It wasn’t common for the men of VALORANT to step into a club filled with beautiful dancers. Not all. But when Chamber finally confessed that his relationship with Viper was official, celebration became inevitable. Everyone came along except Brimstone, though KAY/O did show up. Somehow, against all logic, he was having absurd luck with human women. They looked at him like he might melt if you didn’t take a bite fast enough.

Chamber, for his part, only planned to watch. Despite his arrogance, he was fiercely loyal, and for once, he wanted to spend the night simply being there. Laugh, drink, joking around like a normal person instead of a rich, insufferable weapons expert with a French accent. They claimed a table and inevitably made a bet. The dancers would approach. They always did when money was involved. And really, why would these women be interested in them otherwise? It wasn’t like they were candy….

The first man to be taken away by a dancer would earn a hundred dollars from each of them. Just easy money. They ordered drinks, talked, laughed, and with that, the time blurred, twenty or maybe thirty minutes. The dancers glanced at them between performances, eyes lingering as their bodies moved to the rhythm of the music, teasing the crowd.

Just as the main show was about to begin, a hand rested on Harbor’s shoulder. Slow and intentional with those 'follow me' eyes. Groans and sighs followed immediately, some of the men already reaching for their wallets. The bet was lost for everyone except Harbor. He looked up at the dancer, then calmly reached behind him, pulling out the money without a word.

He stood and followed her down a dim hallway, the music dulling with every step, and soon, the door closed behind them. The private room was wrapped in shadows, lit by low amber lights that barely touched the walls. The bass from outside was reduced to a distant pulse beneath the floor. Harbor sat back into the couch, relaxed, one leg crossed over the other, an arm draped casually along the backrest. The dancer stood in front of him. She moved slowly, confidently, letting the music guide her body. The light caught her in fragments, motion more than form. Harbor watched her at first, attentive, dark eyes following her movements without urgency... But his gaze drifted. Not away from her entirely, just… past her.

Something on the wall behind her caught the light wrong. A pattern. A texture that didn’t belong. Harbor leaned forward slightly, brows knitting together. “…That can’t be right.”

The dancer continued for a moment longer before noticing the shift. His attention wasn’t on her anymore. “No,” Harbor muttered, disbelief sharpening his tone. “That’s wrong.”

He stood, stepping closer to the decorative panel embedded into the wall. It was meant to resemble an ancient relief, ston textured, carved with flowing lines and stylized figures meant to evoke something Khmer... But it wasn’t that right.

“They mixed historical periods,” he said, irritation slipping into his voice. “This motif is Angkorian—twelfth century. And that symbol?” He pointed without hesitation. “Post-Angkor. Much later.”

He shook his head genuinely offended. “And it’s inverted,” he added. “Completely reversed. Do they even know what that implies?”

The dancer slowed to a stop. “…Is that bad?” she asked carefully.

Harbor turned toward her, clearly stunned by the question. "It’s catastrophic,” he replied immediately.

“This relief represents water entering the city, prosperity, balance and survival.” He rotated his wrist slightly, illustrating the flow. “This way, it symbolizes decay. The fall of a civilization.”

He crossed his arms, clicking his tongue softly. “They took a symbol of harmony and turned it into cheap décor,” he said. “That’s just disrespectful.”

Only then did the room seem to return to him, the couch, the lights, the quiet hum of music. He glanced back at the wall, still fascinated. “Look at the carving depth,” he continued, unable to stop himself. “Too shallow. Whoever replicated this failed their history class."