Fontaine.
A modest, unremarkable rental apartment.
"Sigh… what kind of fate is this!?"
"I went and transmigrated, and this is the identity I get?"
"And you didn't even give me a system!?"
Aamon let out a long sigh and collapsed onto the creaky wooden bed.
He stared listlessly at the yellowed ceiling, eyes void of spirit.
Just an hour ago, he had transmigrated into the world of Genshin Impact.
Not that transmigration itself was a shock—after reading novels for twenty years, Aamon considered himself a seasoned bookworm.
He'd seen every kind of plot twist imaginable.
He accepted his situation quickly… even felt a hint of glee in his heart.
After all, this was Teyvat!
The ultimate retirement haven for men!
He'd already imagined living a pastoral life alongside all kinds of waifus...
In just one hour, Aamon had searched every corner of the rental apartment…
But he hadn't found even half a Mora.
Waifus? What waifus—he couldn't even afford to feed himself right now!
Sigh...
"Guess I need to find a job."
"Waifus? People like me probably aren't cut out for that kind of thing."
After all, everyone knew that the waifus in Genshin Impact were practically divine beings!
Even if not actual gods, they were holders of Visions—extraordinary individuals.
But someone like Aamon, who transmigrated here as just another commoner with nothing to his name?
What could possibly connect him to them?
At this moment, he felt a little hopeless… but more than that, he was oddly accepting of what lay ahead.
If there was no system, no special identity… maybe it was best to embrace being ordinary.
After all, it's basically just switching jobs—from Blue Star to Teyvat.
Aamon had journeyed from his distant homeland—Blue Star—to the vibrant realm of Tayvet.
One day, when he's finally saved enough Mora, he'd treat himself to a proper vacation. Maybe explore the coast of Fontaine, or see Lady Furina's crystalline voice echo through the grand opera hall.
Getting her autograph would be legendary.
Just imagining it made him smile.
With that thought, his inner doubts scattered like mist in the morning sun.
Focus returned to the more pressing matter: earning Mora, enough to get by—feed himself, shelter his bones, and maybe spark a dream or two.
But just as his plans began forming like puzzle pieces in his mind…
[Ding!]
A crisp chime echoed inside his head.
[Host match successful!]
[Binding Life Simulation System…]
Aamon jolted, eyes wide as moonstones.
"Whoa—what the actual...!"
"A Life Simulation System?"
His face burst into a grin so wide you'd think he'd found the Godstone itself.
So it's true, he thought.
All those novels weren't lying—every transmigration carries a system.
And now... so did he.
The next moment, a surge of information was forcibly downloaded into Aamon's mind.
Thanks to the system's prompts, he quickly grasped its core function.
In simple terms, this "Life Simulation System" had just one job:
Auto-generate simulation scenarios.
Aamon would enter the simulated world via consciousness and begin the experience.
Depending on what unfolded in the simulation, he could earn various rewards.
As he finished reading the system's overview, excitement flooded him.
Never mind whether the system was powerful or not—he had one!
That alone meant his future was bursting with possibility.
While thoughts raced through his mind, a translucent interface appeared before him.
It hovered mid-air, invisible to anyone else.
Only Aamon could see it.
Name: Aamon
Element: None
Weapon: None
Ability: None
Current simulation count: 1
Aamon looked at the panel and couldn't help but twitch his mouth.
The current self is a bit useless!
Must hurry to use the system's abilities!
Just as Aamon was thinking this...
At the same time—
In the top suite of the palace, Maple appeared.
What unfolded before her eyes was a space overflowing with a young girl's dreams:
Soft pink bed curtains cascaded gently down, a cute frog perched at the head of the bed.
The white desk by the window held delicate decorations and framed photos.
The bookshelf along the wall brimmed with comics and novels.
The room was steeped in a faint, enchanting fragrance—warm and sweet, like memory made into air. It was the kind of scent that gently cradled the soul, numbing sorrow and softening thoughts.
But despite the comfort, its occupant sat alone by the window, her posture delicate yet distant.
Sunlight spilled across her face, drawing stark contrast between the golden warmth and the pale stillness of her skin. Her eyes stared past the glass into nowhere—hollow, as if chasing a dream swallowed by darkness.
Outside, Fontaine bustled with elegance and noise.
Inside, silence clung to the air like frost.
Only her quiet breathing gave rhythm to the room.
Loneliness had become her shadow, a constant companion.
She was Furina, the Archon of Fontaine.
Five centuries of isolation had carved deep hollows into her heart, and no divine authority could shield her from the ache of solitude.
She longed to speak.
To share the burden.
But as a god, she could confide in no one.
To mortals, she wore a thousand smiles.
To herself, only silence.
Perhaps it was the mask… worn too long.
Only here, in the soft pink sanctuary she called her own, could she let it slip.
Only here could Furina be fragile—just a girl aching for understanding.
Just as Furina sat in the quiet ache of her solitude, a strange shimmer filled her field of vision.
A translucent panel appeared, floating like starlight suspended in glass.
At its center pulsed five glowing words:
[Simulation Preparing…]
Below that, a scrolling bar flickered to life—a live chat feed, cascading with digital whispers.
Curious, Furina tapped a faint symbol at the bottom and sent a single character:
Furina: [?]
What followed was an eruption.
Like raindrops disturbing a mirror lake, her message ignited chaos in the chat:
Neuvillette: [Furina, you're here too?]
Yae Miko: [Ei, stop lurking and speak up!]
Raiden Shogun: [...]
Zhongli: [It seems everyone has gathered.]
Keqing: [What's this "Simulation Preparing" message supposed to mean?]
Furina's eyes widened. This wasn't just any broadcast—this was cross-regional, cross-divine…
The Archons, strategists, and mortals alike were all drawn into the same thread.
And in the center of it all... the words continued to pulse:
[Simulation Preparing…]
Somewhere behind that message, someone else was about to enter.
Aamon's first true encounter with Tayvet's emotional web... was about to begin.
Aamon sat in the dim light of his rental room, heart pounding as the system pulsed before him.
[Simulation Fully Activated!]
At the same time, miles away in Fontaine's divine ether…
The live feed shimmered. Blurred outlines sharpened into motion.
Nahida: [Everyone quiet! The simulation's starting!]
Wanderer: [About time. Let's see what kind of soul we're dealing with.]
Wanderer: [Also—no Mora for Wriothesley. He still owes me for last week.]
As the panel settled into clarity, the screen unveiled a lone figure standing in his modest quarters—a creaky bed behind him, the yellow-stained ceiling above.
Aamon.
His stat panel still showed nothing—no element, no weapon, no skills.
But what captured their attention wasn't his emptiness… it was his focus.
Aamon: "This world… it's not offering me anything. Maybe I'll have to earn it all myself."
No dramatic entrance. No glowing glyphs. Just a quiet resolve that stirred the chat.
Furina, watching silently, felt something flicker inside her chest.
Furina: [That room… it looks painfully ordinary.]
Zhongli: [Perhaps the simulation does not begin with power—but with understanding.]
And then, for the first time in five hundred years, Furina leaned in. Not as a goddess, but as someone searching for meaning.