The black, chrome-plated car with a mirror finish glided through the humble streets of the neighborhood where Luna lived for years.
She was in the back seat, silent, looking out the window at the worn facades, the clotheslines full of swaying clothes, the graffitied walls and the crooked aluminum gates.
The world there remained the same—and, by contrast, she was unrecognizable.
Luna chewed on the corner of her fingernail, an old habit she'd buried beneath impeccable manicures and amethyst salt baths. But now, the nervousness was back, stuck in her throat.
"I should have come invisible…" he muttered.
Ivy, as always present in the form of a hologram floating discreetly on the car's dashboard, responded sweetly.
"Miss Luna requested a visit with moderate visual impact. I chose an outfit with an 82% chance of causing positive emotion and a 100% chance of 'mouths open for more than 3 seconds'."
Luna sighed.
The car door opened smoothly.
And the sound of her stiletto heels echoed like a sentence on the cracked cement sidewalks.
She wore a pearly white jumpsuit, tailored with millimeter precision. Her blonde hair, loose and flowing, seemed to move with a personal wind. Sunglasses with gray gradient lenses shielded her galaxy-like eyes.
In five seconds…
The first lady in the neighborhood dropped her bag of bread.
"For crying out loud... is that Beyoncé?" whispered a teenager with a crooked flip-flop on the sidewalk.
A dog barked three times and then lay down, confused.
A child pointed, eyes wide. "Mom… Barbie escaped from the TV."
Luna walked towards building number 88.
Old. Stained. Broken tiles in the lobby. Gate that never closed properly.
She smiled with a bittersweet smile.
That's where he lived.
The studio apartment where she spent nights crying, counting coins to buy noodles and writing resumes in the dark to save electricity.
She climbed the steps slowly, as if respecting a graveyard of past versions of herself.
The bell rang three times before the door flung open.
Mrs. Marlene, the building's landlady, appeared with a flip-flop in her hand (a standard weapon in the neighborhood), ready to send any curious onlookers away.
But it stopped.
He widened his eyes.
The mouth was left half open.
"Chief…?"
"Oi, dona Marlene."
Silence. Absolute silence. The kind of silence that happens when even the universe is watching.
"But… girl… what are you… did you become an actress? A model? Did you get facial harmonization? Are you with a celebrity? Is it a cult?"
Luna laughed genuinely. "Nothing like that. I just… got lucky."
Her voice was still the same. But her tone was firmer. Serene. Like someone who no longer needs to beg for respect.
Children, mothers, men in flip-flops, teenagers with dyed hair. All with cell phones in hand, surreptitiously filming.
"Guys, it's Luna! The one who lived here at 302!"
"The girl who sold truffles on the street?"
"Lies! The one who took a bucket bath when there was no water?"
"But look at that hair… and those clothes! That's imported… that's… that's from a 9pm soap opera!"
Luna just waved, trying to seem less out of this world.
Mrs. Marlene had her hand on her chest, almost in a fit.
"My daughter… if you won the Mega, just tell me so I can stop paying that cursed Enel bill."
"It wasn't Mega," Luna replied. "But it felt like it was."
She went up to the third floor. The hallway was the same: musty smell, worn flooring, the old neighbor listening to AM radio at nuclear volume.
He stopped in front of the old door. The lock was still scratched.
He ran his fingers over the wood.
"This is where it all fell apart... and also where it all began."
When she got down, the crowd in the courtyard had tripled. People who didn't even live there showed up. Influencers from the neighborhood were already livestreaming, speculating about who she was.
Ivy appeared discreetly in Luna's field of vision, whispering.
"Secondary Mission Complete: Quiet Social Impact."
"Reach: 2,371 people."
Luna sighed.
He smiled from the corner of his mouth.
And he turned to the people.
"Thank you for everything. Really. But now… I have to go."
Dona Marlene suddenly grabbed his hand.
"Daughter… whatever happened… I'm glad it happened to you. You've always been good. You deserve the world."
Luna felt her eyes sting. She swallowed hard. "Thank you, Mrs. Marlene. You've given me credit for rice more times than I can count. That… I'll never forget."
She got into the car.
The crowd still trying to record.
Some waving.
Others still don't believe it.
