"You—you knew? That I'm a segment?!"
The "Doctor" froze, shock flashing across his face. How had Idris seen through him the moment he walked in?
Idris smiled. "Temperament gives it away. The Il Dottore I know doesn't lose his composure so easily."
"Marching in dripping killing intent—hardly how 'men of letters' behave. And last time we matched auras, the Doctor's pressure wasn't nearly this weak."
"I don't know exactly what trick you're using—clone, double, fragment—but I know you're not him."
He propped his cheek against his fist. "Let me guess where the real Doctor is. If I'm right, he's out in the woods checking whether the Shouki no Kami marching patrol carries a Gnosis inside it."
"Shame he's rushing for nothing. There's nothing in there."
"You—how do you even know that?!"
A chill crept over the segment. Now he understood why the true body had avoided meeting this man. With a glance and a rumor, Idris could infer the Doctor's location—and what he was doing. Had he known it would be like this, he'd never have taken this assignment.
"You can tell your original to stop fretting," Idris went on. "As if I'd leave a Gnosis sitting in the Balladeer—or in Shouki no Kami—after all that."
"I reworked the machine. It doesn't need a Gnosis as its core driver."
"The real Gnosis is in my hand."
"If you can link to your original, pass this along: if he truly wants the Gnosis, bring me some offers I might actually find interesting."
"And don't get cute about dismantling Shouki no Kami for revenge. If you try, I crush the Electro Gnosis on the spot."
"Don't assume it's precious to me. I've no interest in apotheosis. It doesn't mean that much."
"You—!"
For good measure, Idris tipped his chin toward the back of the room—toward where Nahida drifted, unseen by ordinary eyes.
"My God of Wisdom advised me to handle you this way," he said blandly. "She said this tactic works best on you."
Nahida blinked—then wisely kept silent. Barging in now would ruin the negotiation.
The segment's fury faltered. For the Fatui, that threat landed. The Gnosis was vital to their plan; if it shattered, it might even jolt "Heavenly Principles" awake ahead of schedule—and then the Fatui would be finished. One dead Harbinger would be the least of it.
Idris's words had struck home. A mad Harbinger was dangerous—and with Shouki no Kami roaming the forest to tend the Withering, it presented an obvious target. Or the Doctor could simply start killing Sumeru civilians to make a point.
So Idris had to be madder. Only by being more villain than the villain could he cow another villain, especially when he himself wore no hero's halo.
After a long beat, the segment pressed two fingers to his brow, clearly relaying a message. When he looked up, his voice had changed—calmer, steadier. The original had synced in.
"The Gnosis is not in the machine," he said. "You've hidden it. Fine. State your terms."
Idris's smile thinned. "First: leave this country. Now. Take your people and your segments. Don't set foot in Sumeru again."
"If I so much as sense you here, I will, as a private individual, declare war on the Fatui and hunt down your labs across the world—one by one, to the ground."
"If you resist, I begin destroying the other Gnoses."
A vein throbbed on the Doctor's temple. At length, he gritted out, "Fine. As you wish. I'll withdraw myself, my subordinates, and every segment. Satisfied?"
"Now hand over the Gnosis."
"No hurry," Idris said pleasantly. "I'm not done."
"Second: I want your segmentation technique."
He waved a hand. "The clones that let you be in ten places at once. Share it."
The Doctor blinked. "You want that? You're overreaching."
"Is a single Gnosis not worth the price?" Idris said mildly. "And for the record—driving you out is merely my right as Grand Sage. This is the actual trade."
The Doctor clicked his tongue. If it were a straight swap—Gnosis for technique—perhaps. But the Gnosis belonged to the Fatui to begin with. (Yes, it had been extorted from Yae Miko—but they took from others; no one took from them.)
"If you won't agree, there's no deal," Idris said.
"…I agree," the Doctor said at last. "I'll push the relevant materials into the Akasha Terminal—locked so only you can read them."
He knew by now: brute force wouldn't pry the Gnosis loose. Not with this man. Threaten Sumeru and Idris would retaliate in Snezhnaya itself, sovereign to sovereign—or rather, king to nation. Idris could get away with it; the Doctor could not.
A data push blinked across Idris's inner display—files only he could access. Even Nahida couldn't peek. The 360 Security Suite could flag worms and backdoors, but this wasn't malware; it wouldn't trip a single alarm.
Idris skimmed the dense schematics, then looked up. "Seems you didn't try to fob me off."
"Heh. You are the Grand Sage," the Doctor said dryly. "Cheap tricks wouldn't pass."
Idris let the jab roll off. Getting this far without breaking the Doctor entirely was victory enough. He stowed the technique and added, "You do have sincerity. As for the Raiden Shogun's Gnosis—I still need it for a few matters. I'll deliver it in half a month."
"And no, I won't go back on it. I'll write a contract—on Liyue paper."
"If you know me at all, you know how I feel about Liyue. I wouldn't stain something I like with a lie."
"…See that you don't."
The Doctor snatched the contract, gave a frosty snort, and turned to go.
"No need to see you out," Idris called cheerfully. "Mind the door on your way—oh, right, you kicked it in."
He waved after the retreating back, smiling, then couldn't help a private sigh. What a good person, really.
First, the man had brought research—five hundred years' worth—to build Shouki no Kami and patch Sumeru's lack of military force. Then he'd shouldered a gigantic scapegoat: to this day, the public still believed the reason adults stopped dreaming was the Doctor's doing, neatly sparing the Akademiya—and Idris's own neck—from the guillotine of suspicion.
The Balladeer's mess had finished the machine for him and delivered a Gnosis besides.
And today—he'd gifted the segmentation technique.
Thinking it through, even Idris had to marvel.
Behind him, Nahida—who'd watched the whole exchange—floated closer. "What is it?"
"Nothing. Just thinking the Doctor's… quite a good person. In a month, he's delivered a lot to Sumeru." He chuckled. "If I ever get the chance to kill him, I might feel reluctant."
Nahida rolled her eyes. "Why do I get the feeling all these 'good deeds' were done because you forced him?"
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