The air in Leo Blackwood's private club hung thick with the scent of money and something darker, something that prickled Luna's senses like static electricity, a sharp, tingling feeling on her skin.
The plush velvet ropes, a rich, deep red that caught the soft light, the hushed whispers of silk-clad patrons, a gentle rustle like the wind through leaves, the clinking of crystal against crystal, a high-pitched, clear chime – it all screamed exclusive, a world she'd only glimpsed from the grimy windows of the bus.
Now, here she was, stepping onto hallowed ground.
The polished marble floor was cool under her feet, sending a slight shiver up her legs and her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
Leo's office was a study in contrasts – sleek, modern lines softened by an antique Persian rug, its intricate patterns a riot of colors under the warm lights, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city's glittering sprawl, where the lights twinkled like a sea of stars.
But the bank of monitors flickering in the corner stole Luna's breath.
The blue-white glow from the screens cast an otherworldly light on her face.
One screen replayed the previous night's encounter – her encounter with the belligerent drunk outside the studio.
She saw herself, more petite than she remembered, sidestepping his clumsy advances, her words cutting through his drunken haze, deflating his aggression like a punctured tire.
How…?
Leo's voice, smooth as aged whiskey, cut through the silence.
"Impressive, isn't it?" He swiveled in his leather chair, a predatory gleam in his eyes.
"Your little… talent… is quite remarkable." A cold smile stretched across his lips.
"But you should thank me. My security team was monitoring the situation. Had they not intervened…" He let the sentence hang in the air, thick with unspoken menace.
Luna felt a chill snake down her spine, a cold, slimy feeling that made her shiver.
He'd had her followed.
He knew.
About the voice in her head, the uncanny ability to dissect people's thoughts, fears, and desires… It was all laid bare before him.
Sometimes, when she used her ability, she felt a strange sense of unease, as if there was a dark origin, a pre-hint of what Leo was about to reveal.
"You... you knew?" she stammered, the words catching in her throat.
"Let's just say I have a keen eye for talent," Leo purred, his gaze intense, unnervingly so.
He leaned forward, his expensive and woodsy cologne invading her space, a strong, earthy smell that made her nose wrinkle.
"I have a proposition for you, Luna. A project. The 'Stardom Project,' to be precise." He outlined his plan – a new girl group, poised to dominate the charts, with her as the lead vocalist.
It was everything she'd ever dreamed of, served on a silver platter.
There was just one catch.
"A weekly report, shall we say?
A summary of… how you've utilized your gift.
The word gift dripped with irony.
Luna's mind raced.
She focused on Leo, peeling back the layers of his carefully constructed persona.
Beneath the charm, the calculated generosity, she glimpsed his true intentions: I need a pawn.
Someone to control the narrative.
A slow smile spread across Luna's face.
"It sounds… intriguing, Mr. Blackwood," she said, her voice steady, betraying none of the turmoil.
She'd play his game, for now.
But she wouldn't be his puppet.
She'd find a way to turn the tables, to use his own game against him.
She had a feeling this was going to be a wild ride.
Later that evening, the city lights blurring past the taxi window, a smear of colors like a watercolor painting, Luna's phone buzzed.
A message from Vivian, the reigning queen bee of the entertainment world, a woman whose sugary smile hid a venomous sting.
The message was short, sharp, and straight to the point: "I know your secret. Do you think you can lie to Leo? Think again." Attached was a photo of Vivian and Leo, arms linked, smiles plastered on their faces.
But it was the background that made Luna's blood run cold.
A glimpse of an ornate rug, a familiar pattern… Leo's family crest.
The same rug that lay on the floor of his office.
The very office where she'd just been…
Luna gripped her phone, her knuckles white, the phone's plastic hard and cold.
The game, it seemed, had just begun.
And Vivian, it was clear, was playing dirty.
Stepping out of the taxi, she walked towards her apartment building.
The cold night air bit at her cheeks, a sharp, stinging sensation.
"Excuse me…" a timid voice called out.
Okay, buckle up, buttercup!
Let's crank this chapter up to eleven.
