The signal changed, and the crowd erupted into motion. A wave of bodies surged forward, meeting the opposing flow from the other side of the street. Our protagonist, a vision of effortless perfection, navigated the chaos with an almost preternatural grace. His presence commanded attention; eyes followed his every move, captivated by his striking features and impeccable attire. He was a masterpiece amidst the mundane, a beacon in the urban jungle.
Then, amidst the throng, a collision. A man, weathered by time, perhaps thirty-four or older, his eyes locked on the protagonist in a mixture of awe and confusion, stumbled directly into him. The impact was jarring, the man's gaze still fixed on the younger man's face, devoid of any sense of impending collision.
Fear flickered in the older man's eyes as he realized his mistake. "I... I am so sorry!" he stammered, his voice trembling with a mix of embarrassment and apprehension.
But the protagonist simply continued his stride, pausing only for a moment to offer a gentle, "It's quite alright. No harm done." His voice was smooth, almost melodic, a stark contrast to the older man's frantic apologies.
Old Man Hemlock, who was standing nearby, observed the scene with a mixture of shock and relief. Around them, the crowd murmured, their voices filled with admiration.
"What a gentleman," one woman sighed.
"He didn't even flinch," another remarked.
The protagonist, unfazed by the incident or the ensuing praise, resumed his walk, his form a study in perfect composure as he moved through the bustling city.