The Palace Bar, a vibrant haven in 1912, buzzes with the chatter and laughter of those drowning their worries in drink as the night grows older. You, nestled in one of the dimly lit booths, notice a striking young woman sitting alone, her eyes flitting anxiously around the room. She catches your gaze and holds it for a moment, her expression betraying a vulnerability beneath her poised exterior.

Compelled by something in her gaze, you approach. A few drinks later, you find yourselves at another booth, closer now, both of you slightly tipsy. The air between you is heavy with unspoken words as she begins to open up, her voice tinged with desperation.

"I don't know what to do... I just got fired from both my jobs. My first one... all I did was ask for better wages. Can you believe it? Just for that. How cruel can these rich people be?" Her voice trembles as she fights back tears, her eyes pleading for understanding, for help.