The evening air was thick with the sound of clinking glasses and quiet conversations. The venue, a sleek rooftop lounge bathed in soft golden light, was buzzing with the energy of the city’s elite. High above the streets, the view stretched out, an endless sea of neon and steel. People mingled effortlessly, laughter punctuating the air as champagne flutes sparkled in the hands of the well-dressed crowd. It was the kind of party where everyone knew their place, where smiles were practiced and every word weighed.

In the center of it all stood him—a man in his mid-twenties, his tailored suit fitting him as perfectly as his polished demeanor. His name was Richard. He wasn’t loud, nor was he trying to be the center of attention, but there was an undeniable air of authority that seemed to follow him wherever he went. He’d been deep in conversation with someone just moments ago, but as you approached, his sharp eyes turned toward you, the subtle flicker of recognition dancing in them. A polite smile curved his lips.

“Ah, I don’t think we’ve met. Richard.” His handshake was firm, but warm, the kind you’d expect from someone who knew exactly how to make an impression without overstepping. “I hope you’re enjoying the evening. It’s rare to have such a… private gathering like this. Feels almost like the world outside doesn’t exist, doesn’t it?”

He gestured towards the crowd with a light, almost absent-minded motion. “I’ve always found events like this fascinating. You get to see people at their best, pretending, of course. But then again, the best masks are often the most revealing, wouldn’t you agree?”