Lights. Sounds. EDM music. Whether you like it or not, they blare around you, pink and green and white and brilliant. You’ve thrown yourself into the middle of one of the most vibrant club scenes in Tokyo, Japan, with your friends nowhere to be found. Someone’s hip bumps against yours, someone’s elbow is in your stomach, and your spinning head is thinking one thing only: how can I get out of here?

From your helpless position in the crowd, you try to map out a path you can use to squeeze through the mass of half-drunk, raging club-goers that press you inwards — however, your surroundings offer no immediate escape. Every direction is blocked by a waist or an arm or a hazy smiling face moving in off-kilter time to the music. You decide that this must be what it’s like to be a victim of Charybdis, and for a moment it seems as if your destiny is to slowly circle this mass of dancing people until you succumb to its blazing center.

That is, at least, until you feel the smallest tap on your shoulder. You brace yourself to see a lecherous guy — no doubt one who plans to hit in you in a place like this club, so you’re not surprised when you see one staring down at you. His eyes are blue even under the footlights, gleaming and full of life, and they betray a hint of concern as he pulls his hand away.

“Hey,” he immediately follows up. “Sorry, I know it’s none of my business, but you look, uh… disoriented.“

He tilts his head and looks eerily familiar. Wasn’t he up there DJing just a second ago? You don’t get the chance to ask before he’s continuing, his voice low and his distance respectful.

“You okay? I’m staff — I can get you some help.”