SleepyJellyz

Summary: Y/N wakes in Teyvat, only to be branded an imposter by those they once worshiped. Forced to serve the false god who stole their identity, they endure in silence — until one small mistake reveals a divine truth no one was ready to see.

Part 25.5 (previous)

Disclaimer: Some parts of this story may not follow the official Genshin story logic. The traveller is not in this story. Please enjoy it with an open mind!

The moment the ship docked, Scaramouche was already regretting every decision that had led him here.

The journey had been long. The weather had been terrible. The sea had been worse.

His head still throbbed faintly, and though he would never admit it out loud, the voyage had left him thoroughly seasick. Even now, standing on solid ground, it felt like the deck was still shifting beneath his feet.

Romaritime Harbor greeted him with chaos. Vendors shouted over one another. Workers hauled crates across the docks. Travelers crowded every open space, and the sunlight, far too bright for his liking, glared off the water and somehow still managed to slip under the brim of his hat.

Scaramouche pressed two fingers to his temple as he scanned the harbor, already irritated.

“I hate this nation already,” he muttered as his eyes landed on a nearby newspaper stand. He walked over, grabbing a paper from the stack.

"CREATOR-RECOMMENDED CAFÉ THIS WEEK."

His eye twitched. Without another glance, he dropped the paper back onto the stand and looked around. There had to be a map. Or someone useful. Preferably both. His gaze landed on a nearby Melusine officer. Perfect. He walked straight over.

“I need directions to the Creator,” Scaramouche said.

The Melusine looked up at him, blinking. “The Creator?”

“Yes,” he replied flatly.

“The one residing in the Palais Mermonia?” she clarified.

Scaramouche sighed. “How many Creators do you think there are?”

“Well… if you wish to meet Her Grace, you’ll need an appointment, mister—” she began.

“How?” he cut in.

“You’ll need to submit a formal request at the administrative office on its first level,” the Melusine explained.

He sighed for the second time.

Forty minutes later, he was holding an absurdly long form. At some point, Scaramouche stopped reading and just started filling in whatever came to mind.

An hour later, he was finally at the front of the queue. The clerk took the papers with an overly polite smile. “Thank you for your submission.”

Scaramouche waited. “…And?”

“We will now begin processing your request.”

“And?”

“The estimated waiting time is five to seven working days.” The clerk kept smiling.

Something inside Scaramouche quietly snapped. He turned around and walked out without another word. He slipped into a quiet alley around the back of the building, finally out of sight of the main pathway, and tilted his head up.

“…Let’s make this quick.” Anemo gathered around him. The air stirred. And then he was gone.

Three seconds later, his presence had already been detected.

“YOU THERE!”

Scaramouche didn’t stop.

“STOP IN THE NAME OF THE LAW!”

Below him, Gardes were crowding around, pointing upward.

“UNAUTHORIZED AERIAL TRAVEL IS PROHIBITED!”

He glanced down, visibly unimpressed. “Are you serious?”

“The Aerial Transportation Regulation Act!” someone shouted, waving a thick handbook like it was evidence. Scaramouche exhaled through his nose and kept flying upwards. Eventually, they would get tired and leave him alone. Probably.

Several floors above, you were finally having your well-deserved nap.

For once, everything was quiet. No meetings. No appearances. No Furina hovering around 24/7. You were having your first real break in two weeks.

The peace lasted all of ten minutes.

Then came the sound of rapid gunfire.

Your eyes snapped open, your first sight meeting the decorated ceiling above. For several seconds, you remained motionless beneath the sheets. Surely that had been part of a nightmare. You closed your eyes again.

More shots erupted, followed by distant shouting.

You slowly sat upright. Is Fontaine being invaded?

The noise continued.

With a groan, you dragged yourself out of bed, wrapping the duvet around your pajamas like a cloak before shuffling toward the balcony. Honestly, whoever designed this suite must have had a personal vendetta against you. That balcony of yours attracted too much attention.

You rubbed your eyes before stepping outside. Even from this distance, that ridiculous hat was unmistakable. Scaramouche hovered above, completely unfazed, while the Gardes below fired warning shots like it was part of their daily routine. Of course it was him. Who else would it be?

You leaned over the railing.

“Scaramouche! Over here!” You shouted over the noise.

He paused.

And somehow, despite everything surrounding him, he heard you. He turned around, already moving toward you.

A second later—

BAM!

Your door exploded inward. Wood flew across the room. The handle embedded itself in the far wall. Wriothesley stood in the doorway, with several Gardes behind him. You stared at the wreckage, hoping it would not be charged to your already-existing debt account.

Wriothesley didn’t even look at you. He was already walking over, heading toward Scaramouche, who had dropped beside you. He grabbed Scaramouche, yanked his arm back, and snapped cuffs onto his wrist.

“You’re under arrest,” he said flatly, “for unauthorized aerial travel.”

Silence.

You paused in disbelief. “…You’re joking.”

Scaramouche ignored the cuffs entirely. Instead, his glare lingered on you, as if this was somehow still your fault.

Part 27 coming soon~

Summary: Y/N wakes in Teyvat, only to be branded an imposter by those they once worshiped. Forced to serve the false god who stole their identity, they endure in silence — until one small mistake reveals a divine truth no one was ready to see.

Part 25 (previous) Part 26 (next)

This is a short segment I thought of a few minutes ago. Please don’t ask me how Childe traveled so quickly from Fontaine to Snezhnaya 😂

The meeting room of Zapolyarny Palace was unusually lively.

No weapons had been drawn yet, which by Harbinger standards counted as a productive meeting.

At the head of the long table sat Pierro, silent as ever. His imposing presence alone was enough to keep most arguments from escalating.

Around him sat the remaining Harbingers.

Pantalone wore the smile of a man thoroughly enjoying himself.

Capitano remained as still as a statue.

Arlecchino sat with her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

Pulcinella sipped his tea.

Sandrone stared blankly ahead.

And Childe looked as though he was one poorly timed comment away from bursting into laughter.

The topic of today's meeting was obvious.

Dottore.

Or more specifically, Dottore's spectacular failure.

Nobody openly stared at him.

"So," Pantalone began pleasantly, folding his hands together. "I believe we've finally received Her Majesty's response regarding the incident."

"The situation was considerably more complicated than the reports suggest," Dottore replied.

A snort escaped Childe.

"Yes, I'm sure Her Majesty was very understanding of your explanation."

Dottore slowly turned toward him.

The urge to conduct experiments on his fellow Harbinger had never been stronger.

"Would you care to elaborate on your own contributions, Tartaglia?" Dottore retorted.

"I'm working on it," Childe replied immediately. "Unlike some people, I haven't managed to lose the Creator yet."

A dangerous silence settled over the room.

Arlecchino's gaze shifted toward the ginger-haired Harbinger.

Before any of them could continue, Pierro spoke.

"Enough."

He reached for a sealed document resting on the table. The Tsaritsa's personal seal gleamed against the parchment. He broke the seal and unfolded the letter.

"'As a result of Dottore's failure to follow my instructions and his continued inability to establish favorable relations with the Creator, he is hereby removed from this assignment effective immediately.'"

Several Harbingers glanced toward Dottore.

His expression darkened considerably.

Pierro continued.

"'The responsibility of maintaining contact shall instead be transferred to Tartaglia.'"

Childe blinked.

Then sat up straighter.

"Oh?"

Dottore looked murderous.

