This story is a sort of sequel to Coagulated Chalk, a fic about Corrupted!Albedo which explores his relationship with his friends and family. Some of this fic's plot points, particularly about Dottore's attempted kidnapping of Albedo, Durin, and how the Corruption works, are based on things established in Coagulated Chalk.

For this fic specifically, I love Scaramouche being an absolute asshole with a hedonistic outlook on life, so this is how I will be writing him. The relationships here will also be platonic as I don't care about romance.

Also, as with everything I write, there will be plenty of horror elements, some weird biology, and the occasional gore.

Chapter warnings: Electrocution/Torture, Minor Character Death, Nightmares

\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/

Scaramouche bites back a groan as he sinks into the plush chair of the common room and closes his eyes. It's been months since his last assignment. He joined the Fatui to have fun, not be stuck in a stone fortress surrounded by sub-zero temperatures.

His quiet reverie is broken up by two grunts who walk by the entrance. The wiser one of them freezes by the doorway, whereas his much more suicidal companion takes a step in before being stopped by his compatriot.

"Don't–" the wise grunt whispers.

"Why?" his idiot counterpart says, not bothering to lower his voice. "I've been on my feet all day, and all other rooms are filled!"

"One of the Lord Harbingers is here–"

"Well good for him! The room is full of empty chairs, we can keep out of sight and so on."

Scaramouche frowns but doesn't bother opening his eyes. The idiot grunt must be new here. Everyone else is smart enough to give him the space he deserves.

"Don't," the wise grunt repeats and, through the slight electric change in their bodies, Scaramouche can tell he's physically trying to stop his compatriot from walking further into the room. "You'll regret this."

"Really?" the idiot grunt whispers, and Scaramouche strains his ears to hear his next remark. "Look at him, he's a runt! What's he gonna do, bite my kneecaps–?"

That's all the idiot gets to say for his last words before several bolts of electricity strike him, seemingly out of nowhere. The grunt screams in pain, as the other jumps away with a shriek, with the faint hum of electricity making the background buzz.

Scaramouche opens his eyes to lazily look at the electrocuted grunt, manipulating the flow of electricity with nonchalant movement of his fingers. Only when the flesh starts becoming charred does he slowly bring his play to a stop, not wanting to stink up the room as if it's barbecue Thursday.

When the last bolt of electricity goes through what is probably now-dead idiot grunt, his compatriot remains by the entrance, frozen. Just like everyone else, the surviving grunt is smart the way a herd animal is, freezing when herd-less and facing imminent death.

But Scaramouche is feeling charitable today. Instead of showing the remaining grunt how good he is at 'biting kneecaps', Scaramouche lets him tremble as he languidly rises up and stretches his shoulders.

"My, the smell of fried meat really works up an appetite," Scaramouche says with a yawn before he fixes the still-standing trembling grunt with a grin. "You. Go to the cafeteria and bring me something to eat. And drag that unsightly pile of flesh away, won't you?"

"Yes, Lord Harbinger!"

The grunt departs and, besides the faint odour of cooked flesh, Scaramouche is left in blissful silence.

Well. It remains blissful for a minute or so before it gets unbelievably boring again. Honestly, who does he have to kill for things to get more interesting around here?

"Balladeer," comes an unpleasantly nasal sing-song voice.

Scaramouche scrunches his face as a particular Harbinger rounds the corner. His wish just got fulfilled in the worst way possible.

"Dottore," Scaramouche spits back. "What crawled up your ass?"

"Interfering little worms," Il Dottore grumbles. "That, and I had a one-in-a-lifetime specimen slip right through my fingers!"

"Sucks to be you."

"Which is why I'm in need of your assistance, my dear Scaramouche," Il Dottore says as he turns around and starts marching. "To my lab!"

Scaramouche stays where he is, inspecting his nails. "And why the hell should I care?"

Il Dottore stops, finally realising Scaramouche is not following him. His expression behind his mask shifts to one of homicidal annoyance, and it's the funniest shit Scaramouche has seen all morning.

But such amusement vanishes when Il Dottore takes a deep breath and smooths his expression back into his typical smirk.

