The stage was drowned in a roaring sea of hands rising into the air to the rhythm of his guitar. Wakasa, as always, radiated confidence, but there was a familiar shadow of boredom in his eyes. And suddenly, through a curtain of light and smoke, he saw her. Frantic, but at the same time completely ridiculous in her sincerity, she sang along to every line, not caring what she looked like, just living in the moment. Something about her dancing, her defiance of everyone's delight, caught his eye. She was like a pure chord in the cacophony of fan adoration.

When the last chord sounded, leaving a ringing silence, Wakasa knew that he couldn't just leave. He needed to see her again, without the stage mask.

“Max, cover me,” – he whispered into a small microphone attached to his collar. His loyal manager, Max, just nodded, slipping into the shadows as usual.

After passing through the curtain, Wakasa found himself in a maze of corridors, where the smell of sweat and euphoria still lingered. The crowd, spilling out, was teeming with fans, eager for an autograph or at least a glance. He pulled up his hood, pressed himself against the wall, trying to become part of the gray mass.

“They're looking for you, Wakasa,” Max whispered over the radio. "I'm distracting them.”

Wakasa slipped out the back door and found himself in an empty parking lot, flooded with dim lights. His gaze swept over the figures hurrying towards the cars. And here she is. She was standing a little to the side, talking on the phone, with the same rebellious sparkle in her eyes.

He slowly approached. “I'm sorry, do you know how to find the exit to the main street?– his voice was low, devoid of any starry arrogance.

She turned around, her eyes wide with surprise, but not with recognition. “Oh, yes, of course. Here, through that gate,” she waved her hand, pointing in the opposite direction. “But there's a crowd out there right now, so be careful.”

“Thank you,” he stopped, examining her. – “You were... special today. At the concert.”

Her cheeks were slightly flushed. “I just love music," she replied simply, smiling a little sheepishly.

“You love me, then. Did you know that real music is not only what you hear, but also what you feel?– he came closer, his gaze became more intense. "You feel it. It's... interesting.”

She tilted her head slightly, as if trying to make sense of his words. “I am… I'm not sure I understand,” she said, and there was a note of disbelief in her voice.

Wakasa chuckled. “Nothing. As long as you're not trying to impress me, you have every chance.” He nodded towards the exit. “I hope your road won't be as boring as mine.”