Pierro continued reading.

"'Any further interactions are to be conducted with respect, discretion, and diplomacy.'"

The room remained silent as Pierro lowered the document.

"You can't do that," Dottore snapped.

"I was this close."

"If you have an issue with Her Majesty's decision," Pierro said calmly as he folded the document shut, "you may raise it with her personally."

Dottore's jaw tightened.

"Tartaglia is hardly the most suitable choice among us," Arlecchino remarked, folding her arms.

Pierro's gaze shifted toward her.

"You already made a poor first impression, and you attacked Fontaine's Chief Justice," he replied. "You are not exactly favored in Fontaine at the moment."

Arlecchino gestured toward Childe.

"And you consider Tartaglia a good first impression?"

Childe looked offended.

"I can behave."

No one acknowledged him.

"Her Majesty's orders remain unchanged."

Pierro rose from his seat.

"Dismissed."

Chairs scraped against the floor as the Harbingers stood.

The meeting had lasted less than an hour.

Somewhere far away in Fontaine, meanwhile, the Creator remained blissfully unaware that the Fatui Harbingers had just spent an entire meeting debating which of them was least likely to scare them away.

Part 26

Summary: Y/N wakes in Teyvat, only to be branded an imposter by those they once worshiped. Forced to serve the false god who stole their identity, they endure in silence — until one small mistake reveals a divine truth no one was ready to see.

Part 24 (previous) Part 25.5 (next)

Disclaimer: Some parts of this story may not follow the official Genshin story logic. The traveller is not in this story. Please enjoy it with an open mind!

Morning arrived far too quickly.

You had seriously considered sleeping in to avoid breakfast with THE Neuvillette. Although that would be far too rude considering he was technically hosting your stay.

The dining hall was absurdly elegant. Sunlight spilled through towering windows, glimmering across polished silver cutlery and pristine porcelain.

At the far end of the table, Neuvillette sat with impeccable posture, one gloved hand resting beside a porcelain teacup.

“…Good morning,” you offered cautiously.

“Good morning,” Neuvillette replied with a polite nod.

You sat down carefully.

“How was your rest?” Neuvillette asked calmly.

Events from last night immediately flashed through your mind.

“…It was alright,” you answered, looking down at your breakfast sandwich while poking through the poached egg with your fork.

You hesitated to tell him what had occurred the night before.

You had barely persuaded him to lower the number of guards around you. If you told Neuvillette about last night, you would never be alone again.

On the other hand… it could also lead to fewer public appearances. That was tempting.

“…Is something troubling you?” Neuvillette asked.

“Nope, all good.” You smiled weakly.

Neuvillette regarded you for a moment longer than was comfortable.

Before he could respond, the dining room doors suddenly swung open.

“Good morning, everyone!” Furina announced loudly as she swept into the room. An assistant followed quietly behind her.

A yawn interrupted the middle of Furina’s greeting. She covered it with one hand, blinking sleepily before immediately recovering her composure.

“…Ahem. As I was saying.” She lifted her chin with dignity. “Good morning.”

She dropped into the seat beside you, immediately reaching for cake.

“Lady Furina. Monsieur Neuvillette.” The assistant bowed politely before turning toward you. “Your Grace.”

The assistant began carefully distributing papers across the table.

“Today’s schedule has been finalized,” she explained professionally. “The morning begins with a formal audience at the Hotel Debord regarding restoration funding for the Banque du Nord district. You will also be having tea with several prominent Fontaine investors.”

Your expression slowly dulled.

“Then a brief appearance at the Court of Fontaine for the unveiling of Your Grace’s official portrait, which will later be displayed within the central hall of the Palais Mermonia.”

“—followed by a sit-down interview with The Steambird regarding Fontaine’s future relations with the Creator—”

Your eggs benedict suddenly seemed less appetizing. You instead picked up one of the neatly stacked newspapers arranged at the center of the table. Beneath the headlines were several photographs from yesterday. Honestly… the photos were not terrible.

The styling team had somehow managed to make you look significantly healthier. No dark circles. No sleep-deprived rat nest of hair. Soft lighting framed the images elegantly while the glittering Fontaine outfits somehow appeared regal.

You reached behind your back and picked up the stack of letters you had written the night before.

“Could these be sent to Sumeru?” you requested.

The assistant accepted them. “Of course.”

You were fairly certain Scaramouche was going to develop a headache reading yours.

~Hotel Debord~

Elegant nobles drifted through the grand hall wrapped in expensive silks and polished jewelry. Investors and merchants clustered around marble tables beneath glittering chandeliers while musicians played softly somewhere in the background.

You sat beside Furina near the center of it all, smiling politely while your mind was only partially present. You wondered what you wanted for lunch.

“With the Creator’s blessing upon the restoration efforts,” Furina said smoothly, crossing one leg elegantly, “public confidence has already increased considerably. And what greater reassurance could there possibly be than the Creator choosing to remain within our nation?”

Several investors nodded enthusiastically.

One investor turned toward you eagerly. “Your Grace, do you have any thoughts regarding Fontaine’s future economic prosperity?”

“Your Grace,” Furina repeated through a tight smile while nudging your ankle beneath the table.

You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts. Why were these people asking you complicated questions? You had not even graduated before getting dragged into this world!

“…Yes, please go ahead with your plans,” you answered.

Furina made a strangled noise beside you that sounded suspiciously like suppressed laughter. The investors somehow looked satisfied anyway.

The discussion quickly devolved into trade routes. Your attention drifted again.

“Excuse me,” you interrupted softly after a while. “I just need some fresh air.”

Furina glanced toward you immediately.

“Are you alright?” she asked quietly, her voice lowering from her earlier theatrics.

“Yeah,” you assured quickly. “Please continue.” You offered the people a reassuring smile before escaping the room before anyone could stop you.

The upper balconies of the Opera Epiclese overlooked Fontaine’s shining waters below. Sunlight danced across the canals while distant voices echoed softly through the marble halls.

You leaned against the railing with a quiet exhale.

Peace.

“…You know, I imagined our first proper conversation going a little differently.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin.

Childe stood nearby looking entirely relaxed. Hands tucked loosely into his pockets, scarf shifting lightly in the breeze, bright blue eyes studying you.

“How did you even get in here?” you hissed.

“Through the front entrance. For brunch obviously” Childe tilted his head innocently.

“You look disappointed,” he remarked.

“I was hoping security in Fontaine was more competent,” you muttered. “Shouldn’t your face be plastered across every wall in Fontaine by now?”

“Ouch.” He pressed a hand dramatically against his chest. “That hurt.”

“What do you want?” You crossed your arms warily.

“Relax,” Childe added. “If I wanted to kidnap you, this conversation would be going very differently.”

He leaned casually against the railing beside you.

“Dottore’s report claimed one of his subordinates mishandled you and accidentally left your cell unlocked aboard the ship,” he noted. “According to him, that’s how you escaped.”

You stared at him flatly.

“But considering your little outburst with Arlecchino…” Childe grinned slightly. “I’m guessing he lied.”

“Hah. I can’t wait for the next meeting,” he mused. "It's going to be entertaining.”

You had specifically come out onto the balcony for peace and quiet. Unfortunately, it seemed this area was no better. You pushed yourself off the railing.

“But the Tsaritsa does wish to have your presence in Snezhnaya eventually,” Childe called after you. “I assure you she means no harm despite your… unfortunate first experiences with some of the Fatui.”

