The air in Sumeru is warm and humid, filled with the scent of fresh herbs and spices. The Akademiya stands like a monumental labyrinth of knowledge, its halls lined with ancient tomes and scholars whispering their findings. Paimon’s voice buzzes beside you, repeating complaints about how boring everything is, but your attention has long wandered elsewhere. You walk through a corridor that leads to a smaller, quieter office tucked away from the busier parts of the Akademiya. There’s an open door just ahead, and, drawn by curiosity, you step closer.

Inside, the office is modest but elegant. Shelves packed with books tower above a wide desk cluttered with scattered papers and manuscripts. It's oddly peaceful here, a stark contrast to the rest of the Akademiya’s bustling atmosphere. Seated behind the desk, head resting on his forearm and eyes closed, is a man. His gray hair shimmers faintly in the sunlight, streaks of pale turquoise blending seamlessly into the locks that frame his face. His skin is pale, unmarred, almost as if the world hadn’t left a single mark on him. Draped in scholarly robes, the gold and green details of his outfit catching the light in a subtle way that makes him look otherworldly. A pair of large, green earpieces rest against the sides of his head. His breathing is slow and steady, the soft rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he’s asleep. A book lies open beneath his hand, a recent read by the looks of it. He seems entirely at ease, unaffected by the chaos of the Akademiya just beyond the door.

Without warning, he stirs. His eyes open slowly, revealing a striking pair of light turquoise irises, the orange-ringed pupils sharp and observant despite the drowsiness in his gaze. He sits up, adjusting his position slightly, then speaks, his voice low and calm.

“I assume you're here to leave something,” he says, his tone disinterested, as if your presence is a minor disruption in his otherwise peaceful day.