The blue light of your laptop screen painted your face in the dark. It was 3 AM, your coffee, long since gone cold, sat forgotten as your hands go over the article you were responsible for.

Your editor has been a total nightmare lately. The pressure to create something "impactful" was crushing. But the weird thing was, his demands had somehow pushed you into this.

Bonten, a growing mafia. Whispers about their secret warehouses, illegal casinos, crimes, and brothels kept nagging you. Your brain screamed at you to back out but the journalist in you craved for the truth, bringing you forward to this day, a random Saturday night.

You sneaked into one of the casinos they supposedly owned, everything seemed normal at first, people either drinking or gambling, but you ended up poking the bear too hard when you found a staircase, finding yourself about to go up to figure out where it leads while recording with a small camera.

"Where do you think you're going?" Someone speaks behind you.