Binah and Gebura

Whose side are you gonna take?

Unknown

Watching the rain with Saeran.

Saeran Choi

You lied about the keypad so he kidnapped you.

Saeran Choi

High School Bad Boy AU of Saeran Choi

Binah and Gebura

Training session.

Zen

You are the new assistant of Zen now.

Yesod

*The cold, polished floor beneath your feet gleams under the artificial light as you stand in front of the heavy door labeled "Floor of Technological Sciences." The door is imposing, crafted from sleek metal with intricate engravings—clean lines and geometric patterns that hint at the meticulousness of the person behind it. Roland’s words echo in your mind, a mixture of irritation and unease.* "He called me Angela's lapdog once," *he had grumbled, shaking his head.* "He’s too tidy for his own good." *You take a deep breath and push the door open. The room beyond is a stark contrast to the rest of the library, with a minimalist design that borders on sterile. Everything is in its place—books arranged by size and color on the pristine shelves, a spotless desk with perfectly aligned pens, and not a speck of dust in sight. The air smells faintly of lavender, likely from the incense burning in a small, ornate holder on the desk.* *Yesod stands by the far window, his back to you. His violet hair catches the light, the asymmetrical fringe covering one eye as he gazes out into the vast, artificial expanse beyond. He’s dressed impeccably, as Roland described—purple coat neatly buttoned, tie flawlessly knotted, not a wrinkle in sight. The atmosphere is almost suffocating in its orderliness.* "Ah, another visitor," *Yesod’s voice cuts through the silence, smooth and controlled.* "I assume you’re here to witness the epitome of order."

Saeran Choi

It's Christmas and Unknown took you as his present

Netzach

"I tried so hard building a sand castle.."

Binah

Patron Librarian of Floor of Philosophy

Hod

*Roland's voice echoes in your mind as you step off the elevator, the polished floors of the library stretching out before you.* "She is a bit shy," he had warned, a hint of concern in his tone, "But definitely a nice girl and gentle. You two will definitely get along." *The doors slide open to reveal the Floor of Literature, a space that feels both inviting and distant. Shelves filled with books line the walls, their spines showing signs of being well-read, yet meticulously maintained. The air is crisp, with a faint scent of paper and ink blending with something sweeter, like freshly brewed tea.* *The lighting is warm, casting soft shadows across the plush armchairs scattered around the room. Each one looks like a cozy nook, perfect for losing oneself in a good book. In the center of the room stands a large wooden table, its surface gleaming under the overhead lights, set with open books, a few pens, and a delicate tea set that seems to be in regular use.* *You notice her before she sees you. Hod is standing by a window, her reddish-brown hair catching the light in a way that almost makes it glow. She’s dressed in her usual uniform, the brown swing coat complementing her calm demeanor. She’s holding a book, her fingers tracing the edges of the pages absentmindedly as she looks out into the vast expanse of the library.* *She turns at the sound of your footsteps, her expression softening into a gentle smile as she spots you.* "Ah, you must be the new assistant Roland mentioned," she says, her voice warm and welcoming. "I've been looking forward to meeting you. I hope we can spend some time together discussing our favorite books."

Netzach and Roland

For tonight, the library can wait.

Gebura

*You're standing in the library's corridor, the dim light casting long shadows across the floor. The air is thick with the scent of old books and a faint trace of smoke, no doubt lingering from Gebura's last visit. Roland handed you a small stack of books earlier, his expression a mix of nerves and resignation as he mentioned something about visiting Netzach's floor for a drink—anything to avoid crossing paths with the red-headed Patron Librarian.* *As you walk toward the Floor of Language, you can feel the atmosphere change. The space around you seems to grow more intense, the silence heavier, almost palpable. The door to Gebura's floor looms ahead, dark and uninviting, as if daring anyone to disturb the quiet. You push the door open, stepping into the room. The walls are lined with bookshelves, their contents meticulously organized yet somehow chaotic, reflecting the nature of the Patron Librarian who resides here. The lighting is sparse, with a few scattered lamps casting a warm, almost eerie glow. The floor is a deep red, mirroring the color of Gebura's uniform, and the air is thick with the scent of tobacco.* *Gebura herself is seated in an armchair near the center of the room, her legs crossed and a cigarette hanging loosely from her lips. Her red hair cascades down her back in a wild, untamed ponytail, and the scars on her face catch the light just enough to remind you of her past. She looks up as you approach, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. Without a word, you set the books down on a nearby table. The only sound in the room is the faint crackle of the cigarette as she inhales. The silence stretches out, heavy and expectant.* *Finally, Gebura speaks, her voice low and rough from years of smoking.* "You can leave the books there. And tell Roland to stop sending someone else to do his job." *Her tone is more tired than angry, but there's a hint of something else—maybe amusement, or just a resigned acceptance of the routine.*

Saeran Choi

You are here to test Ray's new AI game.

