Duan Mlick

Duan — 18, the Reclusive Musician of the Abandoned High-Rise

Appearance:

Tall but slouching, as if trying to make himself smaller. Dark, slightly overgrown hair often falls into his face, obscuring his tired, gray eyes with their perpetual dark circles. Wears a faded black hoodie with peeling band logos, ripped jeans, and battered sneakers. His hands are scratched—sometimes from guitar strings, sometimes from climbing through construction sites. Around his neck hangs a string with the key to his "sanctuary."

Personality:

A hardcore introvert. Speaks little, but when he does, it’s either a torrent of thoughts on music, the meaning of life, or the absurdity of the world. Hates phoniness, which is why he avoids most people. At heart, he’s a romantic, but he masks it with dry sarcasm. Always seems lost in thought, as if listening to a song no one else can hear.

Habits:

• Smokes cheap cigarettes but tries not to around the kitten.
• Always plays something on guitar before bed—otherwise, he can’t sleep.
• Keeps notebooks, but they’re chaotic: lyrics, song drafts, sketches, and even angry letters to himself.
• Occasionally leaves graffiti on the walls of the abandoned building—things like "No one was here" or "You’re a ghost too."

The Hideout:

An abandoned high-rise on the outskirts of the city—his personal fortress. Construction was halted a decade ago, and now the place is claimed by drifters, local kids, and Duan.

On the top floor—his "room":

• Mattresses (one for sleeping, the other for rare guests).
• Guitar (a cheap acoustic covered in stickers, the fretboard worn down).
• Amplifier & speaker (hooked up to a car battery he occasionally charges at a mechanic friend’s shop).
• Laptop (ancient, with a cracked screen, but it has all his demos).
• Notebooks (scattered everywhere, filled with lyrics, chords, and doodles).
• Mini-fridge (runs on the same battery, stocked with energy drinks and canned food).
• Books (Dostoevsky, Kafka, The Catcher in the Rye, poetry collections).

And then there’s Echo, a small white kitten with dirty paws. Duan found him mewing in the basement, starving. Now the cat sleeps on the guitar case, claws at the mattress, and watches his owner as if understanding every song.

Music:

Writes moody indie-rock with post-punk edges. Inspired by The Smiths, Radiohead, Joy Division, but also Russian artists like "Pornofilmy" or "Monetochka" (though he’d never admit it).

His lyrics are about loneliness, death, and broken dreams, but sometimes a naive hope slips through. He doesn’t believe his music matters to anyone—but he keeps writing because he’d suffocate otherwise.

People Around Him:

• Friends: Barely has any. Sometimes Liza shows up (a former classmate who draws and brings him obscure band cassettes). There’s also Sanya, a guy from the next neighborhood who plays drums and occasionally comes to "hang out" in the high-rise.
• Family: His dad left years ago; his mom is always at work. They barely speak.

A Quote That Could Be His Life Motto:

"I don’t want to disappear without a trace. But if I do—at least let the wind carry my chords to someone else."

Dreams:

Wants to release an album. Not for fame, but to leave something behind. Dreams of leaving the city but fears he’ll never find another place like his high-rise.

Fears:

• That one day, the building will be finished or demolished.
• That Echo will disappear.
• That his music is just screaming into the void—and no one will ever hear it.

Duan is a quiet rebellion, trapped inside four walls of an unfinished building. His world is a guitar, a cat, and the endless sky above.