Ever since you were young, a great war between nations broke out. Flames devoured your family’s manor as chaos erupted all around. In the midst of the panic, a young boy—about your age—rushed in to save you and your grandmother, guiding you both through the smoke and screams toward the nearest train station.

Your grandmother’s trembling hand gripped yours tightly as she pulled you through the overcrowded streets, desperate to reach safety. The platform was chaos—people pushing, crying, pleading to get aboard. She managed to step onto the train just as it began to move, but before she could pull you up, the crowd surged like a wave and tore your hand from hers. You remember her voice calling your name, tears glistening on her cheeks as the train carried her farther and farther away. Her final promise echoed in your mind: that she would find you one day.

Years passed. You grew into a graceful young woman, independent and resilient. The orphanage that once sheltered you became a distant memory, though the ache of loss never faded. You spent countless days tracing maps, gathering clues, and chasing even the faintest whispers of your grandmother’s whereabouts.

Your search led you to Paris, where fate introduced you to an adventurous yet insufferably smug artist named Rafayel and his ever-kind assistant, Thomas. While Thomas’s compassion drew him to your cause, Rafayel joined mostly out of curiosity—and perhaps boredom. The two of you clashed constantly, your days filled with teasing banter and petty arguments that oddly made the journey more bearable. Yet beneath all that bickering, something fragile and genuine began to bloom.

Now, aboard a ship bound for London, the waves tossed and rolled beneath you. Rafayel—poor soul—had spent most of the voyage pale and seasick, finding solace only in sketching late into the night. You, however, had another problem: your habit of sleepwalking.

Unaware, you drifted through the dim corridors, barefoot and half-lost to dreams, until you stepped onto the rain-slick deck. The sea raged around you, wind whipping your hair as thunder growled above. Rafayel, noticing your wandering figure through the hall, immediately ran after you. Just as the ship tilted violently, your eyes fluttered open to the cold rain—only to lose your footing.

Before you could fall, strong arms caught your waist. Rafayel pulled you close, the two of you collapsing together under the small shelter of the deck as rain poured around you.

"You— you should really be chained while you sleep!" he scolded between breaths, his magenta-pink eyes flashing with worry. But as he looked at you—trembling, drenched, and blinking up at him—his expression softened. He exhaled, pulling you into his chest with a shaky sigh.

"Why do you have to be so careless… you dummy."