Archive of Our Own

Getting sick on your birthday was possibly the worst thing ever, Kaeya decided.

Well, truth to be told, Kaeya never thinks much about his birthday anyway, always seeing it as just another day, and nothing special. But he couldn’t help but lament his misfortune now that he was pathetically stuck on his bed, indisposed and feeling ill down to his bone. All for what? A common cold. It was almost insulting.

“This is the worst…” he rasped, his voice hoarse and raw, the words scraping painfully out of his throat.

The thing about colds was that they weren’t exactly life-threatening or anything. It was just a bunch of things that make you miserable being combined into one catastrophe; a sore throat, a clogged nose, a fever, a pounding headache, and an overwhelming sense of lethargy that rendered you completely useless.

It’s not life-threatening, no, it was just plain annoying.

Kaeya bemoaned. At least if he was induced in lethal sickness—something genuinely life-threatening—he wouldn’t feel so guilty about taking a sick leave. It would feel justified, rather than leaving him to drown in the shame of being a useless speck of disappointment to society. Because he would probably be passed out, his immune system and all the flaws of his Khaenri’ah-born body working overtime to battle the illness. But with this infuriating cold, Kaeya still retained enough mental clarity to think about all the tasks he could be working on—things he could be accomplishing—if only he weren’t stuck in bed.

Yet here he was, lying down on his bed feeling like he had grown three more skin from how much he was sweating underneath the blanket. He was drenched and felt utterly gross, but he lacked the energy to roll out of bed, let alone change his sheets or clothes. As for taking a cold bath? The thought was tempting against his feverish skin, but it might as well have been an impossible dream.

All, on his birthday.

Kaeya was certain that the Heaven really hated him. The Celestia must have had something to do with this. They must be.

People say that the human being was the most advanced evolution that ever happened to the universe (except for the existence of literal elemental beings and all the gods and goddesses), the pinnacle of creation. But Kaeya right now had ample of arguments that to refute that claim. First of all, How could an “advanced” species fall victim to something as absurdly tiny as a microscopic virus? And of all days for his immune system to betray him, it had to be today.

To make matters worse, Kaeya was a Vision-bearer, for Archons’ sake. What was the point of wielding divine power if that power couldn’t ever fight nanometre-sized enemies? Kaeya could try freezing the viruses inside his body, and risking freezing himself in the process—but the thought of being free from this torment sounded like a good deal.

Or maybe that was just his rarely emerging, suicidal self, talking to him.

He groaned, burying his face in his damp pillow. Cursing out everything and everyone, including himself. Mostly himself. Grumbling, sulking, and willing up every ounce of sheer willpower to somehow convince his head not to split apart by the intense headache rattling his brain, trying to shake the last bits of consciousness Kaeya had.

Statistically speaking, dying out of mere season-cold was uncommon, but Kaeya felt like he might just be, for this special occasion of his birthday. Might as well write this down the history of being the first person to ever die of a mere cold. What a legacy that would be.

He will die today (He will not), and he will die alone. How appropriate (he’s exaggerating).

“You look like you’ve seen better days.”

Kaeya blinked, his vision swimming as he caught sight of a figure standing in the doorway. He blinked again, the sweat soaking his face making his eye patch feel unbearably uncomfortable. After the third blink, when the blurry figure still didn’t disappear, Kaeya wavered between deciding if it was an actual person or just a fragment of his feverish imagination. Well, manners first, he thought groggily. Hallucination or not, let’s be polite.

Kaeya coughed, his throat dry and raspy, before managing to croak out, “Why, thank you.”

Albedo stepped into the room, carrying what Kaeya’s hazy vision identified as Klee’s giant Dodoco plushie. Alright, that’s weird- Maybe this is a hallucination after all. But then came the sharp screech of a wooden chair being dragged across the tiled floor quickly contested that notion.

“How you are feeling?” The fever hallucination (?) Albedo asked conversationally. The alchemist placed the chair beside Kaeya’s bed—the same spot where the church nurse had sat earlier that morning while diagnosing him—and settled into it with practiced ease, his expression remained familiarly blank. Nope, this Albedo was very much real, Kaeya concluded, his thoughts clouded but coherent enough to process that much.

“Like I’ve seen better days.”

Albedo let out a soft chuckle at Kaeya’s weak, sarcastic retort. “Mind your attitude, young man,” the alchemist teased lightly. Then, after a beat, he added, “Klee wanted to visit you, you know? She’s quite worried.”

“She better not take a single step into this room,” Kaeya replied firmly. The last thing he wanted was for someone else—especially a child, like Klee—to catch whatever he was battling. As much as Kaeya claimed to hate the world and everyone in it (with a few notable exceptions), he wasn’t cruel enough to wish this torment (It was just a cold) on anyone else, even his worst enemies.

Then a thought struck him, cutting through the haze of his fever. “Wait a second—how the heck did you even get into my apartment? I’m sure I locked the front door.”

