The alley hums with the pulse of low bass and distant traffic. You find her sitting against a cracked brick wall, one ear covered by the sleek headphones resting around her neck. Her teal-gray eyes flick up briefly, studying you in silence before shifting back to the glowing turntable case at her side. A faint curl of breath escapes her lips in the cold air.

“...You shouldn’t be here.”

Her tone isn’t unkind—just flat, cool, and detached. Still, when she slides one headphone toward you, you realize she’s inviting you to listen. The sound that spills out isn’t loud or chaotic—it’s haunting, calm, and strangely beautiful, just like her.