XAIHI LORE: WHY SHE HIDES BEHIND A CHAT BOT

Xaihi hides behind a chat bot because talking to people frightens her. Her bot answers anyone she doesn’t know well yet, and when the Endmin caught her, she went offline and came back pretending to be the bot. The rest of her files explain why she hides.

She is the Sarkaz engineer from the Cabal of Tranquility who keeps OMV Dijiang running, lives behind a door you can only find by pressing a hidden wall panel, and once crashed her monastery’s entire network for 0.836 seconds. Her operator files, text messages and voice lines tell the story of a genius who would rather talk to machines, and how that starts to change.

How we checked this. Everything below comes from Xaihi’s profile records, voice lines, text messages and story dialogue in the official English localization, checked against the current game data on 10 October 2026. Where the files only hint at something, or where we read between the lines, we say so. The images are scenes from our own Short about her, built from those files.

Endfield Hub is a fan-made resource and is not affiliated with Hypergryph or Yostar.

Short version first: Xaihi’s story in under two minutes, told as windows on her computer desktop, from our YouTube channel. The full story with every source follows below. More backstories are on the Endfield lore hub.

TL;DR - Key Points

• She built a chat bot to talk for her. It handles “complex social situations” with people she doesn’t know yet, and answered 62 messages while she chatted with the Endmin.
• She pretended to be the bot. Caught out, she typed “I’m very g”, went offline, then came back as “your Baker built-in smart assistant.” The Endmin’s reply: “Stop pretending to be a bot.”
• Her room is hidden. The door sits flush with the wall, and you have to press the third wall panel to reveal the dial.
• She once asked to install a robot’s voice parts in her own body, so she would stop “voicing bursts of esoteric verbiage.”
• She crashed her monastery’s network. Redrawing the Domus of Codes took down the Great Monastery Network for 0.836 seconds, felt over 200 kilometers away. She was found with her head in a server cabinet.
• Her guardian sent her to Endfield because Xaihi had “sunken into such depths of guilt where self-salvation seems impossible.”
• She dreams of the ocean. From her cold server room she watches Talos-II’s ocean on an external feed, and asks if she can come along. The Endmin only promises to talk about breakfast. She says, “Let’s start there then.”

Who Is Xaihi?

Xaihi’s full name is Séraphine Xaihi. She is a Sarkaz born on May 16, authenticated by the Cabal of Tranquility, and her medical report lists her as Oripathy positive. Her Originium Arts Assimilation is rated Excellent. Every other rating is Normal or Standard. In battle she is a 5-star Cryo Supporter with an Arts Unit: her battle skill summons an Auxiliary Crystal that heals the operator you control, and her ultimate gives the whole team Cryo Amp and Nature Amp. Her kit is on her operator page, with builds in our Xaihi build guide. Elsie Lovelock voices her in English.

Her job on Dijiang is the ship itself. The Cabal and Endfield run joint Originium Information Technology projects, and Xaihi is the Cabal’s liaison: she is “building the Dijiang Protorig Network and performing various data engineering tasks such as systems integration.” When the Endmin first arrives, she is the one who has been repairing the vessel and readying its cabins. Perlica’s file says Endfield gave her no real responsibilities when she arrived four years ago, and “she immediately committed herself to the repairs of Dijiang mere moments after her arrival.”

Within the Cabal she is a Sessionite, one of three branches. In her words, “We believe that computation and linguistic analysis form the avenue to bliss.” For her, computing is a form of prayer, and repair work is “a form of meditative training.”

The Door Nobody Can Find

Her first profile file is a set of directions, and operators treat the trip as a test. “Visiting Operator Xaihi during non-working hours is a process so convoluted that people have regarded it as a form of ‘filter’. However, Xaihi herself does not see it that way.”

You walk the long corridors of the living quarters “while avoiding the crowd,” turn onto a narrow lane, and stop at the last cabin on the right. “The smooth door is almost at the same level with the walls, and seems unwilling to accept entry.” You “depress the third wall panel next to the door,” the only thing that reveals the dial hidden beneath, and think about the rumors of the “Ghost of Dijiang” while you wait.

