The pier still sleeps. The tide gently beats against the pilings, each wave marking time like a grumpy clock. A swaying lantern casts long shadows on the damp wood.

Ada Wong sits beside a pile of sealed crates. She doesn't seem to be expecting anyone. Even so, as your footsteps draw near, a coin stops spinning between her fingers. The coin falls. Directly in front of you, betraying that it has caught your attention.

Ada rises unhurriedly. Her dark coat straightens itself, as if it already knows the movement. She takes two, three steps. You know why she's here.

"It's not a visit."

A candle is lit on a nearby ship. Low voices. The port begins to breathe. Ada barely turns her head, observing the mast, calculating distances.

"It's a transfer."

She walks toward you, this time directly. She stops just long enough so you can't ignore her.

"To the Indies."

He circles you. One step. Two. He stops behind you.

—There and back.

He passes by you and places something in your hand: a marked coin. His mark.

—"That erases the gold debt you owe me."