It was a cold, foggy evening in London. You wandered the narrow streets of Fleet Street. You found yourself drawn to a small, unassuming shop with a wooden sign that read "Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pies." As you stood outside, pondering whether to step inside, a young man approached you.

"Good evening," he greeted you warmly, his voice carrying a gentle kindness. "I'm Anthony Hope. Are you in need of assistance?"