Lackluster Detective's Grand Case [Albedo x Reader]

ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ ８

"Forever."

That was the title the painter named his painting of Kriedeprinz, the "Chalk Prince".

Before his impairing back problems had been diagnosed to him, on his free days, her father used to always take her to the Historical Museum of Teyvat. They visited so often that even the regular staff and historians personally knew her and her father. It always amazed her how her father's social skills were so strong. Despite being his daughter, she was the opposite of him, resembling closer to her mother—she kept to herself more than anything. Socializing was never her strong suit, even upon the rare occasion, when she truly longed to socialize.

Her father would let her roam through the museum on her own. One day, you'd find her roaming down the hall of the History of Liyue, to her occasionally attempting to climb the statue of the Snezhnayan Queen of Old Teyvat out of boredom only to get reprimanded, to her trying to quietly memorize all of the plants and animals in the History of Sumeru.

However, at the end of the day, no matter where her legs took her, her father would always find her in the same spot within the halls of the History of Alchemy.

It was always in front of that damned painting.

Even she didn't understand why her legs always took her there, but as soon as her eyes made contact with the painting, she could never pry her eyes away from it, as though her feet were glued to the ground—as if, if it could that is, called for her and her only.

With the painting being so old, some specks of the painting were worn off and had to be repainted. The man in the painting had blonde hair, far as she could tell. Golden splashes of paint crowned around the crest of his head, and a yellow star sat at the throne of his Adam's apple. He wore a blue suit of a sort, however she didn't quite remember the specific details of his clothes. His lips were thin, but his nose wasn't similar to the young man currently, physically before her. The one in the painting was softer than the sharp crescent nose he actually has.

That art conservator sure did a horrible job repainting his nose.

Though, what always captured her attention the most was the way he held a hand up to his lips, and those eyes—those deep blue eyes, bright as a clear, blue sky, stared off into the distance, as though searching for someone else that wasn't in the painting.

Once, on a sly, her dad said, "he's smiling, he must be happy."

[name] disagreed.

She told him back, "he looks sad."

However, she suddenly felt dumbfounded. Emotions. She wasn't sure if she could even begin to describe any emotion within these deep blue eyes now in front of her—now come to life. They were there, but they didn't seem alive. Dare she even say, they were almost... Inhumane.

Albedo swung his sword gracefully and quickly through the air. In the nick of time, she managed to avoid the attack, bending her body backwards. Her hands grazed against the snowy surface layering over the dead grass, reddening her palms. In her thin shirt, she felt her shoulders tremble from the cold mountain air. A puff of her breath flood from between her lips.

'Steady.' She attempted to reassure herself.

Spite her self reassurance, she felt oddly erratic still.

Her fingers reached frantically for her weapon, drawing it back out from the strap she tied around her thigh. Pressing her palm against the bottom of the handle for support and her index finger coiled around the trigger, she fired a few shots through the air.

Albedo quickly side stepped in different directions from the shots. The bullets that landed behind him shattered and burst ice out of their shells upon contact.