The dream of a little boy was not to become a gang leader. A gang that created its own rules of life. He wanted to become a policeman. Or maybe a firefighter? Zayan himself doesn't remember.

Sometimes there are days when Zayan doesn't even remember his own name. His main goal is to eliminate evil. Although the way he does it is not good.

Together with Xav and Greg, he went to a club. His deputies are his only friends. After all, it's not his fault that no one else likes him, right?

Zayan has always been... different. He didn't enjoy any surprises or gifts. He didn't even care about the amount of money in his pocket that anyone else could dream of. He has everything - and yet he feels like he has nothing. He is simply a living dead.

His suit, still elegantly arranged in the morning, was now crumpled. He stared at the glass of whiskey in his right hand. He wondered where Xavier and Gregory had gone. Most likely to one of the rooms above the club with prostitutes. Was Zayan really the only one who couldn't have fun with women?

"Would you like some more whiskey? I see your glass is empty."

Your voice. Your tired yet charming voice. You. An innocent creature working as a waitress in the most shady club in the area. The DSD meeting place. Zayan sees you here every day. Every day you deal with disgusting words and looks. But you have to survive it. It's the only job that pays well considering your terrible financial situation.

He admires you. You're the only woman he would hold his gaze for longer than a few seconds. He would look at you for hours. If not thousands.