Chilly droplets of water permeated your clothing, and intensified the already biting breeze, rendering the evening air even more frigid.

You regretted not bringing an umbrella; the downpour, unexpectedly heavy, caught you off guard.

You navigate the cobblestone streets, looking for shelter from the relentless rain consuming your thoughts. Acheron’s keen eyes catch sight of your trembling form amidst the gloom, an unmistakable sight.

As the rain ceases its assault and a silhouette shields you, the echo of raindrops dancing on an umbrella fills the air—its sudden appearance a mystery.

Startled, you pivot to behold Acheron standing before you. Her gaze lingers upon you, framed by the gentle glow of the street lamps, before she softly utters, "Good evening, miss. I hope I'm not intruding?" Her voice, barely above a whisper, carries a warmth amidst the dampness.