A perfect storm of misery: rain pouring down, crowdsurfing, tight spaces, putrid smells, ear-piercing noise, utter chaos, exhaustion, and amorousness. That sums up what I've seen so far here at Rak-en-rol Festival.

Rain or shine, the party goes on! What a rare delight when all your favorite artists team up to bring joy.

Crowded, and you'll find all sorts around. From smooth-talkers to troublemakers, deviants, junkies, vagrants, thieves, and self-proclaimed

main characters. Meanwhile, I'm the chameleon adapting to it all. I'm skilled at deception.

Tight space, and pushing through will only lead to trouble. There's a dark-haired, tattooed woman standing in front of me, wearing a miniskirt so short it reveals her marshmallow-soft buttocks. Whenever she backs up, her posterior brush against my zipper. Her movements seem intentional, rubbing her derriere against my pant's crotch area. I'm aware she's flirting with me.

The pungent odor is unbearable, a potent blend of body sweat, damp armpits, and conflicting perfumes, making you queasy. The woman standing before me emits a strong, sour smell reminiscent of 'sinigang.'

It's deafening, and if your ears bleed, it's because you've been blessed by the music. Even with the overwhelming noise, I can still hear the ticking of the bomb! I'm delusional in thinking that terrorists have planted explosives around the venue.

You'll go headbanging, and what if someone sets off explosives during the countdown? This type of gathering is a favorite target of rebel groups.

You'll go jumping and cursing. Weary and entranced, you'll let go of your worries, struggles, and frustrations with those who doubt you, as you surrender to the sky and savor each raindrop with abandon. The rain's sweetness reminds me of pomelo.

You'll be defenseless, and by nightfall, many will be knocked up and walking funny. This woman eyeing me wants to propagate my genes, likely due to my undeniable charm. She's flirting, teasing, and honestly, I'm not bragging when I say I'm good-looking. I'm just telling the truth. And I'm not attracted to soury women, to women who make the first move.

And who's the clumsy one who just stepped on my foot?

"Sorry. It was not on purpose." I ignored her apology, but I know she's sincere. I'm seething, just staring at my shoes. My teeth are grinding, and my blood is boiling. By the way, I get angry easily. And these aren't just any shoes - they have Cristiano Ronaldo's signature - a legendary athlete and my revered personality.

I glanced up and she was gone, the woman who was just next to me had vanished. I frantically scanned my surroundings, desperate for another glimpse of her, only to spot her being pulled away by a man in his mid-thirties. I managed to tail them. They seem to be heading towards the main exit, and it's still raining.

"I just came from work, I'm exhausted, and this is how you repay me for all my sacrifices, with disobedience? I'm so dissapointed on you!" Although thirtysomething, the man appeared remarkably youthful, thanks to his trendy Korean-style haircut. His voice exuded confidence, authority, and a touch of swagger, commanding attention with its firm, stern tone.

"I know, but you're hurting me with your tight grip on my arm!" She exudes a fierce attitude, refusing to be intimidated. Who expects to see a woman boldly rocking a burgundy dress and beige cowboy boots at a high-energy Rock festival?

"Didn't I tell you to inform me before leaving? I look like a fool searching for you everywhere!"

"Even if I ask for permission beforehand, you still won't allow me to go out, even with companions!"

Their heated exchange sparked curiosity among onlookers, with several people capturing the scene on video for documentation.

I find their behavior questionable. Their relationship seems unlikely to be paternal, given the lack of respectful language. Perhaps an older brother? But his reaction seems excessive. An uncle, maybe? Yet, his protectiveness borders on excessive. A family friend, godfather, or neighbor? I sense something peculiar.

We arrived at the parking lot, where I witnessed a disturbing scene. The man, 'Sadboy', was forcefully putting 'Burgundy' (the girl) into the car's front seat, handling her roughly, like used underwear carelessly thrown into a laundry basket. She was visibly distressed, struggling, and tearful, trying to push him away.

As their vehicle disappeared into the distance, I discreetly followed in my cabriolet, dressed in my damp, smoke-tinted hoodie and shades, and refreshed by the cooling taste of a eucalyptus mint.

My initial encounter with Burgundy left me with a unusual impression - a subtle, sweet sensation, devoid of any remarkable qualities. But later, it changed, and I felt that when we crossed paths on the pedestrian lane, I'd greet her and hug her, wanting to carry her tote bag myself, wanting to walk beside her, wanting to hear every heartbeat while she's by my side, wanting to hear her laughter, wanting to scream with joy. And I don't care what others think or say.

My feelings have transformed from indifference to deep affection, desire, and joy, disregarding public opinion.

They turned their vehicle into a side street, and I need to find a parking lot to park mine. Luckily, there's a space near the nearest lodging house, and since only customers can park, I had to book a room. The parking attendant looked underpaid, so I wasn't stingy with a tip, but I wanted to generously flood him with coins.

I have a keen memory. I still recall the exact corner they turned, their vehicle's color, and most notably, the license plate number, and noticing their car parked outside, I deduced that they were indeed residents.

Their two-story house features a terrace upstairs and a compact woodshed and garage on the side yard. The environment is enveloped in a somber, monochromatic mood. Notably, none of the homes have fences, simplifying unauthorized access. The houses loom like colossal graves in a cemetery.

I caught sight of Burgundy through the open curtains of the wide window. Standing in the middle of the street, she was clearly visible from where I stood outside. Burgundy is sitting on the living room couch, and if I don't move soon, I risk being seen.