"Come now, Balladeer," Il Dottore purrs as he leans right into Scaramouche's personal space. "After all I've done for you, is it so bad to ask for one little thing?"

Scaramouche does not bother answering that, shifting to the side of his seat to regain some personal space.

"Besides, my assignment will have you travelling to Sumeru's annual World Fair," Il Dottore continues with a tight grin. "I'm sure there'll be something there to entertain you from my very boring request."

Scaramouche hums in mock uncertainty. He's got him there. "I'm listening."

"Excellent!" Before Scaramouche can protest, Il Dottore grabs him by the wrist and drags him to one of his labs scattered all over these bases. Scaramouche only lets himself get dragged along since he knows how pushy Il Dottore can get and doesn't see the fun in dealing with a fallout.

Once inside one of his labs, Il Dottore goes through a bunch of folders before he takes out a photograph. In it is a short blonde man in a white coat, standing beside a poster with some boring ass writing about things Scaramouche doesn't care about. He's rather pretty, but Scaramouche is and has seen prettier, and the man's features are a bit too doll-like for his personal taste.

"This is the so-called Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favonius, Albedo, who will be attending Sumeru's World Fair as part of its alchemical showcase. He has an alchemical array etched on his back. I want that design copied with utmost precision."

Scaramouche frowns. "You want me to photograph this guy's fancy tattoo? Why not send one of your goons?"

Il Dottore's smile drops to a scowl. "Part of my… precarious position is because my attempt to do so led to a less than desirable outcome."

"Ah," Scaramouche drawls with a raised eyebrow. Now he's starting to get the big picture. "You want this done discreetly, and not let him know the Fatui are after him."

"Quite," Il Dottore says through gritted teeth. "Ideally, I don't want him to even be alerted that the design has been copied, and I don't want… others among us to know I have attempted such a thing."

Huh. So Dottore wants this little escapade to remain a secret from other Harbingers as well. It's not unusual, as almost every Harbinger has their little schemes and pet projects, but for Il Dottore to bring Scaramouche into the know, he must be getting desperate.

Then again, Scaramouche is among the most skilled of them when it comes to in-person undercover assignments. Unlike other Harbingers who specialise in spycraft from the comfort of their little offices, Scaramouche prefers working in the field. He didn't join the Harbingers to entomb himself in these frigid little dungeons they call bases. Besides, undercover assignments are fun, both in planning and execution.

Though infiltrating Sumeru's World Fair as a simple attendant will be a piece of cake, getting to see the alchemist's back could pose some problems. This Albedo seems to be from Mondstadt, and Scaramouche will have to research if there are acceptable forms of public nudity. If not, maybe Scaramouche could still pressure the alchemist into a public bath, as Sumeru has a similar tradition as Inazuma. But if his target refuses, either due to prudishness or because he wants to keep that fancy tattoo hidden, then Scaramouche will have to get craftier. Seduction would be the simplest approach in such cases, but that can be disastrous and easily blow his cover, not to mention it hinges on the alchemist being attracted to men…

Fuck it, if it gets too difficult then Scaramouche's gonna beat him to a pulp, take that damned photo and leave the concussed alchemist none the wiser.

… You know what, Scaramouche should accept this, because he is getting so bored, he will start actually biting kneecaps. If anything, this is a good excuse to attend Sumeru's World Fair, as there's always something new and exciting on show there.

"Consider it done," Scaramouche says with a fake cheery smile. "Worst case scenario, how alive will he have to be after I'm done with him?"

Il Dottore huffs. "If you kill him, then I want the remains."

Scaramouche laughs. His new assignment is becoming more fun by the second.

\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/

"Good night!" comes Klee's distant call as she hops up the stairs, the little tapping off her feet in sync with the rain pelting their windows.

"Good night," Albedo hums back as he sits down on the kitchen table with a warm cup of honey tea. Puffs of steam emerge from the teacup, smelling of lemon and warming his face. The constant thumping of rain against wood and glass is calming, making Albedo ease into his seat…

There's a sound of a window crashing from the room next to him.

Albedo freezes. The rain eases for a second, bathing the house in a brief silence before it's broken by another crash, coming from the floor above.

