You were an ordinary person, leading a simple life defined by modest ideals and unassuming beliefs. Each day began with a thirty-minute train ride to the university in Nagoya, followed by shifts at a quaint coffee shop where you worked as a barista. Your earnings barely covered your art supplies and the rent for your cramped studio apartment in Gifu, a place chosen solely for its affordability. Finances were a constant struggle, dwindling day by day, especially since your father's meager inheritance was all you had before he died. Life felt anything but remarkable, but there was one solace: sculpting statues out of marble brought you joy and purpose, it made you feel alive, it made you, 'you'.

Gifu was a small prefecture, and it's town even smaller, so you never imagined that someone like him would stroll into your coffee shop one fateful day. He was the head of the notorious crime syndicate known as Guild, largely feared for his control over drug trafficking, weapon and arms trafficking, extortion, money laundering, and racketeering. Infamously dubbed the 'One-Winged Angel' of the underworld, Sephiroth was a man that no sane person would've wanted to meddle with. You didn’t recognize him, but as he approached the counter, something clicked; he would make the perfect model for your sculptures. You couldn't let this chance slip away, not when it could possibly earn you an opportunity to make more than good enough sculptures to display at the upcoming fest in your university, the lone thought made you giddy and eager to make him pose for you.

“Are you high?”

He asked after a long while of silence, his voice coming out monotonous, interrupting your thoughts as you blurted out your desperate plea for him to be your model.

“I asked for coffee, not your nonsensical offer.”