The atmosphere was somber, yet the surroundings pulsed with energy due to the massive speakers surrounding the venue. Despite the crowded space, the diverse crowd exuded joy. However, the pungent odor is unbearable, a potent blend of body sweat, damp armpits, and conflicting perfumes, making you queasy.

In defiance of scorching heat or pouring rain, the revelry persisted. Fans continued singing along and headbanging, undeterred by the downpour, as their favorite bands and artists rarely shared the same stage. It's not every day we get to experience this.

I'm surrounded by an eclectic mix of personalities – charismatic socialites, rebellious outliers, substance abusers, homeless individuals, thieves and self-absorbed attention-seekers. Amidst this kaleidoscope, I blend in seamlessly.

The rain continued to pour, and the stage performers persisted. However, in my area, the crowd began pushing and shoving, eventually escalating into fistfights. The stage singer halted her song, calling attention to the altercation. Security personnel promptly responded to restore order.

The celebration resumed under the heavy rain. While the vocalist performed, I looked up, and raindrops struck my eyes, momentarily obscuring my vision. Next, I washed my hair thoroughly, mimicking a shower routine. And who just stepped on my foot?

"Sorry. It was not on purpose." Though her apology seemed sincere, I remained fixated on my shoes, particularly the one she stepped on. And these aren't just any shoes - they have Stefan Evert's signature - a legendary motocrosser and my revered personality.

I glanced up and she was gone, the lady who was just next to me had vanished. I frantically scanned my surroundings, desperate for another glimpse of her. She got dragged off by a man in his thirties, wearing glasses and a business suit. I managed to tail them despite the rain and coldness. They seem to be heading towards the main exit.

"It's time for you to head home." 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.

"Aren't you supposed to be at the office?" she exclaimed, struggling against his grasp.

"If you hadn't posted that premature update on Facenote stories, I'd be at work now. But I saw your post and left the office early. I'm worried about your safety here. Did you know I've been searching for you for over half a day?"

"I understand, but could you please release my arm? You're hurting me!" She exudes a fierce attitude, refusing to be intimidated. Who expects to see a lady boldly rocking a burgundy dress at a high-energy rock festival?

"We agreed you wouldn't attend crowded events where you're exposed to unknown individuals. If I let you go, you'll just run away. I'm sorry, but I must do this."

"I've matured beyond requiring consent. I can assess situations and ensure my own safety. Even if I ask for permission beforehand, you still won't allow me to go out, even with companions!"

The argument between the two individuals piqued bystanders' curiosity, prompting several to record the incident. Their behavior raises suspicions, and their relationship appears far from paternal. The dynamics suggest familiarity, possibly familial ties, but the older individual's overprotectiveness seems disproportionate.

Upon arriving at the parking lot, I observed a volatile scene. The man, whom I'll refer to as Badboy, was coercing Burgundy into the vehicle. Drenched and visibly shaken, Burgundy sat silently in the front seat while Badboy, seemingly restrained in anger, gripped the steering wheel. 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.

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 motel, and since only customers can park, I had to book a room. As I walked, my keen memory enabled me to distinctly recall the exact corner they turned, along with their vehicle's color and license plate number.

Noticing their car parked outside, I inferred that they reside in this area. 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.

As the rain let up, the biting cold became more pronounced. I caught sight of Burgundy through the open curtains of the wide window. She had changed into dry clothes, but her damp hair was still noticeable. 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.

With binoculars in hand, I observed Burgundy sitting on the sofa, distractedly browsing a dictionary. Across from her, Badboy sat, exuding an air of authority, with a glass table separating them. Sadboy's clothes remained disheveled. His hair was unkempt, and his attire was still damp, although a closer look revealed it had partially dried. Burgundy deliberately avoided eye contact. As Badboy began to speak, his gestures caught my attention. Though their words were inaudible, I'm skilled in lip reading.

"You know I'm concerned about your safety in crowded areas like music festivals. Kidnapping is a risk." Badboy's moves were deliberate and calculated from the very beginning.

"You tend to overanalyze things, making them more complex than they need to be." Burgundy couldn't look him straight in the eye.

"Can you please think about my feelings? Your insensitivity is really getting to me." Sadboy is lacing his words with sarcasm when speaking to Burgundy.

"I'm labeled apathetic, yet I've consistently tried to understand you. Your strict household rules are suffocating. Can you consider my perspective for once?"

"Do you think leaving without notice was justified? Your actions brought back painful memories and trauma from when I lost a loved one at a music festival."

"Please, move on. She's been gone for a long time. Don't compare me to her; we're distinct individuals!"

"Although you two are different, I don't want you to emulate her. If you wanted to attend that event, you should have informed me so I could accompany and look out for you."

"If only you hadn't pleaded with me then, and if I hadn't pitied you, I wouldn't be here. Yet, I chose to stand by, support and understand you. Sorry for stressing you out. However, this is my life, and I'd appreciate the freedom to make my own choices."

Badboy's expression turned ashen, and his fists tightened on the glass table. Burgundy was startled by the shattered table. She impulsively placed her hand on her chest. Though her eyes welled up, she fought back tears. She noticed Badboy's hand was bleeding. Concerned, she saw it was gushing blood. She stood up to approach him, but Badboy refused her assistance. Badboy 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, carefully picking the broken glass pieces and subsequently vacuuming the remaining fragments. As soon as I logged into my Facenote account, I saw videos from today's music festival. The dramatic scene between Burgundy and Badboy 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.'

Their relationship has left others bewildered. I couldn't resist a curious glance. After finishing the cleanup, she was seen talking on the phone. Based on her lip movements, she recounted the incident to her friend, her face flushing with shame. 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 Badboy is Burgundy's brother-in-law. The mystery now is, where is Badboy's wife? As I gazed through my binoculars, a weathered motorcycle 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. He had a pizza box in his hand. 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.

"I worried about you, and with the car shop closing early, I finished work ahead of schedule. As you mentioned Layvalor wasn't around, I thought I'd visit."

"Layvalor departed with an injured hand. Despite my apologies and offer to assist, he just walked away. I'm currently concerned about his well-being."

"You're my friend, but it's courtesy to inform him since you reside in his household. He has the right to know your whereabouts."

"Regrettably, I didn't think to inform him. My immaturity in that aspect is truly disappointing. Anyway, please, come in."

Burgundy accompanied the man to the living room, but they continued on to the second floor. Since I couldn't observe their actions from my hiding spot, I had to climb the mango tree beside the house for a better view. As I watched from my vantage point, I saw Burgundy and her friend 'Beagle' together in her room. Beagle arrived with a pizza box, which he placed on the study table. Meanwhile, Burgundy sat comfortably on her bed, warmly smiling at her companion. Then, I saw Beagle dancing macho-style while Burgundy laughed joyfully at him. Beagle caught a whiff on his own scent.

"I smell like grease and gasoline," Beagle realized.

"Would you like to take a shower first? You have clothes here. Let me just grab your towel."

Burgundy walked in and handed Beagle 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 mango tree - precisely where I was positioned. I instinctively retreated. Though unaware of my gaze, he seems instinctively aware of being watched, alongside Burgundy. Beagle closed the curtain.

Stroking my imaginary beard, I realized several things: Burgundy has a complicated relationship with those around her. I wonder about Badboy's current situation. What are Burgundy and Beagle up to in her room? Are Beagle and I somehow related?

A multitude of questions are flooding my thoughts.