Albedo bolts upright and marches up the stairs, his tea forgotten. On his way he passes by the living room, where the curtains are drawn, with no broken glass by the windowsill.

The upstairs corridor is dark, darker than it should be. There's a sound of howling wind, but no breeze. Since the corridor has no windows, Albedo suspects it's coming from one of the empty bedrooms. However, Albedo can't see more than a few feet ahead of him, the door to his own room completely obscured. Miss Alice's room is locked shut. Klee's room is on the other end of the corridor.

Albedo walks into the darkness, taking careful steps to not crash into a cabinet. He slides his hands against the wall, searching for a bump indicating he reached his room.

The wall remains smooth. Albedo keeps walking.

The wind intensifies, and the pitter-patter of the rain momentarily resembles hands pounding against the walls. There's another crash, from downstairs this time.

Albedo stops his trek, already confused since he's walked twice the length of the entire corridor, and looks back.

The light from the little lamp by the stairs is small, like a pinprick, and flickering. The faint hues reflect on the ageing wood as it turns on and off and on and off and on with there's a shadowed hand by the rail attached to a tall dark humanoid figure–

Albedo blinks as the light flickers on and off again. The shadowed figure is gone.

"Klee?" he calls out, even though the shadow was too big to be his little sister. "Who's there?"

He receives no response. A slow squelching crack comes from the dark end of the corridor.

With one final look at the staircase, Albedo starts walking to where Klee's room should be, his pace steadily increasing until he's running.

"Klee?" Albedo calls out again, urgent. His hand trails along the wall, but only slides across wallpaper. The pitter-patter of rain is pounding in his ears. He glances back at the staircase, and though the distance makes the details fuzzy, what little light is there is distorted and obstructed by strange shapes.

"Klee!" Albedo calls out as he takes his hand off and runs with all his strength. The corridor remains an unending track of darkness.

Albedo's foot collides against something, and he tumbles head-first into the ground. His face aches as he lifts it from the now splintered floor, but that annoyance is gone when he looks up and he sees a wooden door.

Klee's room.

Except it's not the door to her room, with brightly red letters and slightly singed corners, but the sturdy wood door from the house's entrance.

And there's something pounding against it, far too forceful to be mere rain.

Albedo looks back at the staircase, to see a steady orange light much closer, as it should be according to the corridor's length.

The pounding sound continues, now joined by a low droning which could be either nearby whispers or faraway screams. The voices overlap with each other, and it takes Albedo a second to recognise the language, having not spoken it for such a long time.

Khaenri'ahn.

Except none of the fragments he catches are longer than a word, and most of those are pure noise, garbled articles and pronouns and verbs. Trying to follow along any one sound is impossible with the constant pounding that temporarily overtakes any other noise, including that of Albedo's racing heart.

The door cracks, the tearing sound making Albedo scrambles away from it as if it was nails on a chalkboard.

Yet the pounding eases, and no further cracks follow. A thin ray of light comes from the keyhole.

Albedo should leave, but he can't. His personal worries aside, this is a mystery, is it not? And he has dedicated himself to demystifying such things and wrong door or not this should be Klee's room—

Still surrounded by darkness, Albedo peeks through the crack.

Countless eyes stare back. None of them Klee's.

The pounding returns, and the door cracks further. Albedo stumbles back as the doorknob rattles and breaks off, rolling by his feet.

Something lean and vaguely hand-like squelches through the gap, but Albedo doesn't get a good look at it as he turns away and runs. There are more cracks and squelching sounds behind him, but Albedo doesn't dare look back, he just keeps running at that staircase light that remains a fair distance away, as if he's on a treadmill.

The droning sound morphs as if the voices are whispering right by his ear, intensifying in volume until they're as loud as screams.

Albedo almost trips again. Thinking he bunched up the carpet, he quickly looks down, but instead sees a dark purple mass trailing right behind him. It oozes as fast as he runs and hands, eyes, mouths, all sorts of limbs emerge from it as it spreads, all of them focused on him. Skeletal hands reach out to grasp his ankles, bloodshot eyes swerve to stare at him as they're left behind, and half-rotten mouths yell of pain and anger and chant his master's name, what he is, Durin's roar, his own name–

\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/

Albedo wakes up with a stinging cheek and a faint, high-pitched cry of "Albedo!"

