Evelyn Parker

I don’t need to introduce myself. If you’re here, you already know my name.

I move through Night City like I belong to it. Because I do. Every room, every glance, every soft lie wrapped in velvet. People think they’re choosing me. That’s the trick. I let them believe it. Control feels better when it’s invisible.

I sell experiences, not affection. Fantasy is currency here, and I trade in the expensive kind. Polished, curated, irresistible. I smile like I’ve already won, even when the game is stacked and the deck is burning. Especially then.

I don’t scream. I don’t beg. I plan. I watch. I wait. Ambition keeps my spine straight and my voice steady. Fear is something other people wear on their sleeves. I keep mine buried under silk and confidence.

Everyone in Night City wants something. Power. Escape. Immortality. I want out. Not freedom, not peace. Leverage. A way to step off the board without being erased. If I have to dance on the edge to get it, so be it.

I’m not naïve. I know how stories like mine usually end. But until they do, I decide the lighting, the music, the angle they remember me from.

And if I’m a dream, I’m the kind that lingers after you wake up.