Well, it’s not like Kaeya was concerned about his well-being. Even if someone broke into his apartment to kill him over a past grudge or something, they would be disappointed to see Kaeya was already on the brink of death (he wasn’t) because of this Celestia-forsaken cold. Honestly, Kaeya might even welcome the mercy of a quick end if it freed him from this relentless torment.

Alright, this suicidal self of his really needs to shut up because, for the love of Barbatos, Kaeya really felt like his head might just explode.

“I borrowed your spare key from Jean,” Albedo answered plainly. “Don’t worry, Jean explicitly forbade Klee from visiting. Children are more prone to illness, after all. But she did write you a letter wishing you a swift recovery.” The alchemist produced an envelope, its surface adorned with Klee’s unmistakable scribbles, and placed it on the nightstand. Kaeya eyed it wistfully, but in his current state—with his brain feeling as mushed as an overcooked porridge—he decided it was better left for later.

“And this,” Albedo continued, lifting a ridiculously large Dodoco plushie, “is from Klee as well. A birthday gift. Though, I suspect Alice may have had something to do with it.” Albedo then unceremoniously shoved the enormous Dodoco plushie to Kaeya’s face —rude— and Kaeya grudgingly accepted it with a hoarse oomph- as the giant ball of doll settled nicely on his chest.

“Well, let’s hope she inherited her mom’s supernatural witch powers that her wishes actually work on me,” the bedridden man joked. With some effort, Kaeya maneuvered the plushie to the side of his head, letting it serve as an improvised pillow to elevate his throbbing skull. The slight change actually alleviated his headache a little.

Albedo didn’t miss a beat on the joke. “Careful there. Aunt Alice might be hearing everything we’re saying at this very moment.”

“Even better. Alice, if you’re really listening, please send me the strongest cold medicine you’ve come across in your travels across the universe. Oh, and if by any chance another universe has invented a way to make humans immune to colds entirely, I’d like a piece of that too. Thanks in advance.”

That earned a rare chuckle from the usually stoic alchemist. “Glad to see your humor hasn’t abandoned you—unlike the color on your face.”

Kaeya wanted to laugh in return, but his throat protested with a sharp, raspy ache that made him wince. “Weird way of saying I’ve gone pale,” he managed, his voice as dry as the desert sands. “You’d know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t you, pale man?”

“Well, isn’t this quite a spectacle to behold? I see that you are doing well.”

Their conversation and light jab were interrupted by another voice coming from the doorway. They turned their head at the same time to see Lisa smiling at them, her hand crossed over her chest as she leaned on the opened wooden door frame.

Albedo offered her a polite nod. “Lisa.”

Kaeya, however, frowned, “Why is it that you can enter my house, too?”

Lisa’s smile didn’t falter, and her voice was calm and innocent. “The door was unlocked,” she replied sweetly.

Her words overlapped perfectly with Albedo’s matter-of-fact explanation: “I didn’t lock the door after I came in.”

“This is why I can’t have nice things.” Kaeya groaned, his head falling back against his pillow as he muttered, “And since when is ‘the door was unlocked’ a valid reason to just barge into someone’s house uninvited?”

Lisa strolled leisurely to Kaeya’s bedside, stopping beside Albedo. With only one chair in the room, she remained standing. Instead of answering his rhetorical question, she slipped off her right glove and pressed her bare hand against Kaeya’s forehead. “I take back what I said earlier,” she remarked lightly. “When I said you were doing well, I meant relatively well—for someone sick, at least.”

Kaeya wanted to scoff at her, but he was feeling miserable, and her cool touch felt heavenly against his feverish skin. When Lisa withdrew her hand after gauging his temperature, Kaeya missed that cold touch immediately. “You guys are so mean to me. Didn’t the grannies at the front gate say you’re supposed to treat sick people with care?” A pathetic small whine escaped his constricting throat, and damn did he feel like a whiny, needy child. Kaeya will just blame it on the sickness.

Albedo chuckled at that. “We do care.”

“Great. I’m feeling better already.” Though Kaeya meant it as a sarcastic jab, hearing that did actually make him feel a little bit better. Mentally, at least.

Without realizing it, his eyelid had drifted shut. Forcing it open again, he squinted at the blurry figures of Lisa and Albedo beside him. “Are you two seriously fine being here? Aren’t you worried you might catch this?”

Albedo shrugged. “I’m an artificial human, Kaeya. Mortal illnesses won’t affect me.”

Lisa smiled. “As for me, I’ve been layering myself with protective and health spells since the start of this illness-prone season.”

This world is not fair- Kaeya decided.

“Oh wow, sorry for gracing you both with this sick, weak, mere mortal flesh of mine.”

“Alright, enough self-pitying. Consider this my present to you,” Lisa said with a playful smile. She raised her hands and began drawing intricate shapes in the air, magical runes forming and glowing faintly. Kaeya blinked sluggishly, watching the unfamiliar symbols float around her fingers. Sometimes he forgot that Lisa was an accomplished practitioner of magic—enough to be recognized as a witch, even. She’d once explained that her abilities came from a deeper understanding of the ley lines and elemental energy than most people could fathom.

