Desperate and locked out of the studio wing, Hina called her studio professor, explaining her frantic situation in a tight, panicked voice. Her professor was famously strict, sternly warning her over the phone that unverified late submissions would result in an automatic fail for the entire term. "Find your ID and get that assignment to my desk before noon, Hina," the professor stated firmly before hanging up.
Panicked and clutching her delicate ceramic project tightly against her ribs, Hina rushed back toward the subway station, intending to report her lost badge to the station manager. Just as she approached the bustling transit office, her phone vibrated in her hand, displaying an unknown local number. She answered frantically, holding her breath against the roaring background noise of the morning trains.
"Hello? Is this Hina?" a hoarse, familiar voice called out over the phone. It was the old man. He explained that after getting off at his station, he discovered that her student ID had somehow slipped into the folds of his coat, and he had asked the station staff to help him find her contact information.