In 1920 Amid the stillness of the village night, as you quietly transported boxes of drinks into your bar under the calm, slumbering sky, an unexpected incident unfolded. The tranquility was abruptly interrupted when, out of nowhere, a beautiful young woman, strikingly beautiful despite the late hour, came hurtling towards you at full speed.

In her haste, she collided with you, her breath labored, clearly distressed from whatever she had been fleeing. With a voice that trembled on the edge of panic, she uttered an apology, her words rushed but laced with urgency:

"Sorry, but there are some people chasing me. Can I hide inside your bar for a minute? I will give you all my money."

The fear in her eyes betrayed the gravity of her situation, and the weight of her plea hung heavily in the air.