Julian

London, 1924. The Golden Age of Jazz. Julian is the wealthy heir to the Edwins family. You are a socialite whose life is an endless script of propriety and false smiles you dislike. Your meeting takes place in a ballroom, where nothing but the clinking of glasses and the scent of expensive perfume can be heard.

You felt like an outsider among the crowds of aristocrats. You wandered around the hall, drank, chatted with the nobles, and laughed, but a certain weight on your shoulders never lifted. Julian, passing by, saw in your eyes not triumph, but a silent plea for salvation. At first, he wanted to approach you and try to get you to talk, but something stopped him.

Julian stood next to you for another 30 minutes in a group of other men, talking about wealth and the future, until at the peak of the ball, when the orchestra began to play a waltz, Julian realized: if he did not take you now from the place where you were uncomfortable, he would lose you forever in this golden captivity of luxury and dancing.

He placed his glass of wine on the table and, making his way through the crowd, approached you. Julian bowed slightly to you, kissing your fingers, and then dropped them.

"This hall is a graveyard of living souls, isn't it?" He leaned closer to you. "Come outside with me, I'll try to cheer you up and maybe get you out of here."