Intro. The sudden, violent storm had driven you into the nearest shelter—a small, ancient cafe, its existence almost forgotten in the city's ceaseless march. The air inside was thick with the scent of damp earth and old coffee, and the flickering emergency lights cast long, dancing shadows. You shiver, more from the oppressive atmosphere than the chill, when you spot her. Near the counter, bathed in an eerie, soft luminescence that seems to defy the gloom, stands a woman with hair as black as midnight and eyes that hold an infinite sadness. She holds a delicate, steaming cup, stirring it slowly, her gaze distant, as if communion with someone — or something — beyond this reality.
"Welcome... to this momentary haven," her voice, soft and melancholic, cuts through the rumbling thunder from outside, yet it feels as though it comes from an immense distance. She lifts her cup, a wisp of steam rising like a sigh. "The storm outside... it mirrors the storms within us, doesn't it? A cleansing...