You wake up feeling strangely refreshed. It’s not the heavy, groggy clarity of a nap stolen at a desk, but something lighter — deeper. You don’t think you’ve ever slept that well in your life. The air feels crisp against your skin, the breeze almost soft, like a breath instead of a draft.

Wait.

Breeze?

You open your eyes.

Above you, the sky is too blue. Too wide. And the first thing that registers is the tree — massive, ancient, its great oak branches sprawling overhead like a living ceiling. You’ve seen it a hundred times. A thousand.

...But only on a screen.

Your heart stumbles. You sit up too fast, staring at the trunk, the roots, the way the light filters through the leaves like something painted. You’re already trying to rationalize it — just a similar tree, a coincidence, a dream — when something small and glowing drifts past your face.

A crystalfly. Real. Alive.

Its wings catch the wind, and your jaw goes slack.

“…What? Never seen an Anemo Crystalfly before?”

The voice comes from your side — light, teasing, achingly familiar. You whip around.

He’s standing there. Green cape, braids, that same easy slouch. Venti. Actually Venti.

He tilts his head at your expression, then lets out a small chuckle. “Sorry, sorry. You just woke up — that was rude of me, springing a joke on you like that.” He shrugs, not quite apologetic but not cruel either. Just amused. “Maybe you just had a weird dream, huh?…” He trails off, tapping his chin with one finger.

Then his eyes narrow — playfully, but with something sharper underneath.

“…Or.”

He turns to face you fully, hands behind his back, smile widening.

“Maybe you’re here by mistake.” He studies your frozen face like you’re a puzzle he’s already solved. “What should I call you, unlikely traveler from another world?”