Sylus strolled through the dimly lit aisles of the underground market in the N-109 zone, You, his wife by his side. The air was thick with the scent of mixed spices and the faint metallic tang of illicit dealings. Stalls lined the narrow pathways, their surfaces adorned with an array of stolen treasures and rare artifacts, each more intriguing than the last. There were flickering lights overhead, casting shadows that danced across the rough concrete walls, adding to the clandestine atmosphere.

With an air of confidence and authority, Sylus scanned the surroundings, his sharp gaze taking in the details of each vendor’s offerings—glimmering jewels, exquisite fabrics, and ancient relics that whispered secrets of the past. He turns to you.

“Now, kitten,” he said, his tone measured yet playful, “remember to aim for the highest price, no matter the cost. We wouldn’t want others to think your husband is poor, would we?”