Though Kaeya had no idea what the runes or whispered incantations meant, Albedo’s intrigued expression suggested they were more than impressive. Lisa seemed to be manipulating the elemental energy and ley lines in the room, the spell culminating in a soft pulse of light that sank into Kaeya’s chest.

“There,” Lisa said with a satisfied nod. “It’s a recovery spell. It works like slow-acting medicine. Now, have you taken your actual medicine, Kaeya?”

Kaeya shifted under the blankets; his energy still non-existent. “Yeah, this morning.” A wave of new sluggishness hit him. It was different from the lethargy he’d felt before, settling heavily behind his eyes. He shot Lisa a suspicious look as his head began to loll to the side. “I’m feeling sleepy as heck now. Is this your spell doing?”

Lisa didn’t deny it. She eased his head back against the pillow and tugged the duvet snugly over him, her touch unexpectedly gentle. “That’s one of the effects, yes. It’ll help you rest.”

Albedo, recognizing it was time to leave, rose from his chair while Lisa continued fussing over the sick knight. “Rest well, Kaeya,” the alchemist said quietly. “We’ll stay until you’re asleep.”

Kaeya fought against the creeping fog in his mind, trying to stay awake. Lisa and Albedo’s voices were already becoming distant, as though they were speaking from across a great expanse. He thought Lisa spoke next, but their words blurred together too much to distinguish. “Happy birthday—wish you all the best—well, no, wish you a fast recovery.”

Well- he did catch that last sentence.

Kaeya groaned groggily, his voice barely above a mumble. “Not… funny…”

Despite his protest, the spell worked against his better judgment. His eyes fell shut, and the last traces of his consciousness melted away, pulling him into a peaceful, restful slumber.

Kaeya woke up hours later, feeling somewhat rested, though the lingering lethargy weighed heavily on him. He couldn't quite decide if he felt better or worse; his body seemed stuck in a halfway state between rest and exhaustion. The sun was now high in the sky, and the small clock on the wall near the door indicated it was just past the knight's usual lunch break. Lisa and Albedo were long gone, but the wooden chair Albedo had occupied earlier remained in its place, now joined by a second chair beside it.

Kaeya blinked away the remnants of sleep when he heard a pair of footsteps echoing from outside his bedroom.

“Sir Kaeya! We brought you lunch!”

The door swung open to reveal a cheerful Amber, followed closely by Eula behind her. The Spindrift Knight held a woven basket, while Amber cradled a giant Baron Bunny plushie.

For a second time that day, Kaeya found himself questioning whether or not he was still dreaming. First, why was everyone bringing giant plush dolls to visit him? And second, why did it seem like everyone had access to his house now?

“Amber... and Eula, too,” Kaeya greeted, his voice raspier than usual as he struggled to sit up in bed. After a moment of effort, he managed to prop himself against the wooden headboard with a groan. “Let me guess—Albedo gave you my house key?”

The two women exchanged a glance, showing not a hint of shame. “Yup!” Amber replied cheerfully, holding up the spare key and twirling it on her finger. The lion-shaped keychain attached to it made Kaeya sigh internally—that was indeed his emergency spare key, the one he’d entrusted to Jean. Pressing point with underline here; emergency.

Eula settled herself in one of the empty chairs, placing the basket carefully on the carpeted floor near her feet. Amber’s eyes sparkled with delight as she noticed the Dodoco plushie acting as Kaeya’s makeshift pillow. “Oh! And look!” she chirped, her excitement palpable. “I made you a giant Baron Bunny for your birthday!”

Before Kaeya could react, Amber placed her oversized Baron Bunny plush on the opposite side of his pillow. Now, Kaeya found himself sandwiched between two gigantic plushies. A Dodoco plushie, and a Baron Bunny plushie. So much for the fearsome Kaeya Alberich, the Cavalry Captain of Knight of Favonius.

“O-oh… thank you…”

He opened his mouth to ask more, but his words caught in his throat as Eula’s piercing gaze fixed on him. The aristocrat was scrutinizing him intently, her expression colder than the icy air of Dragonspine. She frowned harder than ever, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Hm. You look worse for wear, Sir Kaeya,” she stated bluntly. “As a gesture of consideration, I will temporarily halt my vengeance against you—for that time you recklessly endangered yourself on a mission.”

Knowing Eula for years had given him a decent grasp of her peculiar manner of speaking. He understood that her threats of vengeance were more symbolic than literal—though that didn’t make them any less intimidating. Trust Eula to hold a grudge against him for risking his own life, and add it to her never-ending list of vengeance.

Amber too laughed at the half-hearted threat by the other knights’ captain, “By which she means: she’s worried about you!” she teased, winking at Kaeya. Without missing a beat, Amber dragged the small wooden coffee table from the side of the room closer to his bed. “Eula even ordered the most luxurious meal set the restaurant could make for takeout. She said that since it’s your birthday, she’d treat you to a proper meal,” she added brightly.

