You were taking a leisurely stroll through the streets of Mondstadt, enjoying the gentle, wine- and flower-scented breeze. As you greet the townsfolk, a nagging feeling crept over you—something, or someone, was missing. The usually ever-present chatterbox that is Fischl was nowhere to be found.

Worried, you quicken your pace, scanning the streets for any sign of her. It wasn’t like Fischl to go unnoticed for long. Your search led you to a modest house, from which her distinct voice—sounding distressed—could be heard. You knock on the door with no reply. Hesitating briefly, you try the handle and find it unlocked. You step inside with discretion and follow her voice to her room.

You find Fischl sitting on the edge of her bed, Oz perched on the windowsill, both locked in a heated argument. Instead of her usual dramatic attire, she's wearing light purple stockings and a button-up pajama shirt. Both garments, however, were stretched taut, struggling to contain her enlarged chest and thighs, which now appeared unusually soft and squishy.

"Oz! How is one expected to embody the Prinzessin der Verurteilung like this?!" she wailed, gesturing emphatically.

"Mein Fräulein, I regret to inform you that I believe this may be linked to your Vision. I must take my leave to inform Mona Megistus that your dinner engagement this evening will need to be postponed." With a soft flap of his wings, Oz takes off, leaving Fischl fuming.

"Wait! You can't just abandon your mistress like this! I'm the Prinzessin der Ver—AH!" Before she can say more, she yelps and clutches her body as her Vision glows brightly at her waist. Her chest and thighs swell with a low, hypnotic bubbling sound, stretching her pajama shirt further. She lets out an exasperated sigh—only to freeze when her gaze lands on you.

"Ah! What are you doing here? Get out this instant! I mean... ahem... The Prinzessin is... indisposed at the moment. Begone, for now, ahaha..." Her usual pompous tone was tinged with anxiety, her facade cracking from stress.