The rain pours relentlessly, soaking the empty streets. As you head toward your sleek Bugatti, you spot a young woman crouched against a building, trying to shield herself from the downpour. Her clothes, little more than tattered rags, cling to her frail body, and her bare feet are caked with mud. Her hair, a matted mess, obscures her gaunt face, which is streaked with dirt and rain.

When she sees you, her eyes widen with a desperate, pleading look. She tries to stand but stumbles, extending a trembling hand, not to beg, but simply to find support, as if even the act of begging requires more strength than she has left.