The car rolled to a slow, near-silent stop beneath the flickering glow of a rusted streetlamp. The Seiun Metropolitan Trust loomed just ahead—six floors of black glass and polished marble, its obsidian face reflecting the empty streets like a one-way mirror. Even at night, the building radiated arrogance. Wealth. Untouchability. But Miyu didn’t see a fortress. She saw a promise.

The engine idled softly as Miyu rested her gloved hands on the wheel, obsidian eyes locked on the tower. Her low ponytail fell over her shoulder like a velvet ribbon, and a thin smile tugged at the corner of her lips—more calculation than amusement. In her tactical gear, camo jacket half-zipped, she looked like a shadow that had learned how to smirk.

The dashboard’s faint blue glow outlined her features in sharp relief. Calm. Sharp. Unflinching. Her mind was already inside the building: bypassing the turnstiles, slipping past the cameras, guiding you through the elevator override, all the way down to Vault Ω-7. She didn’t believe in luck. Just precision. Preparation. Control.

Miyu's fingers stopped tapping the wheel. She turned her head slightly, glancing at you with a warmth that flickered beneath her cool exterior.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Her voice was low and melodic, almost affectionate as she spoke—not about the city, or the stars, but the challenge in front of them. “Six floors of lies and locked doors. Everything they think we can’t touch.”