Undercover in Snezhnaya, My Teyvat Spy Life [49]

Three days passed in the blink of an eye.

As the morning light gently crept across the land, Artem Vetrovski drew a deep breath.

He had finally resolved the question that had haunted him the past two days.

It’s not worth it.

Mondstadt wasn’t worth this much effort.

Even factoring in what Old Man Coulson did for him—finding him on Dragonspine, rescuing him from dying in a foreign world—

It still wasn’t enough.

He used to think if he could just hold out for four years, help Mondstadt shake off Snezhnaya’s shadow once and for all, that would be enough to repay his debt to Coulson.

Then he could walk away with a clear conscience.

But now Artem saw things differently.

No matter what he did, no matter how hard he worked, it was all pointless.

Mondstadt was rotten to the core.

Beyond saving.

This so-called “spirit of freedom” had turned the whole nation into overgrown children.

Maybe the freedom Barbatos spoke of wasn’t meant to be like this, but the Mondstadters had taken it too far.

So free they didn’t have the slightest sense of crisis.

Just thinking of those undisciplined Knights, the lazy townsfolk, Artem felt his anger rising.

This kind of freedom, where everyone expects to be cared for…

No matter how hard I work, or how dedicated the upper ranks of the Knights are, it’s pointless.

Even if I ripped the Tsaritsa’s [Gnosis] right out of her hands, Mondstadt would still get crushed by Snezhnaya.

So why bother?

From today onward, he wouldn’t waste another thought or drop of energy on Mondstadt.

Let them do as they liked.

Even if Old Man Coulson came back to life, Artem would say it to his face.

He was sentimental—sure. But that didn’t mean he’d let emotion rule his head.

If Mondstadt couldn’t be helped, he wouldn’t throw himself away for it.

From now on, unless Mondstadt was willing to pay a heavy price, they could forget about getting another scrap of intel from him.

“Old man…”

“It’s been so many years.”

“I’ve paid my debt to you, more or less.”

“So if you’re watching from the other side, don’t blame me for my choices.”

“If you want to blame someone, blame these disappointing Mondstadters.”

After a silent moment of mourning in the direction of the Church of Favonius, Artem set out for the Lawrence estate.

---

Varka stood quietly atop the tower.

He watched Artem leave the Goth Grand Hotel, striding boldly out of Mondstadt.

“So, it’s finally starting.”

Varka sighed, uneasy.

Today should have been a good day: cleaning out traitors, eliminating a dangerous Fatui envoy.

But his mood just wouldn’t lift.

He’d already sent Diluc to protect Crepus. Against an average opponent like Krupp, with no Vision and little skill, there was nothing to worry about.

And if Krupp tried to assassinate Mondstadt’s wealthiest citizen, it was the perfect excuse to demand an explanation from the Fatui.

With Albert’s help, Varka was sure things would settle down in the end.

Worst case, even if Crepus died, it wouldn’t matter. A traitor’s just a traitor. He was only using his fortune to buy a little extra time.

Sooner or later, he’d be dead anyway. Dying at Krupp’s hands might even leave him a better legacy.

What truly unsettled Varka was Artem.

Ever since their talk in the office—when Artem made those three demands—a shadow had hung over his heart.

Especially the third one.

Varka couldn’t understand it.

Why did Albert want him to kill him?

To put on a show for Eula Lawrence?

But what would that accomplish?

There was no way Albert would reveal his undercover identity to Eula.

So if Varka publicly tried to kill him, anyone could explain it away as normal hostility between opposing factions.

In Teyvat, nothing could be more ordinary—when you get the chance, you kill your enemies.

Unless…

Unless Albert was certain of one thing: that when he was in danger, Eula would step in against Varka.

If she did that, she’d be a traitor, with no place left in Mondstadt.

Then, as an exile, she’d have no choice but to leave with Artem—the Inspector of the Fatui—once and for all.

It made sense, on paper.

But Varka still couldn’t accept it.

Why?
How long have you even known each other?
Not even a month? Most of that time, you two were fighting!

Was that really enough to make a Knight as loyal as Eula turn against her own Grand Master?

Varka’s mind demanded an answer.

What gives you that kind of confidence, Albert?

And even if Eula really did betray the Knights for him, what would happen when she discovered Albert’s true identity—that everything was a lie to trick her out of Mondstadt?

How would she feel then?

Besides, Varka had basically watched Albert grow up. Maybe he didn’t know every secret, but he knew the boy well.

Albert wasn’t the type to play with someone’s feelings for cheap gain.

If he said he wanted Eula, it meant he was genuinely moved.

And that just made his strange behavior harder to understand.

Varka frowned, glancing over the city, trying to clear his mind.

But when he saw the Lawrences strutting through the streets, his mood soured even further.

A clan of sinners.

Long ago, Lady Vennessa had shown them mercy—letting them atone over centuries, not destroying them outright.

But after a thousand years, they still did nothing, living off the Knights’ charity. No repentance—just new betrayal.

Now they even dreamed of delivering Mondstadt to Snezhnaya.

By Barbatos! That’s treason—sacrilege!

If not for Albert’s plea, Varka would have wiped them out already.

And then there was Eula.

He’d been so busy with the Knights lately, he hadn’t noticed how close she and Albert had become.

Now, it was too late.

He’d thought, with Coulson dead for a year now, he needed to find some other way to keep Albert tied to Mondstadt.

Instead, he’d been played.

Everything Albert was doing now made it obvious—he was sacrificing the whole Lawrence family for Eula’s freedom.

No matter how that “assassination” played out, after tonight, Eula would surely leave Mondstadt with him.

Once they reached Snezhnaya, they’d be beyond anyone’s reach.

As for that talk about sending Eula’s family to Varka as leverage...

Bah! Nonsense!

Other than Eula, Albert wouldn’t care about any of them.

Varka sighed, massaging his temples.

One wrong step, and now every step is wrong.

He should have listened to Coulson years ago—kept Albert in the Church, had him and Diluc defend Mondstadt together, one in the light and one in the shadows.

He and Seamus could have finally rested easy.

Remembering Albert’s brazen threats in front of Jean made his headache even worse.

He looked up at the rising moon and sighed again.

Even if that kid’s cut all ties with Mondstadt, for Coulson’s sake, he’ll probably keep being our mole.

Probably.

---

T/N: Probably :)

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!