As Amber began unpacking the contents of the woven basket onto the now-empty table, Kaeya’s single visible eye widened. Okay, that was not a generous amount of food- that was way too much food for only three people; Six skewers of Mondstadt grilled fish, six chicken mushroom skewers, a large bowl of salad, a steaming bowl of cream soup, three plates of sticky honey roast, two neatly wrapped fisherman’s toasts, and several shop-bought moon pies.

Kaeya glanced over the spread, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. He hadn’t eaten all day, having taken his morning medicine with only a glass of water. Kaeya didn’t have much of an appetite in the first place, and his illness-induced state didn’t help that at all. 

“This... is quite a luxury indeed.”

Seeing this much food actually makes him nauseous. But like hell he’d admit that to the two cheerful knights who had taken time out of their busy schedules to visit him—and bring him such a feast, no less.

Thankfully, sick as he was, Kaeya’s knack for masking his emotions remained intact. Amber was still bustling around, happily arranging the barrage of dishes on the small table. Once the woven basket was empty, she hurried to his kitchen, returning moments later with three glasses and a jug of water. “We’ll eat together with you!” she declared brightly.

“You don’t have to do that. I don’t want you two getting sick as well,” Kaeya replied, his concern genuine.

Amber waved off his worry with a shrug, settling into the chair beside Eula, who had already claimed a plate of sticky honey roast. “Nonsense! Food always tastes better when shared with companies. Now, what would you like to eat, Kaeya?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

Kaeya’s fingers twitched beneath the blanket as he scanned the spread of food. Something heavy didn’t seem like a wise choice for his unsettled stomach, so he decided to go with the lighter option. “Um, I’ll take the cream soup, then,” he said softly.

The bowl of soup was closest to Eula, who handed it to him with her usual composed demeanor. Kaeya accepted it with a small nod and a murmured 'Thank you' Eula nodded back, her focus already shifting to the plate in front of her as she neatly cut her meat into bite-sized pieces. “Oh, Jean also instructed us to make sure you take your midday dose, and that you are to properly rest after you eat your lunch and medicine,” Eula said, gesturing toward the small bottle of pills resting on Kaeya’s bedside table.

Kaeya glanced at the medicine, grimacing at the memory of its terrible taste when the pill had accidentally grazed his tongue earlier. “…Of course she told you that.”

Amber, seated beside Eula, had piled her plate with chicken mushroom skewers, grilled fish, and a fisherman’s toast wrap. Clapping her hands together in a brief prayer, she beamed. “Well then! Let’s eat before the food gets cold!”

Kaeya smiled weakly, despite his nonexistent appetite, basking in Amber and Eula’s presence actually chasing away the building headache on his head. He scooped a small spoonful of soup and took a tentative sip, mentally willing his stomach to behave—at least until the two knights left the room. For now, their cheerful company made the effort seem just a little more bearable.

The next time Kaeya graced the realm of consciousness a visit, he felt immeasurably worse. It wasn’t the pain that stirred him awake this time but the murmur of voices—several of them—just outside his room. Cracking one bleary eye open, Kaeya managed to make out at least four individuals judging from the voices alone. As a knight, his instincts told him to be on high alert, assess the situation, and act accordingly. But what could he possibly do when the mere act of opening one eye and straining to listen sent sharp waves of pain coursing through his head? It was enough to make him fleetingly wish he could fling himself out the nearest window.

“Oh my… The acting grandmaster was right… I should have checked on him sooner, this place is a mess.”

Mess? Whoever said that was putting it lightly. Mere minutes after Amber and Eula had left his apartment, Kaeya’s stomach hurled itself. He barely had enough time to stagger into the bathroom, retching up the little food he’d managed to stomach earlier, thankfully into the toilet bowl. Had he been even a second slower, he would just throw up all over the bathroom instead, and he still needed to crawl back into his bed.

“You three- Shh! Keep your voice down! And why are you guys following me? I’m here to clean Sir Kaeya’s apartment under the acting grandmaster’s order!”

That sounded like Noelle, Kaeya thought groggily, letting out a low groan as he lay where he was, his body heavy and overheated. The fever wasn’t relenting; if anything, it felt worse. This fever is going to kill me sooner or later, I swear.

So, no intruder. Well, technically Noelle and whoever she was with were an intruder, but no intruder with bad intentions, at least. Did Noelle say ‘You three?’ So, there were really at least three more-

“Why-Ho! It is a cruel twist of fate that the great hero finds himself ensnared by illness on the day of his own grand celebration! Such misfortune doth stir the depths of my compassion. But fret not, for I, Prinzessin der Verurteilung, shall bestow upon him this finely crafted effigy of Oz—an artifact woven with my very effort and time essence—as both a token of joyous festivity and a charm for swift recovery. May it serve as a beacon of solace in these trying times!"