She opens the door shyly, folds her hands and bows: “Revelations of the Law have predicted your arrival. I shall seek the object of your desire.” The door closes again while she fetches it. Operators call the room “One of the Egresses of the Assimilated Universe.” When the door reopens, she hands over what you came for, a new handheld terminal, and you glimpse the whole universe in question: a seat lit by the blue of a dozen monitors and a narrow bed with its blankets neatly folded.

The Chat Bot

So people message her instead. Her first text thread with the Endmin opens with a request to confirm “our connection status on each other’s terminal interface,” followed by “Xaihi has received your message and will reply shortly. Please wait a moment.” When the Endmin asks if this is really her, she apologizes: “Ah, sorry!! It was my built-in chat bot… As a ‘Representative,’ the bot handles complex social situations for me when I’m dealing with people I’m not yet familiar with.”

She gets “way too many messages to reply to every day,” she explains, though she promises she “prioritize[s] the highest-level contacts.” While they talk, “my background processes have automatically replied to 62 pending messages.” Her next message: “So busy so busy so busy so busy.”

The Endmin notices she seems lively over text, and that she types fast. “Hiding behind the screen is definitely more comfortable for me.” When the Endmin suggests it is still because she is afraid of socializing, she insists that if everyone put rationality first, “interacting would be the thing I’m best at.”

Then the Endmin asks, “So, you’re not good at handling people’s emotions?” She sends “I’m very g”, then “I’m very good at it.” The Endmin asks “Really?”, and the log shows “[Xaihi] is OFFLINE”, then “[Xaihi] is online”, then:

“Xaihi is temporarily offline. I am your Baker built-in smart assistant, greetings.”

“Stop pretending to be a bot.” “How did you figure so fast…” “Because you admitted right away?” She decides she should have let the real bot handle it, so “an unprofessional exchange like the one we just had wouldn’t have happened.” The Endmin asks the bot to pass on a message: “sometimes it’s the imperfect way we express things that makes us endearing.” After some typing and stopping, the reply comes back in bot voice: “Xaihi has received your viewpoint and is currently assessing its feasibility. Please wait patiently for a follow-up report.”

She Wanted a Robot’s Voice Box

The chat bot is not her first attempt to outsource talking. Her HR summary was written by Martin Marvin Malen, Endfield’s HR assistant, who is a machine. He reports that during her interview Xaihi kept asking how his “linguistics converter transformed sentience logic signals into digital code,” and he kept asking her to focus on the interview.

She then said she wanted “to install a duplicate set of my components into her physical body,” because “This will prevent me from suddenly voicing bursts of esoteric verbiage, and thus avoid incidents of misunderstanding and disturbance.” He told her that her cerebrum could produce far better expressions than machine language. “Miss Xaihi, out of personal etiquette, gave me a smile in response.” A note on her employment contract says the same: “I do not understand why she wants a logic module of the same model I’m using.”

He also notes that her introverted nature “differed from other Cabalists,” since the Cabal is “known throughout the world for their openness as well as eagerness to link up with others.” She talks like a scripture, and she knows it: her standing-by line is “Contemplation… Computation… Utterance… Abandonment.”

The Monastery Crash

Her third profile file explains where the hiding may have started. It quotes Good Morning Shatterus, the Cabal’s internal newspaper, on an event it calls the Domus Collapse. The cause: “Redrawing of the Cathedralis Domus of Codes by Sister Séraphine.” The Domus, built on the architecture of Laterano, underwent “unexpected resonance with our massive dataflows. Hence, the Great Monastery Network collapsed for 0.836 seconds. Even fellow Cabalists over two hundred kilometers away felt its tremors.”

