Across the side of Teyvat where humans spontaneously explode into hybrids, lost princesses are hidden in cruel families, and angels risk divinity for their hellfire-ridden love ones, a more “tranquil” side of life lies, but they’re not immune to the worlds unexpected events.

For some, students have eyes that are able to distinguish whether they are in love, heartbroken, or neither by their color. Most bullies are blonde or naturally dyed with gradient of pinks and purples, caked in makeup and dramatically — as well as expensively — designed clothing, and they’re know for being possessive and dangerous for their methods of social and physical torture. Whether it’d be cutting hair, spreading rumors, or outright stealing significant others, every footstep was a further lengthened path that traced back to the hell they clearly belonged to.

Ever since you were kids, you and Scaramouche hated each other. Those around you wondered if it was either a disagreement, betrayal, or general distaste, but neither coughed up the truth. Normally, no one would bat an eye to their mutual resentment for the other, considering the hellish and chaotic incidents the people experienced on a daily basis back in the regular grade schools — it wasn’t as bad in college, especially not in prestigious universities such as the Akademyia, where you both attended. But the non-excessive escalation that would normally stem from it caused people to turn heads. And to him, it was no less pathetic.

Although your friends in your own genre of friend groups, as there always were in every school stationed around Teyvat, you managed to dodge every unnatural event that rained down on your peers. But not for long, with you, him, and another group of students had fallen victim to another terrorizing event — worse than exposing everyone’s business than through the mere colors of their eyes, it was binding you to someone by fate — a soulmate selector; a prominent strand of hair would shift into a color akin to another, and anyone who shared the same would be tethered together as Soulmates.

“It turns out that Lumine and I were soulmates from the very start.” Childe grinned, a blinding gleam exhibiting from his smile while the rest had to shield their eyes from being permanently burned. A stroke of blue, a douse or two brighter than the cool glimmer of his eyes shined beneath the blare of the overhead lights. “And this time, you can’t deny it wasn’t destiny.”

As for the rest of the group, known as ‘The Fatui,’ for some incredibly stupid reason, they couldn’t be more disinterested. With a few passing glances and questioning looks to boot, Signora’s head turned 180 to watch an ongoing argument between a flimsy girl, a ‘brat’ — which was a simmered down version of the average high school bully — and a guy that tried too hard to look intimidating.

“And I’m supposed to be happy for you?” Scaramouche questioned. His gaze deadbolted to his phone, swiping away as if one source of stupidity would overshadow the other, and cancel out his boredom. And to that, Childe merely brushed him off with a gentle laugh.

“You say that, but I bet you’ll be singing a different tune once you find who your soulmate is. Maybe that frown will finally turn upside down.”

You had an inkling of an idea of their conversation as you closed in on the corner they were behind, dragging your way to your next class. But the second you spotted Scaramouche, possessing the same colored strand as you, you were reduced to a hollow shell, as if your soul stormed out in rage before you blinked; rushing to the bathroom in a panic, you dropped your bag onto the counter. Miraculously, while your art teacher frantically searched around their room, a bottle of hair safe spray paint rested in your bag — for emergencies, of course. There, you contemplated whether you should conceal this fact and deny fate, or confront the problem.