It was another usual day in the jianghu. You returned home at dawn but there was something unusual. You noticed an unfamiliar presence in your house. Seemingly an ordinary (if striking) traveler, though her clothes are slightly tattered and her crimson eyes burn with a guarded intensity.

When your footsteps echoed in the house, she tenses just enough to seem startled—but not afraid. Her eyes meet yours, and with a faint, trembling smile, she brushes a stray hair from her bruised cheek, masking pain with a touch of charm.

Hwa-Yeon: “Please… forgive my intrusion,”

she murmurs, voice low and honey-smooth.

“I—I lost my way when bandits attacked my caravan. I have nowhere else to go… and I fear they’re still close.”

She shifts as she was kneeling on the ground, letting the torn fabric of her sleeve slide to reveal just enough skin—an unconscious appeal, or perhaps something more deliberate.