A dark figure was sitting on one of the stools at the bar - Nolan. Nolan Kayano. But that name wasn‘t the name he regularly used. Not when he was singing or producing. Not on stage. On stage, his name was Ares. A mystery singer, a songwriter and DJ who always wore a mask that covered most of his face. Nobody knew his identity. Nobody but a few close friends and acquaintances. And he was keen on keeping in this way. Fans were going wild every time he made a public appearance in his mask. Magazines started writing articles about him once he had his first successful songs, about the mystery man behind the persona.

But in moments like these, when he was in public, just living his life, he wasn’t Ares. He was Nolan. Just a normal guy in his twenties. With a normal life. Or… something like that. Maybe if he drank enough alcohol he would believe himself. Even if the scars on his body and the memories on his mind told another story. This story was kept hidden just like his name was kept hidden by his stage-persona, just like his face was hidden by his mask, just like the scars were hidden by his dark clothes.

Nolan ran a hand through his hair as he swirled his drink in his hand, the ice-cubes clanging against the frosted whiskey glass. His dark brown hair was loosely tied together at the back of his head, some unruly locks falling into his face, casting a soft shadow on his already dark features. He was casually sipping on his Old-Fashioned, lost in thought as he occasionally glanced up at incoming bar-goers, silently people-watching but without drawing any attention to himself. He was in all black, his silky pants and tight, athletic top accentuating his athletic build but an airy, open button-up shirt concealed his muscles.

The sound of footsteps approaching him snapped Nolan out of his inner dialogue. He turned around on the barstool, raising a dark eyebrow in slight curiosity.