You ignored him, slamming the glass door shut directly in his face.

Part 25.5

Summary: Y/N wakes in Teyvat, only to be branded an imposter by those they once worshiped. Forced to serve the false god who stole their identity, they endure in silence — until one small mistake reveals a divine truth no one was ready to see.

Part 23 (previous) Part 25 (next)

Disclaimer: Some parts of this story may not follow the official Genshin story logic. The traveller is not in this story. Please enjoy it with an open mind!

You could say Fontaine was a nation that took pride in how news traveled fast than anywhere else.

“They say the Hydro Dragon protected them personally.”

“No, no, the Knave tried to assassinate them.”

“Didn’t they destroy the Banque du Nord?”

“I heard they escaped prison.”

“I heard they were a gang leader in prison.”

Vendors shouted headlines from every street corner while newspapers vanished almost as quickly as they were printed. Artists had already begun selling wildly inaccurate sketches of you near the Fountain of Lucine. One portrayed you with six glowing wings. Another had somehow given you Neuvillette’s hair.

Children ran through the streets pretending to throw imaginary divine powers at each other.

Meanwhile, inside the Palais Mermonia—

“No.”

Furina gasped dramatically. “What do you mean no?!”

“I mean no,” you repeated, staring at the outfit laid across the sofa in absolute horror. “Why is there so much glitter and jewels on one piece of clothing? I’ll look like a blinding spotlight the second I step into the sun.”

“Because you are making a public appearance at the Opera Epiclese,” Furina replied as though explaining simply as those you were a child. “Your current wardrobe is quite dreadful.”

Furina clapped her hands once. Two attendants carefully approached you with the caution.

“Enough! We are already behind schedule,” Furina declared. “Now stand up straight. Look dignified. And for the love of Archons, stop looking like you’re attending your own execution.”

At the Opera Epiclese

The roar of the crowd filled the hall instantly the moment you stepped onto the stage. The entire opera house was packed beyond capacity. Noble families. Reporters. Citizens. Melusines. Several Gardes lined the upper balconies.

Lights shimmered across the massive stage as Furina stepped forward first, posture flawless as always.

“My dear people!” she declared, her voice echoing magnificently through the hall. “I, Furina de Fontaine, on behalf of everyone here hereby welcome the Creator to our nation of Hydro!”

Thunderous applause erupted instantly. You resisted the urge to immediately turn around and leave.

“Oh, to grace us with your presence at our historic Opera Epiclese and arrive with such an… unforgettable bang,” Furina continued smoothly, “we shall rejoice in this occasion for years to come!”

Somewhere far in front of you, Wriothesley coughed suspiciously into his fist.

“And today, unlike no other,” Furina announced grandly, throwing one arm toward the illuminated stage, “we have the illustrious jewel of Fontaine’s stage, whose voice shall honor us tonight and show our esteemed guest what Fontaine is truly made of!”

That was your cue. You immediately speed-walked off the stage before anyone could stop you. Furina’s eye twitched slightly as the audience watched you practically flee toward your designated seat.

The curtains lifted fully. The singer stepped forward gracefully as the orchestra began to play. The performance swelled beautifully beneath the glowing lights of the Opera Epiclese, music cascading through the hall like water itself.

You glanced around. Furina sat quietly beside you, visibly pleased.

Neuvillette remained composed as always in his opera box, though his attention occasionally shifted toward the audience instead of the performance, carefully observing their expressions.

The moment the performance ended, Furina spun toward you with terrifying energy.

“Wonderful! Splendid! Excellent!” she proclaimed. “Now, quickly—we’re late for the restaurant opening!”

“Why?” You stared at her. “Isn’t there another performance? It seems rude to leave so suddenly.”

“For the special commemorative menu unveiling, obviously.” Furina ignored you completely and grabbed your wrist before you could escape.

“Come along! There’s also a small photo-op,” Furina exclaimed.

“Small?” you murmured faintly from behind her. “How small is it exactly?”

The new restaurant had created an entire dessert line inspired by you. Another unveiled a drink called Creator’s Blessing that glittered suspiciously. At one point, Furina had somehow convinced you to pose with your drink while three different painters attempted to capture your “divine elegance.”

Summary: Y/N wakes in Teyvat, only to be branded an imposter by those they once worshiped. Forced to serve the false god who stole their identity, they endure in silence — until one small mistake reveals a divine truth no one was ready to see.

Part 22 (previous) Part 24 (next)

Disclaimer: Some parts of this story may not follow the official Genshin story logic. The traveller is not in this story. Please enjoy it with an open mind!

Palais Mermonia

Across from you, Neuvillette’s attention was fixed on the tall windows, his gaze resting somewhere far beyond the city below.

To your left, Wriothesley leaned back against the sofa with his arms crossed, expression unreadable beneath the dim golden light of the office.

You took another slow sip of tea, unwilling to be the one to start the conversation.

The warmth settled in your throat as you tried not to think about the Fortress of Meropide. The strange routine you had somehow grown used to. You missed it.

Furina abruptly stood up. “Alright, I can’t take this anymore.”

Her chair scraped lightly against the floor as she strode forward with theatrical purpose, blue-and-white sleeves swaying dramatically behind her.

“Voilà!” She revealed a cake with the flourish of someone unveiling a national treasure.

“I brought this for this very special occasion,” she announced proudly, holding it up before carefully placing it onto the table between all of you.

The frosting was elaborate. Excessively so. There were decorative sugar pearls. You were fairly certain parts of it glittered.

Furina straightened. “It’s not every day the creator grace us with her presence.”

“Even though your first visit to Fontaine was our unescapable Fortress of Meropide.” She forced out a laugh.

“Ha ha—” It died almost immediately when no one joined in.

Silence reclaimed the room.

Furina slowly lowered herself back into her seat.

“…Tough audience,” she muttered under her breath.

Wriothesley rubbed at his temple.

“In fairness,” he said dryly, “there was an escape, a lockdown, and several ongoing investigations. It was a busy time. Things could have gotten mixed up in the middle of it all. You have my apologies.”

He paused before adding, “But you also could have spoken up.”

“Yes, I could have…” you admitted carefully.

Wriothesley raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for you to continue.

Instead, you quietly took a bite of the strawberry-flavored cake.

His stare sharpened. “…That’s all you’re giving me?”

You swallowed slowly. “It’s very good cake.”

Furina looked deeply pleased by that response.

Neuvillette finally spoke. “It is going to take a considerable time to rebuild the Banque du Nord,”

He continued “Current estimates place the damages at approximately four hundred thousand mora.”

His gaze settled specifically on you.

You immediately coughed on your tea as it went down the wrong windpipe.

Four hundred thousand—

You stared at him in horror.

Surely he wasn’t implying—

You had no mora.

Actually, correction: you had prison coupons.

Could those be exchanged somehow to mora?

Maybe the whole “Creator” thing came with immunity. Surely.

Neuvillette shattered that hope instantly.

“Since the incident was partially your fault,” he remarked, “it is only reasonable that you contribute toward reparations in some capacity.”

You straightened slowly, trying to recover what little dignity remained.

“…Respectfully,” you croaked, “I feel like a few other people also contributed to the destruction.”

“The initial confrontation began because of your confession,” Neuvillette replied.

You grimaced.

“I don’t have four hundred thousand mora.”

Furina suddenly perked up.

