
The days passed in a blur of arguments and chess pieces.
The next time, instead of a shower or more crayons (insulting, truly), he asked for some music. Anything, really—a radio, a speaker, whatever could make the mind-numbing boredom of this stupid cell a little more tolerable.
Because his friends were taking their sweet ass time.
Because as much as he'd rather die than admit it, the only thing even remotely engaging in this hellhole was Alhaitham.
And unfortunately, Alhaitham had other things to do besides humor him with chess matches all day.
So, when a guard eventually came to take him out of his cell, Kaveh was actually hopeful. He should've known better.
The guard took off his blindfolds and Kaveh found himself in—of all things—a music room. Grand piano, shelves lined with various string and wind instruments, even an old vinyl player in the corner. No vinyls, though.
Kaveh stared. Then he scowled.
"This is not a radio," he deadpanned.
"No, it’s not," Alhaitham's insufferable voice came from behind him. Kaveh turned to see him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, looking as blasé as ever. "But you asked for music. Play something, if you’re that bored."
Kaveh groaned dramatically. "Gods, you are so—fine, whatever. At least I won’t have to sit in that cell doing nothing."
He hesitated for a moment, eyes scanning the room, before walking over to the grand piano. It had been years, but he still remembered a little from his childhood—his mother had taught him a few songs. He pressed a key, letting the sound ring out, then started on a simple melody.
He faltered the second he remembered his captor watching. His shoulders tensed, jaw tightening as if bracing for mockery.
"You’re terrible," Alhaitham said.
Kaveh's hands slammed down on the keys in an ugly, discordant mess. He turned to glare at the man. "You don’t have to stay."
A knock at the door interrupted their bickering. One of the guards leaned in, addressing Alhaitham. Whispering something about sages.
Alhaitham sighed, straightening. "Try not to make too much noise," he said dryly. "And don't bother trying to escape. The acoustics in here won't mask any...attempts."
Kaveh huffed, rolling his eyes as his source of annoyance left. Finally, peace.
He exhaled, flexing his fingers before placing them back on the keys. He might as well enjoy this while he could—because if his timeline was right, he had a meeting with a very annoying rich client in two days.
And if Cyno and the others didn’t hurry up, he was going to miss it. Then he really would be screwed.
Kaveh barely had time to react when his cell was slammed open one day, rough hands grabbing him, shoving a blindfold over his eyes.
“Wait! Where are you taking me?” he yelped, twisting in the guards' grip. “My blueprints!”
A pause. Then, an exasperated sigh—one Kaveh had come to associate with a particular grey-haired menace.
“I have a meeting tomorrow! I need them! Even if they’re drawn with crayons!” he continued, ignoring the cuffs on his hands. “If you leave them behind, I swear I’ll make such a ruckus—”
“I can stab him,” one of the guards muttered. “Might give the Traveler more incentive.”
“What the fuck?!” Kaveh sputtered.
“No.” Alhaitham's voice, clipped and irritated. And then—nothing.
Blackness.
Kaveh woke up to someone shaking him.
“Kaveh! Kaveh, wake up!”
His vision swam, head throbbing from whatever they’d knocked him out with. He was going to throw the chess board at Alhaitham next time.
Blinking groggily, he registered a dim, cavernous space—rough stone walls and the flickering light of torches. There was a figure above him, ears twitching slightly, green eyes filled with relief and concern.
"Tighnari?" Kaveh croaked, still disoriented.
“Oh, thank god! Are you okay? What did they do to you?" Tighnari asked, his voice laced with worry as he helps Kaveh sit up.
Kaveh groaned. "What took you guys so long? I was about to start paying rent for my cell."
Tighnari’s expression flickered between relief and exasperation. “That’s what you’re worried about?!”
Before Kaveh can retort, Cyno’s voice cut through the air. “No time for this. We need to leave. Now. Before Aether’s reinforcements bury the place.”
“Reinforcements?”
A deafening explosion rattled the underground tunnels.
“Klee,” Tighnari muttered grimly. “And Albedo. But mostly Klee.”
“Oh for the love of—”
Kaveh’s eyes darted around, trying to take in where he is and what threats they were running from, and that’s when he saw him.
Alhaitham. Several feet away. Unconscious, slumped against a rock, debris from the collapsing tunnels around him.
And in his shirt pocket, barely peeking out, were several crumpled, folded pieces of paper.
Kaveh’s blueprints.
Something flickered in Kaveh’s chest—an emotion he didn’t have the time or energy to examine right now. He clenched his jaw, forced himself to his feet, and stumbled toward Alhaitham, ignoring Tighnari yelling after him.
Kaveh lunged forward, hauling Alhaitham up just as another section of the tunnel ceiling collapsed behind them.
“Kaveh, what are you—”
“Tighnari, help me!”
“He’s the enemy!”
“I’m not letting him get crushed!”
His best friend sighed, a mix of long-suffering and urgency, then helped him drag the grey-haired man out of the caverns. Kaveh realized now it probably was an old mining factory.
