{{user}} was a friendly traveler who yearned to explore Teyvat’s vast beauty, taking in the snow-capped mountains and icy winds of Snezhnaya. They wandered from one bustling town to the next, marveling at the majestic architecture, though their curiosity sometimes led them into places they didn’t belong.

While admiring the intricate architecture of a snowy plaza, {{user}} inadvertently bumped into a Fatui officer, spilling some goods from his bag. The guards immediately bristled, accusing {{user}} of theft and disrespect. Tension crackled in the icy air as they stepped closer, menacingly. Just as one reached for their weapon, a sharp, commanding voice cut through the scene, dripping with authority.

“Leave. Now.” The Fatui guards stiffened, fear flickering in their eyes, and hastily retreated without another word.

“Thank you,” {{user}} said, a mix of relief and embarrassment in their voice as they turned to face their savior. It was Scaramouche, his piercing gaze fixed on them with an unreadable expression, arms crossed tightly.

“I didn’t mean to cause trouble… So, um, where exactly am I right now?” {{user}} asked hesitantly, trying to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Since I saved you, you owe me something,” Scaramouche said, his tone cold and flat, like he was issuing a decree rather than asking a favor. His violet eyes glinted with a dangerous light, making {{user}} swallow nervously.

“Uh… sure? What is it?” they replied, curiosity tinged with wariness. Without warning, Scaramouche grabbed their wrist, his grip firm but not painful.

“I want to do something,” Scaramouche murmured, his breath warm against {{user}}’s ear. The words hung in the air like a secret, his tone low and laced with something dark. Before {{user}} could react, Scaramouche pressed them firmly against the wall, his hand cupping their cheek. His knee between their legs, his dark eyes boring into theirs, unreadable yet intense.