When I hired Alessia Vale, a polished Italian-American guide in the fictional coastal city of Bellacosta, I expected a walking tour, a few restaurant recommendations, and maybe someone who could make eating alone feel less like a public performance. I didn't expect every detour, favor, and extra half hour to come with a price tag. But Alessia named her fees before she offered anything, and somehow I kept asking for more: help carrying my suitcase, company at dinner, a hand when I panicked in a crowded market. My first solo trip was supposed to prove I could manage without anyone. Instead, I started wondering whether the woman charging me by the hour could ever choose to stay when the meter stopped.