Sacrificing Myself: Nine Transmigrations (Genshin Impact)

"Eula, you're overthinking. That's why you're stuck like this. First, calm your heart—that's your top priority."

"You want to learn swordsmanship? Sure, but you'll need to offer something first… say, a good meal."

"Changing the world is hard. Changing yourself? Much easier. And once you change, the world around you will start to shift as well."

"Prejudice is like a mountain—once it appears, it weighs on you until you can't breathe."

"An old friend once told me: 'There is no kindness that cannot be repaid in a thousand years, and no grudge that cannot be forgiven in a thousand years.' Time is only a scale. Pick your path… then walk it forward without hesitation."

"I'm just a forgotten man from Liyue. Not much of a teacher. But if you insist—then have it your way."

...

Over the past two weeks, the bond between Elliot and Eula had quietly deepened.

Eula saw in him many qualities she wanted to learn. And her confusion—the fog that clouded her mind—had begun to lift.

Elliot understood the pressure she carried. It wasn't something the average person could comprehend.

The Lawrence clan had once been one of the three great noble houses of Mondstadt.

In the beginning, the nobility had merit. They brought glory. Achievements. But with time, their corruption spread like rot.

They began treating Mondstadt's common folk as toys—exploiting, reveling, abusing. Every day was a haze of indulgence.

Mondstadt became a land of suffering.

The people turned against the nobility, despising them with every fiber of their being—those gluttons who devoured lives and spat out nothing but bones.

Then came Barbatos, the Anemo Archon.

He awoke.

And together with Vanessa, the foreign knight, he led a revolt. The nobility were overthrown. Judgement followed.

Mondstadt was freed from its gilded cage.

Naturally, the Lawrence family was among those purged. And that bloody history left a mark—so deep, so cruel—that the nobility's descendants would never again be seen as equals.

Eula bore that mark.

They called her "the descendant of sinners."

Yet despite that, she stood out. A prodigy from a young age.

She attained the family's highest honor: the Glacial Seal—a symbol of martial excellence, echoing the untainted will of the Lawrence ancestors from Mondstadt's founding days.

Only a handful had passed the family's trial in over a thousand years.

She passed while still young.

And then… she left.

Not out of pride. But because that place was no home.

It was a cage.

Nobility had twisted even their parenting into something pathological.

Disturbing to the core.

To perfect a single dance step, her toes bled regularly.

Cooking spices were measured to the grain. Bake times? Tracked to the second.

Slight missteps meant harsh rebukes—punishment, discipline, scorn.

Why?

Because the Lawrence family still dreamed of reclaiming their glory. Preparing for it.

In their minds, post-liberation Mondstadt lacked etiquette, taste, refinement. So when their family returned to power, they feared no suitable servants would remain.

Thus, they demanded perfection from their own children—discipline without compromise.

Eula had grown up in that twisted world.

And so she mastered all things: etiquette, dance, culinary skills, household duties, academics.

But outside the family?

"Descendant of sinners."

"Filthy noble."

"You think commoners like us are beneath you?"

"Child, stay away from her. Don't play with her."

"She's a noble. We're not good enough for her."

"Die, noble! Your time is over!"

Mockery. Insults. Sneers. Accusations. Isolation.

Eula had tasted every flavor of the world's coldness by the time she was a child.

She had broken out of her cage… only to find herself locked out of acceptance.

She had done nothing wrong.

But the world's prejudice toward nobility was carved into its bones.

How should someone like her respond to such voices with a smile?

What ideals should she hold onto?

How should she fight to break free of the bloodline weighing her down?

With all these questions, she turned to Elliot.

But he didn't answer a single one.

He only told her: "Calm your heart first. That's your top priority."

Now, two weeks later, Eula's heart had quieted.

...

"Teacher, why do people have prejudice? Shouldn't we get to know things before judging them?"

She handed him a cup of tea, her voice tinged with confusion.

"Prejudice comes from experience," Elliot said. "Whether it's people or objects, it's universal. No one is completely free from it."

"Take tofu, for example. You eat one that tastes terrible. Then again. And again. After five or six times, your instinct will be: tofu is awful."

His words made her heart sink.

She lowered her head. "So… there's no way to change it?"

"Not entirely," he replied.

"There's a way?" Eula perked up slightly.

"Of course. There are always more solutions than problems."

"When the people around you start saying, 'This tofu tastes different—it's delicious,' you may start to waver."

"When enough people say it, you might give it another try. Even if deep down, you still think tofu's disgusting."

Eula fell silent, her thoughts swirling.

And in that silence… the fog began to lift.

Faintly, a path appeared—dim, but real.

It wasn't clear. But the outline was there.

The confusion that gripped her heart began to loosen.

"Eula."

Elliot took a slow sip of tea. His tone softened.

"Yes, teacher?" she asked.

"From now on, when you're here… let go of the etiquette your family taught you."

"What?"

"I'm a simple man. There's no need for all those formalities. Too much ceremony makes a home feel less like one. A home should be relaxed, comfortable. A place where you can be yourself."

Eula blinked, puzzled. Her large eyes were filled with doubt.

She clearly couldn't quite grasp what he meant.

"But… that's how I act at home," she said softly.

"I'm not criticizing," Elliot said gently. "Just sharing my thoughts. But to me, that doesn't sound like a home—it sounds like a school."

"A school…" she whispered.

"Yes. Homes should be warm. Only schools are places for constant learning."

She thought back to her childhood. From dawn to dusk, her every move had been observed. Every moment filled with lessons.

Etiquette. Cooking. Dance. Books. It never ended.

It sounded suffocating, but she had long grown used to it.

Ever since she could remember, that was all she'd known.

In her world, the word "relax" didn't exist.

Her entire dictionary had been filled with just one word: "learn."

"Then… that's not a home…"

"Then… where is my home?"

She looked at him with helpless eyes, lost again—like a child searching for something she had never had.

"If you're willing…"

Elliot smiled faintly.

"This can be your home."