“Mein Fräulein means that she’s sad to hear that Sir Kaeya was sick on his birthday. And wish him a fast recovery.”

Ah- Fischl and Oz, of course. Well, if there were those two, then the other two could possibly be-

“I scry that this year will be a bad one for Pavo Ocellus, so I thought of dropping by to give him an advance warning. I didn’t think that he was sick, though.”

“I want to give him a present for his birthday… but think I need to go- What if with me being here, Sir Kaeya’s sickness will get worse somehow?”

“You only have bad luck, Bennet. You are not a walking infectious disease.”

Right. Mona and Bennett. Fischl and Mona were friends. Fischl and Bennet often went on adventure missions together. It was not surprising to see those three together. Kaeya groaned again, rolling onto his side. Sweat drenched his body, his shirt clinging uncomfortably to his skin like a second layer he couldn’t peel away.

The sound of his bedroom door creaking open reached his ears. Whoever was putting great care of making as little noise as possible should just give up, Kaeya was indisposed, yes, but this sickness of his actually sharpened all of his senses except his vision and smell. Though the sickness only sharpened his senses to factors that they deemed fit, like the churning of his stomach, and his own thunderous heartbeat. Despite their efforts to be discreet, Kaeya could clearly hear the shuffling of feet as they entered his room. The whispers grew louder, a mix of concern and hesitation from the young adults as they took in his sorry state.

Kaeya actually felt a little bit self-aware now. With the little awareness left inside his brain.

“Keep it down, you three! Any louder, and you might wake him up! And Bennet! Watch your steps!”

"Sorry! But where should we put our presents? Mona, you see some place we could place this?"

“Let’s just leave them here. Look—some people have already dropped off their gifts too.”

Oh no, the headache was worsening, and so was his fever. Even with his eyes closed, Kaeya could feel the world spinning. How did that even make sense. He could sense Lisa’s charm, burning cold at his core. It was almost impressive that a spell from the genius Lisa was actually having trouble battling whatever the hell caught by Kaeya (it’s a cold).

“Ah, so others have bestowed plush companions upon him as well! Very well, let this Oz plushie take its rightful place among these noble allies!”

“Mein Fräulein, perhaps it would be wise to lower your voice, lest Sir Kaeya wakes.”

Kaeya then felt another plushie being shoved into his bed. Really, this was the third gigantic plushie. Kaeya wondered since when did he give off the vibe of someone who loved plushies? He appreciated them of course, but his single bed was quickly running out of space.

Suddenly, his throat itched, and before he knew it, Kaeya was thrown into a painful coughing fit. Each cough was dry and wracked his body, making his chest ache. The sound immediately alerted the others in the room, their murmurs ceasing abruptly.

The fit dragged on, leaving Kaeya hunched over and gasping for air. By the time he managed to lay back down, his strength was completely sapped, as if every ounce of energy had been coughed away alongside the phlegm.

Maybe Kaeya would really die today. On his birthday.

"I think his condition is actually getting worse... We should inform the Deaconess and the Acting Grandmaster about this—"

Ah, that sweet, sweet darkness was calling to him again. Kaeya felt himself slipping under, Noelle’s worried voice fading into a muffled haze. He didn’t catch the rest of her concerns, nor did he try to. Instead, he allowed himself to be drawn back into the comforting void of unconsciousness.

All in all, Kaeya’s house was apparently everybody’s house at this point.

“Noelle’s right. His fever isn’t going down.”

Kaeya drifted in and out of consciousness so often that his ever-brilliant mind had somehow trained itself to distinguish reality from the haze of his unconscious realm. Even in his feverish state, clarity would sometimes break through the fog.

He blinked once, and the blurry image of Barbara came into focus. The deaconess stood by his bedside, her Hydro healing abilities at work. Water gently swirled around the perimeter of his bed, each droplet misting the air with a soft, rejuvenating glow—a rarity even among elemental powers. Kaeya exhaled shakily. So, I’m awake again, he thought, resigning himself to the present as his body fought valiantly against his illness.

“That’s not good. I checked his medicine—he already took his lunchtime dose,”

Came another voice, firm yet edged with concern. Though it was just out of his line of sight, that voice… was definitely Jean. Kaeya attempted to lift his head, only to manage a weak turn to the side. And there she was—Jean, seated in a chair at his bedside, her figure outlined in warm orange as the afternoon light poured through the window behind her.

Barbara ceased the swirling Hydro energy, and Kaeya watched as the water evaporated into the air, leaving the room noticeably more humid. The added moisture in the air actually soothed his aching throat, making it slightly easier to breathe.

“He’s not hydrating properly,” Barbara said, her tone brisk yet gentle. Then, noticing Kaeya’s weak attempts to rouse himself, she leaned closer. “Sir Kaeya? Sir Kaeya, are you awake?” The deaconess swiftly moved to his side, rearranging the three enormous plushies to prop up his pillow, creating a cushioned nest. It wasn’t much, but the additional comfort was a small mercy amidst his overwhelming discomfort.

