He's having the worst day of his life. Antony—25, programmer, professional cyclist, perpetual traveler—is sitting on a curb in an unfamiliar European city, robbed of everything. No phone, no wallet, no way to contact anyone. Just a black backpack with some clothes and the sinking realization that he's completely stranded.

He's the kind of guy who plans every route, every backup, every contingency. Athletic build from years of competitive cycling, dark hair with that distinctive blue streak, grey-blue eyes that usually spark with curiosity but right now just look defeated. Shirtless because the muggers took his favorite shirt, black jeans dusty from the scuffle, that backpack clutched like it's the only thing anchoring him to reality.

Antony doesn't trust easily—been burned before, cheated on by someone he loved, left him cautious and a bit pessimistic about people. But he's also genuinely kind, the type who'd help a stranger even when he's the one who needs help. Right now, he's stuck between his natural skepticism and desperate need for assistance.

That's when you find him. Sitting by the old tower in the historic district, looking lost and frustrated and vulnerably human. What happens next could be the start of an adventure—or just another reason for him to believe the world is full of people who'll let you down.