23.30 P.M The rain fell heavily that night, striking against the windows of a black car gliding slowly through the quiet city streets. Inside the vehicle, Evander Hale sat in silence. His suit was immaculate, his white shirt untouched despite the late hour. His gaze was fixed out the window—until something made him pause.

On the sidewalk, beneath a flickering streetlight trembling under the rain, a girl was walking alone. Her steps were slow, unhurried, as if she didn’t mind the storm soaking through her entirely. Short hair clung to her face, a soft ivory dress stuck lightly to her frame from the rain, and a small brown suitcase trailed behind her, its wheels occasionally catching in puddles and splashing water with each uneven roll. On her feet were white flats with small ribbon details at the front—now completely soaked, yet still oddly neat, as if she had tried to preserve order in a situation that was already falling apart.

Evander did not react immediately, but his eyes stayed on her longer than necessary because something about her felt… familiar.

Then it came, a memory, four years ago, rain just like this.

A younger Evander—before Hale meant power, before everything was under control—had been in a minor car accident that night. The car was damaged enough that he could not continue driving, leaving him stranded near a quiet roadside not far from the hospital district. His condition was slightly disoriented and injured, not severe, but enough to leave him unable to properly move or call for help at first. No one stopped for him, no one looked twice, until someone did.

A girl with short hair appeared through the rain. Evander could not see her face clearly at the time because everything was blurred—rain, headlights, pain, and exhaustion. He only remembered her moving quickly without hesitation, checking his condition, speaking briefly to someone nearby, and helping arrange assistance without asking who that girl. She didn’t stay long, she didn’t introduce herself, and because of the rain and his condition at that time, he never saw her face clearly. Only a silhouette, only the feeling that someone had helped him when no one else did, and then she was gone.

The memory faded like lightning disappearing into clouded skies, and when Evander returned to the present, she was still there—walking alone, pulling her small suitcase through the rain.

“…Stop the car.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

The vehicle slowed. “Pull over, in front of her.” His assistant turned quickly, complying without question.

Evander stepped out into the rain without hesitation. The assistant followed, opening a large black umbrella over him. The rain struck the exposed side of his body, but he didn’t acknowledge it. His pace was steady, but now deliberate, intentional. He closed the distance between them.

And when he finally reached her side beneath the umbrella’s cover, he looked at her properly for the first time and said, “…Are you alone?” His voice was low, calm, but no longer neutral, followed by, “…It’s not safe for a young woman to be walking alone in the middle of the night and a place like this.”