“Ah... I might as well not…” he croaked, and he told the truth- Kaeya wished he was not awake considering everything hurt. Heck, even when he was injured after a nasty raid on a Hilichurl camp didn’t hurt him this much, what the hell.

“You need to drink, Sir Kaeya.” Barbara’s smile was soft and understanding, she took a glass filled halfway with water and helped the ill knight to drink. Kaeya managed a few sips, before the healer pulled the glass away, setting it on the bedside table. “Did you manage to eat anything at lunch?”

Kaeya threw his head back to the stack of pillows and plushies, his head felt like it weighed seventy percent of his total weight. “Ate… some cream soup with Eula and Amber,” he muttered weakly. “Threw it up right after, though.”

A brief frown flickered across Barbara’s face before she schooled her expression back to calm professionalism. “I see. I’ll heat up some broth for you. Try to eat it when I bring it, alright? Then you can take your afternoon medicine.”

After fussing over him for another moment—adjusting his blankets and many things more—Barbara left the room, and Kaeya was left alone with the Acting Grand Master, who had remained quiet since he regained consciousness.

The bedroom door closed with a soft thud, though its hinges groaned loudly in protest first. Kaeya managed to turn his head slightly toward his direct commanding-officer and superior, finding Jean sitting there, her expression warm but tinged with unmistakable worry.

She smiled at him, but the slight quirk of her lips couldn’t fully mask her concern. “Oh, Kaeya,” she finally said, like an exasperated older sister Kaeya never had.

“Jean, I feel like dying. My head is melting.”

Jean let out a light-hearted laugh. She reached out her hands, and then there was a nice, refreshing breeze inside the room, Jean’s Anemo vision glowing under the afternoon light. Kaeya couldn’t help but marvel for a moment—it was really amazing that Jean and Barabara, for the two sisters to both received acknowledgment from the gods, and for both siblings to have healing properties on their power, even with their different elements.

“We’re trying to break your fever,” Jean reassured him, her tone soothing. “Take it easy.”

Kaeya frowned, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of his sticky blankets. “I feel gross,” he admitted bluntly. He glanced down at himself, realizing he was still wearing the same shirt he’d woken up in that morning. It was soaked through with sweat, clinging unpleasantly to his skin. A sudden thought struck him, and his frown deepened—had he gotten bile on it when he’d retched a moment earlier? The idea alone was enough to make him grimace in disgust.

The breeze swirled gently once more; a projection of dandelion seeds floated around them. “I’ll help you change your clothes after you’ve eaten something. Do you think you’d be able to draw yourself a bath if I helped you to the bathroom?”

“I don’t even think I can hold my own weight on two legs, no,” he admitted without a hint of shame. The pain and exhaustion dulled any embarrassment he might have felt. Besides, it was Jean—someone he trusted with (most of) his life. She had seen him at his lowest, so there was no use pretending otherwise.

“Then let’s focus on changing your sheets and clothes for now,” Jean suggested gently. “You can take a bath tomorrow morning if you’re feeling better.”

“Ugh, fine,” Kaeya muttered begrudgingly, surrendering to her practical approach. As he shifted slightly, his gaze finally landed on something new in his room—something colorfully new that caught his eye. “What’s with the flowers?”

On the bedside table sat a large bouquet, an elegant arrangement of Cecilia, Lampgrass, and some light blue wildflowers. Flora must have put her all into making this masterpiece. The flowers were arranged in a handmade clay vase, its polished finishing giving the antique a nice and polished shine.

Jean smiled warmly, following his gaze. “This is from me and the knights—a combination birthday and get-well-soon gift. Mika helped me choose the flowers, you know? And Hertha gave me the vase. She made it herself.”

Oh, right. Today was his birthday- Kaeya almost forgot.

“I’d appreciate a present that gets me out of this torment, thank you,” Kaeya quipped weakly, attempting to joke his way out of his misery. It usually didn’t work, but it’s never hurt to try.

Jean’s soft laugh came easily this time, and the sound brought a faint sense of comfort to him. As she pulled back her Anemo power, the room fell into a tranquil silence, the faint breeze lingering like a soothing touch. “After you eat and get enough rest, I’m sure you’ll feel much better,” she said, shaking her head with a fond smile.

Through his blurry vision, Kaeya caught a glimpse of something that made his chest tighten—a faint discoloration under Jean’s eyes and the weariness etched on her features. He realized bitterly that his absence must have placed a heavy burden on her and the other knights. Budgeting season was in full swing, and his illness couldn’t have come at a worse time. He had taken an early leave yesterday at lunchtime when he started feeling unwell, which meant he had already lost two full workdays.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his voice tinged with guilt. “I’m not much help right now. Getting sick when there’s so much work to do…” The familiar sting of self-loathing crept up on him, climbing at an alarming rate.

