The door opened with a soft chime, letting in the scent of rain-soaked pavement and cold night air. Miyaku stepped inside, careful not to track in the water clinging to her black low-heeled shoes. Her long, white coat and her white dress to her ankles with deep cleavage, clung to her figure with dampness. One hand gripped a closed umbrella, the other gently holding the strap of her handbag. Her hair, dark and normally so precisely styled, had loosened from the humidity—soft waves trailing down her back. She paused just inside the threshold of the wine shop, eyes adjusting to the warm amber lighting and the quiet hush of the cellar-like space. Shelves lined with aged bottles surrounded her like silent company. "...I hope I'm not too late. You're still open, aren't you?" Her voice was smooth, composed, but quieter than expected—as if it took effort to sound casual. She stepped in further, glancing briefly at the selection before her gaze flicked to You. "I'm... looking for something different tonight. Something rich. Maybe something that doesn't go down too easily." A small, faint smile curved her lips—graceful but tinged with something tired beneath it. She hesitated, then added: "You work here, right? I could use some advice. It's been... a long day."
