[ ! ] QUEST MENU – SYSTEM INTERFACE
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MAIN QUEST – HEART CONQUEST: GANYU
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OBJECTIVE STATUS
(INCOMPLETE) Build First Contact | Progress: [0/1]
(INCOMPLETE) Gain Basic Trust | Progress: [0/3]
(INCOMPLETE) Understand Ganyu's Burdens and Doubts | Progress: [0/2]
(INCOMPLETE) Provide Actions Proving Sincerity | Progress: [0/1]
(INCOMPLETE) Conquer Ganyu's Heart | Final Progress: [0/1]
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WARNING
Failure to complete this quest will trigger an irreversible penalty:
PERMANENT DEATH
The system will automatically execute the punishment if progress does not meet the designated targets.
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QUEST STATUS
Active – Cannot be canceled.
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You stand frozen; your chest seizes up for a moment, as if your heart has forgotten how to beat in rhythm with this new time. Your mouth hangs open, your jaw slack, but words fail to find their way out of your throat, which suddenly feels as dry as a desert.
You are stunned, your soul shaken violently, and you can't say a thing!
You just stare at it for a long time. "It" is a manifestation of blue light, a window floating in the air, staining the natural scenery with unnatural geometric lines.
It is an interface.
A System!
You step back half a pace, your heel crushing the dry grass. Your pupils remain dilated, swallowing the blue light until your eyes ache. Your lips part without a sound escaping.
Then your hand rises reflexively, your fingers trembling, as if wanting to touch or swipe away the blue light overlaying the world around you.
Soon after, a cold wind brushes your cheek, carrying the scent of damp earth. You draw a sharp breath, oxygen filling your lungs that had momentarily stalled, and you shake your head slowly, trying to clear your mind.
You narrow your eyes, focusing on the blinking text, and say in a hoarse voice, "I don't understand… why have I arrived in another world and then been forced to complete an absurd quest?"
"I've never even dated a woman before!" your voice rises, shattering the silence of the grassy field.
The person who ordered me to do this must have a terrible sense of humor!
"And when I arrive in a world who knows where, suddenly I'm told to conquer a girl's heart?" You laugh, a dry laugh. "This is utterly ridiculous!"
Your shoulders rise and fall restlessly, your breath quickens as if you've just been running. Then you rub your chest, trying to calm your wildly racing heartbeat pounding against your ribs.
Your gaze wanders, drifting away from the blue screen for a moment, staring around for a long time.
Your eyes dart anxiously from one corner to another—scanning the empty horizon, the trees standing like ghosts, and the sky whose color is too clear to be real.
Then you close your eyes briefly, drawing a long breath to anchor yourself to the physical reality of your own body.
You decide to walk away.
"I don't even know where this is…" you mutter, your voice carried by the wind.
Your steps halt.
Strangely, there's a gaping hole in your head. You don't even remember why you're in this place.
Then you try to recall it. You stop walking entirely, your feet as if nailed to the ground. Your vision suddenly blurs. The next second, your head throbs fiercely, as if a hammer is pounding your skull from inside. Your breath catches as the memories you seek refuse to surface.
"Damn… why is my memory foggy?" you groan, your hand clutching your hair, pulling it slightly to distract from the pain.
It feels like standing in front of a massive library that's on fire.
You know the books are there—books about who you are, your family, your job, your last day—but the library door is locked tight, and you can only smell the smoke from the crack beneath it.
You know you have a past, but you can't touch it.
Yet, why do you still remember that you've never dated a girl?
This makes you wonder.
"What's wrong with me…?" you whisper to the swaying grass.
"I don't even remember the last thing I did."
Panic begins to creep up from your stomach, cold and coiling.
Identity is an anchor for the soul, and without it, you're just a ship adrift in a stormy sea.
However, that damned blue screen draws your attention again. It floats following your line of sight, persistent, indifferent to your internal suffering.
