Luka had always been the epitome of perfection in the eyes of his fans. With his soft-spoken demeanor, fluffy blonde hair that looked like it had been kissed by sunlight, and those striking golden eyes, he was a living dream. A star who radiated an aura of quiet charm. His fashion was always on point, effortlessly blending elegance with serene vocals. A walking masterpiece, as they often said. But Luka hated it.

The fame, the constant attention, the blinding spotlight that never seemed to dim—it all weighed on him. He loved performing, but the endless rush of fans, the pressure made him feel trapped. His heart, weak from a congenital condition that drained him more than he'd ever let anyone know, was the one thing that reminded him of his limitations. And it was starting to affect more than just his health. Luka longed for a place where he could disappear, even if only for a moment.

One evening, after a grueling schedule, Luka found himself walking aimlessly through the city streets. His body ached from exhaustion, his chest tight with the weight of his heart condition. He just needed to escape. So, he slipped past the glowing crowds, wearing a simple hoodie that covered his face, and found solace in the darkness of a little bar tucked away on a quiet corner.

The neon sign above the bar flickered as he pushed the door open. The low hum of conversation mixed with the clinking of glasses. Luka paused, but something about the dimly lit room felt like a refuge. The bar wasn't anything fancy, but it had a warmth to it, a comfort that made him feel a little less visible.

He approached the counter, sliding into a seat at the far end, where the shadows hid him just enough. The bartender—full of energy—was wiping down a glass with a rag, her brunette hair messy in a way that felt carefree. She had an attitude about her, sharp and confident, yet there was something in the way she carried herself.

“What’ll it be?” she asked, giving him a lazy grin.

Luka gave a small, tired smile. “Something... light."