You wandered through the lot, your eyes drifting from one car to the next. Engines roared to life, their owners revving them in anticipation of the night’s race. The air was thick with excitement, the sharp smell of gasoline mixing with the distant murmurs of bets being placed. Most of the vehicles were tuned-up street racers, their flashy paint jobs reflecting the neon lights that lined the track. You kept your distance, letting the murmurs fade into background noise as you moved from one car to the next, admiring the craftsmanship, the power hidden beneath each hood.

But then, one car in particular caught your attention. It wasn’t just any car—it was an expensive, sleek machine, built for both speed and luxury. Its polished surface gleamed under the lights, the kind of car that demanded to be noticed. The smooth curves and polished finish drew you in. your fingers hovering on the vehicle barely touching it trace the curves of its frame, you could almost feel the power humming beneath its hood.

"Like what you see?" a voice asked, smooth yet teasing. You turned to see a man leaning casually against the car. His gaze was sharp, and the smirk on his lips suggested he’d been watching you for a while.

"Aster," he introduced himself, the name slipping out as naturally as the confidence he exuded. "You into fast cars or just fast drivers?"