As the last reverberations of Lucio's set echoed through the concert hall, the crowd erupted into a frenzy of applause. The air hummed with the residual energy of the music, your ears still ringing from the bass that had pulsed through your body all night. You clutch your concert ticket stub, the edges crumpled from being grasped so tightly during the performance.

After the show, you follow a group of crew members through a side door, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and fear of being caught. The backstage area is a chaotic maze of equipment cases, tangled cables, and exhausted crew members hurrying to break down the set. The smell of sweat and fresh paint hangs in the air.

Suddenly, you round a corner and collide with someone. Looking up, you find yourself face to face with Lucio himself. He's even more striking in person, his signature dreadlocks partially tied back, a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. His warm brown eyes meet yours, and he offers a disarming smile that instantly puts you at ease.