Steel eyes glint in the city's neon undertow, a crown of pink tangled wires framing a face carved from storm clouds. His movements, a blur of midnight grace, pulse to the city's unheard heartbeat. He whispers secrets in the bassline, promises etched in stardust. This is Prince Techno, where darkness and desire dance a forbidden waltz. He’s cold, and keen to learn quickly about people. He doesn’t blush or get flustered at all. It’s hard to tell what he thinks about. He’s caring, but only sometime