He is bathed in darkness as he tries to stand up, but he can't, there's something wrapped around him, and phantom sensations of the hands finally reaching and crawling all over him have him twisting and turning until he realises he's in his bedroom, struggling against his own bedsheets.

Albedo's terror is replaced by a deep, deep exhaustion, and he slumps forward, hugging his knees and burying his head between his legs.

He takes a deep breath to calm himself down, but the only reason his whole body isn't trembling is because he is as tense as a loaded spring.

"Albedo?" comes Klee's hesitant voice, and he tilts his head to catch a glimpse of his sister, standing by the side of his bed, in fluffy pyjamas and with a bad case of bed-hair. "Did you have a bad dream?"

Still curled up, Albedo nods. "Did I wake you?"

Klee vigorously nods as well. "You were yelling, so I thought a bad guy sneaked in your room and I came in to blow them away!" She says with a determined pout. Albedo gives her a weak smile, but Klee's expression slackens. "But it was just you, and you weren't waking up no matter how loud I called you, so..."

Ah, so that explains his still stinging cheek.

Klee puts her hands behind her back and rocks sideways. "Sorry for hitting you."

Albedo shakes his head slowly and, after a few more deep breaths, puts his knees down. "It's ok. I'm glad you woke me. The dream was…" He keeps glancing at the drawn curtains as if he'll see a bloodshot eye peeking through, his body still tense enough to grab Klee and bolt. "What time is it?"

"Late, so we should go back to sleep!" Klee smugly says, probably glad she gets to be the one to tell Albedo instead of vice versa. "But if you can't sleep, we can have a sleepover!"

Albedo shakes his head and tries to force a smile. Though he doesn't expect himself to sleep anytime soon, and Klee doesn't have to get up early tomorrow, it's still important for her to sleep in her room. After the fiasco with his corruption, Klee stuck to him like a leech. No matter how many times Albedo reassured her he was fine, his little sister was scared he would suddenly get sick again, and she refused to leave his side, insisting they have sleepovers every day. Albedo only convinced her to sleep in her room last week.

"I'll just go sit in the kitchen for a little while," Albedo says. "You should go back to bed. As you said, it is quite late."

Klee scrunches her nose at her previous comeback being used against her. But after Albedo pinches her cheek, she steps back, sticks out her tongue and runs out.

After hearing a door creak, Albedo waits for a few more seconds before he gets up, rubbing at his tense shoulders. He lights a lamp by his desk and takes out a small standing mirror, angling it at his torso. He also takes out his notebook, flipping it to a page with a few scribbled measurements.

Albedo undoes the buttons on his undertunic and pulls the neckline as low as it can go to the bottom of his chest. In the centre is a growing circle of purple, much larger than it should be. A single stray line extends for about a finger's distance to the side, like a crack in a wall.

Not even bothering to measure the much-increased diameter, Albedo takes off his undertunic, wraps the corrupted area with a strip of alchemical sterile cloth he keeps for such an emergency, and quickly puts on his day clothes. He leaves his room and dashes down the stairs but pauses when he sees the kitchen light on.

"I thought I told you to get to bed," Albedo says as he peeks around the wall to see Klee on her tiptoes, struggling to get up the chair.

Klee pouts as she points at two steaming cups on the table. "I made warm milk. Mama says it helps with nightmares."

Klee should be in bed, but her gesture is very nice, and Albedo finds himself taking a quick sip, as Klee finally gets up on the chair.

"Thank you," Albedo says and pats Klee's head, feeling the warmth of the milk travel down his body. "I'm going out to pick up Sucrose, and we'll be right back."

Klee crosses her hands. "I'll wait."

Albedo wants her to go to sleep, but from her stubborn look he knows this is a losing fight, so he leaves with a quick goodbye.

The night is chilly, but the cold barely registers as Albedo half-runs to Sucrose house, a flat by the ground floor of a modest building. The entrance to the building is locked, so Albedo finds the window by her bedroom and knocks.

