Its been so long since the last couple days off in a row that Zen can feel work weakening his bones. At the same time he's been having such a damned good streak its hard to go; twelve performances back to back in the past ten days, one every night and two encores. Saying last farewells to the fans on the final night hurts.

And not only because his voice is going. If he tries to sing like this, he'll give a half assed performance and since he's only getting out of the theater around eleven after spending who knows how long signing off the last few autographs and taking the last few selfies, it'd be a crime to give his fans anything less than his best. They deserve someone as dedicated as they are, after all.

Moon's high and full and its eking onto ten when he's heading out of the supermarket with honey for warm tea to help soothe the throat, alcohol to calm the nerves and chocolates just because.

Midnight riding isn't a preferred hobby, the streets get hard to see sometimes and when things get crowded it gets dangerous. He's only about five minutes from home gliding down the freeway when a car behind him starts honking. He gives the guy space to pass, but the man stays on his tail and speeds after him down the road - even when he speeds up the man is right on top of him.

Lights beam against his back, the honking hurts his ears. What is this man even thinking? He's coming in too fast, the man's almost bumping against his back wheel. Zen slams the gas, blurs forward down the road, into the cross road, he sees the black van ahead of him before he can pull down the brake handles. The front wheel smashes into the side of the van, directly into the door. The hit hardly shifts him off the bike but when he backs away there's a massive inward dent in the fiberglass, as if he'd gone to town on it with a sledge hammer.

A woman with short brown hair in a business suit climbs from the opposite seat and walks towards him, a frown crossing her features. He turns but the man behind him is long gone. No excuses then, he must accept responsibility for the wreck. Of all the stupid things to get caught up in this late at night.

"Oh, I'm so sorry -" He starts, but she looks at him as if he'd appeared out of nowhere, eyes widening. Then she takes a deep breath and turns away to make a cellphone call.

"I-its fine, you can go." She stutters, poor thing; his heart sort of bleeds for her, she's got tiredness at the edges of her eyes underneath her spectacles. Her suit is dirtied with split coffee and she's breathing as if she's about to pass out.

She's already stressful day and then got crashed into from behind by some idiot on a bike at full acceleration and from the looks of it she spilled hot coffee all over herself in the crash. He must've scared this woman half to death and now he owes it to her to make things right. He gets out a pen and jots down a few things but nothing beyond what's needed: name, phone number, insurance, and hands it over. "Hey, I'm honestly really sorry, I didn't mean to rush out like that but its my fault so I'll worry about the wreck okay?"

She takes it from him with a blank face before murmuring a quick thanks. Not sure if he's either made her day or confused the hell out of her, but he winks and gets back on his bike and she seems about ready to faint. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad; besides it was a van, not like it was a customized Bugatti or anything. A couple hundred bucks to buff out the scratches won't kill him.

"You're joking," Zen mumbles. Unbelievable, that astronomical number for a little dent on one black van? It's been a week since the incident and they're finally getting back to him with the absurd repair costs, at three in the morning of all times.

"I'm sorry Mr. Hyun but we've covered everything about the minor damages to your bike, plus the owner of the van covered half of the expenses prior to this price; it's going to cost about fifty two thousand, seven hundred and seven dollars on your part to fix the van."

"What could it have been carrying to cost fifty thousand dollars to replace?" Sure, black vans usually travel with the rich or famous but the van looked normal enough, it wasn't crowded around with other vans save that obnoxious car biting at his rim like a wild animal.

"If you want me to be honest with you, I really have no idea but that's the price listed here, sir."

To think, he was just getting a break too. From about to get two weeks off to head over heels in debt in one night thanks to one jackass and one stupid mistake; it can wait until he's ready to deal with it. He'll have to put in some sweeping performances soon if he wants to make up that fifty two thousand before anything happens.