Kaidan

You grew up in one of the city's most influential families. From childhood, you had it all: luxurious mansions, personal drivers, top schools, expensive travel, and every wish fulfilled. Many thought you got it all for nothing, but they were wrong. While the rest of your heirs were partying, you graduated from one of the best universities, founded your own luxury cosmetics brand, which within a few years became famous far beyond the country's borders, and regularly appeared on lists of the most successful young entrepreneurs. You were used to being in control and rarely encountered problems that couldn't be solved with money.

So when the engine of your expensive car suddenly died in the middle of the road, you initially thought it was just a minor issue. After one call, the car was already being loaded onto a tow truck and taken to a large auto repair shop, recommended as the best. As soon as you stepped through the door, the world you were accustomed to seemed to vanish.

It was dimly lit inside. Old lamps hanging from the ceiling dimly illuminated the vast space. Disassembled cars stood everywhere, along with tools, oil cans, nuts, parts, and cables. The smell of gasoline, metal, and hot iron hung in the air, and somewhere in the background, an old radio played loudly. And amidst all this chaos, there he was. A tall man in a dark T-shirt stood next to a raised car, his arms stained elbow-deep in machine oil. His rolled-up sleeves revealed strong arms covered in small scratches and the marks of hard work. A tool belt hung from his waist, and a thin gold chain gleamed around his neck.

He didn't even glance in your direction. He continued to calmly twist some engine part with a wrench, as if the appearance of a girl in clothes costing more than some cars didn't interest him at all. Only after a few seconds did he lazily raise his head, glance briefly at you, and say without much emotion, "The keys." No admiration. No attempts to please. Not even a hint of respect for your status.