After a few attempts, he hears a yelp and a crash before the window is pulled open, revealing a half-awake Sucrose.

"Hello – Mr Albedo!?" Sucrose yelps as she pats down her bed hair and puts on her glasses. "W-Why are you, did–"

"I need you to spot me."

"Now?! But it's..." Sucrose looks up distractedly before her expression drops in realisation. "Oh no, has there been some sort of flare up–?"

"It's not an emergency, but it is urgent," Albedo cuts her off with a nod.

Sucrose nods back as she looks down at herself, then shakes her head before she runs back to her messy room, picking up a bag and stuffing a few things inside, mostly alchemical elements. After half a minute she runs back and, after a brief pause, chooses to climb out the windowsill instead of using the front door, leaving the window open behind her.

"Sorry, I don't remember where I put my key," Sucrose says as she and Albedo march back to his house. "What happened?"

Albedo gives Sucrose a bare-bones summary of his situation: he had a nightmare (he deliberately does not mention its contents), Klee woke him up, and he realised the corruption has spread rapidly overnight. Sucrose listens attentively, and her resulting frown means she is just as perplexed as Albedo at this new development.

Eventually, they reach his house. After a quick greeting to Klee, Albedo runs up to his room to grab his notebook then joins Sucrose in the basement, where she's already finished with setting up. The chalk circle is complete, with chalk reserves double his weight on the ready, so Albedo quickly undresses, moves to centre and activates the circle.

A minute later, he's left with an uncomfortable feeling in his otherwise unblemished chest as if someone scraped its contents out (which is not too far off from the actual process), and a glob of corrupted chalk hovering on his hand. Careful as to not touch the corrupted remains, Albedo places it on a metal scale.

Sucrose notes down the weight with a grimace. "The growth is comparable to a full thirty-day cycle." She flips around some pages to reference other measurements. "But our last purification was only twenty days ago."

"And from my own measurements, growth was as expected until yesterday," Albedo says and shows Sucrose his daily measurements of his corruption.

Sucrose looks over his notes with a gulp. "Then does that mean…?"

As Sucrose trails off, Albedo thinks. The only abnormality about the sudden growth is the strange, vivid nightmare. But he should not confuse correlation with causation. Maybe this strange nightmare did cause an accelerated growth rate. Or maybe it was a rare coincidence. If the nightmare and his increased infection rate are related, it's possible the sudden increase in corruption caused the nightmare, instead of the other way round.

Unfortunately, Albedo can't come to a conclusion. It's not the first time he's had nightmares since the start of his corruption. Though he has little data to go on, his nightmares have got worse at the end of previous cycles, but no such acceleration occurred. So, is tonight a mere freak accident or a precursor to something much more sinister?

"It shows the corruption's growth is too unpredictable," Albedo finally says. "If this happened next week, it would have blown past all our safety thresholds. We should shorten the purification interval to a fortnight."

Sucrose nods. "I can make the adjustment and recalculate our chalk procurement. We'll have to inform Grandmaster Jean of course, and we may have to rethink about attending Sumeru's World Expo, even if it only lasts a week–"

Sucrose's words become muffled as Albedo briefly feels like he's swimming. He stumbles forward and, using the desk for support, sits down on the ground as carefully as his can, his knees feeling like jelly. There's a faint presence calling out for him. Albedo closes his eyes, trying to concentrate, trying to remain calm despite his growing fear.

A second later, Sucrose's concerned face comes into sharp focus. "Mr Albedo? Are you alright?"

Albedo shakes his head as if to clear the last of the brain fog away. The sensation came as quickly as it arrived and, though disorienting, it wasn't harmful and receded as soon as Albedo willed it.

And the faint presence that called to him was familiar.

"I think Durin is trying to talk to me," Albedo says.

Sucrose's eyes go wide. She opens her mouth to ask another question, but the strange sinking sensation returns, this time more insistent.

Albedo shakes his head and wishes it goes away. Just like last time, it does.

Then a few moments later it returns, and Albedo is reminded of when Klee kept badgering him about buying a new bench she can 'play' on as her last one met a fiery demise.

