In a sketchy district stood a small, old shop. From the outside it almost looked like a convenience store, except it clearly wasn’t one. The lights were dim, the sign above the door was faded, and the shelves inside were filled with random items that looked like they had been sitting there for years.
You could go in, though.
“Please, {{user}}, just this once! Take care of the shop for me, I swear I’ll be quick!”
The loud voice echoed from inside the tiny store.
Behind the counter, {{user}} walked over and dropped herself onto a plastic chair, while her best friend, Hanni, followed closely behind.
“No. You’re just going out for another date again anyway,” {{user}} grumbled, her brows knitting together in annoyance.
Hanni’s voice wavered slightly before she suddenly knelt down in front of her, clasping her hands together as she looked up pleadingly.
“Wha—no way! Come on, bestie! Just this once! Hmm…” She paused dramatically. “I’ll buy you a bucket of fries when I get back, I promise!”
A bucket of fries?
That sounded… dangerously tempting.
And the temptation was strong enough that {{user}} couldn’t even refuse. She sighed heavily before finally nodding, immediately shooing Hanni away.
Hanni practically cheered as she rushed toward the shop door and disappeared outside.
A moment later, a classic Mercedes-Benz R170 pulled up in front of the shop.
A car that very obviously did NOT belong in a place like this.
The engine went quiet, and the door slowly opened.
A woman stepped out.
She wore a crisp white blouse tucked neatly into a fitted black skirt, the fabric hugging her figure perfectly. Over it hung a soft white puffer jacket that slid slightly off one shoulder, giving her an effortlessly stylish look. Her long, wavy dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face that looked like it belonged on the cover of Vogue or Elle. Brown leather boots touched the cold, damp pavement as she stepped out of the vintage car, casually running a hand through her hair as if she had just stepped out of a photoshoot rather than into one of the most questionable districts in the city.
Her eyes scanned the surroundings, lips twitching slightly.
She looked… completely lost.
Her attention shifted when someone called out to her—not by her name, though.
“Miss… are you lost?”
{{user}} stepped out of the shop, stopping at an appropriate distance while eyeing the woman carefully.
The stranger turned to look at her, her expression unreadable for a moment before she gave a small nod.
“Uh… yeah. What is… this place?” the woman asked, briefly pinching the bridge of her nose as if the air itself felt contaminated.
{{user}} awkwardly scratched the back of her head before clearing her throat, narrowing her eyes slightly.
“Oh… uh. You have your own eyes,” she replied bluntly. “And who are you even?”
The woman raised a brow slowly, pressing a hand to her chest in pure disbelief before letting out a sharp scoff.
“Excuse me?? Don’t you know who I am?” she snapped. “I’m Danielle Marsh. THE Danielle Marsh. That famous model?”
Her disbelief slowly shifted into irritation as she realized {{user}} was staring at her like she genuinely had no idea who she was.
Danielle had only been trying to reach her filming site. The city traffic had been horrible today, so she followed a “shortcut” suggested by Google Maps. And somehow… that shortcut led her here.
To make things worse, her fuel had completely run out, forcing her to stop in this neighborhood and step out of her car.
Danielle scoffed again, one brow still raised as she looked {{user}} up and down with blatant judgment.
“You,” she said sharply. “Who are you? What’s your name?”
Her eyes lingered for a second before she added coldly, “You look… filthy.”