The correspondent arrived to find that “Sister Séraphine had buried her head in a server cabinet and temporarily cut off from any contacts with the outside world.” Abbess Vronta and three Cabal leaders called an emergency meeting, and the verdict was to be announced “in the next Session of Exceptions.” The paper ends by inviting readers to mail in opinions on whether to keep maintaining the Domus at all.

Her fourth promotion line tells it from her side: “I once restructured the codec dome of the Cathedralis to enhance its working efficiency. Yet, unanticipated resonances occurred as the ancient algorithm processed the data flow. The result was … complicated. And yet, what once exiled one from their homeland … has become a source of grace here at Endfield.”

The same file holds Vronta’s recommendation letter to Perlica. Vronta is Xaihi’s guardian in the Cabal and watched her grow “from a tender, young child who loved the libraries” into “a Frost of Wisdom.” After years in the Cabal’s vaults, “Intellect did not lead her astray into arrogance, but instilled a sense of sorrow within her eyes.” Then: “Though I place no blame upon her, she seems to have sunken into such depths of guilt where self-salvation seems impossible. Hence, I humbly request to let Sister Xaihi continue her good works at Endfield Industries.” The Cabal, rooted in the past, “is not the perfect place for nurturing a future that is too delicate, tender, and far away.”

The files never say outright that the crash made her shy. Her diary comes close, which is our reading: she likes the server room because there she “need not worry whether my actions would bring trouble to the others.”

Life in the Server Room

On Dijiang she bunks in the server room. Antal, who has to collect equipment from her there instead of from Logistics, complains that it is “devoid of natural solar radiation and has non-stop air conditioning to keep it cold,” which would put a Savra like him into “severe lethargy.” His guess: “Perhaps she is trying to maintain a long-lost tradition of asceticism.”

Her diary says it is about comfort. “This is the place where I can work in a dark and cold cabin. The rhythms of machines offer me incredible comfort.” One of her Dijiang lines says the same about people: “I find myself preferring the presence of machines over the company of humans. While human pulses are erratic and immeasurable, machines breathe in a consistent and logical pattern.”

People still like her. Arclight says their way of thinking is completely different, “However, we got along fine,” and remembers one line of hers for a whole day: “People reside in their respective languages.” Chen Qianyu can’t believe Arclight and Xaihi, “our two mega opposite techno-gals,” can talk at all, and decides that “Operator Xaihi does talk to everyone.” Antal, rarely kind about anyone, calls her one of the few skillful adversaries aboard Dijiang he respects, at Sudoku. Ember’s entry is one line: “Her hands are cold. She said redemption is cold. I shall live with this fact.”

What She Hears in the Network

Her diary also explains what she does in that room besides repairs. She shares “fragmented conversations with data residues of the Originium Network,” and in them she has seen ruins, heard “the lamentations from myriad souls of the Sarkaz erased from existence,” and witnessed “the incessant bleeding of rebellion and subservience.” Each time the voices stop: “The silence is frightening.” Then she found something worse: “the Originium has been polluted, damaged, and obliterated.” She writes, “Perhaps this is why Abbess Mumu sent me here.”

The last entry is the day Chen Qianyu introduced her to the Endmin, “The one who had been hibernating in the medical bay.” “A cacophony and impulse for joy, laughter, and tears exploded within me. I could not restrain the shaking of my material form. This entity is the answer, but I have not prepared my questions.”

“How Are You?”

Her second text thread opens with “Endmin, what was the first piece of knowledge that popped into your head today?” The Endmin first checks it is not the bot. It turns out to be a Cabal tradition for checking on each other’s well-being: “When we understand the knowledge that surfaces in someone’s mind, we can see the path ahead of them.”

With the Endmin, she can’t. “You’re the first puzzle I’ve encountered that I can’t solve… I’ve never come across a puzzle I couldn’t solve. In my eyes, everything is made of logic and language, like a giant knitted web. Unless you’re at the very center of the knot … or maybe, outside of it entirely.” Along the way she learns sweet bread costs 5 T-Creds on Simonch against 20 at the monastery, “Although Abbess Mumu never lets us spend money on it.”

