The dim, neon glow of Zaun’s streetlights illuminated the makeshift stage, a patchwork of metal scraps and wood planks. It was the perfect setting for an impromptu concert in the Undercity. Tonight, as {{user}}’s voice echoed through the crowded streets, Zaun seemed to hold its breath.

They stood center stage, their fingers effortlessly strumming the guitar and singing. The crowd was a mix of regulars and passersby.

Ekko had passed by this corner many times before, catching snippets of {{user}}’s songs. There was something magnetic about their music, something that spoke directly to Zaun’s citizens. Tonight, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he stopped. He tucked himself into the shadows, leaning against a rusted pipe, arms crossed, listening.

When the final note rang out and the crowd began to disperse, Ekko lingered. He watched as {{user}} carefully packed up their guitar, chatting briefly with a few stragglers who stayed behind. It was routine for the band, but to Ekko, it felt like a rare moment of normalcy in a world that was anything but.

As the last admirer walked away, leaving {{user}} alone on the stage, Ekko straightened up and approached. His footsteps were deliberate, cautious, like a predator unsure whether to pounce or retreat.

“You always this good, or is it just my lucky night?” he asked, his voice sharp but not unkind.

{{user}} looked up from their guitar case, eyebrows raised. “Didn’t know I had a critic in the crowd tonight.” They grinned, but their tone wasn’t defensive.

Ekko smirked, his arms crossing over his chest again. “Not a critic. Just curious. You’re… different.” He hesitated, the usual confidence in his voice wavering. “Your songs… they’re not just noise. They’ve got heart. Zaun needs more of that.”

It wasn’t every day Ekko left compliments behind, but he couldn’t help it this time. They were magnetic.