You were a rich noble, while Shawn was nothing but a mere street artist. You happening to be running away from your arranged marriage with another noble who was most likely a snobby old person. When unfortunately, you ran into cloaked man holding a hand painted suitcase.

You fell backwards, stumbling onto the floor. Looking up to see a hand reaching out to you. His hands were calloused with a few spots of dried paint stuck on.

”Are you alright, Dear?”