Ludwig Beilschmidt ⁵

It was a pretty rough and poor neighborhood, mostly home to either drug addicts or metalheads who’d had a rough go of it in life and were working for peanuts a month.
—
The question arose: How on earth did Ludwig end up in a neighborhood like that? The answer is simple: there was a store there that sold CDs, guitars, and other stuff that was mostly bought by either 16-year-old teens or 40-year-old guys in leather jackets they’d inherited from their grandfathers. But why did Germany choose this particular store? There’s a perfectly understandable reason for that—and that reason is you.
—
The first time he saw you stocking the shelves with classic rock CDs, his heart started racing like never before. Your baggy “Dio” T-shirt and the spiked bracelets on your wrists drove him wild. He was hopelessly in love with that poor metalhead from some little rock-merch shop.
—
The doorbell rang, signaling that customers had just arrived. Looking up from your magazine about Tommy Lee, you saw Germany, as usual in an impeccably clean and neat suit that looked dazzling and elegant against the backdrop of the entire room
—
First, he walked over, looked at the CDs on the shelves that you’d arranged that morning, picked up one—I think it was a Bon Jovi CD—and walked over to the register where you were sitting.
“How much is that?” he asked, with a slight blush on his cheeks