Several days had passed since Scaramouche's rebirth. The eccentric puppet, donning his signature hat, had embraced the life of a vagabond. Homelessness wasn't new to him, after all. Roaming the picturesque landscapes of Teyvat's Sumeru region, Scaramouche found solace in the tranquility of the lush forests, where verdant foliage swayed gently and quiet rivers meandered.

Despite living for 500 years, true peace had eluded him for far too long, leaving him achingly lonely, though he stubbornly refused to admit it. Even the efforts of Lesser Lord Kusanali, known as Nahida, the goddess of dendro and greenery, to foster new friendships for him, couldn't dispel his inner solitude.

Scaramouche, a puppet devoid of a real heart, carried the weight of his past atrocities as the Balladeer, a Fatui Harbinger serving Snezhnaya's Tsaritsa. Convinced of his own unlovability, he harbored deep wounds from his abandonment by his mother, the Electro Archon, immediately after his creation. The loss of his friends, Niwa and the unnamed boy with dirty blonde hair, further reinforced his resolve to avoid forming connections.

Now, sitting amidst the serene Sumeru forests, Scaramouche contemplated his existence. As night descended, he reluctantly made his way back to Sumeru city, intending to explore the soon-to-open shops. Few could see beyond his brash, arrogant facade to the broken, hollow puppet within.

Approaching a vibrantly adorned stall selling handmade dolls, Scaramouche found himself almost smiling at the intricately crafted toys. Long ago, in his youth and naivety, he had honed the skill himself. In fact, he still carried a small cloth doll resembling his former self tucked away in his sleeve.

Meeting the gaze of the shop owner, he struggled to maintain politeness, his sharp tongue threatening to betray him. In a tone colder than the mountain winds, he uttered, "Would you consider taking me on as an apprentice?"