Undercover in Snezhnaya, My Teyvat Spy Life [54]

It had to be said—Mondstadt’s healing arts truly were the finest in the Seven Nations.

Artem’s heart had been run through.

Yet under the ministrations of the church healers, he recovered as if nothing had happened.

But his face remained clouded with gloom.

What happened today, he and Varka had agreed it would just be an act.

Varka would put on a convincing show of trying to kill him, creating an impossible dilemma—forcing Eula to make a choice and maybe, just maybe, reignite her [Vision].

Artem had even been prepared to let himself get stabbed a few times for real.

But he never imagined, that bastard Varka would take it seriously!

He’d really tried to kill him.

Artem just couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Why would Varka do that?

It made no sense.

After all, Artem was both a high-ranking Fatui official and a deep-cover agent in Mondstadt.

No matter how you looked at it, he was too important to both sides.

If Varka killed him, Snezhnaya would never let it go.

They’d definitely retaliate—most likely by targeting the upper echelons of the Knights, people like Diluc and Jean.

And after that, Mondstadt would be powerless to face Snezhnaya, once again left at their mercy.

So why had Varka done it?

Artem just couldn’t understand. He never saw it coming.

Both emotionally and logically, killing him did nothing to benefit Mondstadt.

With Varka’s “Mondstadt above all” way of thinking, why would he do something this stupid?

Was it because I threatened him that day?

He considered the possibility, but quickly dismissed it.

Impossible. Varka would risk his own life for Mondstadt. Forget an empty threat—even if I danced on his parents’ graves, as long as I was useful to Mondstadt, at worst he’d beat me up, not kill me.

No way a few words could make Varka lose control like that.

There had to be another reason.

Because Eula called out my real name?

That can’t be it, either. It’s just a name… right?

Could it be…

Artem frowned, a suspicion forming.

Just then, Varka’s voice cut in.

“Whose consort are you now?”

Artem silently sighed—figured as much.

He’d guessed right.

So it was a misunderstanding about that godly power.

Ever since swallowing the Blackflame Serpent, he’d possessed a trace of true, untainted god-power.

Unlike those artificial “god powers” manufactured by Crepus and Dottore, his was the real thing—pure, genuine.

And so Varka had mistaken it for a god’s gift—believing Artem to be a divine consort.

That was why he’d assumed Artem had betrayed them.

Heh.

In free Mondstadt, faith was a personal matter.

You could worship any god you pleased.

But for high-ranking figures like Varka and Artem, it was different.

Put simply, ordinary folks could worship whoever, even Jesus, and no one would care.

But if you were part of the Knights or the Church, you either didn’t worship at all, or you worshipped Barbatos.

But Artem wasn’t about to explain. Instead, he made something up on the spot.

“Listen up. My faith is in—”

“The Silent Master of Seven Leaves, Lord Raiden Koku.”

Varka’s brow furrowed, the name completely unfamiliar. He said darkly, “You know what betraying Mondstadt—”

Before he could finish, Artem cut him off, impatience flaring: “Did I betray Mondstadt?”

“Varka, you tell me—did I betray Mondstadt?”

“Which eye of yours saw it happen?”

“Did I help Snezhnaya attack Mondstadt? Or sell the color of your underwear to Liyue?”

“If you can name a single thing I did to betray Mondstadt, I’ll let you finish me off right now.”

“Go on! Come on! Say it!”

Varka was left in stunned silence.

He had to admit, Artem was right.

Ever since joining the Church, Artem had never once done anything to harm Mondstadt.

Seeing Varka fall silent, Artem only pressed harder.

“Nothing to say, huh?”

“Fine.”

“Then I’ll say it for you.”

He straightened, voice ringing with anger. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“If you serve the Church or the Knights, you’re not allowed any ‘foreign’ faith. If you do, you’re a traitor—kill on sight.”

“Ha. So this is Mondstadt’s so-called ‘freedom?’”

“That’s bullshit freedom!”

Artem’s words grew more heated with every sentence.

Varka’s brow was locked tight, but he couldn’t argue—he could only grit his teeth and endure Artem’s scolding.

“Ten years.”

“I’ve given Mondstadt a decade of my life.”

“Ask yourself honestly—have I ever failed Mondstadt?”

“And what did I get for risking my life over and over? You drove a sword through my heart!”

“What do you call that?”

“Stamping out even the tiniest sprout, killing it in the cradle—isn’t that right?”

“Varka, you bastard—you really are Mondstadt’s ‘Guardian Spirit,’ huh!”

He spat the last three words with venomous sarcasm.

That mocking tone finally broke through Varka’s restraint.

He wanted to defend himself, but after fumbling for words, all he managed was: “I was—I just lost control for a moment—”

“Pah.”

Artem spat in disgust. “Lost control?”

“When you stabbed me, I didn’t see you ‘losing control’!”

“You just wanted me dead.”

“Do you think I’m blind? That I can’t see what’s going on?”

“Varka, if you’re a man, own up to what you did. Don’t do it and then shrink away like a coward. Is that worthy of the title Grand Master of the Knights?”

“You—!” After taking all this abuse, even a clay doll would get angry—let alone Varka.

He seized Artem by the collar, hand raised for a slap.

“Come on, do it.”

Artem stared him down, tapping his own neck, eyes full of defiance. “Right here. Aim for this spot.”

“You think I’m a traitor, right?”

“Perfect. Come on—kill me.”

“Then you can sit back and watch the Harbingers butcher Dvalin and Barbatos.”

“Varka!”

“If you don’t finish me off right now, you’re just a good for nothing!”

Varka was shaking with rage, vision swimming. But no matter how tightly he clenched his fist, he couldn’t bring himself to strike.

Because, in truth, Artem had him completely cornered.

Varka didn’t fear Snezhnaya’s vengeance—at worst, Mondstadt would suffer for a few years. Once the Anemo Archon and Dvalin returned, things would turn around.

But he did fear something happening to Barbatos and Dvalin before then.

And Artem’s words made it clear—Snezhnaya had a plan to kill the gods.

If anyone else had said it, Varka would’ve just laughed and slapped them.

But from Artem, he had to take it seriously.

Even if he knew Artem was probably bluffing, Varka couldn’t take the risk.

What if it was true?

Even if there was just a one percent chance—

If it happened, Mondstadt would be finished.

“Damn brat.”

Seeing Varka so furious yet unable to act, Artem’s smirk only grew wider.

“By the way.”

“Grand Master Varka, I should thank you for stabbing me.”

“From today on...”

“We’re square. Me and Mondstadt, we owe each other nothing.”

“Like I said before—I’ll do my job as Snezhnaya’s Inspector, you do yours as Grand Master. We don’t interfere with each other.”

“And stay away from Eula.”

“Otherwise, I’ll skin Dvalin, string it up in the Tsaritsa’s palace, and right in front of you, rip out Barbatos’s [Gnosis].”

“Let Mondstadt be godless—forever!”

With those words, Artem pointed at the door, his face cold and implacable.

“If you have nothing left to say, get out. I don’t want to see you.”

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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!