Undercover in Snezhnaya, My Teyvat Spy Life [23]

Crepus didn’t hesitate for a second.

The moment Varka said Artem Vetrovski wanted to see him, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

He’d barely closed the door behind him when a sardonic voice rang out.

“Well, it’s really not easy to get an audience with you, is it?”

“Master Crepus.”

Looking in the direction of the voice, Crepus saw a masked man sitting comfortably in Varka’s chair.

On the desk before him lay Diluc’s [Favonius Greatsword] and Eula’s [Song of Broken Pines].

At the sight of his son’s weapon, Crepus felt his heart leap into his throat.

Just as he’d told Seamus:
He might have Kaeya as an adopted son, but by blood, Diluc was his only child.

Whether it was his own lifelong wish to be a Knight of Favonius, the legacy of the Ragnvindr name and the Dawn Knight’s title, or the inheritance of the Dawn Winery.

Diluc was irreplaceable.

If anything happened to him, Crepus couldn’t imagine how he’d go on.

But panicking wouldn’t solve anything now.

Crepus drew a slow, deep breath, forced down the chaos inside, and calmly walked over to face Artem, pulling out a chair to sit across from him.

His voice was low and steady. “Who are you? Why did you take my son?”

“Oh, it’s all just to get a chance to meet you,” Artem said, as if blaming him. “Who told you to spend all your time cooped up at the Knights’ headquarters? I could hardly find you.”

“Well, you’ve found me now. Say what you need to say.”

Crepus tried to keep his voice even, not letting his worry show.

But the look on his face betrayed him—every emotion written clear as day. Artem grinned, leaning in.

“The Doctor sent me with a message for you.”

“He said: After all this time using the [Delusion]… why aren’t you dead yet?”

The name The Doctor—Dottore—hit Crepus like a bolt of lightning.
His mind reeled, thunder crashing again and again inside his skull, a wave of dizziness threatening to sweep him under.

His hands clenched white-knuckled on the armrests.
His lips moved, barely able to form the words.

“You… you’re one of The Doctor’s people?”

“What do you think?” Artem rolled his eyes, propping his chin on his hands. “If I wasn’t, do you think Varka would be this cooperative?”

“Heh, I suppose not,” Crepus managed, a hollow smile tugging at his lips.

“That kind of behavior… that way of speaking… it could only be The Doctor.”

He took Artem’s words at face value and answered honestly.

“My [Delusion] was stolen from me.”

Then, without skipping a single detail, he recounted being attacked by Eroch and losing the [Delusion] in the end.

“Eroch?” Artem repeated, then gave a cold snort. “Where is he?”

“He’s already been executed by the Grand Master.”

“So that means… the [Delusion] is with Varka now?” Artem’s gaze sharpened, eyes icy as he stared Crepus down.

“I don’t know.” Crepus shook his head, voice bleak.

“Varka told me it was lost...”

At that, Artem slammed the table with his palm, voice ringing with fury.

“Are you an idiot?!”

“Did a boar knock the sense out of your head?”

“You just believe whatever Varka tells you?”

“Hmph! You dare lose something that belongs to The Doctor!”

“Crepus, you’ve got a lot of nerve!”

In his anger, Artem leapt up, seized Crepus by the collar, and raised a fist as if to strike.

Crepus didn’t resist—just squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the blow.

But nothing happened.

After a long moment, he opened his eyes to see Artem’s fist lowered, watching him with a twisted, mocking smile.

“Hmph. Count yourself lucky.”

“I have principles—I don’t hit the old, the young, the sick, or the weak.”

Artem let go, smoothing out his own clothes.

“…”

Crepus stared at him in silence.

He wasn’t sure whether to be grateful for being spared, or to be amazed that even The Doctor’s underlings apparently had principles.

But he didn’t forget why he’d come here.

“My son—where is he?”

“What do you want in exchange for his freedom?”

He didn’t believe for a moment this was just about meeting face-to-face.
Far more likely, The Doctor had a task for him.

Artem glanced at him and dropped all pretense.

“Tsk. A sharp one.”

“The Doctor wants me to ask you—have you got what he asked for, or not?”

Crepus frowned, confusion creasing his brow.

“The Doctor only asked me to collect children who met his requirements. He never told me to prepare anything else…”

“Nothing?” Artem placed a hand on Crepus’s shoulder, leaning in to murmur, “Think carefully. Really nothing…?”

Cold sweat broke out on Crepus’s forehead.

He swallowed hard, lips twitching. “Truly… no… no—”

Suddenly, something seemed to dawn on him. He stammered, “No, wait. There—there is something.”

“But it’s not something I could ever get my hands on.”

“Even if you kill me, I… I can’t give it to you.”

“Oh?” Artem let go, sounding almost bored. “So where is it now?”

“Varka has it. He keeps it on his person.”

“….”

That settled it—Artem was sure now.
There really was something Crepus couldn’t touch.

The interrogation was over.

Everything matched up with what Artem had suspected.

This special [Delusion] had indeed been given to Crepus by The Doctor.

And the two had entered into a bargain.

The “children who met the requirements” Crepus spoke of were undoubtedly the experimental subjects The Doctor needed.

And he’d even promised to steal something for The Doctor— but whatever it was, Varka had kept it so well-guarded that Crepus never had a chance.

In return, The Doctor gave Crepus the power he craved above all else.

For strength, he’d betrayed Mondstadt itself.

Even knowing the [Delusion] would eventually kill him, he never hesitated.

Perhaps it had never crossed his mind that, to The Doctor, he was just another experiment.
A convenient test subject to observe the effects of this new [Delusion].

With all the facts in hand, only one question remained.

Artem stepped up to Crepus and closed a hand around his throat, voice gone ice-cold.

“You lost the [Delusion], and you failed to deliver what The Doctor wanted.”

“Crepus Ragnvindr.”

“Do you know? The Doctor is furious. The consequences will be severe.”

He squeezed, just enough to cut off Crepus’s air.

Deprived of the [Delusion], Crepus was just an ordinary man; instantly, he was choking for breath, clutching at Artem’s wrist with all his strength.

But Artem’s grip was iron—no matter how Crepus struggled, it didn’t budge.

Eyes rolling back, Crepus forced out the words through gritted teeth.

“If I… die, so be it.”

“But for the sake of… serving The Doctor… for ten years… spare—spare my son.”

There. The final answer.

Artem released him.
As Crepus gulped in air, Artem let out a cold laugh.

“The Doctor is merciful.”

“For the sake of your ten years’ service, you’ll keep your life.”

“I’ll return your son to you. Until then, don’t move, and don’t cause trouble. Stay here and wait.”

With that, Artem turned and opened the door.

Before the eyes of the entire Knights of Favonius, he strolled out as if nothing in the world could touch him.

As for Crepus—

After delivering a decade’s worth of experimental subjects to The Doctor, and with Varka’s methods…

He was as good as dead.

Not even Barbatos, the Anemo Archon himself, could save him now.

---

T/N: damn... he worked with the doctor for ten years..

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!