Undercover in Snezhnaya, My Teyvat Spy Life [16]

After leaving Angel’s Share, Artem strolled leisurely toward the Church of Favonius.

He took in a choir performance.

When the crowd dispersed, he quietly slipped a small note into the Anemo Archon statue.

The message was simple:

Evaluation complete: Eula Lawrence is trustworthy.

If the Lawrence clan ever betrays Mondstadt, Eula Lawrence won’t hesitate to take action.

Truthfully, Artem already knew Eula could be counted on; even without his little test, it was only a matter of time before she proved her resolve to all of Mondstadt.

But orders were orders—and this one came straight from Varka.

“Use your universally despised Snezhnayan identity to approach Eula Lawrence and see if she’ll always stand with Mondstadt.”

“Tch—”

Just thinking about it made Artem scoff under his breath.

Eighteen years in Teyvat had taught him one thing:

Games are games.

Reality is reality.

Back when he first arrived, Mondstadt had seemed a land of perfect freedom and happiness.

But the moment he joined the secret branch, that rosy picture was shattered.

While the other children played in the open air, he was learning the arts of assassination, stealth, and thievery.

While others knelt before the statue of the Anemo Archon in worship, he was fighting for his life in the dark, weapon in hand.

And all the while, the Church of Favonius’s indoctrination never stopped, drilling into him the idea of loyalty to Mondstadt, of devotion to the Anemo Archon.

If Artem hadn’t been a transmigrator with a mind already set in stone, he might have broken under all that brainwashing long ago.

He looked at his hands, turning them over in the sunlight, and gave a self-mocking laugh.

In my past life, I’d never killed anyone—not even a fish.

But here, in this “land of freedom and song,” my hands are drenched in blood.

And Varka—the man who on the surface lived by the Anemo Archon’s creed of freedom, always looking carefree and idle—was, in reality, as black-hearted as coal.

When Artem was promoted to Fatui Inspector and his rank in Mondstadt’s secret service shot up, so did his security clearance.

To protect the secret, Varka had personally ordered the execution of over ninety percent of those who knew Artem’s true identity.

Only those who could be absolutely trusted to serve Mondstadt were allowed to remain.

If this was how dark “free” Mondstadt could be, what hope was there for Snezhnaya—the nation known to all as the villain?

The strongest nation in Teyvat.

Its methods had more than a little in common with the two superpowers of Artem’s old world.

At home, the military was rigorously trained, its soldiers disciplined and technology leagues ahead of the rest.

Abroad, Snezhnaya’s diplomats exerted pressure through sheer force, their troops stirring up trouble wherever they went.

All that strength came at the cost of countless lives across Teyvat.

Human experiments, automaton technology, weapon research, [Delusions]—Snezhnaya leeched these advancements from every other nation.

Especially the human experiments.

Just thinking about it gave Artem goosebumps.

In order to help their soldiers survive the backlash from [Delusions], Snezhnaya’s body modification projects never stopped.

The one in charge? The Fatui’s Number Two, The Doctor—Dottore.

Because of Artem’s unique constitution, that madman had more than once publicly stated his desire to dissect him for research.

If not for the fact that his superior, the Tenth Harbinger—Arlecchino, “The Knave”—protected him fiercely, Artem might have ended up on Dottore’s table already.

If the Fatui treated their own this way, outsiders stood no chance.

And Artem had seen firsthand the “specimens” crammed into Dottore’s labs—enough to make your skin crawl.

So, compared to that, he’d still rather be back in Mondstadt.

The report had been delivered to the Church.

Now, at a loss for what to do, Artem was just about to head out when someone barreled into him—hard.

It was a serious collision; even with his physical strength, he stumbled.

“Ow—are you okay?”

A cold, emotionless voice called from behind him.

The moment Artem recognized it, any anger he felt vanished.

Rosaria.

If she was looking for him now, it could only mean she had a job for him.

Still, he had to keep up the Snezhnayan act.

“Pretty bold—daring to crash into a Fatui envoy!”

“You Mondstadters really are too reckless. Aren’t you afraid of the Tsaritsa’s wrath?”

He spun around, feigning fury, face flushed and jaw clenched, looking every bit like he was about to snap.

Rosaria didn’t back down—her reply was frosty and sharp.

“Standing around in the way, then making a scene about it. What’s the point of yelling?”

“You looking to die?”

Artem’s eyes narrowed, Pyro energy flickering at his feet.

Their tense standoff quickly drew the attention of nearby sisters and Knights.

“Rosaria! What do you think you’re doing?!”

The shout didn’t come from the nuns, but from a calm male voice.

A blond man, elegant and sharp-eyed, shouldered his way through the crowd, his bishop’s hat tall and imposing.

“Honored envoy,” he said with a gentle bow. “I am Seamus Pegg, Bishop of the Church of Favonius.”

“I apologize for Sister Rosaria’s rudeness. To make amends, may I invite you upstairs to accept my personal apology?”

His tone was as warm as a spring breeze, instantly putting one at ease.

Artem grinned. “Now, that’s how a bishop ought to talk.”

“Fine, I’ll give you some face. But if your apology doesn’t satisfy me—well, you’ll just have to deal with the consequences.”

The sisters and Knights frowned.

They’d all heard stories of the Fatui envoy’s arrogance, but rumor didn’t do it justice.

This guy was beyond arrogant—he was out of control!

Seamus, however, remained unruffled, smiling as he gestured for Artem to follow.

Without hesitation, Artem swaggered after him.

...

As soon as they reached the office, Rosaria—who’d brought up the rear—locked the door, strode over, and grabbed Artem by the ear, twisting it hard.

“You're really getting bold. Even daring to insult me?”

“Ow, ow, ow—! Big Sis, come on, if I don’t put on a show, who’s going to believe me?”

Rosaria released him with a snort. “I’ll let you off this time.”

Watching the two bicker, Seamus’s formal tone vanished; he smiled gently. “All right, that’s enough. Down to business.”

“Albert, we need you to take care of something.”

“Do you have to call me that name?”

Artem grimaced.

That was his Mondstadt name—no one had called him that in years.

And he hated it. Every time he heard it, he thought of a certain legendary simp.

“Oh, all right.”

Seamus nodded, then repeated, “Albert, here’s the situation—”

“Ugh—”

Artem winced.

If this guy weren’t the bishop, he’d have knocked those glasses right off his face.

Seamus turned serious. “Crepus has been in contact with the Fatui behind the Knights’ backs. We need you to investigate, to determine if he’s a threat to Mondstadt.”

“Send someone else.”

Artem rejected him outright. “That was years ago—how am I supposed to investigate now?”

Seamus knew his temperament well, and just smiled.

“Varka said there’ll be a reward if you get results.”

“I’m not interested in any amount of Mora.”

“He said he’ll give you a wife!”

“I’m in!”

---

T/N: ?????????????????????????? maybe he really is Albert...

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!