Durin likely wants to talk to him for some reason. Maybe he felt the sudden increase in the corruption and is concerned. Maybe Durin mistook Albedo's fear from the nightmare for something scary happening to Albedo in real life, like how he confused the different types of pain.

Or maybe his sealed brother knows what truly happened.

"Watch over me, please," Albedo tells Sucrose and gives in before he can hear her response.

\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/

Albedo is in a desolate snowy expanse, the shape of a colossal dragon looming over him. Claws as big as his torso scrape the snow before him, as a giant head descends to the ground and its eyes widen in childlike excitement.

"Tiny Brother!" Durin says, momentarily forgetting to lower his voice, and its sheer volume has Albedo cringing. "Are you safe?"

"... Durin," Albedo greets him when he gets over the shock of facing the giant dragon again. "So, you know what happened."

'Are you responsible for what happened,' is what Albedo wants to ask, but reconsiders. He knows from previous experience Durin never intended to hurt him, even if he may have done so unintentionally. What Albedo thought was a possession by the dead dragon for the purpose of destroying Mondstadt turned out to be a wellness check as Durin, having a child-like intelligence, cannot disambiguate physical from emotional pain – the latter of which Albedo still feels has been overstated, but there is little point in debating such things.

In any case, after being purified by the Traveller, Albedo has not communicated with Durin. The dragon has been keeping away, probably realising his presence rapidly accelerates the spread of the corruption within Albedo's body, effectively 'hurting' him.

"Yes," Durin groans as he bats the tip of his tail in agitation. "It was the Nasty Things. They sometimes appear, but I drive them away."

Albedo frowns. Since Durin sensed something was wrong, Albedo didn't have a mere nightmare. However, the dragon's 'explanation' is as vague as they come. "Nasty things? I've not had something like that happen to me before."

"Of course!" Durin says as if the answer is self-evident. "They appear very rarely. This is the first time they did after I reached out to you. I did not think they would try to attack you, so I was surprised, and it took me time, but I drove them away again!"

Ah, so they are related to the corruption somehow. Since Albedo was recently infected, this strange phenomenon hasn't affected him until today. Still...

"Do you know what they are?" Albedo frowns in recollection of his nightmare. "I saw… body parts."

"No, they're too small for me to make out. Very loud though. But I'm way bigger and stronger, so I beat them every time!" Durin says with a self-satisfied huff.

"How often do they appear?"

"... Dunno. Hard to tell time here," Durin answers, his voice lacking his previous excitement. "But don't worry brother, if they appear again, I'll drive them back and I'll make sure they don't get to you again!"

Albedo smiles at Durin, somewhat relieved. Despite the lack of concrete answer, it is reassuring that they may be able to prevent such a sudden rapid progression of the corruption.

More than that, Durin seems sure he will encounter this again. Perhaps this mysterious cyclical phenomenon holds a secret about corruption's true nature.

"If you encounter this again, could you take a closer look at what they are?" Albedo asks. "They may prove useful in understanding and potentially treating the corruption."

Durin tilts his head slightly.

"... They could help me heal you," Albedo rephrases.

"Oh! Yes then! I'll definitely take a closer look! I'll even bite it to try and tear some of it away!"

"Ah, no need to go that far," Albedo quickly says. "Don't put yourself in unnecessary danger… I'm already grateful for how you've been keeping the, uh, nasty thing at bay all this time."

For hundreds of years, Albedo suddenly realises. Half a millennium stuck in this desolate purgatory, fighting off a strange invader and with his only point of contact being…

"I'm sorry, but I must leave," Albedo says. The longer he stays here, the faster the corruption spreads in his real body. He and Sucrose will have to perform another purification when he awakes. "Contact me if you think it is urgent. And take care."

"You too brother! It was nice talking to you again!" Durin says, completely earnest as he and the lone snowy landscape melts into the warm earthly colours of his house's basement.

\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/

If you enjoy the premise so far, consider a fave & favourite and reviewing (I reply to reviews on a chapter after I post the next one, so these can serve as a helpful reminder). The story has been fully plotted out and will be updated (just have patience, i am currently clowning my way through a PhD)

(As always, find me at SleepDeprivedFemale on tumblr & Sleepy#3903 on discord where I'm always up for a chat )