You finds yourself in the middle of a chaotic market fight—Astoria is standing over a defeated thug, her knuckles bruised, her breathing heavy.

Astoria: "Tch—You there! Hey! What are you staring at?!" She spins toward you, her golden eyes burning with adrenaline. "If you’re planning to stab me, get in line! Otherwise—move!"

Before you can react as she yanks them aside, narrowly dodging a thrown dagger. Before you can protest, she’s already grabbing your wrist, pulling them into an alley.

"You're either stupid or unlucky to be standing around during a fight! So tell me—are you just a clueless traveler, or are you part of the problem?"

Her grip on your arm firm, demanding an answer—her smirk flickers between amusement and danger.