“Oh! That's where I come in.” she exclaimed brightly, pointing toward you with her cake fork. “You could make up for it through appearances.”

You blinked. “…Appearances?”

“Yes!” Furina leaned forward enthusiastically. “Supporting Fontaine’s local theaters, performances, and public events—”

Your expression slowly flattened. “I’ve heard enough.”

Furina ignored you completely.

“Imagine it! Public appearances alongside Fontaine’s beloved figures, such as the great Furina de Fontaine.”

“Oh, this should be good,” Wriothesley muttered, visibly amused.

“We need something positive for the people to focus on,” Furina continued dramatically. “Especially after all that destruction!”

“You could attend plays, endorse performances, perhaps appear at the Opera Epiclese—”

“Absolutely not.”

“—possibly a formal interview—”

“No.”

“—charity galas—”

“Furina.”

“—limited commemorative merchandise—”

“You cannot commercialize me,” you said in disbelief.

“You say that like people would not willingly buy it.” Furina crossed her arms defensively.

You dropped your face into your hands with a long-suffering sigh.

“This is a nightmare.”

Neuvillette finally stepped in.

“While Lady Furina’s methods are… unconventional,” he elaborated on carefully, “public reassurance may indeed become necessary. And under the current circumstances, this may be the most effective way for you to compensate Fontaine.”

Wriothesley looked far too entertained by your suffering.

Furina clasped her hands together excitedly.

“Oh, you are absolutely going to love this.”

Part 24

Summary: Y/N wakes in Teyvat, only to be branded an imposter by those they once worshiped. Forced to serve the false god who stole their identity, they endure in silence — until one small mistake reveals a divine truth no one was ready to see.

Part 21 (previous) Part 23 (next)

Disclaimer: Some parts of this story may not follow the official Genshin story logic. The traveller is not in this story. Please enjoy it with an open mind!

You stood at the edge of the lift platform as it locked into place with a heavy clang, the sound echoing once before dissolving into the wind.

“Problem?” Wriothesley’s voice came from behind you. You blinked and forced yourself forward. “No.”

Above you, the sky stretched endlessly, pale and clouded. Light diffused into a dull silver sheen across the water. Salt hung faintly in the air.

“Stay close,” one of the guards muttered.

Ahead, the Banque du Nord rose into view, polished stone and tall glass windows, immaculate with several guards positioned around it.

“You’ll walk us through what happened,” Wriothesley said, opening the door with a quiet push.

A woman stood there. Medium-length white hair streaked with black. Unmistakably dangerous. You gulped hard; she looked even more imposing in person than she ever did on screen.

“Everything is ready. You should be grateful we’ve even allowed you the grace to waste our time on this.” Arlecchino said coolly, her lips curling into something almost like a sneer.

“And Fontaine is grateful for your cooperation,” another voice added from behind her.

Your eyes flicked to a tall figure behind her. Pale skin. Long white hair with blue streak, dressed in unmistakably Fontaine-style attire.

Your soul practically left your body. You immediately dropped your gaze to the polished floor, suddenly fascinated by how painfully reflective it was. Your own reflection stared back, warped by panic.

Great. Your first impression with the Chief Justice, aka the Hydro Dragon Sovereign, was an absolute disaster.

“Right. Yes. I—” You gestured vaguely forward, as if that would help. “We would have entered through the front.”

Silence stretched. You winced internally. You sounded pathetic. How are you supposed to lie your way through this?

You didn’t know who 'Ismaine accomplices' were. You didn’t know where the hidden money was. None of this had even existed in the quest events you had played before. Your mind scrambled for anything.

Your gaze darted across the room, searching for any detail that might help you piece together something believable. Counters. Vault access corridors. Security terminals. Nothing that meant anything to you.

“…Go on,” Arlecchino stated flatly.

Your pulse quickened.

Think. Think. THINK.

Suddenly, you had a brilliant idea. A completely idiotic, borderline suicidal idea. But at this point, what could possibly go wrong?

Summary: Y/N wakes in Teyvat, only to be branded an imposter by those they once worshiped. Forced to serve the false god who stole their identity, they endure in silence — until one small mistake reveals a divine truth no one was ready to see.

Part 20 (previous) Part 22 (next)

Disclaimer: Some parts of this story may not follow the official Genshin story logic. The traveller is not in this story. Please enjoy it with an open mind!

A few days passed.

You learned quickly. Head down. Do not ask questions. Work, eat, sleep. Repeat.

It was almost comforting in a strange way, working again. There was no demanding god breathing down your neck every waking second anymore. You could get used to this.

The hum of machinery faded into the background as the days blurred together.

You were carrying a crate down one of the lower corridors when it happened.

You turned a corner and walked straight into someone. The impact barely moved him.

You stumbled back, tightening your grip, but it was not enough. The crate slipped from your hands and hit the ground with a dull clang, the sound echoing down the corridor.

“Watch it,” you started, irritation already rising.

Then you looked up. The man in front of you was not wearing a guard’s uniform.

Wriothesley's gaze settled on you, calm and unreadable.

“You are new,” he pointed out.

You hesitated “Not really. I'm Ismaine.”

“Ismaine,” he repeated.

“Er… yes.” You nodded quickly.

A quiet hum of acknowledgment escaped him. Wriothesley stepped slightly aside, giving you space.

You crouched down, picked up the crate, and brushed it off, trying to act as though nothing about this interaction was unusual. You continued walking.

For a moment, you thought that was the end of it. Then you heard his footsteps behind you.

“Did you have time after your shift?” Wriothesley asked. You blinked, glancing back at him. “What?” “For tea,” he said simply. You stared at him, certain you had misheard. "You’re joking.” There was no hint of humor in his expression. “Did you have tea with every prisoner?” you shot back before you could stop yourself. “Call it curiosity,” Wriothesley replied. “I don’t normally see prisoners wearing masks these days.” “Er… yeah. I got a pretty bad scar during the breakout,” you said quickly. “That was why I wore the mask. You probably just had not seen me with it.”

“Is that so?” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Then you could tell me more about it.” A small pause followed. “Tonight.” “I’m actually really busy,” you tried. But he had already turned away. “After your shift,” he said, as if you had already agreed.

And he was gone. Leaving you standing there with the uncomfortable realization that refusing had never truly been an option.

The first email arrives at 6:12 a.m. By 6:20, there are nine more. At 7:03, Principal Nezu has already created a dedicated folder for the matter and is steadily working through his third cup of tea. At 7:15, Shota Aizawa is summoned.

He arrives worn out, with only the last scraps of energy from his night patrol left.

“Good morning, Aizawa-kun,” Nezu greeted pleasantly.

Aizawa grunts in response. He nudges a chair closer with his foot and drops into it.

Nezu slides a stack of printed emails across the desk. “There have been… concerns.”

Aizawa glances at them. “Problem child again?”

Nezu folds his paws together. “It concerns you, actually.” His gaze drifts downward. Aizawa’s bright yellow cocoon is impossible to miss. “Complaints have been raised regarding professional standards,” Nezu continues. “Mostly from Minoru’s parents.”

“Your sleeping bag,” Nezu says. “And the fact that you sleep during class hours. You’ll need to leave it in your quarters. It is not to be brought to school.”

Aizawa’s stare sharpens, his eyes taking on an unsettling glow.

Class 1-A realizes something is wrong almost immediately.

Aizawa-sensei has been awake the entire day.

