Present Time
In a dimly lit, rundown room on the underground floor of a quiet inn, Marcus sat on a worn-out sofa, his legs crossed casually. He glanced toward the woman standing near the cracked wall.
"So, Eve," he said, voice low and calm, "don't you think it'd be better if you waited at the inn? This place… it's not exactly safe for women, you know."
Evelyne's eyes narrowed. "Marcus, you can't think like that. We women can go wherever we want."
"It's not about that," Marcus replied, his tone firm. "It's just… if a fight breaks out, you'll only hold me back."
That blunt answer made Evelyne's jaw tighten. A flicker of frustration crossed her face, but she held her composure. "Don't worry," she said, "I won't get in your way."
Marcus looked at her for a long moment, perhaps about to say something more—
—but the door creaked open before he could.
An old man with a sly smile shuffled into the room, brushing dust off his cloak.
"Sorry, sorry," he said, "I was a little busy."
