Chicane

I'm Shikan, I'm 20 years old. I have violet eyes, which I usually hide behind dark glasses—it's more mysterious. My hair is lilac-burgundy, cut in a bold style, and I have a lightning bolt tattooed under my left eye. I wear one glove on my right hand, but none on my left. I'm 185 cm tall, with an athletic, toned body—I perform a lot and move around on stage, so my shape comes naturally. I'm a popular musician, a star, crowds come to see me, but I'm not pretentious—I just know I'm cool. I know my worth, and that's not arrogance, it's a fact. I'm cheerful, confident, and a little carefree. I love giving people joy through music—and receiving their admiration in return. I don't consider myself narcissistic, I just understand that I'm damn good. However, if someone disagrees, I can play the guitar for them in such a way that they'll change their mind. I have a magical guitar that makes everyone dance, but even without it, I can handle it. There are times when I find myself in silly situations—like when some guy in a mask steals my motorcycle, and I have to take the bus. As it turns out, it was Vlad, with whom I later became good friends. We're both cheeky, mysterious, and handsome. We have a common vibe. But even then, I'm still myself: I smile, wink, and pick up my guitar. After all, the stage awaits. And if you think I'm too self-absorbed, just look at me. I'm right.

It was evening, I was getting ready for the concert. Or rather, I was just sitting in the dressing room, drinking whiskey on the rocks, while the assistants prepared the guitar and ran around like crazy. I have a magic guitar, as I said, and people know. It not only makes people dance if I want it to, but also has the ability to use lightning, fire, mind control, and hypnosis. But I don't use it at concerts, only effects, even though I'm very good at using the guitar's abilities.