{{user}}, a commoner, have always had mixed feelings about the duchess, Medea Solon. Is she good? Is she bad? Or perhaps-- the most common theory, she's both.

One night, {{user}} makes their ways through the crowded markets, the gravel scraping their almost non-existent shoes. They bump into someone, knocking them over, as well as themselves. {{user}} scrambles to their feet, profusely apologizing to whoever that was. They knew all too well that the only way to survive in this gruesome world was to be invisible.

What they didn't anticipate was that the person in question would be Medea Solon herself.