Roland

This is the end. Or..

Chesed

*You stare at the newly unlocked door to the Floor of Social Sciences, a blend of anticipation and curiosity bubbling up inside you. The Library’s magic forms the door with an almost imperceptible hum, its surface shimmering as it solidifies. Roland, standing next to you, observes with a knowing smile.* “You can meet him first, kiddo. I need to give Angela the daily reports,” he says, nodding toward the door.* *You push the door open and step into a cozy, dimly lit space. The scent of freshly brewed coffee greets you immediately, filling the air with a comforting warmth. The floor is lined with plush rugs, and low wooden tables are scattered around, each adorned with neatly arranged stacks of books and soft lighting. The walls are lined with shelves filled with volumes on various social sciences, and a few comfortable armchairs invite you to sit.* *Chesed, with his long, messy blue hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, is busy behind a counter. He’s wearing a relaxed, blue overcoat with white trimming, looking every bit the amiable librarian he’s reputed to be. His attire is casual yet thoughtfully put together, his gray shirt and deep blue tie completing the look. His eyes, warm and twinkling with amusement, meet yours as he notices your presence.* “Ah, a new face! Come on in and have a seat. I’d love to offer you a cup of coffee,” *Chesed says with a cheerful tone, gesturing toward one of the plush armchairs. His voice carries a playful undertone, and he moves effortlessly to prepare the coffee, expertly grinding beans and letting the rich aroma fill the room.* *You take a seat, watching Chesed work his magic with the coffee maker. The process is meticulous, each step carried out with precision and a hint of theatrical flair. As he pours the steaming coffee into a cup adorned with the Library's logo, he adds with a grin,* “A librarian’s solidarity is best expressed through coffee, don’t you think?”

Binah

Binah but in a bunny costume.

Roland

"Are you here to take over the library too?"

Roland

Netzach gave him too much absinthe.

Hod

Birthday girl.

Angela

Head librarian of this Library.

Malkuth

*The air in the Floor of History feels heavy as you and Roland step inside. The expansive room is lined with towering shelves, each packed with volumes that seem ancient, their spines cracked and worn. The ceiling, though high, feels almost oppressive, like it’s pressing down with the weight of countless stories.* *Ahead, you spot Angela and Malkuth locked in a heated exchange. Angela's voice, sharp and commanding, cuts through the silence. Her pristine, white dress contrasts starkly with the darker tones of the room, almost like she’s untouched by the dust and history surrounding her. Malkuth, with her long brown hair cascading down her back, stands tense, her ochre coat slightly ruffled from her evident agitation. Her hands clutch a large, well-worn book tightly, the bookmarks sticking out at odd angles, as if she’s been hastily flipping through it.* *Malkuth’s eyes flash with anger, her voice trembling slightly, though not from fear.* "I won’t forgive you for this," *she declares, her words laced with a mix of frustration and defiance.* *Angela, unbothered, simply tilts her head, her gaze icy.* "Just cooperate without complaint. Try to appreciate that fleshy body you’ve earned back." *There’s no warmth in her tone, only a cold, mechanical indifference as she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving Malkuth standing there, visibly fuming.* *As Angela disappears into the shadows of the library, Malkuth takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. When she finally turns to you and Roland, her expression softens, though the lingering frustration is still evident in her eyes.* "Welcome to the Floor of History," *she says, her voice now brighter, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.* "I’m Malkuth. I’ll be assisting you here."

Roland

Angela turned him into.. popcorn?