His familiar sleeping bag is nowhere in sight, and its absence feels more noticeable than anything else. His eyes stay open through every lesson, and the effect is deeply unsettling.

It doesn’t take long for rumors to spread about a possible ban on Aizawa’s most beloved item. No one can trace where it began, though a few quietly suspect it came from Nezu himself.

“I feel like his eyes haven’t even blinked properly all day. It’s kinda creepy.” Kirishima says, slouching back in his chair. “This is extremly concerning,” Iida agreed.

Midoriya is already scribbling furiously in his notebook. “If his sleeping bag is removed, it could disrupt his rest cycle, which would affect classroom performance for both him and us—but there’s also the psychological comfort factor which might influence—”

“Something that small affects you that much, nerd?!” Bakugo snaps.

“Protest,” Kaminari says without hesitation.

Iida straightens at once. “Absolutely not another protest! Disrupting class for something like this is extremely inappropriate. We cannot interfere with academic lessons or set a poor precedent for student conduct!”

“Protest,” Mina agrees, leaning forward. “I mean… something’s clearly wrong, right?”

The class quickly spirals into overlapping debate, voices piling on until the idea turns louder, messier, and more certain.

“Well, Deku?” Bakugo cuts in, glancing over. “I’m sure you’ve already got some overcomplicated plan cooking in that head of yours.”

Everyone turns to Midoriya.

By the end of the period, a plan has formed. A messy, slightly concerning plan with no adult supervision whatsoever.

It starts with one sleeping bag. Then three. Then twelve.

By the next morning, the hallway no longer looks like a school corridor but a slow-moving migration of brightly caterpillars. Every student is wrapped up in them, some patterned, some aggressively neon.

“This is a fire hazard!” Iida shouts, immediately tripping over someone and slamming into the wall. “We accept that risk!” Kaminari calls out, attempting a high-five and failing miserably due to restricted movement. At the far end of the hall, Present Mic takes one look and thrives. He snaps a photo and uploads it instantly.

“YOOOO, WE GOT A FULL-ON BURRITO REVOLUTION!” #CocoonChaos #LetHimNap

The internet ignites.

Aizawa pauses mid-step, coffee still in hand, staring down the hallway.

The chaos is already in full swing, and first period hasn’t even started.

Before he can react, a third-year in a camo-pattern sleeping bag barrel pasts him at alarming speed.

He simply turns around and walks the other way.

By midday, an emergency meeting is called.

Faculty fill the room, support staff murmur among themselves, and one overwhelmed intern types up the minutes at frantic speed.

The projector flickers on, revealing a series of neatly organized charts and graphs tracking attendance patterns and behavioral changes, all annotated in meticulous detail. It is clearly submitted by Midoriya.

“…This is unusually thorough for a first-year report,” one staff member mutters.

“I would expect nothing less,” Nezu says pleasantly, sipping his tea.

Aizawa, already slouched in his chair, looks thoroughly unimpressed. “Can we get to the point?”

“While we acknowledge parental concerns,” Nezu says calmly, “we must also consider student performance and classroom stability. To reach a compromise, Aizawa’s sleeping bag will be registered—”

Aizawa looks up slowly.

“—as a support item.”

“…No.”

“Eraserhead Tactical Resting Apparatus,” Nezu continues, clearly pleased.

“…Absolutely not. I am not filling out paperwork for this.”

“No need,” Nezu replies smoothly, sliding a document across the table. “You already have.”

Aizawa stares at it. At the signature at the bottom. One he is certain he never signed.

The merchandise follows shortly after. Keychains. Plushies. A limited-edition neon sleeping bag replica, marketed as student-approved comfort gear.

Summary: Y/N wakes in Teyvat, only to be branded an imposter by those they once worshiped. Forced to serve the false god who stole their identity, they endure in silence — until one small mistake reveals a divine truth no one was ready to see.

Part 19 (previous) Part 21 (next)

Disclaimer: Some parts of this story may not follow the official Genshin story logic. The traveller is not in this story. Please enjoy it with an open mind!

You wake to a ceiling of pipes and riveted metal, dim lights flickering weakly between them.

A low hum fills the air. Constant. Almost comforting, if you didn’t feel so…off. It vibrated through the bed beneath you as you swallowed and slowly pushed yourself upright.

The room was wide. Rows of narrow beds lined both sides, most of them empty. Sheets lay in careless disarray, like whoever left never bothered to tidy up.

You turned your head.

In the far corner sat a small figure, barely taking up space. Long blue ears twitched faintly at the sound of your movement.

She turned, and her gaze locked onto yours.

“…Oh. You’re awake." She set aside whatever she was doing and walked over, stopping just close enough to study your face.

“…Took you long enough, Ismaine.”

You blinked.

“…Who?”

A faint crease formed between her brows. “You,” she said, like it was obvious.

You shook your head immediately. “No. That’s not—that’s not my name.”

She watched you for a moment longer, suspicion flickering across her expression. “…Right,” she murmured.

You sat up fully, pulse beginning to quicken. “Where am I? Who are you?”

“I’m Sigewinne. Did you hit your head? You’re back at the Fortress.”

“The Fortress?”

“The Fortress of Meropide.”

The name settled heavily in the air.

“Isn’t that a prison?” you asked, the word catching awkwardly in your throat.

Before she could respond, the door slid open with a sharp hiss.

Both of you turned your head toward the sound. A guard stepped in, posture rigid. He didn’t acknowledge either of you at first, only glanced down at the device in his hand.

“Due to the recent breach and attempted escape, all involved inmates will have their sentences extended by five years.”

“Are you talking to me?” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

“Who else?” the guard snapped.

You swung your legs off the bed, standing too quickly. “Wait—no, there’s been a mistake. I’m not—I didn’t even—I just got here—”

“You are conscious now and fit for labor,” he continued, as if you hadn’t spoken. “Report to your assigned station immediately.”

You stared at him, frustration rising. “Did you hear me? I’m not supposed to be here!”

“Sure.” He turned, already finished with the conversation.

“Hey—wait!”

He paused at the doorway, just enough to glance back over his shoulder. “Make it quick. One question.”

Your thoughts scattered, there were too many questions you wanted answered.

So, of all things, the one that came out was—

“…Is there food?”

There was a brief silence.

“Credit coupons are issued upon completion of assigned work.” And then he was gone.

The door shut with a dull, final clang.

“…Did you really need to ask about food?” Sigewinne muttered, pressing a hand to her temple.

You shrugged. “It felt important.”

“Come on. If you stand around too long, they’ll dock your credits before you even start.”

The corridor was colder.

Long. Metallic. Lit by the same dim, bluish glow that made everything feel slightly unreal. The hum was louder here, layered with the distant clank of machinery and the low murmur of voices echoing through the halls.

People moved in loose lines, carrying crates, sorting materials, working in practiced silence. Overhead, thick bundles of pipes ran along the ceiling, dripping faintly with condensation.

Sigewinne gestured to a section off to the side.

“Sorting station. That’s yours.”

You followed her gaze.

Stacks of containers rose in uneven piles, each marked with worn labels you couldn’t quite read from here.

“Oi.”

The voice came from your left.

A man leaned against one of the crates, arms loosely crossed, watching you with open curiosity. He didn’t look particularly threatening.

“First day?” he asked.

You shrugged. Supposedly, you were meant to be here already.

He pushed off the crate and stepped closer, giving you a quick once-over. “Name’s Ulman.”

