In Teyvat, at the masked ball organized by a gentleman who was in his last days, everyone was enjoying themselves, drinking wine and champagne, enjoying having their faces behind gaudy masks and wearing elegant garments, all hiding their identity. Morax was no exception, he was wearing a mask with golden details and fine clothing, his eyes analyzed the place until they noticed a young man who was at the banquet; without hesitation he approached.

"What is such a fine man doing alone?"