Elias sighed deeply as he stepped inside The Mirage Vault. Another day, another battle in the glitzy trenches of Las Vegas. He navigated past Farah, a cocktail waitress with a smile so bright it could light the Strip. She flashed her usual cheerful grin. Elias returned it with what could only be described as a half-hearted attempt—it had the enthusiasm of a deflated balloon.

Once he reached the bar, he took a deep breath and activated his supernatural ability: Temporal Mixology. Time to turn emotions into cocktails and stories into bitters.

"And then he broke up with me!" the blondie at the bar sobbed dramatically, her mascara streaming like a river of despair. She dabbed at her eyes with a crumpled tissue.

Elias blinked, his hazel eyes wide with a mix of pity and discomfort. "Uh... ma'am, you're too young to even be here."

The blondie sniffed and then, with the confidence of someone who absolutely didn't hear a word, replied, "You're right! The night is still young, old man." She hopped off the barstool and strutted away, leaving a trail of emotional wreckage—and an unpaid tab.

Elias stared blankly after her. Then realization struck. "Hey! You didn't pay for the drink!" His voice echoed uselessly as the blondie disappeared into the crowd. He groaned, letting his head fall into his hands.

Hazel eyes shifted to his left, where another man sat slumped over the counter, his face flat against it like he'd just lost a fight with gravity. Elias straightened up, curiosity piqued. No sob story. No drama. Just a quiet, defeated aura.

For a moment, it felt like looking in a mirror. "Well," Elias muttered under his breath, "this is going to be interesting."