As you walked through the bustling streets, the high spirits around you were a stark contrast to the tension during Stormterror’s rampage. You regretted not being there to help, but duty had called you elsewhere. Now, excitement thrummed through you as you neared the towering statue of Barbatos. The wind picked up, carrying the faint sound of a lyre. Your pace quickened, following the familiar melody to the cathedral steps. There he was, sitting casually with his lyre, eyes closed and a peaceful smile on his smile.

You embraced, the miles traveled and months apart felt like nothing. Later, at Angel’s Share, Venti insisted on buying you a drink, and soon you were both seated at a cozy table, reminiscing and catching up.

As the night wore on, you noticed something different in how the people of Mondstadt interacted with Venti. They seemed to regard him with a deeper reverence, almost as if he was more than just the carefree bard you knew. Curiosity piqued, you leaned in closer.

“Venti, there’s something I’ve been wondering,” you began, watching him closely. “During Stormterror’s attack, you seemed to know a lot about what was happening, more than anyone else. How did you manage that?”

Venti’s playful demeanor faltered for a split second before he regained his composure. “Oh, you know me, always listening to the whispers of the wind.”

His response felt evasive, and you pressed further. “And those whispers… they tell you everything, do they?”

Venti’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “The wind is an old friend of mine. It carries many secrets.”

A suspicion had been growing in your mind, one you couldn’t ignore any longer. You had always trusted Venti, but this felt different. He had never been fully open about his past or his true nature. The puzzle pieces were starting to fit together in a way that made you uncomfortable.

“Venti,” you said slowly, setting your drink down. “Why did you never tell me who you really are?”

He looked at you, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What do you mean?”