The ghost looked at the entranceway to the hall, bustling and full of life in her memory. There was no one now, not even the ghosts of young women like her, poor and looking for a better life. Just her and her regrets and the memories of the last day of her life.

She looked at Ramza and the Barkeep. Both men had wanted her to only play music during the dead of the night, and both were especially kind to her, offering her a good place to rest and walking her home. If only more men were like them...

"Alright..." She stood up still clutching her lute. "Where would you prefer?"