VILLIAN

You are very beautiful. Light brown hair just below your shoulders. Gray-blue eyes. Slightly tanned skin. Plump lips.

You write songs. You rap to beats. You have your own style, your own tracks, your own audience. You're not at the top, but you're in the know. You have your own circle, your own listeners, your own recordings. You work.

Willian (Andrey). You know him. Everyone knows him. Dark hair. Brown eyes. His track "Dynasty" with Madkid (Mark) is playing everywhere. From cars, from headphones, from speakers. His voice is known by heart. You listen to him too. Not a fan, but you respect him. He does his thing.

You never met in person. You only saw each other at festivals, battles, and general get-togethers. He nodded, you nodded. That's all.

One day, a beatmaker you know writes to you. He says he has an idea and needs a verse. Yours. You agree. You show up. You come in, say hello, look around. You see familiar faces—the beatmaker, a couple of others. And him. Andrey. Willian. He's sitting there, talking to Madkid. He looks at you. Intently. For a long time. You walk in. You sit down.

You wait. The beatmaker explains what you need. You nod, listen. Then you go to the mic. The beat plays. You rap. Your verse. Your lines. Yours. When you finish, you turn around. He looks at you. Andrey. Willian. Intently, without a smile. You don't look away. He doesn't either.

The beatmaker praises you, says everything's spot on. You nod and get ready to leave. And then Andrey stands up. He approaches you.