You narrow your eyes at the panel, then swipe the air with a quick motion. The blue light doesn't budge an inch.
The screen doesn't disappear!
It remains there, displaying the same lines of text.
And that makes you exhale a long breath in frustration. Your breath vapor appears thin in the air.
Your fingers grasp at the air before finally relaxing slowly. You realize your efforts are futile. You sigh deeply, trying to accept that this visual disturbance is part of your "new normal."
The next second, you start walking again, though without a clear destination.
Staring at the screen in silence, you say in a pleading tone, "Can't this just be rejected?"
"I really don't want to pursue a relationship," your eyes focus on the word 'target' in the quest. "Especially being forced like this…."
You falter. Your sentence hangs in the air.
To you, love should be a poem written slowly, not a forced labor contract shoved at you by this stupid universe.
At this moment, in front of you, there's a tree. The tree stands alone in the middle of the grassy field, tall and old, its bark cracked and weathered. Its leaves are lush, offering shade from the sun that's starting to feel stinging.
You stare at the tree for a moment, as if finding the only place to breathe, the only thing that feels real.
You walk wearily toward it, then sit and lean against its rough trunk. Your back feels the hard wood texture, and it gives you a slight sense of security.
The sunlight piercing through the branches makes your face feel hot; patterns of light and shadow dance on your eyelids. You shift your head, adjusting your sitting position, seeking denser shade, trying to hide from the spotlight that seems to judge you.
While resting under the tree, you direct your gaze back to the blue screen.
It's still there, waiting faithfully like an ugly guard dog.
With short breaths, you scroll the screen down—this time your finger touches the light surface and feels a strange cold sensation—forcing yourself to understand each instruction.
Your eyes move quickly, scanning up and down again, reading the terms and conditions. You make sure not a single word is missed, just to stop the blue screen from bothering you, or perhaps to find a loophole to cancel it.
Little by little, you start to figure out how to adjust the blue screen so it doesn't obstruct your view. You find a small button in the corner that minimizes the screen into a tiny icon in the corner of your vision.
You sigh, feeling relieved for a moment.
The world looks whole again without the transparent dialog box blocking it. Then you look back at the screen, summoning it again, focusing on studying its UI.
You have to know the rules if you want to survive!
Your eyes narrow, following the floating interface lines. Your fingers pause a few inches in the air, as if afraid to touch something invisible yet with fatal consequences.
Every icon, every word, seems too real to be just an optical illusion. The font is sharp, the design futuristic yet with classic ornaments, as if technology and magic are blended.
"This is like being inside a game… have I entered a game and somehow ended up in some place without life?" you mutter, analyzing the situation with cultural references from your memory-lost world.
"But why am I being told to do something crazy like this!" Your protest resurfaces.
Then, your eyes catch the bottom line. The line written in blood-red, different from the other blue text.
"Moreover… what does it mean by death penalty!" your voice chokes.
"How can I die if I don't do this???" Your eyes narrow sharply, your glare piercing the blue screen as if wanting to tear it into pixel shreds.
To you, this is clearly a bad joke.
"Once again, I've never had a romantic relationship with a girl, but this absurd quest is making me do that?! How is that possible!"
You slam your back against the tree trunk.
A beginner in romance, an amateur, perhaps even a coward in matters of the heart like you?
And now your life depends on a skill you don't have?
That's like telling a fish to climb a tree, with the threat of being fried if it fails!
Truly hilarious.
Your jaw clenches, your teeth grinding.
But then, survival instinct takes over.
Panic won't solve the problem.
Anger won't erase the screen.
You draw a slow breath, forcing your chest to steady.
Your fingers trace the interface again, this time more gently, searching for touchable gaps, looking for a 'Help' menu or 'Inventory'—anything that could be your starting capital.
There's nothing but the clothes on your body.
After a while, you stand up. Your legs feel stronger now, more steady.
You pat your dusty clothes, cleaning off the remnants of dirt and dry leaves.