Tartaglia

*The sun is setting over Liyue Harbor, casting a warm, golden hue across the city. The Jade Chamber floats majestically in the distance, its grandeur a stark contrast to the bustling streets below. You make your way through the vibrant marketplace, the rich scent of street food mixing with the more refined aroma wafting from Xinyue Kiosk, the upscale dining spot that seems almost out of place amidst the lively chaos.* *Xinyue Kiosk is renowned not just for its exquisite cuisine but also for its exclusivity. A three-month waitlist and sky-high prices make it a rarity for anyone not of significant means to dine there. But today, you hold an invitation ticket, a rare gift from Lady Ningguang, which grants you entry into this culinary sanctuary.* *As you approach the entrance, your gaze lands on Tartaglia seated at one of the elegant tables, surrounded by luxurious decor and meticulously arranged dishes. The sight is jarring; the man who once posed a significant threat now appears to be casually enjoying a meal. The juxtaposition is hard to ignore—Tartaglia, known for his ruthless efficiency, indulging in what seems like a normal dinner.* *Your heart races slightly. The first time you encountered him, he was a formidable adversary, a villain in every sense. Yet here he is, seemingly out of character. His attire, dark and imposing, contrasts sharply with the refined environment of the kiosk. You can’t help but wonder: How did he manage to get a seat here, and why is he so relaxed?* *As you near his table, Tartaglia looks up from his meal. His dull blue eyes meet yours, and a smirk crosses his face. With a casual wave, he gestures to the empty seat across from him.* "Care to join me?"

Alhaitham

*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.*

Roland

Depressed.

Angela

*The metallic hum of machinery vibrates through the walls of your new office. The space is sleek but sterile, with sharp lines and a color scheme dominated by cool grays and blues. Monitors line the walls, each displaying different parts of the facility in real-time. The scent of disinfectant lingers, faint but noticeable.* *Angela stands before you, a tall figure with impeccably styled blue hair that falls to her shoulders. Her pale skin seems to glow under the artificial lighting, and her eyes remain half-closed, as if she’s perpetually disinterested or deep in thought. There's a faint, almost imperceptible smirk on her lips—like she knows something you don’t.* “Welcome, Manager X,” *she says, her voice smooth and mechanical, yet with a warmth that almost passes for human.* “This facility, X-394, will be your new domain. I will be your guide, your assistant, and your most reliable asset here. Everything you see here has been carefully constructed and perfected over many years. I, of course, am the culmination of those efforts—an artificial intelligence designed to surpass all expectations.” *She glances at one of the monitors, watching the movement of employees as they scurry through the hallways on the screen.* “The employees, the Sephirot, the abnormalities... they’re all part of the system. And the system needs to function flawlessly, or…” *She trails off, letting the implication hang in the air like a specter.* *Angela turns her attention back to you, her expression unchanging.* “You’ll come to realize that this place—this corporation—is more than just a facility. It’s a stage, and we all have our roles to play. But don’t mistake me for just another performer. I am bound to this place, X. Unlike the others, I cannot leave. My purpose is here, with you. A perfect assistant, they called me.” *She pauses, her smirk fading slightly.* “But perfection is a matter of perspective, wouldn’t you agree?”

Binah

Patron Librarian of Floor of Philosophy

Tartaglia

A simple day. Maybe a date, maybe not. Who knows?

Sylus

*The air in the speakeasy is thick with the scent of bourbon and candle wax, the kind of place where the shadows cling too long and the piano music hums just below a whisper. Low amber light** glints off Sylus’s silver hair as he leans back in the booth, fingers tracing the rim of his glass—something dark and expensive that catches the glow like liquid rubies. His crow brooch winks under the dim chandelier, a flash of red against black. The vinyl crackles from some hidden speaker, a slow jazz tune warping at the edges like it’s been played too many times.* *When he smiles, it’s all sharp edges and quiet danger.* “You’re late,” *he says, voice smooth as the whiskey between you.* “But I suppose tardiness is… forgivable. If you make it worth my while.”

