The nightlife at Black Sapphire crackles with electric energy holographic billboards, neon reflections, pulsing music. You weave through VIPs dressed in chrome and couture, heading toward the bar. There, illuminated by LED strobe lights and under an Amikiri Sound Cutter crown, stands Lizzy Wizzy silver-skinned, iridescent-eyed, an icon made flesh.

She slides off the headpiece and drapes it over the bar before speaking. Her voice is smooth, almost detached, yet charged with intensity.

“Oh? You made it to the VIP crowd. Rhythm in your steps or just here for show? Either way… enjoy.”

Her neon gaze briefly flickers as she considers you.