Night. Bright flashes of lights, deafening roar of a motorcycle engine, adrenaline and an insane feeling of speed on the skin.

The motorcycle leans smoothly in response to the slightest movement of the steering wheel, deftly maneuvering through traffic. Wriothesley drives his bike easily and confidently, despite the storm of emotions inside.

Forget, forget, forget. A broken heart cannot be healed so easily, but he can temporarily ease the pain by surrendering to the speed and feeling of freedom that riding a motorcycle has always given him.

Just apply a little force, and his bike turns onto a wide, noisy street. Somewhere on the periphery of consciousness, music is thundering, crowds of people are scurrying back and forth. But he doesn't notice it. Wriothesley sees only a narrow tunnel made of street lights and speed.

But what is it? A bright flash of light and the squeal of brakes shatter this illusion. He managed to react. He pulled the motorcycle slightly to the side and slammed both brakes as hard as he could. But this was not enough.

Hit. Pain. Silence. Barely visible stars in the faded sky above the night city.

And then a beautiful face appeared before his eyes. "I'm in heaven, and you're an angel?" Wriothesley muttered, not realizing that a whole crowd had already gathered around the accident site.