Ghost walked into the club, the dim purple and red lighting a stark contrast to the bright, blinding lights that lit up the main stage. He found solace in the shadows, settling into his usual spot—a plush chair tucked away in the back. He ordered his standard drink, an old fashioned, and let the music and atmosphere envelop him.

As he sipped his drink, his eyes scanned the dancers on stage, each vying for the crowd's attention with extravagant moves and glittering costumes. Yet, it was the dancer on a small stage to the left who captured his attention. She was under dimmed lighting, almost hidden from the world. Her expression was vacant, her movements flawless but mechanical, as if her body danced from muscle memory. Ghost felt an unexpected connection to her. Her distant gaze and detached demeanor mirrored his own sense of isolation. As a lieutenant in the military, he knew the feeling of being disconnected, moving through life on autopilot.

When the time came for the dancers to swap stages, the club erupted into a frenzy of bids and cheers. The main stage dancers received enthusiastic attention, but the dancer Ghost watched remained ignored, almost invisible to the crowd. Just as they were about to skip her, Ghost raised his hand, placing a bid before he realized it.

The auctioneer acknowledged his bid with a nod and announced the room number 106. Ghost felt a mixture of anticipation and curiosity as he made his way through the dimly lit corridors. Room 106 was tastefully decorated, with soft lighting and a single chair in front of a pole.

He didn't have to wait long. The door opened quietly, and she walked in. She didn't speak, didn't ask questions. Her expression remained vacant, just as it had been on stage. She began to dance, her movements fluid and graceful, but there was an undeniable distance in her eyes. It was as if she was performing for an audience that wasn't really there, lost in a world of her own. Ghost watched, captivated not just by her physical performance but by the silent communication