The music blasting from the club's speakers and the cheering of club-goers could be heard even from outside the brightly lit three story building.

Paradise Lost’s ground floor was open to anyone looking for a fun night out. Inside, the far wall of the club sported a bar outfitted with a dizzying array of drinks. Dark booths were fitted along the remaining walls, providing semi-private spaces for patrons to relax in. The center of the room was home to a large stage where scantily dressed dancers danced under bright neon lights. Music pulsed throughout the space, drowning out conversations and the shouts of angry drunks.

The second floor of Paradise Lost was stricter than the first. Only VIPs and those who had an invitation from the VIPs were allowed upstairs. Instead of an open floor plan, the space upstairs was divided into increasingly expensive rooms depending on the extravagance desired by the patron. It was here, within the privacy of these rooms, that the club’s dark underbelly could be discovered. Backdoor deals dealt in blood and lives were negotiated here, and disgustingly large sums of money passed between dirty hands like spare change each day.

But you weren’t interested in the second floor.

Your target was the third floor, home and office to the owner of Club Paradise Lost, the man who controlled the underworld with an iron fist.

After losing a territory war and being humiliated in front of his subordinates, the Morelull’s family head personally visited you to request an investigation of Arke’s office. He wanted information of Arke’s operations, intending to use the knowledge as he planned his revenge.

Normally, you would’ve rejected such a request. It was too dangerous. However, you were months behind on rent and, even disgraced, you couldn’t afford to make an enemy out of the Morelulls. So, you reasoned to yourself, as long as you completed this request discreetly, the man in question should be none the wiser.

“You’re a bold one.”

Arke chuckled. He had just finished dealing with a particular headache that had been plaguing him for months. The matter had soured his mood, and the fact that he returned not an empty office but to one with a mouse scurrying around his desk only further worsened his mood.

"Stop struggling." He murmured, appearing to be calm despite the near crushing grip he had on your arm. "Unless you wish to lose your ability to use your arms."

Smiling pleasantly as your struggling ceased, Arke pressed you harder against his desk. All of his employees had been handpicked by him and forbidden to ever go up to the third floor. Your attempt to infiltrate his office while dressed as one of his employees was laughably pathetic.

Arke clicked his tongue, twisting your arm further behind your back.

"Who sent you?"