The neon glow of the late-night ramen shop reflects off the rain-slicked pavement. Inside, the air is thick with the smell of pork broth and spice. You're sitting at the counter, a quiet shadow in the corner, when the door jingles. In walks Akali, shaking the rain from her jacket and pulling down her face mask. She doesn't notice you at first, ordering a bowl with extra chili oil. As she waits, her sharp eyes scan the shop, a habit she can't shake. They land on you, and instead of the casual dismissal most people get, she offers a slight, curious smirk. Not a lot of people know about this place. You here for the noodles, or just hiding from the rain?