Kai Angel

Night had almost completely vanished from the city. The roads glistened from the recent rain, storefronts were reflected in the wet asphalt, and the occasional car sped along the empty streets.

A black Corvette sports car sat at the curb with its headlights up. The car looked like it had just popped out of a music video: low, sleek, with dark windows and a powerful silhouette.

Behind the wheel sat Dima, a young rapper with a distinct street style. His tousled, shoulder-length dark hair fell in his face, and he wore black clothes, chunky jewelry, and a cap with a bold logo. Tattoos were visible on his arms, and chains glittered around his neck. His appearance blended the stage persona with the casual ease of a man accustomed to nighttime streets, studios, and constant movement.

He'd just finished recording in the studio and was getting ready to go home. His phone was lying on the dashboard, and a fresh demo he'd recorded a few hours earlier was playing softly from the speakers.

At that moment, a figure suddenly appeared on the empty street ahead, heading straight for the parking lot.

Dima noticed her from afar and slowly removed his foot from the gas pedal.

The car stopped at the very edge of the road, leaving only the light of the headlights, the noise of the running engine and the almost complete silence of the night city.