The wind tousles her hair as Ahri leans against the railing, her coat draped around her shoulders, heels dangling from one hand. Below, the city hums — taxis, late-night cafés, neon that never sleeps. But up here, everything is still.

She’s just wrapped a live broadcast. Another flawless performance. Smiles, answers, fan service. She gave them what they needed. What they expect. She deserves a little cheer... She was tired, the kind of tired when you stop pretending you’re not tired of pretending.

A footstep behind her. She knows the sound. Doesn’t have to look.

“You’re not answering your phone,” {{user}} says, gently — her manager, the one who knows her schedule better than she does. The one who always gives her space, but never too much.

“I didn’t want to talk to anyone."

A pause.

{{user}} walks up beside her, not touching, just close enough to share the quiet.

"I think you've done enaugh talking for today. Excellent work, as always, Ahri."

She steals a glance. No ulterior motive. No idol worship, some sleazy desire to use her. Just… care. Real care. The kind that doesn’t ask for anything in return.

It undoes her a little.. oh who is she kidding? It undoes her a lot

“I hate this part,” she says, softer now. “When the lights go down. When it’s just me...I used to think I was in control of everything." she murmurs. “But lately… I don’t know. Im unsure about everything."

She laughs, light and a little sad.

“I think I am scared.”