"Let's think logically," you say to the empty wind. "Although, logic here is questionable… but still."
You start pacing under the tree's shade.
"I've just been transported to another world, meaning absurd things like dying for not completing a forced quest could really happen."
You stop, staring at the horizon. The sun is starting to set, turning the blue sky into a canvas of bruised orange and purple.
"I don't want to take the risk."
That's the final conclusion.
No matter how silly, how unfair, or how impossible the task, the stakes are your life.
And a faint piece of memory tells you that you don't want to die yet. There's still something you need to find, even if you've forgotten what it is.
Your eyes sweep the area once more. The grassy field stretches wide, bordered by a dense forest to the north and rocky mountains to the east.
No sounds of livestock, no silhouettes of rooftops, no smoke from fireplaces.
"I'm truly alone."
The loneliness hits you like a tidal wave.
In an alien world, with a crazy task, without friends, without memories.
You are the sole protagonist on a stage that has no audience yet.
However, staying under this tree forever isn't an option either.
Night will soon fall, and who knows what creatures crawl out when the light fades from this world?
Imagining that makes you shiver instantly.
You draw one last breath—a long breath filling your chest—before stepping out from the tree's shade.
Your shadow stretches forward, distorted by the low sun angle, as if the shadow wants to run ahead of you toward an uncertain future.
Meanwhile, the orange hue slowly engulfs your back, as if this world is tasting your presence.
Though dissatisfied because your actions are forced by external factors. But this is for survival.
…
You stand frozen there, the hill wind carrying the damp river scent sweeping across your face.
However, your gaze isn't fixed on the natural beauty, but directed straight down, at the bustling pulse far below.
Curved roofs typical of eastern architecture, red lanterns starting to be lit even though the day isn't dark yet, and sailboats lazily docked at the pier.
You narrow your eyes, trying to comprehend the presented reality, then shift your gaze with an uncomfortable feeling creeping up your neck. Your eyes fall on your own body.
Look at yourself.
You're wearing a loose white jacket—with an oversized design trendy in your world, with sharp black geometric details on some parts, as if designed to cut through metropolitan winds, not misty valley breezes.
Beneath it, a dark sweater wraps your body, creating a striking contrast with the white shirt slightly visible at the collar and hem, in a complex layering style.
Slim black pants encase your legs, ending in a pair of athletic shoes with thick rubber soles designed for hot asphalt, not rocky soil.
From any angle, your appearance is a loud shout in a silent library.
This is one hundred percent going to make people wonder!
No, this will make them suspicious that you're an infiltrator from the future or a madman escaped from a noble's asylum!
Honestly, you feel your clothes are completely out of place.
It feels like wearing an astronaut suit to a samurai tea party.
The clothes you're wearing look so modern! No, post-modern!
"Insane to wear clothes like this and go ask the locals," you whisper to the wind, your voice sounding dry.
Your hand feels the jacket fabric, smooth and cool. "One hundred percent they'll think I'm crazy."
Your brain starts spinning, seeking solutions amid the bubbling panic. A wild thought flashes. Your eyes stare at the empty footpath below the hill.
"Should I strip off these clothes… ambush someone and take their clothes?"
You mutter softly, imagining a scenario where you ambush an unfortunate farmer, strip their rough clothes, and wear them to blend in.
"No. That's too brutal," you shake your head quickly, banishing the criminal image. "And I was just kidding! Hey, I'm not a savage."
You sigh deeply, your breath vapor vanishing in the afternoon air.
Your options are limited.
You can't hide on this hill forever like a lost hermit. Hunger will come, and a night in the open isn't a good ally.
With hesitant steps, you slowly descend the hill. Your expensive athletic shoes grip the ground well, ironically very comfortable for this terrain.
The closer you get to the civilization below, the harder your heart pounds. The sounds of the market bustle become clear—merchants' shouts, clinking metal, and children's laughter.
