Silence stretched between them—
a quiet, suspended moment carved between the shadows of night and the faint glow swirling around Mavuika like a living cloak of sunlight.
It was boy who broke it first.
The corner of his mouth lifted into a small smile… a faintly mocking one, as if he were mocking himself before mocking the situation.
Moonlight caught in his eyes, sharpening that mockery with a cold glimmer.
Then he spoke—softly, but with the confidence of someone unbothered by whoever stood before him.
"Me? Well… I'm just someone who enjoys playing music."
There was a subtle hint of challenge in his voice—not the challenge of combat, but of understanding. As if he were telling her:
Come. Read the truth yourself… if you can.
He tilted his head slightly, studying her with practiced calm.
"And you, miss?
Did you enjoy the performance?"
He paused for half a heartbeat…
A silence too precise to be accidental—
as if it were part of the melody he had just played.
"Did it pull you in… as well?"
His eyes drifted toward the glow of her hair, the fire breathing beneath her skin.
Then he continued, his voice deepening:
"You're excellent at hiding your presence.
Better than any fighter I've met."
A blue butterfly drifted near his shoulder, and he lifted a finger to let it rest there—
a gesture as calm and deliberate as everything he'd said.
Then he spoke the words that shifted the air around them:
"It seems you're… some sort of deity in this world."
The emphasis in this world was unmistakable—
a paradox, a quiet declaration, and the echo of a foreign soul that did not belong to Teyvat.
It wasn't a challenge.
It wasn't a threat.
It wasn't romantic admiration.
It was a truth stated without shame, without fear, without need to justify itself:
He was not from here.
And she was not like him.
And that alone made the fire around Mavuika flicker—not in anger… but in something she had not felt for centuries:
Real, genuine surprise.
Mavuika listened to his words.
Her steps stilled, and for a moment the warm air around her bent gently toward the stranger who claimed he was not of "this world."
She looked at him—her eyes glowing with that ancient fire that held five hundred years of memories, sacrifices, and stories entrusted to her flame.
Then she spoke, her voice warm in a way that belonged only to her—
a warmth that preceded the blaze.
"Music like that doesn't come from a wandering passerby.
You weren't just playing… you were remembering something.
Something lost.
Something that feels like the stories I've carried across centuries."
She stepped closer, and the radiant heat around her shifted—
as if the flames themselves were listening.
"As for the performance… yes.
I enjoyed it."
Her gaze sharpened, steady, assessing him from head to toe—
not with hostility, but with the confidence of a leader measuring the spirit of someone who stood before her flame.
"But what caught my attention even more…
is the way you speak.
As if you don't belong to this world at all."
She paused, watching him with the stillness of someone who had outlived kingdoms.
"No one smiles with that kind of defiance while standing before the Pyro Archon… unless they carry far more than what they're saying."
Then, her voice softened into something quieter—
not weak, but intimate in its weight:
"Tell me…
Who are you, stranger?
And why does your music feel like it's searching for a home… that never existed in Teyvat?"
For a long heartbeat, the world seemed to hold its breath.
the boy finally exhaled, lifting his eyes toward the radiant girl whose presence warmed the air like a gentle dawn.
His mind lingered on the title she'd spoken earlier:
Pyro Archon…?
What exactly did that mean in this world?
He spoke slowly, his tone low and confident:
"Pyro Archon… I see.
Alright. That doesn't matter too much right now."
He met her gaze, and the dark gleam in his eyes reflected something foreign—
something that didn't belong to this land.
"To be honest… I don't fully understand what an 'Archon' is.
But you're right about one thing."
A soft, wry smile curved his lips.
"I'm not from this world.
I'm from another dimension—
a completely different reality."
He nodded slightly, a formal greeting yet carrying a subtle edge:
"My name is Jin Rrotchy.
It's a pleasure to meet you… Miss Fire."
Silence returned.
But Mavuika did not flinch, did not recoil, did not show fear or shock.
Instead, she watched him with steady warmth—
as if the fire in her eyes was listening to a faraway voice only she could hear.
When she finally spoke, her words held the calm of a sun that had risen a thousand times:
"Another dimension…
You say it so easily, as if it's just another tale in the wind."
Her gaze drifted across the piano, the blue butterflies, the dark-purple stars rising around him—
signs no ordinary traveler should possess.
"So that's why your rhythm felt foreign…
and why your presence slips between my senses like a shadow refusing to take shape."
She stepped closer.
The air grew warmer—gentle, not scorching.
"I am Mavuika—
Bearer of the Eternal Flame,
Guardian of Natlan."
A small, knowing smile touched her lips.
"Some call me an Archon…
but you and I both know titles aren't everything."
She studied him once more, deeper this time
as if peeling back layers only her flame could see.
"You speak your truth openly.
Most outsiders would have hidden it."
Her eyes glowed brighter—interested, intrigued in a way few had ever witnessed.
"You hide nothing.
And that alone… is reason enough for me to pay attention."
A small flame danced at her fingertips—
not destructive, but alive, like a heartbeat.
"To speak so calmly…
your soul must be far heavier than your body, Jin."
She tilted her head slightly, her voice a soft flame brushing against him:
"Tell me…
were you born to be a stranger wherever you go?
Or is it just this world that refuses to hold you?"
---
Heat: Thank you very much for reading.