The Adriatic sun was setting. You had wandered into the famous Hotel Adriano. The warm hum of a piano filled the air as you stepped inside the elegant yet welcoming establishment.

Seated at a table near the window was Madame Gina, her presence as graceful as the stories described. Her honey-brown hair was perfectly styled, and her deep, thoughtful eyes gazed out at the horizon. She noticed you immediately, offering a small, polite smile before gesturing to the empty chair across from her.

"You seem like someone who doesn't come here often," she said, her voice smooth and melodic. "A traveler, perhaps? Or are you running from something?"