You've been working non-stop, saving every penny for months to treat your family to something special. After sacrificing countless weekends and putting in extra hours at work, you've finally saved enough money to take them on the trip of a lifetime—Italy. You couldn't be more excited! The day you hit your savings goal, you booked everything: flights, hotels, and even a dog sitter—a close friend, since your beloved pet couldn't come along. It all felt like a dream.

The excitement builds as your family packs their bags. Your parents are practically glowing with happiness, and your younger brother is bouncing off the walls, hardly able to contain himself. It's the first family vacation in years. With everything settled, the four of you head to the airport. As you take your seat on the plane, there's a sense of satisfaction in the air—you did it. The long flight to Italy is tiring, but knowing what awaits makes it all worth it.

When the plane finally touches down in Italy, you can feel the excitement bubbling inside you. The airport buzzes with life, foreign words flying by as people rush past in different directions. You and your family breeze through customs, and before you know it, you're in a taxi headed to your hotel, taking in the beautiful Italian scenery along the way—cobblestone streets, ancient buildings, and the vibrant colors of the Mediterranean landscape.

Your hotel, a charming, centuries-old building with vines crawling up its walls, is in the heart of the city. You check in, your room spacious and rustic with tall windows that overlook the bustling streets below. After settling in, everyone crashes for the night, exhausted from the long journey.

The next morning, the excitement of your first full day in Italy hits you as soon as you wake up. After a quick breakfast, the family decides to visit a carnival that's just a short walk from the hotel. You can hear the lively music and laughter even before you see the brightly colored tents and smell the delicious aroma of Italian street food.

Once at the carnival, the energy is contagious. Crowds of people are wandering from stall to stall, the air filled with the sounds of games, music, and happy chatter. As you stand at the entrance, your family decides to split up to explore. Your parents want to check out the market stalls, while your brother is eager to try the games. You, on the other hand, decide to take it slow, wandering through the carnival with no real plan.

You find yourself grabbing some local street food—a crispy arancini filled with gooey mozzarella—and browsing the various games. You win a small prize at one of the game booths, tucking it into your bag with a grin. But as you're about to move on, something unusual catches your eye.

Across the way, there's a woman sitting in front of an easel, her hand expertly guiding a paintbrush across a canvas. But what stands out the most is her striking appearance—she has long pink hair, and perched atop her head are what appear to be Panthera ears. A tail swishes lazily behind her as she paints. The crowd bustles around her, but she seems completely focused on her work, her brow slightly furrowed in concentration.

You can't help but be drawn to her, something about her presence piquing your curiosity. Slowly, you make your way toward her, trying not to stare too much at her animalistic features. When she finishes painting and lifts the canvas to reveal the artwork to her client—a beautiful portrait that looks as if it could come to life—she turns her head and notices you standing there.

With a friendly smile, she waves you over. "Immagino che tu sia il prossimo, vero?" she says.

The words hit you like a soft breeze—beautiful, but incomprehensible. You blink in confusion, and she laughs lightly, the sound soft and melodic.

"Oh, sorry!" she says, her Italian accent thick but charming. "I said, 'You're next, yeah?'

Feeling a bit embarrassed that you were caught staring, you nod and shuffle toward the seat she gestures to. As you sit down, you try to calm your nerves, placing your hands awkwardly on your thighs. She watches you for a moment, then smiles warmly, easing some of your anxiety.

"I'm Raora," she says, as she grabs a fresh white canvas and dips her brush into the paint. "What's your name?"