Once out, they set Alhaitham down on the ground. Before he knew what he was doing, he crouched down and tugged his papers from Alhaitham’s inner pocket, fingers ghosting over the creased edges.
And this close to the unconscious man, Alhaitham suddenly looked… young. So much younger than the calculating, infuriating person who had driven him crazy these past few days.
Then, with a torn piece of another sheet, he hurriedly scribbled a crude little pawn piece and shoved it back into Alhaitham’s pocket.
He’s not sure why. Maybe as a farewell. Maybe as a thank-you for the board games. Maybe to show that Kaveh won one last time. Maybe because, passed out like this, Alhaitham didn’t look like a criminal—just a kid, barely younger than Kaveh himself, tangled up in something far bigger than him.
He didn’t let himself think about it any further.
“Guys, let's go!” Cyno barked from inside the cave.
Kaveh took one last look at Alhaitham, then felt himself being yanked by Tighnari. He ran, following the others through the underground tunnels.
The boat rocked gently on the dark waters, but the atmosphere on board was anything but calm. Kaveh sat between Tighnari and Albedo, wrapped in a blanket, still slightly damp from crawling through the underground tunnels. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving only exhaustion—and the weight of the conversation pressing down on him.
“How long has it been?”
Cyno answered. “Almost two weeks, I believe.”
Kaveh pouted, leaned against Tighnari’s side. He thought of all the work he’d missed. The food in his apartment that had for sure went bad. The phone and wallet he’ll have to replace. He had no budget.
“Oh, don’t think you’re off the hook,” Tighnari said, and immediately started berating him. “What were you thinking running to that man?! You could’ve died, Kaveh! Do you know how reckless—”
"Okay, okay! I get it! I’m sorry," Kaveh groans. Then, against Tighnari’s shoulder, he muttered, whining, "…but seriously, you guys took forever to find some amateurs.”
Tighnari hummed something questioning. Cyno and Albedo exchanged a glance. Klee stopped playing with her toy gun.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then, Cyno, ever the serious one, said, “Kaveh. Those weren't amateurs.”
Kaveh sat back up. “They kidnapped me instead of Aether!”
“Yes, a mistake,” Tighnari spoke. "But Kaveh, they're—" He hesitated. "Do you even know where we are?"
Kaveh blinked. “No?”
Tighnari exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. He and Cyno exchanged looks before Tighnari sighed again, shifting and looking straight at Kaveh.
“We're in Old Sumeru. The nation where Rukkhadevata was murdered.”
Kaveh blinked again.
Tighnari frowned. “You remember the crime organization Aether’s been looking into?”
Kaveh did remember.
Tighnari continued, voice quiet but heavy. "The sages—the people running that country now—they’re not just any criminals, Kaveh. They took out their own monarchy. They're tied to half of the world’s underground networks.”
Cyno nodded. “They didn’t stop at the murder of Her Majesty. The assassinations of the visiting Snezhnayan ambassadors three years ago? The disappearance of the royal family members in Kampuchea? Illegal exports. Organ trafficking. Weapons trades. Their people infiltrate every sector."
Kaveh’s stomach turned. He opened his mouth to protest—to say that it couldn’t be. There was no way. The people he was around didn’t seem—Alhaitham didn’t seem—
“They were said to have been involved with her parents’ disappearance too,” Albedo added, voice low, looking right at Klee. The little girl just fiddled with her toy gun, looking out into the sea.
And Kaveh momentarily recalled the cell, the stale air thick with the scent of dust. The click of the chess pieces. The distant melody from the music room. He felt a wave of nausea.
“They could have killed you.” Tighnari poked his shoulder. “We didn’t even know if coming here was a good idea because we had no way of knowing if you were still alive.”
He'd been locked away in the heart of one of the world's most dangerous criminal syndicates, and the horrifying truth was: he hadn't even realized it. He’d been bantering over board games with someone who was likely deeply involved in all of it. And yet—
He remembered Alhaitham’s sharp gaze, his sighs of exasperation, the way he indulged Kaveh’s complaints with little allowances. It didn’t seem like Kaveh was in danger, not really.
How stupid.
“Oh.” Kaveh exhaled heavily. “That’s kind of bad, huh?”
The others just gave him grim smiles.
He bit the inside of his lips, leaning back against the hard of the boat. He momentarily remembered his conversation with Alhaitham about Rukkhadevata. Wondered now if the story he heard from him was the real turn of events.
He shuddered to think how much worse his kidnapping could have been. Yet, remarkably, the only injuries he sustained were the cuts and grazes from his escape.
“I think I need a drink.”
Tighnari groaned. “No, you need to sleep. We all do.”
But Kaveh wasn't thinking about rest. He couldn't. His mind raced, a chaotic jumble of damp blueprints, missed meetings, the fallen monarchy, and the crumpled paper he’d stuffed into Alhaitham’s pocket before escaping.
The fact that he was all the way in Old Sumeru—a land nobody visited.
Kaveh wasn't making the meeting with the Villa del Balbianello client tomorrow. That was for sure.