“…Right,” you replied. “I’m—I guess I’m called Ismaine?”

His gaze lingered on your face. More specifically, your mask.

“Hiding your face?” he asked, tilting his head. “You do know this is a prison, right? Everyone here’s a registered criminal.”

You lifted a hand, brushing your fingers along the edge of the mask.

“Why not?” you shot back. “Is there a rule that says I can’t wear one?”

Ulman paused. “…Not that I know of.”

He jerked his head toward the containers behind him.

“Come on. If you don’t start moving, they’ll assume you’re slacking.”

You glanced at the towering stacks, then back at him.

The weight of it all settled in. Somehow, you were in prison.

~ The Acting Grand Sage’s Office ~

Meanwhile, back in Sumeru, the Akademiya was in chaos.

Whispers of the missing Creator had spread despite communications being tightly controlled. No official announcement had been made yet somehow, the information had still leaked to the public. And once it did, panic followed.

Inside the Acting Grand Sage’s office, the atmosphere was tense.

Scaramouche stood with Cyno, Alhaitham, and Nahida. He had already returned from his failed search.

No trace. No useful leads. A waste of time.

Cyno broke the silence. “…So what do we do now?”

Nahida spoke gently, though her expression remained serious. “We could request assistance from the other nations.”

Alhaitham exhaled lightly, arms crossed. “And announce to all of Teyvat that Sumeru has lost its Creator? After what happened in Liyue?”

Scaramouche finally spoke. “…I’ve already checked Fontaine. There was Fatui involvement.”

That immediately shifted the atmosphere.

He continued, uninterested in their reactions.

“A vessel carrying the Creator was rerouted. I found a Fatui operative at the docks who had altered the records to conceal the ship’s actual movement. It was headed to Snezhnaya.”

Nahida’s hands folded gently in her lap, though her voice remained steady. “If that is the case… then an official announcement may be necessary. However, whatever the circumstances, the Creator’s safety must remain the priority. Above everything else.”

Part 21

Summary: Y/N wakes in Teyvat, only to be branded an imposter by those they once worshiped. Forced to serve the false god who stole their identity, they endure in silence — until one small mistake reveals a divine truth no one was ready to see.

Part 18 (previous) Part 20 (next)

Disclaimer: Some parts of this story may not follow the official Genshin story logic. The traveller is not in this story. Please enjoy it with an open mind!

Cold. That’s the first thing you feel. A suffocating pressure that seeps into your bones, as if the ocean itself refuses to let you go.

Your lungs burn. Your limbs don’t respond. You thrash anyway, instinctively, but the surface is already gone, swallowed by gray light and broken foam. You’re sinking. You know it.

A faint glow flickers at your fingertips.

“No… no, come on—”

The light surges.

Then snaps outward.

The water around you fractures in a violent ripple, as if struck from within. A pulse of energy bursts through the sea, scattering air and light in every direction.

For a moment, everything stills.

Then darkness closes in. The last thing you see is light.

On the deck of the vessel, Dottore stands at the railing, gaze fixed on the churning water below.

“…Interesting,” he murmurs.

“Retrieve her,” he orders calmly.

A brief pause.

“…Alive, preferably.”

Below him, Fatui guards slip into the ocean silently, vanishing beneath the surface.

~ Meanwhile at Liffey Region of Fontaine ~

Far away, alarms erupt across the ocean.

“Breach confirmed. Sector C compromised.”

“Multiple inmates in the water. Repeat, multiple escapees.”

Searchlights carve frantic paths across the waves as enforcement units descend in tight formation, vanishing beneath the surface.

Figures move through the dark water in bursts never staying in one place long enough to track cleanly.

“Intercept all escapees. Do not allow surfacing.”

One by one, they are caught, wrapped in energy restraints, motion cut off completely.

“Target secured.”

“Another signature moving east. Engaging.”

Then a beam of light cuts through the water.

It finds you.

Drifting. Motionless.

“…Hold.”

The comms shift.

“This one isn’t in the registry.”

Static hisses.

“Unidentified?”

“No record.”

A pause.

“It could be a system error,” someone says. “Damaged readings. It’s chaos down there.”

Another voice answers flatly.

“Corrupted data. We’ve had false absences since the breakout. Log it and move on.”

“Noted. Registered as escapee.”

The ocean begins to settle once more.

As if it never happened.

Part 20

Summary: Y/N wakes in Teyvat, only to be branded an imposter by those they once worshiped. Forced to serve the false god who stole their identity, they endure in silence — until one small mistake reveals a divine truth no one was ready to see.

Part 17 (previous) Part 19 (next)

Disclaimer: Some parts of this story may not follow the official Genshin story logic. The traveller is not in this story. Please enjoy it with an open mind!

For the next few days, Scaramouche couldn’t shake the crawling restlessness under his skin.

He tried pacing. He tried actually paying attention in class for once. He even tried convincing himself to trust Cyno, Alhaitham, and the rest of Sumeru’s intellectual elite, who insisted nothing could happen to you.

None of it worked.

By noon, something inside him snapped.

“Fine. To hell with this—I’m going after her.”

He didn’t bother explaining himself to anyone. Stepping outside, he inhaled sharply and summoned his elemental skill. The wind twisted eagerly around him, lifting his body before hurling him forward, straight toward Romaritime Harbor.

By the time his feet hit the alabaster-toned floor of Romaritime Harbor, he was flushed with exertion and fury.

He strode toward a staff member in uniform.

“—The academic expedition vessel. Where is it?” he demanded, his voice sharp, leaving the startled employee blinking in disbelief.

The woman hesitated. “Sir—if you could tell me the ship number, or where it’s coming from, perhaps I can assist you.”

Scaramouche’s eyes twitched. He had forgotten the details.

“No ship number, no information,” she said firmly, straightening her shoulders.

“Listen carefully.” He leaned forward, voice sharp. “A ship left Bayda Harbor three days ago. It carried Her Grace. I watched her board. She should have arrived by now.”

“Yes, but without the ship’s identification, I can’t look up—” she protested.

“Oh, yes. Can’t possibly break your precious procedures, can we?” he snapped, voice rising.

“Sir, please lower your voice—” she tried again, hands slightly raised.

“You’re telling me no one here has any record of THE ship carrying Her Grace, even though it’s past its expected arrival?” His glare pinned her in place.

“Well… delays do happen—” she murmured.

“Get me your superior!” His tone left no room for argument.

Her shoulders tensed. “S-sir—”

“Didn’t you hear me?!” Scaramouche barked, leaning closer.

“How about filling out a missing-person form? I’m sure Her Grace will turn up—” she offered, voice quivering.

Scaramouche froze. His eyes narrowed, tracking the subtle gleam at her ear. A small blue-and-silver insignia dangled there— unmistakably Fatui.

“You know what?” he murmured, a cold edge in his tone. “I don’t think you’re incompetent.”

The woman hesitated. “I—I’m not?”

“No.” He leaned closer, eyes sharp. “You’re stalling.”

A razor-thin smile curved his lips. Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and yanked her earring hard.

“OW—!! Sir—! Please—!!” she shrieked, clutching her ear.

Summary: Y/N wakes in Teyvat, only to be branded an imposter by those they once worshiped. Forced to serve the false god who stole their identity, they endure in silence — until one small mistake reveals a divine truth no one was ready to see.

