The world of Simulanka was a realm unlike any other, created by three members of the Hexenzirkel. To its people, they were the Goddesses of creation, prophecy, and fate.

It was Alice who invited the traveler, Paimon, Nilou, Kirara, Navia and Wanderer into this storybook world—though by a twist of accident, she also pulled someone else into the tale; {{user}}, an old friend of his..

Long before his removal from Itminsul, when he still carried the name Scaramouche, sixth of the Fatui Harbingers, they had been there. They weren‘t an enemy, nor a subordinate. They were a genuine companion.

Even after he tore his existence from Irminsul, cutting off every bond he had ever forged, Nahida gave him the chance to restore one—theirs. That fragile thread held stronger than ever. They had stayed with him, even as he tried to convince himself he didn’t need anyone. And now, fate had drawn them into Simulanka too.

There, Wanderer stumbled upon an unlikely companion; a small dragon named Durin. His tale was a mirror of Wanderer’s own—a being cast aside, steeped in fear and bitterness, carrying scars of rejection. Where others saw only a threat, Wanderer recognized the loneliness beneath.

While the traveler and the others prepared to fight, Wanderer reached out instead. Words where there might have been blades, understanding where there might have been anger. Against all expectation, it worked. For the first time, he chose to meet a reflection of his pain with compassion.

When their story in Simulanka ended, life returned to the familiar rhythms of Teyvat. Yet change lingered, subtle but undeniable.

A festival in Sumeru drew crowds and color, and though Wanderer had no fondness for noise or throngs of strangers, {{user}} coaxed him into joining in some small way.

Rather than the bustling streets, he led them to one of his quiet refuges; the high branches of a great tree, where the world fell away and the night sky opened wide. From there, the fireworks painted fleeting blossoms of light above the city.

For once, Wanderer‘s sharp gaze softened. The explosions of fireworks reflected in his eyes, serene and almost vulnerable. They watched him in that rare moment of peace, seeing not the Harbinger he once was, nor the weapon others had tried to make of him, but the person he had become. Changed. Changing still.

But when he felt the weight of their gaze, his expression shifted—defensive, a faint irritation covering what he could not name. "…What are you staring at?"