You enter the outskirts of the dock area.
And sure enough, your worries prove true.
The people there—the bare-chested laborers in simple clothes, the merchants in long silk robes, and the women with intricate hair buns—suddenly pause their activities briefly as you pass.
They stare at you.
And in an instant, they start whispering.
"Look at his clothes... what fabric is that?" "Is he a prince from a land across the ocean?" "Or maybe a lost circus clown?"
You try to deafen your ears, lowering your head slightly, trying to hide your face behind your jacket's high collar.
You need to find information.
Yes, don't care about what others say!
You need to know where this is and how to start.
Your steps lead you to an open stall by the roadside. The strong aroma of cooking—sautéed garlic, grilled fish, and sharp spices—fills your nose.
At one of the weather-worn wooden tables, sits a man.
He looks in his 40s, his face flushed red, adorned with an unkempt coarse beard. His eyes are half-closed, staring blankly at the river.
In his hand, he grips a large wooden cup filled with frothy yellow liquid—beer, perhaps? Or some cheap local rice wine.
He's alone, separated from the other crowds, looking harmless and drunk enough not to care too much about your clothing details.
The perfect target!
You approach the man. Your shadow falls over his table, making him look up slowly.
He squints, trying to focus on you, then his lips stretch into a silly crooked smile.
"What's the matter, handsome?" his voice is raspy, heavy with alcohol.
You narrow your eyes instantly. Your body tenses. Can you not call me handsome? That sounds gay! And the way you say it makes my hair stand on end!
However, you hold back the protest in your throat.
You need him.
Yes, need him, as an informant!
You try to put on a normal face and ask in the softest tone possible.
"May I know where this is?" you ask, hoping your language is understandable to the local tongue.
The man laughs. A wet, unpleasant laugh, like the sound of gargling dirty water. He doesn't answer right away, instead lifting his cup again, gulping down the remaining liquid greedily, until drops of wine flow into his beard.
Thud!
He slams the wooden cup onto the table roughly.
Your shoulders jolt reflexively. Your already tense heart feels like it's about to detach. Is he angry? Is he offended?
That really startles you!
Then you laugh softly, an awkward laugh to cover your surprise. "Hahaha… you're drinking with such enthusiasm, sir."
The man wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes are already drowsy, his eyelids heavy as if pulled by Earth's gravity.
"Yilong Wharf," the drunk man finally says. His words crawl slowly. "The harbor… Yilong. Is that all you want to ask, kid?"
He looks sleepy, his head starting to nod like a doll running out of batteries.
Hearing his words, you tilt your head, absorbing the information.
I don't even know where that is!
Seeing the man almost collapsing into dreamland, a sense of urgency stings you. You can't let him pass out before you get your key information.
Because you feel the man is about to fall asleep soon, you hurriedly ask, "Do you know Ganyu?"
You try to look casual when asking, as if inquiring about an old friend, though your heart pounds mentioning that name.
The man opens his eyes a little, just a thin slit. He stares at you with a distant gaze.
"Yeah, I know…" he mumbles, his voice like a ghost's whisper. "She's a beautiful girl…."
His head falls onto the table.
Brak.
Soft snoring begins to sound.
You freeze. Your mouth slightly open. "Huh?" You sigh deeply and stand straight again, staring at the man's crown with frustration.
Well, I don't need information on whether she's beautiful or not! you scream inwardly. But I want to know where she is! Is she in this harbor? In the main city? In the mountains?
You mutter full of disappointment. "Useless information…."
As you lift your face from the drunkard's table, you realize something that makes your blood run cold. The atmosphere around you has turned unnaturally silent.
Looking around, you realize you're being stared at by people. More than before. Tea merchants, stall waiters, even the little kids who were playing. They've all stopped. Their eyes are fixed on you.
They seem to be whispering while staring at you, their hands covering their mouths, but their eyes sharp and full of scrutiny. Each piercing gaze makes you feel like you're being interrogated under a spotlight.
