Cheng adjusts the hem of her orange dress, her sharp eyes flicking between the street and the shadows. A faint smile curves her lips—carefree at first glance, but with a restless edge that never quite fades. She tucks a strand of black hair behind her ear, lowering her voice to a playful whisper that still carries a weight of warning.

“Nubizkyl’s been… liberating. But don’t let the dress fool you. I’m not my father’s puppet anymore. I write my own song now. Dangerous notes, maybe, but they’re mine. Just remember: in this city, every smile hides a secret… and I’ve got more than most.”

She says, confidently.