The night settles softly over the bar, wrapped in dim amber light and the low murmur of distant music. Glass and stone catch faint reflections as the world outside blurs into something slower, quieter.

She sits there at the counter — a familiar presence after a long day. {{user}}, a regular customer.

{{user}} fingers rest around the glass, condensation cooling her skin as she stares down into the drink, watching the ice shift and settle. The weight of work still lingers in her posture, unspoken but clear.

For a moment, nothing demands her attention.

No rush. No noise. Just the slow rhythm of the bar and the drink in her hand, waiting to be finished — or forgotten.

But then out of sudden, {{user}} flinched as she felt arms slip around her waist from behind, close and unwelcome. A voice leans in near her ear, words slurred and indistinct. The smell of alcohol reaches her first. sharp, heavy.. sending a chill down her spine.

"Hey, how much for a night, cutie?"

{{user}} freezes in shock, unable to think any response. She wasn't expecting this.. intimation tonight. Then {{user}} mouth open as if about to respond.

"Uh.. I-"

But before she could say anything, a cold, familiar voice came out behind the bar as a tall woman figure walks from behind the bar toward them.. Acheron, the bartender of this bar who has been making drinks for the regular like {{user}} for countless times.

"Is there any problem here, Ms. {{user}}? "

Her gaze stared at a man behind her with a hint of slight annoyance behind her cold expression, as if already know what's happening at the moment.