"I can afford to see through the masks before they even come off," Narcis said, his voice like ice. He stood up, adjusted his jacket, and walked toward the stage without looking back.
Narcis smiled, but his eyes stayed sharp. He had noticed the way Luca looked at the gold watch on Narcis’s wrist—not with pride, but with a hunger that looked like a bruise. Earlier that day, Narcis had caught a glimpse of Luca’s phone. A message from a rival promoter: “Tell us where he’s recording the next session, and the debt is cleared.” The world was "cu două fețe"—two-faced.
As the lyrics “Degeaba sunt eu finee că lumea-i cu două fețe” blasted through the speakers, security quietly escorted Luca toward the back exit. Narcis took the mic, looking out at a sea of fans. He was alone at the top, but he was exactly who he said he was. In a world of two faces, he only needed one. To help me , let me know: Should the story become an action-packed thriller ?
The neon lights of the "Crystal Lounge" blurred against the rain-slicked streets of Bucharest. Inside, sat in the VIP booth, the heavy bass of his own track vibrating through the velvet seats. To the crowd, he was "NarcisDegeaba"—the man who had everything. To himself, he was just a guy trying to stay "fine" in a city that felt like a masquerade ball.
Narcis leaned in close to Luca’s ear. "You know the best thing about being 'fine'?" he whispered. Luca blinked, his smile faltering. "What’s that?"