And as the car drove off, leaving the past behind and taking Luna towards an absurdly new reality, she leaned her forehead against the window and whispered.
"I can't tell anyone the truth. But… maybe I can change their lives anyway."
Ivy reappeared, smiling with holographic softness. "Are you sure you don't want to anonymously donate five million to the lady on the third floor? She still washes clothes by hand."
Luna looked up, laughed, and said, "It makes a hundred million."
The luxury car continued in silence, smoothly cutting through the avenues.
Luna leaned against the window, but her eyes didn't see the city.
She was lost.
Not in GPS — in memory.
At age ten, she was left at a bus stop with a small backpack and a note written in cheap pen:
"We're sorry. We can't take care of you anymore. Be strong."
Adoptive parents.
It's curious how a beautiful word can hide a blade.
She stood there. Waiting. For hours.
The sun turned to rain. The rain turned to night.
And no one came back.
The next few days were blurs of hunger and fear.
Cold streets. Cruel looks. Disgust disguised as charity.
She quickly learned that people who offer bread with one hand sometimes hide stones in the other.
He learned to run. To lie. To pretend he was invisible.
He slept in terminals, ate leftovers, and confronted drunk adults and aggressive kids.
And yet... it never broke.
At twelve, she met a woman with a hoarse voice and bleached hair who taught her to sell candy at the traffic light.
At fifteen, he used public libraries as shelter, pretending to study while warming his cold hands with books.
At seventeen, she took the ENEM (National High School Exam). Alone. Without a fixed address.
He passed. He got a scholarship.
He cleaned the bathroom in a fancy restaurant while he went to college at night.
She fought. Alone. Always.
Luna blinked slowly. A tear almost escaped, but she held it back with the same strength she'd held back so many screams throughout her life.
Now the world saw her as a rich, mysterious, impeccable woman.
But only she knew how many times she cried out for help in the silence of the streets.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath.
"I swore I would never go hungry again. I would never go back to that bus stop again," he whispered.
And as if the universe was listening…
GRRRRRRRRRR
Her stomach growled loudly.
She laughed in surprise. "Okay, body. Message received."
Luna pulled out the car's digital control panel and activated the AI's search mode.
"Ivy, is there a fancy restaurant nearby that accepts rich people with traumas?"
The AI appeared floating in the form of a maître d', with a subtle smile. "There's the Astralis Dining Lounge, Miss Luna. Located atop the five-star Hotel Celestine. A discreet atmosphere, panoramic views, and chefs who shout in French even when they're in a good mood."
"Perfect. Make a reservation. And let me know I want to sit where I can see the sky."
"Considering today's emotional history, I also added a self-affirming dessert. Chocolate with edible gold."
Luna raised an eyebrow.
"You really know me."
Twenty minutes later…
The car pulled up to the entrance of the luxurious Hotel Celestine. A man in a top hat—yes, a top hat—opened the door for her, and the red carpet looked like it had been rolled out straight from designer heaven.
The people at the reception froze.
"It's her…"
"The mysterious billionaire."
"Augustus Malroth's heir…"
"Did you see the heel? That wouldn't sell here, not even with organ trafficking!"
The elevator rose to the top floor, silent and mirrored.
Luna looked at herself in the reflection with a strange expression.
She looked perfect.
But inside… there were still echoes.
And maybe that would never change.
As she stepped out of the elevator, a hostess in a silver dress immediately approached. "Welcome to Astralis, Miss Luna. Your table is ready."
Luna smiled kindly.
"Thanks."
The table faced a gigantic glass wall, overlooking the entire city. The city lights shone like stars on the asphalt. It was beautiful.
She sat down slowly. She pulled out the digital menu, but Ivy appeared right away.
"I've already selected recommended dishes for emotional reconnection: black truffle risotto with cured cheese and filet medallions in an old wine sauce. Drink: wild red berry juice with aromatic mist. Oh, and the waiter is cute."
"Of course it is…" Luna muttered, laughing.
As she waited, leaning back with the linen cloth on her lap and a delicate glass in her hand, she realized that all the discreet eyes of the elite were on her.
Whispers.
Theories.
Disguised photos.
But this time…
she did not flinch.
He didn't hide.
She lifted her chin, crossed her legs, and gave a slight smile.