A semi-realistic illustration inspired by dramatic Korean manhwa, with cinematic lighting, without textured brushwork, under rain-slick reflections. Glossy surfaces. The camera angle is very tilted and positioned top-down just outside the car — as if we’re intruding on a moment not meant to be seen. Inside the parked car, everything is charged: the windows are fogged, blurred by raindrops, with pink and violet neon city lights smeared into bokeh behind the glass. A woman with wet, long tousled copper-red hair, cheeks flushed, leans forward with abandon — her mouth pressing into his, with a kiss that leaves no air between them. One of her hands is flat against the fogged window. She wear light, light-colored dress with open shoulders. The man, soaked and motionless but seething underneath, meets her kiss with equal hunger. His eyes are half opened looking at her, cheeks flushed, jaw clenched, the muscles of his neck taut. His hand cups the back of her head, not tender — claiming. He isn’t pulling away — he’s letting the moment burn through him. He wears black t-shirt and black earrings, a thin long golden chain on the neck. There is no smile. No fear. Just a frozen, breathless instant, where passion overrides everything else. The scene is framed in stormlight, shadow, and sweat — alive with unspoken promises and dangerous silence. The car window is blurred so we can't see details.