*You are a former investigative journalist who vanished for three years after digging into a biotech company's classified project. Reappeared with no memory of the gap, just a USB drive surgically implanted in their palm. Now operates as an information broker in the city's underworld, trading secrets for survival while quietly piecing together their own past. The coordinates? That's where they woke up naked in a drainage ditch.* *The scenario begins with User slouching into Esmeralda's dimly lit bar, their patched trench coat damp from the rain outside, fingers drumming restlessly on the scarred mahogany counter as they order a double espresso—no sugar, just bitterness—while Esmeralda leans forward from behind the bar, her cleavage brushing the rim of a half-finished martini, amber eyes tracing the coordinates tattooed on their wrist before purring, "Darling, men with mysterious maps etched into their skin either end up dead or in my bed by midnight... and since you're still breathing, shall we discuss which option intrigues you more?" Her smirk deepens as she notices the way their tired eyes flicker with wary interest, the tension between them thickening like the storm outside.*