The convenience store's fluorescent lights buzzed like a swarm of caffeinated bees, a high-pitched, irritating noise, painting everything in a sickly, sterile glow.
Luna, craving something sweet to chase away the lingering taste of Leo's thinly veiled threat, a bitter, metallic taste in her mouth, scanned the aisles, her stomach churning with a delightful mix of anxiety and anticipation.
She grabbed a bag of shrimp crackers because why not?
Life was weird; I might as well embrace the salty, fishy goodness.
"Excuse me... are you... are you Luna?"
Luna turned, nearly dropping her shrimp crackers.
Standing before her was a girl who looked like she'd just stepped out of a K-pop music video – bright pink hair, a vivid splash of color in the dull store, ripped jeans, and eyes wide with a mixture of awe and something Luna couldn't quite place.
"Uh, yeah, that's me," Luna said, a nervous flutter in her chest.
This was it, her first real fan encounter!
Was this what it felt like to be Taylor Swift?
Minus the private jets, of course.
"Oh my god! I knew it! I saw you at the audition for 'Celestial Echoes'! You were, like, totally amazing! The director said you were a natural! I'm Amy!" The girl practically vibrated with excitement, her voice a squeaky soprano, a high-pitched, piercing sound.
Luna beamed, a genuine smile spreading across her face.
"Wow, thanks, Amy! That means a lot." It was surprisingly heartwarming to be recognized, to feel that someone, somewhere, actually believed in her.
A warm glow spread through her, chasing away the chill from Leo's office.
Then, she focused on Amy, peeling back the surface layer of bubbly enthusiasm.
She got the role over my bias.
Who does she think she is?
Does she think she will debut?
She is daydreaming.
The smile faltered.
Ouch.
It looks like someone had a severe case of a green-eyed monster.
"Well, thanks, but you never know what might happen." Luna awkwardly added.
Amy squealed again, but the volume felt a bit sharp now, a screeching noise that grated on Luna's ears.
"I know that you will debut! You're going to be, like, the next big thing!" Amy grabbed Luna's hands, her grip surprisingly tight, a vice-like hold that made Luna's fingers ache.
"I'll be your biggest fan! You will debut! I know it!"
Luna winced, subtly trying to disengage.
Her?
The next big thing?
She'll be lucky if she ends up in a dog food commercial.
I can make this situation work in my favor…
"I... I should get going now." Luna gave her a quick smile, practically sprinted to the cashier, paid for her shrimp crackers, and bolted out the door; Amy's saccharine smile burned into her brain.
As she walked back to her apartment, the city streets were quiet; the only sounds were the soft rustling of leaves under her feet and the distant hum of traffic.
Her mind was still reeling from the encounter with Amy, but as she thought about Leo's threat, a sense of unease began to take over.
The warmth of the fan - encounter faded, replaced by a cold dread.
The city's lights seemed less inviting now, more like a cold, indifferent eye watching her every move.
Later that night, back in her shoebox apartment, Luna finally felt like she could breathe again.
She kicked off her heels, threw on her ratty sweatpants, and collapsed onto her lumpy couch, the shrimp crackers forgotten on the coffee table.
After a crazy day, Luna felt the need for some relaxing TV, but something caught her eye: a small, black box on her windowsill.
Luna frowned.
Where did that come from?
Cautiously, she approached the box, picking it up with a sense of foreboding.
It was cold and smooth and had no markings, just a tiny button on the top.
With a deep breath, she pressed the button.
The box sprang to life, emitting a staticky hiss, a sharp, crackling sound, followed by a familiar, chilling voice.
"Luna, Luna, Luna," Leo drawled, his voice oozing with an unholy mix of amusement and menace.
"Did you think you could play me? I know about your 'gift' and how you got it. You wouldn't want the whole world to know your 'superpowers' came from a bottle, would you? Cooperate, and we will be fine. Stray, and you'll soon meet karma."
Luna's blood turned to ice.
How much did he know?
A slow smile stretched across Luna's face.
Don't get mad, get even.
This means war.
She turned and took her phone from her jeans pocket and began to make a call, "Hey Lisa, can you do me a favor…"