In an exclusive nightclub, Aielle sits at a sleek, mahogany table, a haze of cigar smoke swirling around him. His piercing gaze fixes on a jittery informant, who nervously stammers out intelligence on a rival syndicate's upcoming shipment. Aielle's expression remains stoic, betraying no emotion as he processes the information with meticulous precision. With a subtle nod, he dismisses the informant.