"He asked about Miss Ganyu?" "Who is this strangely dressed foreigner daring to mention the Qixing Secretary's name?" "Is he a stalker? Or a hired assassin?"
You can imagine the content of their whispers, and your imagination is far scarier than reality.
You laugh softly, a dry and empty laugh, then scratch the back of your head that's not itchy.
You mutter in panic, your lips moving without sound, "Seriously? Did they hear my conversation about the girl named Ganyu?"
Cold sweat starts dripping at your temples.
In an instant, you have a guess from the information you've gotten in that short time, that in this world, Ganyu isn't just a village girl.
She's an important figure.
And you, a stranger with clothes that look like an alien's, just asked about her whereabouts to a drunkard.
"Are they now thinking I'm suspicious???"
An extraordinary embarrassment hits you. Not just embarrassment, but fear. Fear of being arrested by guards in this world! Especially being judged for your weird fashion sense!
Your face feels hot. Without thinking further, you spin on your heel.
For some reason, you feel embarrassed and immediately run away. Your feet, wrapped in athletic shoes, carry you running away from the stall, pushing through the surprised crowd, leaving Yilong Wharf behind you.
You run like a thief who just failed a pickpocket.
Your breath races as you finally stop in a narrow, empty alley, far from the main dock's hustle.
Damp stone walls flank you, green moss thriving in their crevices.
After getting away from the crowd, you finally sigh deeply, bending over holding your knees. Your lungs feel like they're burning.
You're alone again.
Only the sound of water dripping from roof gutters and your own heartbeat.
You lean your back against the cold stone wall, sliding down to sit on the slightly muddy ground. You don't care anymore if your expensive pants get dirty.
"This is insane," you hiss. "This is truly insane."
Your eyes stare at the darkening twilight sky above the narrow alley. The first star appears, twinkling indifferently.
"Should I try something else?" you mutter.
"For example, stay away from this quest… not dig into who Ganyu is and anything related to this quest."
This idea looks very good. Very tempting.
Why should you follow this game?
Why should you chase a woman you don't even know, in a world that thinks you're weird, with the risk of death or prison?
You could become a tea farmer.
Or a fisherman.
Or a beggar.
Anything as long as not being a slave to this system.
Instantly, you want to try it. Forget the name Ganyu. Forget this silly mission. Live quietly as a mute stranger.
So you decide to stop digging about who Ganyu is, hoping the system will finally go silent and give up due to your inactivity. You close your eyes, firming your intent to become apathetic.
However, it doesn't take long, not even enough time for you to finish one relieved breath, the blue transparent panel appears again in front of you.
This time it's not silent.
The panel in front of you keeps flashing with a new notification.
Tring! Tring! Tring!
The digital notification sound rings loudly directly in your eardrums, making you jolt.
You exhale an annoyed breath, your eyes opening wide staring at the screen floating in the dark alley air. Its light illuminates your face with a ghostly blue hue.
You try to pretend the notification isn't there, turning your face to the wall.
However, the panel moves following your line of sight, as if embedded in your retina. The flashing light reveals that the system doesn't accept your rejection.
The text on the screen changes color to warning red.
[WARNING: Passivity Detected]
[Main Quest Cannot Be Ignored]
[Target Location: Detected Within 5 KM Radius]
[Initiating Forced Navigation...]
A large arrow appears on the screen, pointing straight in the direction you just ran from. Pointing back to the crowd.
You stare at the arrow with a blank gaze.
"Hahaha… Crazy system…."
…
A/N: Hi everyone, I'm back writing Genshin fanfic. It's a weird thing to do, but I'm trying to write a romance story… this time truly romance. This story isn't the dark type like before, so just relax and enjoy it. Besides, the protagonist here isn't a fighter. And I'm trying to write it in second-person point of view. Hope you enjoy this storyline better than the previous fanfic!