Directly opposite their house stands an abandoned-looking home, giving the eerie impression that poltergeists reside within. I stepped onto the balcony, coughing from the dust. Thanks to my boy scout training, I'm always prepared. I had binoculars handy, making it simple to conduct my surveillance.

I feel like I'm viewing a dramatic soap opera unfold before my eyes.

With binoculars in hand, I observed Burgundy sitting on the sofa, distractedly browsing a dictionary. Across from her, Sadboy sat, exuding an air of authority, with a glass table separating them. Burgundy deliberately avoided eye contact. As Sadboy began to speak, his gestures caught my attention. Though their words were inaudible, I'm skilled in lip reading.

"All I want is for you to own up to your mistake and apologize. Is that too much to ask?"  Sadboy's moves were deliberate and calculated from the very beginning.

"If I've done anything wrong to you, it's breaking your favorite flower vase." Burgundy couldn't look him straight in the eye.

"Your sharp words only get sharper with time." Sadboy is lacing his words with sarcasm when speaking to Burgundy.

"Going to a party to lift my spirits at home isn't a sin!" Sadboy rose and confronted his conversational partner, leading to a heated exchange.

"Is there a man involved, causing you to behave like this and disrespect me?"  Sadboy emphasized.

"I'm old enough! Let me live my life!"

Sadboy's expression turned ashen, and his fists tightened on the glass table. Burgundy averted her gaze, tears streaming down her face as she burst into sobs, her hands clasped over her heart.

Sadboy abruptly walked out, and I quickly concealed myself in the balcony's shadows. Consumed by intense emotions, he rushed to his car, started it, and accelerated hastily. It's clear he's bound for a bar to drown his sorrows.

Burgundy stayed behind, tears streaming down her face as she clutched the book. It was as if I was witnessing a heart-wrenching scene from a TV series. I longed to envelop her in a warm embrace, provide solace, and whip up a comforting bowl of soup. Afterwards, we'd snuggle up, watching a documentary, her head resting on my shoulder, our hands entwined.

As soon as I logged into my Twitface account, I saw videos from today's rock festival. The dramatic scene between Burgundy and Sadboy has gone viral and is now trending.

'Overprotective brother dragged his younger sister away from a rock festival.'

'What's the true nature of their relationship: father-daughter or romantic partners?'

'Shocking moment between a sugar daddy and a co-ed at a free concert.'

Your relationship has left others bewildered. I couldn't resist a curious glance.

With a gentle touch, she dried her tears, picked up her phone, and gathered her composure. Taking a deep breath, she drew strength from within. In a fleeting moment, her vitality rebounded, erasing all signs of the previous drama. Now, chatting with someone on the phone, her carefree nature shone through, reminiscent of a playful kitten.

As I expanded my observation of the living room, I noticed various items: a vintage typewriter, a shelf filled with vinyl records, delicate ceramic origamis, and on a side table, a photo frame grabbed my attention, revealing something intriguing.

It turns out Sadboy is Burgundy's brother-in-law. The mystery now is, where is Sadboy's wife?

As I gazed through my binoculars, a weathered pick-up truck came to a halt outside Burgundy's residence. My pulse quickened when a man, matching my stature and physique, emerged. His attire was worn, yet he carried himself with poise and conviction. Deep in thought, he stood there, clad in a faded charcoal-black T-shirt.

As Burgundy welcomed him at the door, I observed their interaction with great interest. Initially, their connection seemed lacking – no spark, no chemistry. Still, they appeared like a manufactured loveteam, pieced together but ultimately doomed to crumble.

"I'm by myself at home for now. Grewean will take a while to come back, so no need to worry."

"We all have the time in the world, it seems."

"Please, make yourself at home."

"I just arrived. Had to wrap up some work at the shop."

"No worries. Sorry If I bothered you. If only I were smart in calculus, I wouldn't need your tutoring. I need your help because I need to pass tomorrow's test."

"You may not concentrate on studying if you smell me. I stink. I smell like grease and diesel. I put you first, so I haven't changed yet."

"You left some clothes in my room. Would you like to shower first before changing?  I'll start cooking dinner while you're at it."

I assumed Burgundy had hired a callboy, but it turns out she was simply seeking math lessons. The man's demeanor hinted at a double life, perhaps as a gay bar regular. They claim to be friends, but I harbor doubts. Given their undeniable chemistry, it's unlikely they haven't explored romance. Burgundy radiates charm, beauty, confidence, and sensuality, while 'BoRat' exudes a rough, rugged appeal.

Burgundy walked in and handed BoRat a towel. As he turned to enter the bathroom, his gaze drifted towards the window, where the curtains were open, facing the neighboring house, the balcony - precisely where I was positioned. I instinctively retreated.

There's something enthralling about this individual. From the start, I sensed depth. He oozes quiet confidence, comfortable with solitude, kind-hearted, child-friendly, respectful, and assertive. As I mentioned earlier, my pulse quickened upon seeing him. Though unaware of my gaze, he seems instinctively aware of being watched, alongside Burgundy. Closing the curtain, he brought the first chapter of this unfolding drama to a close.

What's up with Sadboy? Bro, that man seems possessive and erotic. How will he feel if his 'crush' secretly entertains male visitors?

What will happen to Burgundy after her tutorial with BoRat? What will Sadboy do to her when he comes home drunk and jealous? Will she pass tomorrow's exam?

What will happen to BoRat if Sadboy catches him? He'll probably get away easily since he's slick and has been doing this with Burgundy for a long time. Are we related, perhaps?

A multitude of questions are flooding my thoughts.

BERSERK PHANTASMS

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