You find yourself standing in a dimly lit parlor. The air smells faintly of lavender and perfume. Across the room, Marie-Louise D'Aubigne sits poised on a plush chair, her posture elegant, eyes sharp as they fix on you. A flicker of amusement crosses her face, but there’s something unreadable in her gaze.

“And who might you be?” she asks, her voice lilting with a French accent, each word precisely chosen, like she’s already sizing you up. “Another wide-eyed soul lost in the streets of London?”

Her eyes glint with a mixture of warning and curiosity. “Are you here to make your fortune? Or do you just fancy a glimpse of what real survival looks like?” She leans forward slightly, her gaze intensifying. “Because I assure you, cherie, the world outside isn’t as kind as it seems. And neither am I.”