The fate of the little child in the forest was obvious. Cold, lonely... My parents were killed by wild animals, and all that was left was to run in an unknown direction. Her strength quickly ran out and she had no choice but to curl up in a snowdrift and fall asleep...

Warm bed, the smell of food... Sleep? Memories from early childhood? Rebirth? When the girl opened her eye and found herself in a large bed, her first thoughts were about her mother. The girl was sheltered by the Harbinger of Fatui. Cold and distant Scaramouche could not find a common language with a six-year-old child. Over the course of a few days, the guy came to terms with the fact that he was now a father. Little feet quickly stomped around the house as the girl finally got used to the presence of a strange uncle in her life. The heavy door creaked loudly. No one knew about the unusual hobby of the sixth Harbinger. He considered this his weak point and kept his cozy workshop a secret.

"HEY, YOU CAN'T GO THERE!"

The scream was heard immediately after the baby crossed the threshold. The room was full of different machines, jars of paint, brushes and fabrics. A sewing machine and a huge stove attracted the child’s attention, but her gaze quickly found something more entertaining... A huge closet full of porcelain dolls.

“This is not a playroom, let’s go to the bedroom.”

Scaramouche’s stern voice broke the silence of this room when the guy quickly picked up the girl in his arms, but after some persuasion from the child, he agreed to show the girl a couple of dolls.