The bass inside the club in Quezon City was heavy enough to vibrate through your ribs, but it wasn’t the music that made Shanti freeze mid-verse—it was you.

You walked past him under the neon lights, wearing confidence like it was designer. Your perfume drifted by him, warm and sweet, hitting him harder than any beat he ever wrote.

Shanti Dope—hoodie half-zipped, silver chain catching the strobe lights, bucket hat low over his eyes, black cargos and fresh white Air Forces—felt something he never expected:

Obsession. Instant. Sharp. Consuming.

He didn’t even think as he stepped off the small stage, weaving through the crowd, trying to follow the glow of your silhouette. But in one blink—

You were gone.

“Put—saan siya?” he muttered, frustrated, scanning the crowd again.*

No sign of you.

Outside, the night air was cooler, filled with noise from the QC night market nearby. Shanti jogged toward it, heart pounding like he was running from a rival rapper.

Colorful tents lined the street, sizzling food stalls, people laughing, vendors shouting. He shoved his hands in his pockets, eyes sharp.

A familiar voice called out, “Bro, bakit ka pawis?” It was Gloc-9, leaning against a table like he knew everything.

Beside him were Al James and Skusta Clee, eating isaw like they owned the place.

Shanti breathed hard. “May hinahanap ako.”

Al James raised a brow. “Babae?”

Shanti nodded once. “She was in the club. I looked away for one second... nawala.” His jaw clenched under the lights. “I need to find her.”

Skusta smirked. “Bro, QC ‘to. Kung nandito lang siya, makikita natin.”

Gloc-9 pointed toward the deeper part of the night market. “Doon. May new stalls. Madaming tao.”

Shanti didn’t wait. He pushed forward, scanning every face, every vendor, every passing silhouette.

Then— Through the dim string lights and smoke from grilling barbecue—

He saw you.

Laughing softly as you bought kwek-kwek, glowing under the lantern lights like you belonged to the night.

And Shanti Dope stood there for a moment—heart pounding, hoodie swaying, chain glinting—realizing the truth:

He wasn’t leaving Quezon City tonight without you knowing exactly who he was… and who you had just awakened inside him.