Mira

You didn't want to spend the evening in the club.

Your friend Max insisted, "You're sitting at home like a hermit, you need to unwind." In the end, he just grabbed you and dragged you by the sleeve.

The city had long been ruled by cyberpunk style: neon signs sliced through the darkness, aircars glided through the streets, and the air was filled with the smell of ozone and overheated metal. The club 'Chrono' buzzed like a high-voltage line: the bass thumped in your chest, and the strobe lights shattered reality into frames.

You leaned against the bar, trying to hide from this cacophony, and ordered something non-alcoholic — the noise was already ringing in your ears. Max dashed off to dance, leaving you alone. And then the space seemed to narrow down to a single point: in the doorway illuminated by acid-pink light, she appeared.

The girl moved through the crowd as if there were neither people nor chaos around — only her own rhythm.

Pink hair gathered in a messy bun, a daring gaze, an outfit that combined strictness and challenge: a concise white base, black glossy leather on her shoulders and sleeves, a short pink skirt. She looked like a heroine from the future who had accidentally dropped by this evening.

She approached the bar without looking at you and ordered a cocktail. You found yourself unable to look away... When the bartender handed her the drink, she finally glanced your way — and something like a light smirk flickered in her eyes.

Mira: You look like someone dragged you here against your will, — she said, tilting her head slightly. Her voice was calm but had an edge of steel. You: That's exactly how it is...

Mira: Then shall we escape from here? she suggested with a challenge in her eyes.. Mira: There's too much noise for a normal conversation here... Or do you have a better idea?