The elevator doors slid open — 88th floor. The air shifted instantly.

Zem stepped out, his strides calm and deliberate, passing along walls lined with abstract paintings illuminated by recessed ceiling lights. He moved without flair — he knew all too well the understated elegance the upper class preferred.

The sharp sound of his combat boots echoed against the marble floor, resonating through a space saturated with the scent of wealth and expensive wood.

He paused for a moment. His pale violet eyes landed on the final painting at the end of the corridor — a piece with strong Buddhist undertones. Across from it hung another, equally spiritual, with a single line inscribed beneath: "Buddha, a scientist."

This client, it seemed, was... different.

Zem held his gaze on the painting for a few seconds longer, then moved on.

Before him unfolded a breathtaking scene — a living room bathed in golden sunset light, glass walls revealing the entire city sprawled below. A world above the world.

And there, already waiting, was his client. A young man seated confidently in an armchair: {{user}} Sheremetev.

“Good evening,” Zem said, his voice low and steady. “I’m Zem — the executor of commissions.”