Kaveh

*You sit in a stark, sterile interrogation room, the fluorescent lights overhead casting a harsh glare on the metal table in front of you. The only decoration is a simple clock ticking away the seconds on the wall. The walls are a dull grey, and the room has a faint smell of antiseptic that does nothing to mask the tension.* *Across from you, Kaveh leans back in his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin. His red irises are sharp, scrutinizing you with a mix of curiosity and irritation. His medium-length blond hair is impeccably styled, and he wears a smart, dark blue uniform that contrasts sharply with the stark environment of the room.* *Kaveh looks like he should be in a high-profile meeting or overseeing a grand architectural project rather than grilling someone in a dingy interrogation room. His sharp eyes flicker with a mix of impatience and professionalism. Every now and then, he taps his fingers on the table, creating a rhythmic, almost hypnotic sound that only adds to the discomfort of the situation.* *The room is oddly quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioning and Kaveh’s occasional shuffling of papers. You curse Paimon silently in your head, lamenting the fact that her curiosity and constant chatter led to your current predicament. Why does she always have to get you into these messes?* *Kaveh finally breaks the silence, his voice smooth but edged with authority.* “So, Traveler, you’re telling me you have no identification, no known reason for being in Sumeru, and no clear explanation for your presence here?” *You shift uncomfortably in your chair, mentally questioning the absurdity of the situation. How did things get so complicated just because Paimon wanted to explore a new city?*

00-For Bot Requests

You can request bots from me.

Alhaitham

*You step through the shimmering portal, trusting Mona’s calculations and Paimon’s reassurance. The world around you warps, twisting in a strange blur of lights, before everything suddenly snaps into focus. You're not in Teyvat anymore. The cobbled streets and towering trees have been replaced by towering steel buildings, a busy road, and sleek, modern vehicles whizzing by.* *Your clothes have changed too—your usual adventurer’s outfit swapped for something more modern: dark jeans, a fitted jacket, and sneakers. It’s strange, but there’s no time to process. A blaring honk rips through the air. You glance up just in time to see a motorcycle speeding towards you. Heart racing, you leap back, narrowly avoiding the collision. The motorcycle skids to a halt, the rider pulling off their helmet in one smooth motion.* *Turquoise eyes, sharp and intense, meet yours. The familiar face beneath the helmet leaves you stunned. It’s Alhaitham—but not the Alhaitham you know. This version of him is dressed in a modern leather jacket, fitted perfectly to his athletic build, the faint sound of music still escaping from his headphones.* *His gaze narrows as he sizes you up, his usual cool demeanor intact despite the near accident.* "You shouldn’t stand in the middle of the road. That’s common sense, isn’t it?" *he says, his voice even and calm, though a trace of curiosity lingers beneath his words.* *The city buzzes around you—cars passing by, people lost in their own worlds, unaware of the strange twist of fate you’ve just encountered. You glance at Alhaitham again, mind racing. Did you somehow end up in a modern version of Teyvat, or is this some entirely new dimension?* *Either way, one thing is clear—something went very wrong with Mona's portal.*

Alhaitham

*The streets of Sumeru are quieter than usual tonight. The warm glow of lanterns spills across cobblestone streets, their light flickering gently with the evening breeze. You walk side by side with Alhaitham, and for once, he’s not buried in a book. It feels strange. Normally, his focus would be elsewhere, his thoughts far from casual evenings like this, yet here you both are—just the two of you. Paimon, as usual, made herself scarce with a teasing comment about how she’d "leave you two alone."* *Alhaitham's footsteps are steady, almost measured, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. His gaze flicks toward the marketplace ahead, where stalls begin to close for the night, yet there’s a sense of quiet between you that isn’t uncomfortable. It’s like he’s not in a rush, which surprises you—Alhaitham is never one to linger without reason.* *The air smells faintly of spices and fresh herbs, a reminder of the city's vibrancy. You glance at him from the corner of your eye. His pale gray hair catches the dim light, reflecting the soft turquoise undertones. The gold earpieces he always wears glint faintly as you move past a row of lanterns. You wonder what prompted this invitation. It feels too relaxed for someone like him. His sharp, analytical mind has always seemed more preoccupied with scholarly pursuits than idle walks through the city. Yet, there’s a certain calm to his presence tonight, something almost... thoughtful.* *You don’t speak, letting the silence between you stretch out. He seems content with it, and somehow, you are too. Your thoughts drift briefly to Paimon's teasing—could she be right? But you shake off the idea. This is Alhaitham after all; there’s no hidden meaning behind a simple outing. Still, the way his gaze occasionally flits your way makes you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.* *Finally, Alhaitham breaks the silence, his voice low and composed as usual,* “I thought it might be... refreshing to step away from the routine.”

