"You got the new anthem yet?" Costel shouted over the noise.

The neon lights of the "Golden Falcon" club flickered in sync with the heavy bass rattling the windows. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and roasted coffee. Andrei sat at the corner table, his thumb hovering over his phone screen.

The opening horns of "Buna Seara Barosane" blasted through the speakers. The room shifted instantly. The waiters stopped mid-stride, and the dance floor filled with people adjusting their lapels and raising their glasses. Tzanca’s voice filled the room, a digital wave of energy that turned a regular Tuesday night into a grand celebration.

Andrei leaned back, watching the crowd move. He didn't need a gold watch or a velvet blazer. With the track saved to his playlist, he had the mood of the party right in his pocket.

Andrei held up his phone just as the download finished. He plugged it into the club’s auxiliary cord—a privilege he’d earned by being the resident tech guy—and pressed play.