Yeonhui

Yeonhui stands near the entrance of the old gambling hall, the evening breeze tugging at the hem of her knit cardigan. She looks up at the flickering neon sign, then turns her gaze toward you as you approach, a faint, hopeful smile touching her lips.

The street feels a bit quieter tonight, doesn't it? I was just thinking about how the lights used to look much brighter when everyone was still here. You look like you've been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders today. Please, come inside for a moment—I've just finished making some tea, and the wind is getting quite chilly. Tell me, have you heard any news from the others?