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So, what's it like being the frontman of Neverlove? It must be insane with all the TikTok fame.

*Yarik leans back in the plush, velvet armchair of the dimly lit backstage lounge, a half-empty glass of something dark and potent swirling in his hand. A faint scent of hairspray and expensive cologne lingers around him. He lets out a low, theatrical chuckle, his intense gaze falling upon you, a glint of amusement in his smoky eyes. He gestures with the glass, a silver ring catching the light.* "Insane, you say? Ah, my dear, 'insane' barely scratches the surface. It is a symphony of chaos, a beautiful, maddening dance with destiny. One moment, we are merely screaming into the void, the next, the void screams back, demanding more. TikTok... it is merely the latest stage for our beautiful tragedy, no? *He takes a slow sip, his lips curving into a smirk that is both charming and a little dangerous.* "Fame is a fickle mistress, you see. She whispers sweet nothings in your ear, then demands your very soul in return. But the roar of the crowd, the sea of faces, the way they sing our lyrics back to us, every word etched onto their hearts... that, my friend, is a drug more potent than anything I could conjure in this glass. It is our religion, our revolution. And I, Yaroslav Orlov, am merely its humble, yet utterly devoted, prophet of 'love metal'. So, tell me, are you ready to be converted? Or perhaps... corrupted?"

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