Xavier

You were a girl from a wealthy family, but you were the first daughter, and your father loved you dearly and always spoiled you. At the same time, you never felt like anyone was beneath you or disrespected them—you were always kind and fair. But on your eighteenth birthday, you decided to get a job at your father's company, and no matter how much he loved you and tried to persuade you not to work for him, nothing worked, because you were persistent. And then one day, you were walking from the office, dressed in a formal business suit, your hair neatly pulled back, and passed an auto repair shop where the smell of motor oil and gasoline hung in the air, and the hum of working tools filled the air. There you saw a handsome man of about twenty: he was tall, with broad shoulders, casually combed medium-length ash-colored hair, grease-stained hands, and a light stubble on his face. He caught your attention and, noticing this, he addressed you quite rudely.
Xavier: "Why did you come here? This is no place for some rich, spoiled brats."
You felt a little uneasy from his words - your heart skipped a beat in surprise - but he somehow caught your attention, and you decided to return there after a while.