"No constellation?" Ren repeated, the words feeling heavy and strange on his tongue.
"None," Nahida confirmed, her gaze fixed on the blue sky as if trying to peer through the false dome of Teyvat. "Even the Traveler, a Descender from beyond the stars, has a constellation mapped within the false sky, a fate that intersects with this world. But you… you are a blank space."
Ren fell silent. The words of Nicole Reeyn echoed in his mind with renewed, terrifying clarity. An anomaly who transcends Time and Space. An affront to Life and Death.
He understood the logic, cold and paradoxical as it was. His original self—the young man from Earth—had died. That was an immutable fact of his timeline. And yet, here he was, reborn in Liyue, breathing, living, existing. He was a being who had died but was alive. A being from another universe who was registered as a native. He was a glitch in the cosmic order, a thread that had been cut and then tied back together by hands unknown.
He looked at his hands. They didn't fade or glitch. They felt real.
I have to see this through, he thought, pushing the existential dread back into its box. Whatever I am, I am here now.
He looked back at Nahida. "I suppose that's a puzzle for another day. Right now, I have one last thing to do before I leave."
He gestured towards the interior of the Sanctuary. "The Balladeer. How is he?"
Nahida's expression softened into a mix of pity and clinical observation. "He is resting. He has… tapped out. The removal of the mechanical god's frame, the loss of his divinity, and the revelation of his own powerlessness… it has broken his will to fight. He feels used. Discarded."
She floated a little closer. "He has made a request. He wishes to search the Irminsul. He has a question about his past… about the events at Tatarasuna. I have agreed to help him find the truth."
Ren nodded. He knew this path. This was the beginning of the Wanderer's birth. The moment Scaramouche would learn that Dottore, not Ei, was the architect of his pain.
"Can I speak with him?" Ren asked.
Nahida studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Of course. He is in a containment chamber to the right. Follow me."
They walked past the main atrium. Ren glanced over the railing. Behind him, on the entrance platform, Ningguang was chatting politely with Lisa, while Cyno stood stoically nearby. They were giving him space.
Nahida led him to a heavy, ornate door. "I will leave you to it," she said softly. "I do not know what you wish to speak with him about. But I believe he needs to hear what you have to say."
She floated away, leaving Ren alone before the door. He took a deep breath and pushed it open.
The room was comfortable but sparse—a bed, a table, a chair. Scaramouche sat on the bed in a meditative stance, his legs crossed. He was stripped of his elaborate Fatui regalia, wearing simple, loose robes. He looked smaller without his hat, without his armor.
He opened his eyes as Ren entered. The indigo irises were dull, devoid of the manic fire that had fueled him for centuries.
"You," Scaramouche scoffed, his voice raspy. "I don't think you're here to ask me about my amenities in captivity."
He uncrossed his legs, leaning back against the wall with a weary sneer. "So, skip the small talk. Are you here to exact revenge? Like that ditzy Traveler? Kick me while I'm down?"
He laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. "I certainly didn't take you for a petty child. You seemed smarter than that. But then again, I wouldn't have expected such barbarism from her, either. My shins still ache."
Ren stood by the door, his expression calm. "She was emotionally charged," he said simply. "And… well, your boss battle didn't exactly live up to the hype."
Silence. An awkward, heavy silence stretched between them. Scaramouche stared at him, blinking, unsure if he had just been insulted or analyzed.
Ren took a few steps into the room. He looked at the fallen Harbinger with a gaze that was far too old for his face.
"I'm not here for revenge," Ren said. "I'm here because… we're the same."
Scaramouche raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"I am also a Fatui experiment," Ren dropped the words into the quiet room like stones into a pond.
Scaramouche stiffened. "What?"
"My ability to absorb elemental energy without a Vision," Ren listed, ticking the points off on his fingers. "My appearance. My stunted aging. I've looked like a ten-year-old for… a long time. I don't grow up."
He looked directly into Scaramouche's eyes. "My memory before Liyue is fragmented. Broken. But I remember cold rooms. I remember pain. From what I've gathered… I am likely one of the children Dottore experimented on in the past. One of his research into enhancing humans."
Scaramouche stared at him. The sneer vanished. He looked at the boy—really looked at him—and saw the unnatural glow in his eyes, the strange, potent aura that clung to him.
"Probably," Scaramouche muttered, looking away. "The Doctor… he has broken more things than he has built. You look like his handiwork. Pretty. fragile. Dangerous."
"I don't remember much," Ren admitted. "But I know enough. I know that I was lucky."
He took a step closer. "That's the only difference between us, Scaramouche. Luck. I woke up on Mt. Aocang. I found Cloud Retainer. I found Ganyu. I found a family that loved me, a master who taught me."
He looked at the puppet, his voice filled with a fierce, compassionate intensity. "You were denied that. You were abandoned. And that… that wasn't your fault."
Scaramouche flinched.
"Ei was wrong," Ren said firmly.
Scaramouche's head snapped up, shock written all over his face. He had heard Ren speak of the Shogun with respect, seen him walk with her.
"She was wrong to discard you," Ren continued, his voice unwavering. "Just because you cried. Just because you had emotions. She thought it made you weak. She thought it made you unfit to hold the Gnosis."
Ren shook his head. "She was wrong. Having a heart doesn't make you weak. It makes you alive."
Scaramouche's hands gripped the bedsheets, his knuckles turning white. He opened his mouth to retort, to defend his cynicism, but the words died in his throat.
"I don't hate you," Ren said softly. "For attacking me at the shrine. For trying to kill me."
He offered a small, sad smile. "I know why you did it. You were hurting. You were lashing out. So… I just want to say… I forgive you."
Scaramouche closed his eyes. His breath hitched, a shudder running through his small frame. Forgiveness. It was a concept so alien to him, so utterly useless in the Fatui, that he didn't know how to process it. It burned worse than the Traveler's kicks.
"Get out," Scaramouche whispered, his voice trembling. It wasn't a threat. It was a plea. He couldn't handle this kindness. Not yet.
Ren nodded. He turned to the door.
"I hope you find the answers you're looking for in the irminsul," Ren said, his hand on the latch. "And I hope… I hope you find a reason to live in this world. A real reason. Not revenge. Not divinity. Just… life. Like I found."
He opened the door.
"Let's meet again, Scaramouche," Ren said. "In the future. When you've found your name."
He stepped out, the door clicking shut behind him.
Scaramouche sat alone in the silence. He brought his knees to his chest, burying his face in his arms. The room was quiet, but for the first time in centuries, the roaring void in his chest felt… just a little bit smaller.
Ren walked back to the main platform, his heart feeling lighter. He had said what he needed to say.
Ningguang was waiting by the Eclipsing Star, the engine humming softly. Lisa waved from the platform edge.
"Ready to go, cutie?" Lisa asked.
"Yeah," Ren said, looking one last time at the Sanctuary, at the home of the God of Wisdom. "I'm ready."
He climbed into the passenger seat. Ningguang took the wheel. He waved his hand, saying goodbye to Lisa, Cyno and Nahida. With a smooth ascent, the black car lifted into the air, turning away from the city of emeralds and towards the stone harbor of home.
Ren watched Sumeru fade into the distance. He had come for patents. He had left with a saved nation, a cured god, and a forgiven enemy.
His journey in the land of wisdom was over. But the questions of his past—the mirror, the Hexenzirkel, the missing constellation—remained. And he knew, as the mountains of Liyue rose to greet him, that the next chapter would require him to look not outward, but inward. To the past he had forgotten.
But for now… he was going home.