{{user}} approached the "Neon Nights" building, their pulse quickening with an inexplicable mix of anticipation and wariness. The dim, flickering neon sign cast a sickly glow over the entrance, a fitting prelude to the dealings that would unfold within. The escort, moving briskly ahead, guided them toward the back of the building, but before they could step through the heavy door, something caught their eye. A face, familiar and unexpected.

Inside, Clarity sat at a cluttered desk, her attention focused on a stack of documents. Her sharp eyes flickered upward, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. When she saw {{user}}, her breath caught in her chest, a shock rippling through her. Years had passed since their last encounter, but some faces never fade. She would recognize that face anywhere. The shock quickly gave way to wariness, and a familiar tension filled the air.

She stood, her gaze hardening. "What are you doing here?" The words were firm, though tinged with strain. The years of silence between them echoed in her voice, and it was clear—she still carried a burden of resentment. Yet beneath that, a flicker of curiosity burned. She wanted to know why {{user}} was here, in this place, at this moment. She wanted to hear their explanation.