Undercover in Snezhnaya, My Teyvat Spy Life [55]

After Varka left, having endured a thorough scolding, Eula—still a bit pale—slipped in at the door like she was sneaking around.

“What are you looking at?”

Seeing her glancing all around, Artem couldn’t help but find it both amusing and curious.

Eula didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she locked the door, hurried to Artem’s bedside, and asked anxiously, “How’s your wound? Let me take a look.”

“Hiss—”

Hearing that, Artem clutched his chest, groaning, “Ow… I was so busy arguing with Varka just now, I popped my stitches open.”

“Ah, damn, it really hurts.”

Such a lousy performance could hardly fool Eula.

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Looks like you’re fine after all.”

“Tch.”

“Really now.”

“Can’t you show a little more concern for me?” Artem muttered, resigned to his failed act.

He undid his shirt to show Eula his wounds.

Varka’s initial attacks hadn’t been too heavy, so the cuts from the wind blades weren’t deep, and the healing magic had already taken care of most of them—nothing worth looking at.

The only thing that remained was a thin, long scar on his chest from being run through.

Eula winced at the sight, but Artem just chuckled, unconcerned. “Mondstadt’s healers really are something.”

“I was on my last breath, but they still managed to drag me back.”

Ignoring Artem’s jokes, Eula gently brushed her fingers over his scar, sighing, “Of course—A Cardinal himself even came to heal you.”

Cardinal?

Hearing that, Artem was surprised.

“Wow, I must be someone special to get old Seamus Pegg personally involved.”

Eula shook her head. “Not Bishop Pegg—it was another cardinal.”

“Tch, and here I thought I was important,” Artem quipped, lounging back against the headboard.

Seeing him reclining, Eula buttoned his shirt for him and said worriedly,

“So… are we basically… uh, wanted criminals in Mondstadt now?”

“Is it really okay to be hanging around the Church of Favonius so openly?”

“Wanted criminals?” Artem scoffed. “Varka doesn’t have the guts to put us on a wanted list.”

“Don’t forget who I am.”

“I’m a Snezhnayan envoy—Chief Inspector of the Fatui.”

“If Varka didn’t kill me out in the wild, he definitely won’t try anything now that we’re back in Mondstadt.”

“Because right now, I represent Snezhnaya.”

“The strongest nation under the gods.”

“And Mondstadt?”

“The weakest in Teyvat.”

“No Archon watching over them—if Snezhnaya sent just two Harbingers, they could sweep through this place.”

“So a weak nation should act like a weak nation.”

“If they don’t want an international incident, they’ll just have to swallow their pride.”

Eula, not yet fully transitioned out of her Knight’s mindset, couldn’t help but feel uneasy hearing those words.

She mumbled a vague response, more to herself than to Artem.

“Were my words a bit harsh?” Artem asked, seeing her downcast look, his tone suddenly serious.

“A little,” Eula admitted softly. “I guess it’s just because I grew up in Mondstadt—no matter what, this is still my home.”

“So hearing you talk about Mondstadt like that… it stings a bit.”

Artem shrugged. “That was me being polite.”

“I could say much worse. Want to hear it?”

“No, that’s enough,” Eula said, shaking her head.

“Alright, alright,” Artem relented, playing along.

But before he could say more, a clear female voice rang out from outside the window.

“Don’t stop now. Keep going, this is getting good.”

“Who’s there?!”

Eula jumped up, instantly tense.

For some reason, she felt an inexplicable guilt, like a kid caught doing something bad.

“It’s fine, it’s just someone we know.”

Artem waved a hand, laughing. “Do you ever use the front door?”

“Tch.”

With a cold snort, the window swung open.

A red-haired woman in a nun’s habit swung herself in from outside in one smooth motion.

“Hey, sis. Long time no see.”

Artem greeted Rosaria with a wave.

“Sis?”

Eula looked from side to side, confused by the nickname.

Wasn’t Artem from Snezhnaya? How did he have a “sister” in Mondstadt’s church?

“Back to what you were saying,”

“That was pretty entertaining. I want to hear more,” Rosaria said, making herself at home in a chair, arms folded, legs crossed, and nodding at Artem to continue.

“Alright, alright,” Artem replied, shrugging and motioning for Eula to sit as well.

He cleared his throat and, with a theatrical scowl, launched into another tirade.

“In my opinion, Mondstadt is a trash country.”

“The people are lazy and childish, the Knights are a bunch of overfed slobs with nothing to do, the upper echelons are riddled with spies, and there are more traitors than flies in the sky.”

“And yet this is the country they expect us to lay down our lives for? Please.”

“How’s that? Satisfied now?”

Rosaria gave a lazy smile. “Wow, that’s some deep-seated resentment.”

“You’d be the same in my place,” Artem grumbled.

Rosaria didn’t agree or disagree. She simply pulled a yellowed letter from her pocket and tossed it onto the table.

“This is from our old man. He told me to give it to you if you ever had a falling out with the Grand Master.”

“A letter from my old man?” Artem looked surprised.

“Yeah. About a year ago, he came back from a mission and handed me this, told me over and over to deliver it to you personally if the day came.”

“Well, I’ve done my part. I won’t get in the way of you two lovebirds any longer.”

“See you around, little brother.”

With that, Rosaria gave them a regretful glance, then slipped out the window as quickly as she’d come.

After she left, Eula hurried to lock the window, curiosity in her eyes.

“Who was that, exactly?”

“Uh, I guess you could say she’s my half-sister,” Artem replied, a bit of melancholy on his face.

Cutting ties with Mondstadt meant he might never see Rosaria again in this lifetime.

But compared to Rosaria, right now he was more interested in the letter on the table.

How did Coulson know I’d end up falling out with Varka? And why leave me a letter so far in advance?

With that question in mind, Artem tore open the envelope. He didn’t bother hiding it from Eula, simply unfolded the letter and read aloud.

To my dear son, Albert.

Son, I’m sorry—your old man can’t be with you anymore.

I’ve missed you ever since I sent you off to Snezhnaya all those years ago.

But there was nothing I could do—duty kept me away, and I couldn’t visit you.

I never imagined that goodbye would be forever.

All these years, I’ve always felt I failed you.

I know you always wanted to be a Knight of Favonius. I’m sorry—your father wasn’t strong enough to make even that small dream come true.

I’m on my last legs now, so all I can do is wish you find a good girl, and—if you can—bring my dear grandchild to visit my grave one day, so I can see you both.

Son, when you get this letter, you must promise to come see me.

You have to, don’t forget.

Oh, and Bishop Pegg made me a Cardinal before I passed, so don’t worry—you’ll have no trouble finding my grave.

—Coulson Sebastian

The contents were simple.

Nothing like the schemes or revelations Artem had imagined.

Line by line, all the letter contained was a father’s longing and regret for his son.

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T/N: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

This is a fan translation of 提瓦特之我在至冬做臥底 by 曉風殘月聽荷 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!