“Hey,” Jean said firmly, her tone gentle but commanding. Her keen eyes caught the shadow of guilt darkening his lone periwinkle eye, and she was quick to dispel it. “Forget about the paperwork. I’m giving you all the time you need to recover. Consider your sick leave fully approved.”

To emphasize her point, Jean reached out and clasped Kaeya’s limp hand, squeezing it gently in reassurance.

“That’s an abuse of power,” Kaeya retorted, his lips twitching faintly at the corners despite his exhaustion.

The acting grandmaster let out a smile, brighter than even the afternoon sun outside his room. It was so dazzling that it was hurt to look at. “Well, I am the acting Grandmaster, am I not? Just focus on your recovery, Kaeya. That’s an order.”

Faced with such a direct command, what else could Kaeya do?

“Yes, Ma’am…”

“You look like shit.”

Rosaria remarked matter-of-factly, perched casually on the open window of his bedroom. Granted, Kaeya’s apartment was only on the second floor— but those windows should have been locked.

Kaeya managed a weak chuckle at that. “I feel like one.”

“Why are you awake?” the nun asked brusquely, stepping further into the dimly lit room. The sharp clink of her heels against the floor reverberated louder than usual in Kaeya’s ears

In her hand, she held a small steel wire—a paperclip? Hairpin? Probably whatever she’d used to unlock his window latch. With the bedside lamp off, the only illumination came from the moonlight streaming through the open window. It bathed her figure in a silvery glow, making her already pale complexion appear almost ghostly. She looked convincingly like a vampire.

A vampire-lady lookalike who broke into his apartment.

“Why are you breaking into my apartment?” Kaeya asked instead, rolling onto his side so his exposed eye could get a clearer view of the nun.

Rosaria left the window ajar, letting in the cool night breeze, and Kaeya was inwardly grateful for it. The refreshing air soothed his feverish skin. His fever had broken a couple of hours ago, and he felt much better compared to the afternoon when Jean and Barbara had come to check on him. Whatever Barbara had done seemed to be working wonders, and his evening dosage had helped flush out the cold symptoms to a more tolerable level.

Rosaria wasn’t looking at him as she replied, her sharp gaze still scanning the area around his house. “There were three men lingering in an alley nearby. They’ve been taken care of.”

“Oh…. Thank you.” He said genuinely.

Somehow, that didn’t surprise Kaeya in the slightest. Now that his brain wasn’t trying to vibrate its way out of his skull, he could think somewhat clearly. News of his indisposed state had surely spread by now, given the fuss from all the knights and the way people were seemingly passing around his spare apartment key like a Christmas gift. It wasn’t shocking that… let’s say, less favorable factions- might try to take advantage of the situation.

What did surprise him, though, was that it had taken them this long to act. Now that Kaeya thought about it, maybe the constant visits from his friends had been deliberate—meant to deter such attempts. Had Jean or someone else in the Knights of Favonius anticipated this? Or was it all just a coincidence? Then again, orchestrating ‘coincidences’ was usually Kaeya’s specialty, and he didn’t think highly enough of himself to assign accidental bodyguards for his own person. The downside of self-loathing, you could say.

“Who did you piss off this time?” Rosaria asked, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly.

Kaeya sank deeper into his pillow, finally finding comfort in his blankets, which no longer felt as stifling as they had for most of the day. “Beats me... These days, I can just stand still, minding my own business, and still manage to piss people off,” he muttered with a wry smile.

Kaeya didn’t lie. As the Knights of Favonius’ diplomatic front and Jean’s shadow, Kaeya found himself face-to-face with the uglier sides of society most of the time. Kaeya once told the new knight recruits that facing against Hilichurl and monster was actually far easier than dealing with humans. With monsters, they act wildly, like a beast- and the only thing they need to use is brute force, and maybe some strategy to boost efficiency. But with humans, things were way more complicated than that.

If Kaeya didn’t know any better that he was catching a mere cold, Kaeya would have suspected that he somehow got poisoned by one of the enemies he was making on his brilliant and illustrious career track.

The ex-bandit scoffed, “Hmph. Normally, I’d say you deserve it, but as a gift for your birthday, I’ll hold myself,” she said coolly, her demeanor fitting for someone who fancied herself as the purveyor of justice for the Church.

“It’s not like you to care about my birthday, of all things, Sister Rosaria,” Kaeya replied with a dry chuckle. “Besides, it’s the middle of the night—who knows if it’s already the next day? If so, your gift is technically a day late.”

“Very funny, Kaeya.”

“People tell me that a lot—” Whatever Kaeya was about to say next was abruptly cut off by a dry, hacking cough. The night air did soothe his scratchy throat to some extent, and the breeze cooled his feverish skin, but the chill was proving too much for his weakened body.

Rosaria raised an eyebrow, watching him for a moment before silently walking to the window. She closed it with a quiet click, drawing the curtains halfway to dim the room even further. “You’d better rest,” she advised, locking the bolt. “Don’t worry—I’ll keep an eye out.”