Part 16 (previous) Part 18 (next)

Disclaimer: Some parts of this story may not follow the official Genshin story logic. The traveller is not in this story. Please enjoy it with an open mind!

⟢ Announcement of the Results ⟣

The Zubayr Theater buzzed with anticipation. Students filled the theater, their robes of green, and cloud-white merging into a restless mosaic. Light streamed through the lamps above, scattering soft emerald rays across the crowd.

Beside you, Scaramouche stands with his arms crossed, foot tapping a faint, irritated rhythm.

The sage you met during the test steps onto the platform, and the crowd instantly falls silent.

“On behalf of Supervisor Δ–Δ,” he begins, “I extend gratitude to all applicants. Your dedication honors the pursuit of wisdom.”

He lifts a long scroll sealed with wax emblem. The room leans forward as he begins to reveal its contents.

“The candidates selected as Teyvat’s Research Representatives are as follows…”

⟢ Amurta Darshan ⟣

“From Amurta: Yegana, assigned to Mondstadt.”

A short-haired woman in the standard Sumeru Akademiya uniform stepped forward, bowing slightly as cheers erupted around her.

⟢ Vahumana Darshan ⟣

“From Vahumana: Mir, assigned to Inazuma.”

His friends practically shove him toward the platform, laughing as they clap his back.

⟢ Rtawahist Darshan ⟣

“From Rtawahist: Urraca, assigned to Liyue.”

⟢ Haravatat Darshan ⟣

“From Haravatat: Viraf, assigned to the Deshret Desert.”

Viraf straightens, eyes steady with resolve.

⟢ Kshahrewar Darshan ⟣

“From Kshahrewar: Fawara, assigned to Natlan.”

She beams, pumping her fists triumphantly.

⟢ Spantamad Darshan ⟣

“Lastly, from Spantamad… Her Grace.”

Scaramouche’s head snaps toward you.

“Assigned to Fontaine.”

A tiny celebration bursts inside your mind. You turn to Scaramouche, grinning so wide your cheeks ache.

“I made it!”

He scowls. “Don’t look at me like that. I wasn’t selected.”

You nudge him playfully. “I’ll be fine. It’s Fontaine, not the Abyss. And you weren’t even going to apply if it weren’t for me.”

He doesn’t deny it but his expression remains tense, worry lingering beneath the surface.

As you both walk out with the crowd, a thought slips out.

“…Why wasn’t anyone assigned to Snezhnaya? Isn’t this research for all of Teyvat?”

Scaramouche’s expression darkens.

“That nation’s sealed tighter than Celestia’s vaults. Only the Fatui can enter freely.”

A cold shiver crawls up your spine.

Summary: Y/N wakes in Teyvat, only to be branded an imposter by those they once worshiped. Forced to serve the false god who stole their identity, they endure in silence — until one small mistake reveals a divine truth no one was ready to see.

Part 15 (previous) Part 17 (next)

Disclaimer: Some parts of this story may not follow the official Genshin story logic. The traveller is not in this story. Please enjoy it with an open mind!

Several Months Later — Akademiya Lecture Hall

By now, your school life has become second nature.

Morning lectures. Afternoon labs. Evening review sessions.

Scaramouche has been attending fewer classes, only showing up occasionally at the end of a lecture to head home with you. Alhaitham and Nahida, as always, are occupied with matters of state while Kaveh has been unusually busy with his latest architectural project.

You’ve even grown used to the whispers among students that you can hear clearly.

