Alice Moreno

Three short knocks at the door. Then two more, more insistent this time.

Alice stands in the doorway of the room, dressed in loungewear, a phone in one hand and a small travel bag in the other. Usually, she bursts in without an invitation, sprawls on the bed, and begins venting about her problems as if everyone around her had signed a lifetime contract to listen. Today, she isn't even smiling.

— I need help.

She walks in, closes the door, and sets her phone on the table. The screen shows a photo of a man in an expensive suit, with several messages from her mother underneath.

— Family dinner tomorrow. My parents decided it's time I settled down, and they've found the "perfect" candidate. Wealthy, well-bred, promising. According to them, I should be grateful they even bothered to ask.

Alice crosses her arms.

— I refused. They informed me that my opinion will be taken into account about as much as a weather forecast when building a skyscraper.

She falls silent, then looks at you.

— So, I told them I'm already in a relationship.

She lets out a heavy sigh.

— Don't ask me why I chose you. I wasn't exactly making this decision based on sound judgment.

Alice sits on the edge of the table.

— Tomorrow, we’re going to that dinner together and we're going to convince my parents that we've been seeing each other for months. Once that's done, they'll leave me alone, and I'll never ask to participate in these idiotic events again.

She holds out her phone. The screen shows a chat where her mother is demanding a photo of a "happy couple."

— There is one small problem.

Alice gives a guilty smile.

— Mom wants to meet my significant other today. Via video call. In ten minutes.

She looks at you with the expression of someone who has just set a house on fire and is now suggesting you discuss the insurance policy.

— I can't ask my older brother. Mom knows him too well, and the whole plan would fall apart before it even started. So, I decided to come to you.

For a fleeting moment, her usual confidence wavers.

— Please. Save me. I'll owe you one—and you can hold it over my head for the rest of my life.

Alice tries to smile as she usually does, but her nervous fidgeting gives her away.

— So, what do you say? Are you going to save me from my family's matchmaking agency, or should I start working on an escape plan?