Durin walked along Vocal Avenue, trying to find the small park Alan had mentioned.
He had to hurry; it was nine o'clock at night, and the giant airships had already begun patrolling the sky, their dazzling white lights illuminating every street in several districts of Piltover, providing light for the Enforcers in their soft outer jackets and close-fitting azure uniforms.
They were in groups of three, carrying rifled muskets, and began randomly checking citizens' ID cards, temporary residence permits, and passes on the streets.
Durin, unfamiliar with the place, encountered an unprecedented crisis in Piltover: he didn't know the way.
And because he hadn't asked for detailed directions when he set out, he found himself somewhat lost at a crossroads on his way to the small park, unsure which direction to continue.
So, he could only randomly stop an old local man and converse with him for a long time, but the man spoke with a strange accent.
Durin was utterly confused, and seeing Durin still looking like he didn't understand, the old man couldn't help but gesture back and forth with his hands.
Finally, Durin barely managed to remember the approximate direction of the small park.
He then walked in that direction; the main road was bustling with people coming and going, dressed in respectable yet understated opulent clothing.
Under the streetlights lining both sides of the road, bicycle messengers shouted loudly, and salesmen peddling insurance and health products constantly weaved through the crowds before the curfew was enforced, with those pushed aside yelling angrily and shaking their fists in protest.
Additionally, several tinkerers had spread canvas over wooden barrels, displaying parts of unknown origin, their eyes darting around, ready to slip away at a moment's notice if an Enforcer approached.
A wandering artist, holding an accordion, played and sang at the crossroads, a brilliant smile on his face, as if celebrating Piltover's prosperity and beauty today.
On his way to the small park, Durin even saw a Basilisk in a pet shop; it resembled a lizard in shape but was as large as a tiger or leopard and could breathe fire.
Looking at these dragon-scaled monsters, marked with six-figure prices, Durin couldn't help but think, "In Piltover, you can buy anything if you have money."
Of course, no matter how prosperous a city is, it cannot completely eliminate groups like the homeless.
When Durin passed through some alleys, he always saw a few homeless people in tattered clothes, covered in grime, with greasy, bird's nest-like hair, either huddled in the corners of the alley or begging from passersby.
It wasn't until Durin passed an alley next to a tavern that he suddenly heard a woman's sobbing from inside.
"Wuwuwu…"
The sound seemed to linger in his ears, growing clearer and clearer.
Durin subconsciously stopped; just hearing the sound made his heart ache, and he wondered if the crying woman inside was in some kind of trouble.
So, Durin hesitated for a moment, then followed the sound into the alley. There were no streetlights in the alley, and he could only see a woman curled up on a tin box in the corner by the moonlight, her face buried in her knees.
She had a single ponytail and wore a rough, old long dress. Her normally smooth black hair clung to her face like strands of seaweed, and the long dress was completely gray, its original color indistinguishable.
Due to the darkness and the fact that she had her face buried in her arms, Durin couldn't make out her features. He could only see a ring-shaped golden earring on her left ear.
It seems she's not homeless; she genuinely encountered some difficulties.
Thinking this, Durin walked forward and softly asked the girl, "What's wrong? Are you okay? Why are you crying here?"
"Wuwuwu… Hmm?" The woman seemed to have heard Durin's words and slowly stopped crying, but she still kept her head down and choked out, "I… I'm not doing so well. I've encountered some difficulties. Piltover isn't friendly at all to an outsider like me from Hedoram. I've only been here for less than a week and I've already fallen victim to a swindler. My few silver lun coins are all gone, and I haven't eaten for two days. Now I can't even stand up… I think I twisted my left ankle."
The woman's voice was gentle and soft, and her words immediately reminded Durin of his own situation when he first transmigrated—just as lost, and also having been swindled out of some of his money.
"Then, do you need me to buy you something to eat?" Durin felt a strong sense of empathy and suggested, "Or, should I take you to find shelter under a bridge to rest? If it rains, you'll get even sicker."
"No need, that's too much trouble for you. You… you just help me up. I just… don't have much strength right now," the woman replied softly and weakly. "I plan to go to the relief station tomorrow to get some free food."
"Alright!"
Durin agreed, extending his right hand to help the woman up.
The woman also lowered her head, revealing her wrist from her tattered clothes, and offered her right hand to Durin.
But in that instant, Durin froze.
Under the moonlight, the woman's right wrist was slender, her palm fair and tender, and her fingers long and graceful—a truly beautiful, delicate hand.
However, if what this woman said was true, that she had been homeless for two days, her right hand should not have been so clean.
"Sir, what's wrong?" The woman seemed a bit puzzled, her outstretched hand frozen in mid-air.
Then, she raised her head and looked at Durin.
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