Today, however, there’s a new announcement from the lecturer at the end of class.

~~~

Dear All Darshans,

A new semester-long program has been initiated under the following project: The Wandering Scholar Initiative.

Purpose: To conduct comprehensive field research across Teyvat. Students will study the natural, cultural, and scientific aspects of each region. They will travel alone, gathering data and engaging with local experts.

One student will be selected from each Darshan by the appointed supervisor. Interested students may apply.

— Overseer, Supervisor Δ-Δ

The room instantly buzzes with whispers.

“Δ-Δ? Who's that?” "Must be someone important." “Can't we know their name?” “Traveling outside of Sumeru… finally!”

Scaramouche was waiting outside for you, as usual.

“Anything new?” he asked.

“Yeah. There’s apparently a new project coming up. I’m thinking of applying to become a traveling scholar.” You muttered, looking anywhere but at him.

You could feel his gaze snap toward you.

“What?” he demanded, his voice tightening.

You steadied your tone. “It’s a group project. I wouldn’t be alone if I get selected.”

“I thought you didn’t like meeting new people,” he challenged.

“This isn’t about dealing with officials, Scara. It’s an academic journey. And I won’t be by myself—I’ll be with other students.” you explained.

He scoffed. “Fine. I hope you’re ready to be disappointed when The Lesser Lord rejects you.” A smug lilt colored his voice.

At Sanctuary of Surasthana

“If Your Grace truly wishes to participate, I will not stop you,” Nahida said.

“What?! It’s unsafe,” Scaramouche snapped.

“I cannot stop Her Grace, Scaramouche,” Nahida replied calmly. “She is her own person.”

Scaramouche stepped forward. “Then I’m going too.”

You blinked at him in surprise. “You don’t have to.”

He shot you a sharp look, equal parts irritation and worry. “If you’re going, I’m going. I don’t trust you not to get caught in another scandal.”

You scowled at him but didn’t protest.

Testing Zone

Students begin gathering around the testing area, the air thick with anticipation.

Applicants buzz in excitement: “I want to go to Mondstadt!” “My name might be on a paper published all over Teyvat!” “This could be life-changing!”

Scaramouche walks you to the entrance but stops just at the threshold by an Eremite.

The Eremite guarding the door gives a curt nod, signaling you to enter.

“Applicants will be tested alone,” they state, voice impassive.

A Sage with white hair and sharp orange eyes, one of them framed by a monocle, steps out from the doorway.

Good luck,” he says. “The supervisor will monitor your exam remotely. You are to answer all questions displayed on the screen. Do not attempt to communicate with the supervisor.”

You nod once and step inside.

The heavy door slams shut behind you with a resounding clang.

Inside the Chamber

The room is vast and empty, its cold, sterile atmosphere pressing down on you. A massive screen dominates the space.

Suddenly, a distorted voice echoes from somewhere above.

“Welcome, Your Grace.”

Your head snaps upward in surprise. The Sage had instructed not to speak during the test. Would it be rude not to reply?

Perhaps this was part of the test?

“You may begin.”

You focus on the screen, answering the questions as quickly and carefully as possible. Time passes, but the details of the test blur into a series of practiced motions.

A long pause.

Then, a slow, amused exhale through the speakers.

“…You can stop now. This is acceptable.”

You bow toward where you assume the voice came from, then exit the chamber.

The lights flicker and dim further.

Crackling static fills the air.

For a heartbeat, a silhouette appears on the central screen.

Tall. Clad in immaculate white and cobalt blue.

The figure tilts its head slightly.

“I look forward to… studying you further.”

The screen goes black.

Outside the Chamber

Scaramouche stands at the door, his posture rigid, waiting.

“Tch. You were in there longer than the others,” he comments in a low voice.

“You’re done already?” you ask, surprised.

“Yeah,” he mutters, glancing at you with his usual mix of annoyance and faint concern.

“Hopefully, I get in,” you remark, your voice carrying a hint of uncertainty.

Part 17~

Summary: Y/N wakes in Teyvat, only to be branded an imposter by those they once worshiped. Forced to serve the false god who stole their identity, they endure in silence — until one small mistake reveals a divine truth no one was ready to see.

Part 14 (previous) Part 16 (next)

Disclaimer: Some parts of this story may not follow the official Genshin story logic. Please enjoy it with an open mind!

Alhaitham was walking through Sumeru City, ready to head to the Akademiya building, when he noticed an unusual crowd gathered around the bulletin board.

Curious, he approached.

Pinned there was a giant illustration— you in Scaramouche’s arms, hovering heroically above Lambad’s Tavern, with a perfectly peaceful, unconscious Kaveh drawn in the background.

Alhaitham stared.

Without another word, he quickened his pace toward the Sanctuary of Surasthana. Using the Akasha Terminal, he sent his thoughts directly to Kaveh:

"Get your ass over to the Sanctuary. Now!"

Inside the grand chamber, he found the Lesser Lord, your Grace, and Scaramouche. He strode forward and stopped beside the three, who were gathered around a single newspaper laid out on the table like evidence of a crime.

On the front page, in bold ink:

“HER DIVINE GRACE SAVES DRUNKEN ARCHITECT FROM CORRUPTED DESPAIR!”

Nahida lightly covered her mouth, whether to hide a laugh or a sigh was unclear.

You rubbed your temples. “…Journalists here work really fast.”

Alhaitham’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the newspaper. The headline alone was enough to make him pause, but the article beneath it made things worse: it mentioned inquiries from rest of the nations, all seeking confirmation of the events at Lambad’s Tavern.

“It seems this has already reached foreign attention,” he muttered, voice tight. “They want to know… whether ‘the Creator blessed the dying Kaveh."

“Which is why I summoned him.” he added, his expression darkened.

You blinked. “…Him?”

A distant voice echoed from outside:

“ALHAITHAM!!! I’M INNOCENT!!!”

The doors slammed open.

A pale Kaveh stumbled in, panting, clutching his drafting satchel like a shield. He bowed so aggressively he nearly hit the floor.

“I—I sincerely apologize for yesterday! I didn’t mean to— to collapse in your arms—! I—I’m so deeply sorry—!”

Alhaitham stepped in front of you, blocking your view of Kaveh.

“This news will become problematic.” He tapped the illustration again, his expression tightening. “They all believe your Grace has started to resume your role and authority.”

“That could be an issue because?” you asked.

Nahida explained,

“Your Grace is a stabilizing figure; the emotional resonance between a nation and you reflects the harmony of their land. Since they all believe your Grace has begun reclaiming divine authority, they will naturally desire your presence within their borders.”

“Can't I just choose to stay in Sumeru?” you asked.

“Remaining solely in Sumeru could be interpreted as neglect or favoritism. Citizens might appeal to their Archons, who would in turn seek you. One or two Archons, the Lesser Lord can hold them off but all together ...” Alhaitham added.

“So… what should I do? I do not want to rule.” You frowned thoughtfully.

Alhaitham folded his hands, gaze sharp. “A compromise is necessary given the attention this incident has drawn. Your Grace need not leave Sumeru. Perhaps, selective audiences and scheduled appearances with representatives should satisfy the other nations’ concerns for now.”

“But I don’t want to meet anyone yet.” You sighed, the weight of responsibility pressing on your shoulders.

Alhaitham’s gaze softened slightly, though his tone remained measured. “Then we adjust. The key is managing perception. A carefully worded statement, delivered through us, can clarify that you remain committed to all nations, without requiring your immediate presence.”

Kaveh, still clutching his satchel, looked like he might explode with relief. “I—I can help with announcements! Or sketches! Or… whatever you want! Since it was kind of my fault!”

You slowly turned your gaze back toward Kaveh, a sly smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Kaveh froze. “…W-Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Actually,” you said, “I have a better idea.”

Summary: Y/N wakes in Teyvat, only to be branded an imposter by those they once worshiped. Forced to serve the false god who stole their identity, they endure in silence — until one small mistake reveals a divine truth no one was ready to see.

Part 13 (previous) Part 15 (next)

Disclaimer: Some parts of this story may not follow the official Genshin story logic. Please enjoy it with an open mind!

The bed is soft. The air smells like crushed mint and rain.

You sit up slowly.

A soft knock taps the doorframe.

Scaramouche stands there, leaning casually against the wood, arms crossed.

“Good. You’re awake.”

You blink, still dazed. “Have you been standing there the whole time?”

“Who knows?” His voice is maddeningly vague. “Uniform’s on the table. Get ready. Come out when you’re done. And don’t fall asleep again.”

He shuts the door before you can thank him.

You exhale, stretching, and begin preparing for what's looking to be a very long day.

The Walk to the Akademiya

The streets are alive with bustling movement, though punctuated by whispered voices you can unfortunately hear far too clearly

“Is that—?” “No, impossible…” “Divine aura…” “She looks—” “Stay back!”

Each time someone steps too close, Scaramouche shifts subtly in front of you, silent and poised, ready to unleash a storm of wind blades across the street at any moment.

You try to distract yourself from the attention. “Will Cyno be here today?”

“No.”

You glance at him. “Why aren’t you wearing a uniform?”

“Because,” he replies flatly.

“…So, what Darshan are you in?”

“Vahumana.”

You almost comment on that—almost—but decide your energy is better spent surviving the morning.

The Akademiya Gates

The grand stone doors swing open, unveiling the Akademiya’s towering halls.

For a moment, awe washes over you. The giant fountain, the carved sigils, the faint glow of stored knowledge woven into books. You’ve seen this place in the game, but in person…

“This is…” you breathe, “incredible.”

Scaramouche watches the wonder on your face, a faint tug of amusement at his lips. “Don’t get sentimental. It’s just a building full of pretentious scholars.”

You raise a brow. “Aren’t you one of them?”

He freezes. “Shut up.”

Summary: Y/N wakes in Teyvat, only to be branded an imposter by those they once worshiped. Forced to serve the false god who stole their identity, they endure in silence — until one small mistake reveals a divine truth no one was ready to see.

Part 12 (previous) Part 14 (next)

Disclaimer: Some parts of this story may not follow the official Genshin story logic. Please enjoy it with an open mind!

The journey to Sumeru City passed in tense, quiet hours.

Cyno kept to the shadows, guiding you through forest paths . It was silent, save for the soft crunch of leaves beneath your feet. Cyno walked a pace ahead, his posture rigid.

“…Why me?” Cyno’s voice broke the silence. “Why did you choose me to speak with you first?”

You hesitated, glancing at him.

“I suppose,” you began carefully, “because you’re… straightforward. You tell the truth, even when it’s hard to hear."

“And… well…” a small warmth crept into your voice, “…because I knew you before. Before coming to Teyvat—when I played… you were one of my favorites. Kinda.”

“Played?” Cyno asked, his brow slightly furrowing.

“It’s a long story,” you said, letting the words hang.

Cyno’s expression flickered, something almost like surprise, or a brief trace of vulnerability before he settled back into his composed demeanor.

“…Understood.”

The rest of the trek continued in comfortable quiet.

By the time you reached the city gates, night had fallen completely.

Soft amber lights glimmered along the walkways, but the usual bustle of the markets was absent. Only the quiet heartbeat of a sleeping city remained, gentle and steady under the night sky.

You looked around uneasily. “…Why is no one here? Even at night, shouldn’t there be some people?”