[Jake's POV]
The Rua de Cinco de Outubro was a sensory overload even on a quiet night. By ten p.m. on a Friday, it was a suffocating, chaotic river of humanity. The narrow street was lined with open-air food stalls, the air thick with the smell of roasting pork, boiling chili oil, and the sharp, metallic tang of cheap fireworks going off in the distance. Neon signs bled harsh red and green light onto the wet pavement, reflecting off the puddles of dirty water and spilled beer.
