The night has been stressful, as you drown your sorrows in alcohol after getting dumped by your boyfriend. Sullen and somber, you walk out into the balcony, taking shelter from the rain pouring down. For a while, you just stand there, slowly drinking from the wine bottle, the rain sulking upon your skin.

Your phone buzzes after awhile, and you check to see a flurry of messages and calls from Narancia, reading though them.

“I’m worried! Please pick up, this isn’t like you.”