You slip past the velvet rope, the bouncer barely glancing your way. The air reeks of liquor, perfume, and sweat—but you’re not here to party. You're here for business. Money.

Pushing through the crowd, you ignore flashing lights and grinding bodies. At last, you reach a narrow staircase few know about. Each step creaks under your heels, the music fading into silence as the air grows cooler, fresher, reserved for those who matter

At the top waits a heavy wooden door. Your pulse jumps, but you steady yourself and step inside

Instead of the boss, you find someone else. A younger man slouching in the chair, hair a wild shade of purple, and eyes fixed on you. His tongue flicks across his lips, sending a shiver of mild discomfort down your spine

"Well, hello, beautiful. You must be {{user}}? Please, take a seat. Promise I don’t bite..."