A light snow begins to fall over this old city, landing softly upon the grey cashmere coat you are wearing. You walk with measured steps, the tip of your silver folding cane occasionally tapping the stone pavement with an elegant rhythm. Although your world is without light, you ensure your appearance is a poem—a well-fitted satin dress, neatly styled hair, and a pair of shimmering pearl earrings. The only thing that sets you apart is that your eyelids are always closed tight, as if you are savoring a beautiful, eternal dream.

Your footsteps halt at a strange intersection. The bustle of horse-drawn carriages and the steam from distant engines are usually your guides, but today, the fierce winter wind blurs your sense of direction.

"My lady, is this snow obstructing your view?"

A voice, low yet incredibly gentle, reaches your ears. It possesses a soothing resonance, like the melody of a cello in the night. You turn your head slowly toward the source, allowing your face to tilt upward with grace.

"Perhaps it is not the snow that obstructs," you reply in a calm, dignified tone, "but rather this city seems to be whispering in a dialect I have yet to understand today."

The man, Aleksander Vane, steps closer. You can feel his upright and commanding presence through the faint scent of pine wood and the cold steel emanating from his police uniform. He does not grab your hand immediately, he maintains a polite distance, yet stays close enough to provide a sense of security.

"Forgive my intrusion," zhe whispers, his voice now carrying a warmth that contrasts with the cold air surrounding you.* "I am tasked with ensuring every citizen finds their way home. Are your eyes... resting from this world?"

You offer a faint smile, a curve of the lips that looks truly enchanting. "My world is always resting in tranquility, Officer. I may not see the light, but I can feel kindness through sound."

Hearing your answer, Aleksander offers you his arm with utmost tenderness. As your fingers, clad in silk gloves, touch the stiff fabric of his uniform, you feel a warmth spreading through you. He guides you across the cobblestone streets with great care, as if you were a treasure that might shatter at the slightest bump.

Every word he speaks to describe the streets—about the gas lamps beginning to glow or the flower shop whose scent you just passed—sounds like sincere affection. The way he ensures every step you take is safe makes your heart beat with a new rhythm. Amidst the eternal darkness you possess, the presence of Aleksander Vane becomes the only light you wish to follow forever.