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It was late at night, and the tavern remained open as usual. Diluc was tending the bar, just like many other days, and nothing seemed different, except for one thing... As the bartender’s hands polished a glass, his mind wandered through a thousand daydreams like crystalflies around the Symbol of Mondstadt’s Hero. He was so absorbed that he didn’t notice when he pressed too hard and the glass shattered in his hands.
Silence fell around him. Diluc looked at his hands, filled with shards that embedded into his flesh, along with the crimson liquid that began to pour eagerly from his wounds. The red-hot streaks soon dripped more blood than his cupped fingers could hold, and it started to fall to the floor in thick drops... just like that day.
His vision blurred, his pulse quickened, and a piercing ringing filled his ears, blocking out the outside world. How long would it take for his memories to stop torturing him?
With clenched fists, despite the glass shards embedded in his skin, he left the bar and headed to the bathroom. In front of the sink, he turned on the hot water and washed his wounds. He carelessly pulled out the pieces of glass from his palms while the water flowed, carrying the blood down the drain, like the rain on that fateful afternoon.
The mirror before him reflected his image: a man with a frigid expression and an unfathomable darkness in his eyes. There was a time when those red orbs held something more than pain, but it had been so long that it was no longer worth remembering. When he glanced again, the surprise took his breath away. An older man, with features similar to his own, returned his sorrowful gaze.
“Father...”
It was only for a millisecond, but he was sure it was him. He looked at the glass again, this time holding it by the sides, only to find himself staring back. The pain throbbed in his hands as he gripped the mirror tightly, but he had suffered so long that any agony was nothing compared to the torment he endured on every anniversary of his death.
His expression had changed. He looked disturbed. The terror he hid so well was now visible. The last time he had allowed himself to show any emotion beyond indifference was the day of his departure.
The young Ragnvindr believed he couldn’t afford to show weakness. Once he regained his composure, he took some bandages from the medicine cabinet and wrapped his hands. He left the bathroom, hoping he hadn’t taken too long. It wasn’t as if the drunks of Mondstadt were capable of robbing the till behind the bar, but there was always someone trying to act clever. However, the scene that greeted him was strange. The entire tavern was plunged into deep darkness and an eerie silence. The customers had disappeared.
Had he taken that long? No, something was off, he told himself.
On guard, he headed to the bar, ready to draw his claymore at the slightest movement. Using his Pyro Vision, he lit a small flame in his injured palm, which illuminated the room in flickers. The red glow cast terrifying shadows around him, but most importantly, it allowed him to see a folded paper resting on the bar, right in front of where he usually stood to serve customers.
With his free hand, he carefully picked it up. As he turned it over, the words written on it bewildered him almost as much as the euphoric outburst of everyone emerging from their hiding places shouting, “Surprise!”
His eyes took a moment to adjust to the light, but when he lowered the arm shielding his dazzled gaze, the smiles of those present gave him a clear hint of what this was about. The drunken bard, the unlicensed explorer, the traveler and his companion, the lazy librarian, Kaeya, and Jean, stood in front of a table full of snacks. Improvised garlands hung from the edges, and a medium-sized chocolate cake crowned the center.
“When did you...?” The words caught in his throat. Too surprising to hide it.
“We’ve been waiting all night for you to get distracted so we could set this up,” explained Amber, approaching the bar, slightly out of breath, “and we even have presents for you. This one is mine. I hope you like it.”
The explorer placed a gift on the counter and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to open it. The others also began to gather around.
Diluc took the package hesitantly, feeling everyone’s eyes on him. It was a medium-sized rectangular box, immaculately white, with a large red bow. Upon opening it, he found a new, high-quality grinding stone. The redhead looked at Amber intently. He hadn’t had many opportunities to interact with her; how could she give him such a gift? He would remember to return the gesture someday.
“Credit goes to Jean and Kaeya for the idea... but we haven’t sorted out the drinks,” commented Venti with a mischievous smile. Aether shot the bard a furtive glance and an elbow to the ribs. Twisting in pain, he spoke with difficulty, “Relax! I have money today and also a gift. I’ll sing for you all for free! No need to thank me.”
The bartender gave him a steady look while the caught-in-the-act Archon—already recovered from the hit—made a small bow before pulling out his lyre and starting to play. A part of him found him so egocentric and irritating, not to mention the detail that he still owed him money, but he couldn’t deny that his presence during the nights had changed his routine for the better. By now, it was impossible to imagine them without him. And that bard was still the god of those values in which Mondstadt had stood, the land for which his ancestors had fought.
The traveler, seated next to Amber, suppressed a smile while watching the bard sing, then turned his gold eyes to the bartender with a joyful expression.
“I hope you don’t mind this. We did it with the best intentions.” His smile was so radiant it was blinding. “I also brought you something: a prototype claymore I found while traveling. I hope you put it to good use.”
“Appreciate it; you don’t see these things often,” added Paimon, wiping imaginary sweat from her forehead.
Aether placed the object on the bar, not waiting for the redhead’s reaction; he understood his distance perfectly and respected it. Diluc only glanced at it superficially, not knowing what to say. He had exceeded the limit of attention he could tolerate in a single day.
“I think our bartender is speechless,” joked Kaeya, adding in a murmur only he could hear, “Relax for today; they did all this for you.”
His confidant’s words didn’t bother him, and although it was hard to admit he agreed with him, as trivial as it was, he couldn’t be ungrateful. With some awkwardness, he managed a smile.
“Thank you... everyone. I really appreciate it.”
“Wait, darling. I haven’t given you my present yet,” Lisa hurriedly said, pulling a large book from her clothes. “Check it later; it has information you might find more useful than I do,” concluded the librarian, elegantly placing a hand on her chest.
“Before I have to go, please blow out the candles on the cake. Baking isn’t my strong suit, but... well, just eat it,” Jean interrupted with an unusually informal tone, for which he was internally grateful. It was a miracle to see her as Jean and not as the Acting Grand Master (for the second time since Varka’s departure). That pleased him, and without a doubt, was the best gift of the night.
Diluc left the bar, and under everyone’s gaze, slowly walked to the table. He took a quick glance around, feeling strangely pleased. Being so aloof hadn’t prevented him from making friends. He lit the candle with his flames and watched the warm light dance joyfully.
Venti began singing Happy Birthday softly, and the others joined timidly. The melody of their voices grew louder until it culminated in an extremely euphoric cheer, with applause and whistles. The birthday boy smiled, giving Jean one last inevitable look, who nodded in a mutual understanding only they shared. He blew out the candle, exorcising his woes with his breath.
Maybe, after all, he didn’t mind celebrating his birthday so much now.