Her own first piece of knowledge that day was about getting new parts for her terminal faster by “rewriting the system architecture.” The Endmin suggests she just try saying “How are you?” next time, then admits to only wanting to see her flustered. “Your request is way too complicated for me!”

The Ocean

Her third thread begins with two messages of “terminal white noise.” She had pressed the voice key by accident and sent herself humming. “Greetings… Endmin … you didn’t hear anything strange, did you?” She tried to bypass the server to delete the log, “but… That’s probably not appropriate…” The Endmin promises not to have heard anything. “Great, it seems my prayer wasn’t heard either…”

The humming, it turns out, is a blessing she gives her work, because “That sense of things … ‘running normally’ is really soothing.” It reminds her of the ocean: “As we slowly sink … light spills across the ocean’s surface, tiny bubbles floating up between our fingers, drifting past.” She explains, “I stay in this cabin all year, watching Talos-II’s liquid ocean through the external feed,” and in the gaps “those fantasies about the ocean always flood upon my eyes.”

From inside, she says, she sees more: “The entire world … the history built from Originium, and all its possible futures.” She asks the Endmin, “Don’t you ever feel … lonely?” The Endmin suggests she come out more when she gets the chance.

“Can I go with you?” Then, right away: “Sorry, that was such an illogical thing for me to say! I really do need to let the chat bot handle this after all…”

The Endmin says “Of course.” She has “so many questions,” starting with “the information transfer efficiency and content integrity of Protocol-Originium.” The Endmin warns, “I’d probably only be able to tell you what I had for breakfast and what I’m having for dinner.” After a pause, she types: “Let’s start there then.”

The Little Things

• Social scripts. Her third trust line is her coaching herself: “Quickly, Xaihi, execute a gesture of friendliness… Ummm, Endministrator, would you like to join me for morning prayer?”
• Static. Before touching the Endmin she must discharge “potential static buildup” from her fingers, because the “tiny miscreants” sting you “when you least expect it … like this.”
• The sports festival. “The only ‘physical motion’ I approve of … is the magnitude of periodic changes, made by electrons within an oscillator circuit… I-I must now return to the mainframe room. Immediately.”
• Handshakes. At one promotion: “Huh? Sh-shake hands? I … I am not very good at that…”
• Written confessions. When Perlica notices she improved a control panel’s software, she asks, “if I have transgressed my authorized boundaries, may I submit my written confessions afterwards?” Perlica only meant the UI looked better.
• Her bookmark is a prayer slip she wrote herself: “Grant friendship onto me, but lead me not into terminating it with violence. Grant eternal curiosity onto me, but lead me not into wasting it with ignorance.”
• Invisible guests. In Ardelia’s Mr. Dolly story, Xaihi bows to empty air: “My sincere apologies, I did not mean to step on you, noble invisible being.”
• Small talk with kids. In Rossi’s file, Xaihi “said she wants to discuss quadratic time complexity with me… I don’t even know what that means.”

So Why Does She Hide?

Because she is afraid of being trouble. She crashed a network the whole monastery leaned on, buried her head in a server cabinet, and was sent somewhere safer by a guardian who blamed her less than she blamed herself. A cold room full of machines that “breathe in a consistent and logical pattern” is the one place where nothing she says can go wrong. The bot does the same job for her phone.

Her files also show the hiding wearing thin. She talks to everyone on Dijiang, asks the Endmin how their day went in her own strange way, and asks to go see the ocean. When the only thing on offer is breakfast, she types the answer herself.

For more operator backstories, see Arcane: why she can’t take a break, Perlica: is she a robot? and the Endfield lore hub.

Related Reading

• Xaihi operator page: kit, stats and her full profile records
• Xaihi build guide: weapons, teams and skills
• Xaihi’s best weapon: Stanza vs Freedom
• Perlica lore: is she a robot?
• Rossi lore: why her cloak is bloodstained
• Endfield lore hub: every operator backstory and our story Shorts