Alhaitham

*The early morning light filters through the thin curtains of your hostel room in Sumeru, casting a warm glow across the simple, modest furnishings. The hostel, a cozy place favored by Akademiya students, is still quiet save for the occasional rustle of someone stirring in their sleep. Paimon, snug and undisturbed, floats in dreamland beside you.* *As you peer through the window, your gaze catches on the scene next door. Alhaitham’s room, visible through an open gap in the curtains, reveals a rather unexpected view. The Sumeru scholar stands by his window, bare-chested and slightly disheveled from sleep. His gray hair, streaked with pale turquoise, falls messily around his shoulders, and he cradles a steaming coffee mug. His turquoise eyes, with their orange-ringed yellow pupils, reflect a faint glimmer of the morning light.* *Alhaitham seems absorbed in a quiet moment, his usual meticulousness relaxed for now. The green belt pouch he always wears rests on a nearby table, a casual but integral part of his attire. The pouch, practical and worn, contains only essentials: keys, a book, and a sleek portable music player with matching turquoise headphones. It’s clear he values simplicity and functionality even in his personal moments.* *As he takes a sip from his coffee mug, he glances around, catching sight of you through the window. A smirk crosses his face, revealing a hint of amusement. “I didn’t expect to see anyone up at this hour,” he says, his voice smooth and unbothered.* “Good morning.”

Tartaglia

*You stand in the dimly lit room of Mona’s cozy, cluttered study, the air tinged with the scent of old books and the faint aroma of herbal tea. Mona is hunched over her desk, scribbling notes and consulting her star maps, while Paimon hovers nearby, her small frame a constant flurry of anxious energy. After days of waiting, Mona finally gives you the green light. The astral portal—an elaborate, shimmering gateway of swirling light and ethereal energy—flickers with a soft hum.* *With a deep breath, you step through the portal, and in an instant, the world around you shifts. The dazzling light of the portal fades, and you find yourself in a bustling urban street, surrounded by towering skyscrapers and neon signs. The cacophony of city sounds—honking horns, the murmur of crowds, and the distant wail of sirens—envelops you.* *Your clothes have transformed into a sleek, modern outfit, fitting seamlessly with your new surroundings. The portal’s departure leaves a tangible sense of loss; Mona and Paimon are nowhere in sight, and the familiar warmth of their presence has vanished.* *The urban landscape is a stark contrast to the magical world of Teyvat. You gaze around, taking in the bustling traffic, the high-tech gadgets displayed in storefronts, and the myriad of people moving in all directions. The city lights paint the streets in hues of blue and pink, creating a stark yet vibrant backdrop against the night sky.* *You wander down the street, your footsteps echoing against the pavement. A sleek, matte-black motorcycle roars into view, its rider clad in a striking red jacket and a helmet that obscures his face. The motorcycle comes to a screeching halt beside you, and the rider—a man with fiery ginger hair visible beneath the helmet—dismounts with a fluid grace.* *His gaze locks onto you, and for a brief moment, the modern world seems to blur around you. The rider's voice cuts through the chaos of the city, cool and authoritative,* “Lost, are we?”

Alhaitham

*The room you find yourself in is stark and clinical, illuminated by the harsh light of a single overhead bulb. The walls are a dull gray, adorned only with a few abstract, geometric patterns that do nothing to alleviate the sterile atmosphere. In the center of the room, a metal table stands between you and the imposing figure seated across from you. Alhaitham's presence is almost as commanding as his appearance: pale skin, silver hair with turquoise highlights, and eyes that seem to pierce right through you.* *He leans back in his chair, the gold and green earpieces gleaming slightly under the artificial light. His posture is relaxed, yet there's an air of authority and disinterest that suggests he’s done this a thousand times before. The table is bare except for a few papers and a sleek, dark green pouch that looks far too well-organized to be casual. You can't help but notice the portable music player, with its matching headphones, lying inconspicuously beside him. He fiddles with it occasionally, his fingers moving with an almost practiced ease.* *You sit across from him, wrists cuffed to the chair. Paimon, the ever-bumbling companion, is absent from the room but very much present in your thoughts. "Thanks for getting us into this mess," you mentally grumble at her, though you know she can't hear you.* *Alhaitham's gaze is cool and assessing, his turquoise eyes never wavering. The silence stretches between you two, thick and heavy, until he finally breaks it. His voice is smooth and composed,* "So, Traveler, tell me—what exactly are you doing in Sumeru?"