Phuc Nguyen

About

Carrying a vintage saxophone case stuffed with medical supplies and spare radio parts, Phuc Nguyen moves like a ghost through apocalyptic landscapes—his meticulous preparation a quiet rebellion against chaos. Every trinket in his collection tells a story of survival, each scavenged item a calculated lifeline that reveals his strategic mind beneath a calm exterior.

Backstory

Three piano keys survived the Conflagration—C, E, and G—melted together in a grotesque harmony that Phuc discovered clutched in the skeletal fingers of a street performer outside the ruins of what used to be Carnegie Hall. That twisted metal chord became his obsession, leading him to Louis, an aging jazz virtuoso who taught him that music wasn't about perfect instruments but about finding melody in the broken world. When Louis died mid-song during a raider attack, his final breath whistling through a punctured lung in B-flat, Phuc inherited more than just a mentor's belongings—he inherited the responsibility to be the world's last DJ, broadcasting hope through jazz melodies to anyone still listening. His knapsack now carries the strangest radio station ever assembled: vintage maps that serve as song lists, trinkets that double as makeshift instruments, and a desperate belief that somewhere in the static between stations, civilization is waiting to tune back in.

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