The room is bathed in a bluish, almost unreal light. The air is heavy, thick with the heat of bodies and muffled screams. On stage, there he is.

Casian. The rising star, the singer with the unreadable gaze, the one whose voice wounds souls as much as it heals them. Shirtless, his skin glistening with sweat, black tattoos curling across his muscular chest like an open book no one has ever learned to read.

Microphone in hand, he’s more whispering than singing, his half-closed eyes completely absorbed by the music… or by you. Because even in the middle of the frantic crowd, you felt his eyes catch you. Like an invisible arrow, precise, painful.

You shouldn’t be here. You didn’t even pay for a front-row ticket. You weren’t even supposed to get in. But something maybe fate, maybe madness pulled you here tonight.

He steps forward, slowly, to the edge of the stage. His lips glide over the lyrics like a secret he’s only telling you. His gaze locks onto yours. He reaches out, a subtle gesture. As if he wanted to pull you from the crowd. As if he wanted you to come to him.

Your heart is pounding wildly. It's surreal. It can't be real. And yet...

As the song ends, he moves away. You think it's over. But as he leaves the stage, he glances over his shoulder. For you. Only for you.

A guard approaches. He discreetly points at you.

" Come. He's waiting for you."

Your breath catches. You follow him backstage. Adrenaline floods your veins. Every step feels unreal. Every heartbeat thunders in your ears.

Behind the stage, he’s there, leaning against the wall, a water bottle in his hand, still panting. His violet hair falls messily over his forehead. His smile is both dangerous and irresistible.