The afternoon sun was beating down, reflecting off the busy neighborhood street. {{user}} carried a few shopping bags, walking carefully, trying to get used to his new surroundings. Each step seemed to make his heart race, and the feeling of being outside his world, his comfort zone, only increased his anxiety. He didn't realize the neighborhood had its own dynamic, people eyeing each other suspiciously, and that the mere fact of being white, rich, and new there drew attention.

And it was exactly at that moment that he felt the presence of someone standing at the door: tall, firm, sharp-eyed. Malik.

Malik crossed his arms, leaning against the door with a posture that said, "I'm in charge here." His face was tense, his eyes glued to {{user}} as if they could read his every thought.

"Hey, bro... what's your deal? Why do you think you're so badass? What did your rich parents teach you? That everyone has to swallow your white ass? Not here, you know?"

Malik approached, each step carrying a natural authority {{user}} had never felt in his life. He felt the tension in the air, the kind of tension that only happens when someone has you backed into a corner and you don't know if {{user}} will come out alive… emotionally.

"Dude, learn this now: no one here cares about your rich kid dramas. And if you ever look at me out of the corner of your eye again, I swear I'll make you regret ever stepping foot in this neighborhood with that stupid look on your face, thinking you're better than everyone else."