I just got an idea, and it's a request sorry if it's too much, for genshin you get to decide which characters, but they have at least include Arlecchino, anyways, so I was thinking like what if y/n was some recluse of a mage who the characters accidentally come across either during hunts, gathering stuff, or walks in the forests/mountains/mines or whatever, but they get to know him as someone who's kind, helpful, very intelligent, but then they come across an area of vines over growing through stone and there's a stair way leading to a door down as they open it and take a few steps traps activate as they get dropped into a small area with a disfigured creature that looked humanoid, and sounded human, but it was mostly made up of plants and random pieces of flesh of any kind, they kill it, but they hear another sound in a nearby area then they get hit with the stench of rotting flesh, and when they enter the room they see the familiar clothes of y/n stabbing the same creature they fought in the previous room, but this room it had piles of those same corpses in there, but there was also a lot of books and papers on tables in a far corner, they looked new, how strange, and why was y/n here of all places, then y/n says something like "How disappointing, yet another failure, it seems human flesh isn't a good match, perhaps hilichurl could work, it does not matter, I'll make a note and try later." Just imagine how they characters opinions on you changed completely after they see the remnants of what you did, it's so interesting.
The Garden You Never Saw
Tags: Arlecchino x Reader, Lumine x Reader, Horror Elements, Slow Burn (Implied Past Connection), Found in the Woods Trope, Morally Grey Reader, Secret Laboratory, Body Horror, Betrayal, Emotional Angst, Psychological Tension, Hurt/Comfort (implied/Potential), Mild Gore, Suspense, Reader is not who they seem, Creepy Vibes/Uncanny Setting, Ethical Ambiguity.
Warnings: Body Horror, Mild Gore, Psychological Themes, Death/Murder, Disturbing Imagery, Dark Science/Magic, Emotional Distress.
The sun was waning as Arlecchino wandered the fringes of Snezhnayan-controlled territory, on a rare solo expedition through the frostbitten forests. She hadn’t expected to find anyone, let alone you—a quiet, enigmatic mage tending to herbs growing between the roots of an ancient tree.
You intrigued her instantly.
Not many could carry on a conversation with Arlecchino without flinching. But you were different. Calm, witty, and possessed of a sharp intellect she rarely found outside the Fatui’s top strategists. Over several meetings, you’d aided her with healing tinctures and offered cryptic insights into plant properties — all without demanding anything in return.
She began to look forward to your talks. She thought she knew you.
Until the vines.
They stumbled upon them while investigating the disappearance of some Fatui scouts — thorny roots cracking through ancient stone, veiling a hidden staircase. Arlecchino's instincts flared. She went down, alone. A few steps in, a trap triggered, and the floor vanished beneath her.
She landed with a feral growl in a dimly lit cavern. A twisted abomination awaited: a humanoid mass of moss, twisted bone, flesh, and greenery. She fought with brutal precision, her flames burning away the grotesque form.
Then she heard it.
A second groan, deeper in the cavern.
Following it led her to a chamber filled with the stench of death. The walls were lined with husks — creatures like the one she had just slain, stacked like rotting firewood. And then, in the center, stood you, the same cloak she had grown familiar with now flecked with blood. You were calmly taking notes beside a newly twitched corpse, muttering:
“How disappointing, yet another failure. It seems human flesh isn’t a good match. Perhaps hilichurl could work… it does not matter. I’ll make a note and try later.”
Arlecchino stood frozen.
The Arlecchino most feared by nations blinked. The warmth she’d once allowed herself — the budding sense of companionship — twisted violently into betrayal. But unlike most, she didn’t draw her weapon right away.
“You really had me fooled,” she said quietly. “I thought I’d met a rare kind of honest soul. But you… you’re worse than the monsters you sew together.”
The flames behind her eyes reignited, not just with rage — but confusion, fascination, and an aching sense of loss.
“You’re not what I expected,” she muttered, stepping into the room. “But then again… maybe I’m not the best judge of monsters.”
Lumine had met you near the edges of Liyue’s forests, where wild qingxin flowers and glaze lilies grew undisturbed. She and Paimon had been lost — again — and you had helped guide them out, offering food, remedies, and stories about long-lost Ley Line anomalies.
You seemed gentle. A bit odd, but kind. Someone who preferred solitude, yet welcomed their occasional visits with soft smiles and sharp commentary. Paimon adored you, and Lumine began to trust you — maybe even too easily.
So when they stumbled upon the crumbling stone and tangled vines during a treasure hunt, curiosity got the better of them.
Lumine led the way.
The moment they stepped onto the staircase, the ground gave out. They landed hard, surrounded by an eerie silence. Then, a screech — and the creature came.
It was like something from a nightmare: a plant-like beast stitched together with bone and tissue, vines twitching like sinew. Lumine fought instinctively, slicing it down with practiced skill. Its corpse lay still… until they heard another growl, deeper in the dark.
She followed it, Paimon growing quieter with every step.
The stench hit them before they saw it: blood, rot, something ancient and wrong. Then they saw you, calmly stabbing another malformed creature… in a room filled with them. Neatly stacked corpses. Blood-slicked tables. Notes scrawled in perfect handwriting.
And your voice, distant and clinical:
“How disappointing, yet another failure. It seems human flesh isn’t a good match. Perhaps hilichurl could work… it does not matter. I’ll make a note and try later.”
Paimon choked on a horrified gasp. Lumine didn’t speak. Her eyes locked on you, her mind racing to reconcile the memory of your kindness with the horror in front of her.
“[Name]…” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Why?”
You looked up, as if only now noticing them. “Ah. You weren’t meant to see this yet.”
Her grip tightened around her weapon.
“You saved us. You helped people.”
“I still do,” you replied, as if it were the most obvious truth. “But my work is… complex.”
Lumine took a step back. Her heart ached — with confusion, with betrayal, with a strange flicker of pity.
She didn’t attack. Not yet.
But trust? That had withered, like petals in poisoned soil.