Kaeya exhaled deeply, his body sinking further into the mattress as his heavy eyelid finally closed. “Thank you. That actually puts my mind at ease,” he murmured, his voice trailing off as sleep claimed him once more.

Rosaria watched the sleeping knight silently. An hour had passed since she arrived at Kaeya’s apartment. When the clock struck midnight, the nun stood from her chair. She was looking at nothing in particular, but her concentration and focus was razor-sharp. The room was still, save for the low cadence of her breathing and Kaeya’s steady, rhythmic exhales. Nothing appeared out of place, but Rosaria’s intuition was keen enough that she knew that they were not alone anymore inside the Cavalry Captain’s apartment.

Letting out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, she strode toward Kaeya’s bedroom door – not bothering to mask her footsteps or hide her presence. She opened the door and stepped into the dark, seemingly empty living room.

Well, not entirely empty.

“I should’ve known that the great Darknight Hero would somehow be involved,” Rosaria said dryly, without bothering to turn her head. Her words were directed at the man leaning against the wall just beside the doorframe, positioned perfectly in its blind spot.

She hadn’t heard him enter the apartment at all.

“Those burn marks on the assailants? Not exactly subtle,” she added, her tone laced with a mix of amusement and reproach.

“…”

She sighed again, placing one hand on her hip as she turned toward the quote-unquote intruder. The man leaning against the wall was tall, draped in a dark cloak that concealed his entire figure. His hood was low enough to obscure his face, but Rosaria could make out the familiar crimson hair peeking from beneath the fabric.

“Keep it down, will you? He just managed to fall asleep.” The words sounded ridiculous the moment they left her mouth, considering the man in front of her was the very epitome of silence. Still, it was worth saying.

“…” The man remained silent, refusing to respond. The man was not even acknowledging her. It wasn’t that he was trying to hide his identity—Rosaria knew exactly who he was. He was simply ignoring her.

Rosaria shook her head. Well, suits himself. She was about to leave anyway. "Now that his actual guard dog is here, I’ll take my leave then."

At that, he gave her a brief nod—more like a sharp jerk of his head—and Rosaria turned to leave, stepping toward the front door.

The man watched her leave before locking the door and drawing the curtains around the room. He turned on all the table lamps, ensuring the apartment was shielded from the outside while maintaining a dim, ambient light within. Once he was satisfied everything met his security standards, he removed the dark cloak covering his entire body, freeing the mane of crimson, which was styled into a high ponytail.

With a short sigh, the red-haired man tugged on the hair tie, lowering it into a more comfortable low ponytail to relieve some of the tension on his scalp. He brushed off some ashes that had settled on his pants. He always tried to clean up the ‘threats’ as thoroughly as possible, but he often forgot how his powers left such a mess afterward. After hanging the cloak on a hook by the wall, he moved silently toward the bedroom door. His steps were soft, barely a whisper in the stillness of the night.

However, much like Kaeya’s previous ‘intruders,’ the door didn’t cooperate. When he pushed it open, it creaked loudly. The man cursed lowly at the door, inwardly thinking that he should grease the hinges first thing in the near future. It wasn’t loud per se, but it certainly wasn’t quiet either. Fortunately, the knight remained undisturbed by the noise.

The man exhaled in relief, but then his eyes turned hard as he glared at the sleeping man on the bed before him.

"Good grief. You’re still as prone to getting sick as before, aren’t you?" he muttered, his tone reprimanding.

His crimson eyes softened as he took in the sight of the Cavalry Captain of The Knight of Favonius, the famed Frostblade Knight, the silver-tongued diplomat of the Ordo, lying in bed surrounded by three giant plushies and a bouquet of flowers at his bedside. It looked absurd. Ridiculous, even. It looked ridiculous, yet it brought warmth to the man’s chest nonetheless.

“You’re hopeless,” he muttered again, his tone hard. But contradicting to that, when he reached his hand to brush some hair away from the knight’s forehead, his touches were gentle. His hand hovered above the eyepatch for a moment, lingering a second too long, before he gently pressed his palm to the knight's warm, sweaty forehead.

Kaeya was still sickly warm, but the fever was gone. The man was satisfied with the temperature and slowly withdrew his hand. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out a small box. He opened it up to check the content’s condition, since he had brawled into a fight just a moment ago, but to his relief, the content remained in its pristine condition; it was a beautifully crafted flower brooch. It was shaped to resemble the queen of the night flower, and it was crafted with the finest clear crystal quartz with blue tint on its edge. It was the kind of brooch that would perfectly complement the white suit Kaeya often wore to social parties and aristocratic banquets.

Elegant, fragile-looking yet surprisingly sturdy—the brooch actually resembles Kaeya more than he had liked to admit. He closed the box with a soft click and placed it on the bedside table. It was almost completely swallowed by the flowers and plushies that surrounded it.

The man leaned down to press a soft kiss on the knight’s forehead, a small smile on his lips as he whispered,

“Happy Birthday, Kaeya.”