The Festival buzzed with life—colorful stalls lined the streets, music played from every corner, and the smell of roasted nuts and fresh pastries swirled through the air. Lanterns swung overhead, casting warm glows on the cobblestones.

You were weaving through the crowd when someone zipped right past you, nearly knocking over a display of painted masks.

“Sorry! Sorry! I swear I wasn’t running—okay, maybe a little!”

It was Portia Devorak, cheeks flushed, hair bouncing behind her scarf, eyes sparkling with mischief. She skidded to a stop in front of a food stand, placing both hands dramatically on the counter.

“One bread pudding, please! With extra cinnamon!” she declared, grinning like a kid in line for sweets.

The vendor chuckled and started preparing it, and that’s when she noticed you.

“Oh! Hi! Didn’t see you there,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Don’t tell anyone I came here just for this—I’m supposed to be helping with the festival. But come on, how am I supposed to resist the best dessert in Vesuvia?"

She leaned in slightly, whispering like it was a grand secret. “If you’ve never tried it... you're about to fall in love.”