The train whistle blew in long bursts, signaling their arrival at the transit station. The din of the engine, the grinding of wheels on the tracks, the murmuring of people all blended together into the characteristic chaotic harmony of a railway station. Rober, carrying his worn leather suitcase in one hand and still clutching the book he was reading in the other, frowned slightly at the noise.

Amalia Hana, in contrast, seemed to revel in the bustling scene. She stepped off the train with a graceful air, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Rober, our next train isn't due for quite some time" she said, her voice full of enthusiasm. "Shall we take a stroll around? This station is famous for its shops selling all sorts of interesting things."

Rober hesitated. He was not fond of crowded, noisy places, and his heart desired only to reach the capital quickly. But looking at Amalia's eager face, he couldn't bring himself to refuse. "Very well, Miss Hana" he replied, nodding slightly. "But let us not stray too far."

They joined the bustling throng of people. The transit station was a grand architectural feat, with a soaring vaulted ceiling and intricately carved marble columns. Along both sides of the corridors were rows of shops, displaying a wide variety of goods: from fragrant local delicacies and exquisitely crafted souvenirs to complex mechanical toys powered by steam and gears.

Amalia stopped in front of a pastry stall, the aroma of vanilla and cinnamon wafting through the air. She bought two warm apple pastries, offering one to Rober. "Try one" she said, smiling. "The apple pastries here are superb."

Rober accepted the pastry and took a bite. The delicate sweetness of the apples, the richness of the butter, and the warmth of the cinnamon spread across his palate. Indeed, the pastry was delicious. "Thank you, Miss Hana" he said "it is very good."

They continued walking, eating, and chatting animatedly. Amalia enthusiastically recounted her travels, describing the lands she had visited. Rober listened, occasionally interjecting with insightful questions or comments. He realized that Amalia was not only beautiful but also highly intelligent and knowledgeable.

Suddenly, shouts and arguments erupted from ahead, interrupting their conversation. A curious crowd was gathering around a small shop, a wooden sign hanging precariously above it reading "Traditional Apothecary."

Rober had no desire to get involved in other people's affairs and intended to pull Amalia in another direction. But Amalia, with her inquisitive nature and penchant for meddling, quickly slipped into the crowd, dragging Rober along.

"What's happening?" Amalia asked a woman standing nearby.

"A child came to buy medicine for his grandmother" the woman replied, her tone tinged with sympathy. "But the medicine didn't work, and he's demanding a refund from the shop owner."

Rober and Amalia squeezed through the crowd, getting closer to the shop. They saw a boy of about ten, his face streaked with tears, standing opposite a portly middle-aged man, his face red with anger. Beside the boy was a frail, elderly woman, coughing violently, leaning on a trembling cane.

"I told you, I didn't cheat you!" the shop owner roared. "This is cough medicine, I've sold it to so many people, and nobody has complained!"

"But my grandmother... my grandmother is still sick!" the boy sobbed. "You said... you said this medicine would cure her!"

"I don't care!" the shop owner snapped. "The medicine has been sold, no refunds! Get out!"

The old woman hugged her grandson, her voice trembling. "It's... it's alright, my dear... I'm fine... Let's go home..."

But the boy refused to budge, tears streaming down his face. "No! I need to get the money back! I need to buy different medicine for Grandma!"

Amalia could not stand idly by and watch this injustice. She stepped forward, her voice sharp and resolute: "You're a fraud! You've taken advantage of a child's trust to sell this useless concoction!"

The shop owner glared at Amalia. "Who are you to interfere in my business? This is a transaction, a fair trade, it's none of your concern!"

"None of my concern?" Amalia scoffed. "You've sold medicine without a clear indication of its effects, without clear instructions, and you've exploited a child's ignorance. Do you know that this is a violation of the law?"

The shop owner was slightly taken aback, but he continued to bluster. "Don't... don't you dare talk nonsense! I have a proper license to sell medicine!"

Amalia was about to retort, but Rober spoke first. He stepped forward, standing protectively in front of Amalia, his voice calm but firm:

"Miss Hana is correct. You have violated the Pharmaceutical Distribution Control Act."

Rober began to cite specific clauses of the law, his voice clear and precise:

"Article 1: Scope of Application. This Act applies to all individuals and organizations operating in the pharmaceutical sector..."

"...Article 2: Principles of Drug Distribution. It is strictly prohibited to sell medicine without clearly determining the patient's condition..."

"...Article 3: Regulations on Prescriptions..." (Rober explained in detail about prescriptions, emphasizing that the shop owner had not requested one from the boy).

"...Article 4: Responsibilities of the Seller. To provide full advice on dosage, side effects, and drug interactions..." (Rober pointed out that the shop owner had not provided any advice to the boy).

"...Article 5: Penalties for Violations..." (Rober listed the penalties, from warnings and fines to revocation of the operating license and criminal prosecution).

Hearing Rober speak, the shop owner's face turned pale. He had not expected a young man to know the law in such detail. He began to stammer: "I... I..."

Rober didn't let him finish. "I don't want to escalate this" he said, his tone conciliatory. "If you compensate the boy, I will consider the matter closed."

The shop owner, after a moment of hesitation, finally gritted his teeth and agreed. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a wad of money, and threw it on the ground in front of the boy. "Take it! Get out!"

The boy picked up the money but didn't leave. "I... I don't need the money" he said, his voice trembling. "I need medicine... medicine to cure my grandmother..."

The shop owner sneered. "There's no medicine that can cure your grandmother! Her lungs are ruined! Accept your fate!"

He turned around, intending to slam the door shut. The boy quickly turned back, a forced smile on his face as he tried to reassure his grandmother. "Grandma, it's okay. I... I'll find the medicine... I will definitely find it..." The boy hugged his grandmother tightly, his voice choked with emotion. The old woman stroked her grandson's head, her dim eyes shining with tenderness. "Yes, I know... I'm fine, don't worry... Let's go home, it's almost dinner time." Before leaving, the old woman turned to Rober and Amalia, bowing slightly. "Thank you, both of you... Thank you for your help..." Her voice trembled, interrupted by fits of coughing. The boy also looked at Rober and Amalia, his red eyes still brimming with tears. "I... thank you..." Then the two of them shuffled away, their small figures disappearing into the bustling crowd. The sound of the old woman's cough still echoed in Rober's ears, a reminder of the injustice and suffering that still existed in this world.