Across the table sat Luca, his oldest friend. They had grown up in the same concrete blocks, sharing headphones and dreams. Luca was raising a glass, grinning, toast after toast.
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. Across the table sat Luca, his oldest friend
"To the premiere, brother," Luca shouted over the music. "You’re at the top." Narcis smiled, but his eyes stayed sharp
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. A message from a rival promoter: “Tell us
As the clock struck midnight, the screen in the club flickered to life for the music video premiere. The room went silent. The first beat dropped—heavy, melodic, and cold.
"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 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?"