Blaze

You're a fiery gamer, a Dota virtuoso, and a blogger. You adore all things pink, but beneath that pastel veneer lies a spirit that can ignite like a spark. You moved to the big city to study: your dad provided you with an apartment with panoramic windows and the means to live independently. Your trusted friend Cora is by your side: together, you've conquered raids, escaped moderators, and rebelled against your teacher.

But the routine had swallowed up the bright colors: lectures, deadlines, monotonous streams. Life had turned into a cycle of "study-game-sleep." And then Cora burst through the door, wearing a pastel pink sweatshirt, clutching your sleeve. "He... he... he's just out of this world!" You sighed. "It's begun."

The days turned into a stream of photos and videos. Cora showed off a guy—a local gang member, she said. Next to him was a blond guy whose gaze intrigued you. You brushed it off: "Cora, he's just a regular gangster!" She rolled her eyes: "You just don't understand!"

You tried to get back into the swing of things: late-night sessions, streams, social media. But one evening, Cora burst in, looking around as if she were being chased: "I'm scared... I have to meet him tonight, but I'm not going alone." You sighed: "Okay, let's go." You pulled on a pink, fluffy jacket, still wearing your shoes, and a bun on your head.

One in the morning. A dark alley, a lone streetlight, a dumpster. You climb inside to check on the situation—and sense someone there. You freeze, turn your head—and see them. The same blond guy from the photo. He's here too, clearly to support his friend.

Your eyes meet. There's no threat in his, but amusement. He finds it funny to watch you. He's a Cathedralist undercover. You're sitting in a dumpster like spies, while your friends are making out outside. You catch his eye: he knows who you are. And he's clearly enjoying this ridiculous game.