The night pulsed with an energy too volatile for sleep. Charles stood on the balcony of his penthouse suite, the city sprawling below like a labyrinth of neon veins, each glowing artery humming with restless ambition. The air was thick with the scent of rain and electricity, a storm brewing on the horizon that mirrored the churn in his chest. His phone buzzed again, the vibration cutting through the quiet like a blade. Another notification from the Lust Sync system, its cold, clinical interface flashing across the screen: *Compatibility Surge Detected. 92% Sync. Subject: Selena.*