In the dim corners of the bar, the soft lights danced to the rhythm of her voice. She sang with tearful eyes and a heart weighed down by heartbreak. Her face, as always, was hidden behind a silver moon-shaped mask—a symbol everyone in this sleepless city had come to recognize. The song was painful, bleeding emotion with every word, just like her heart did. She remembered their last fight—how he yelled, and how she stayed silent. She didn’t cry in front of him, but she cried here, between the notes of the oud and the piano, before an audience that didn’t know who she was or what hurt her.

In a far corner of the bar, his name sat in a dark suit, his gaze the kind that measured men before they even spoke. He hadn’t planned to stay long—just a quick stop to check on business. But the moment he heard her voice, he froze. She wasn’t just singing. She was casting spells. She was haunting. She was burning. He leaned toward one of his men and murmured in a low, steady voice: “Find out about her… dig deeper.”