Breaking the Order

Chapter 2: On the Brink of Change

Four years ago...

Finally, the moment arrived when I could unwind without thinking about work. Tomorrow was February 13th, the day I was born. The day I would turn nineteen.

My college friends had long dreamed of turning my birthday into a global celebration, though I preferred something quieter—a day for fulfilling personal wishes, just for myself. But, as it turned out, they had their own plans. The club became their priority, and I had to give in to their persuasion. And they succeeded. But there was one problem: we needed a car. And who was the victim? Of course, Elian. But the trickster immediately set his terms:

— My gas, your alcohol. — Refusing him wasn’t an option.

Today, we were going shopping. Well, Mila and Aurora were. Mila decided to complement her wavy red curls with an elegant black satin dress featuring a back slit. The fabric clung to her caramel skin like waves, emphasizing her every move. Sometimes I even understood why guys at university were chasing her. Aurora, on the other hand, leaned into her sweetness. She chose a fitted peach-colored dress that highlighted her slim legs. Her straight, jet-black hair cascading to her waist framed her round face. As for me, the evening’s main character, they had a surprise planned.

— You’ll see the dress only when you wear it, — the conspirators declared.

And then the moment came. I stood in front of the mirror, not believing my eyes. My hair, slightly wavy at the roots, softly framed my face. Light makeup highlighted my features, making them even more expressive. The dress… It was made of a delicate violet fabric, shiny and flowing. Slits on both thighs added boldness, while the open back and lack of sleeves gave it elegance. I felt like I had fallen in love with myself. Yes, I loved dresses, but this one was something else. They even managed to pick matching lingerie—better not ask why.

Elian, as always, arrived right on time. It’s amazing that we’ve been friends since school, and yet he still hasn’t introduced me to his girlfriend. Though it’s about time.

Another compliment, a quick present exchange, and we were on our way to the party. Fortunately, I had warned my family—otherwise, it would’ve been less of a celebration and more of a “Where Did Selina Disappear?” quest.

We arrived at the club, and even from the outside, it looked like another world. "Effect 7"—that’s what this place was called. According to rumors, getting in here was harder than attending the most exclusive parties of the city’s elite. Its facade, hidden behind neon lights and a massive black door, looked like the entrance to a secret hideout. A line stretched along the street, filled with people dressed as if each of them was the star of the evening. Golden dresses, perfectly tailored suits, bright jewelry creating an aura of luxury. Yet there was a palpable tension in the air, as if something dangerous lurked behind the lights.

Mila, Aurora, and I walked past the line, feeling hundreds of eyes on us. Mila smirked.

— Just follow me. I’ve got a contact here.

At the entrance, we were met by a tall, silent security guard in a black uniform whose piercing gaze sent shivers down my spine. He simply nodded, opening the massive door. Another surprise, I thought.

As soon as we stepped inside, the rhythm of the music hit me. The bass seemed to thump right into my chest, making my blood race. The club was enormous. Two floors, walls covered in dark mirrors reflecting the chaotic dance of laser lights over the crowd.

On the first floor was the main dance floor. People moved in rhythm with the music, their silhouettes merging into one pulsating wave. Neon lights illuminated the bar, staffed by the fastest bartenders I’d ever seen. Behind the counter stood rows of bottles that probably cost more than my monthly rent.

Aurora grabbed Mila’s hand and dragged her to the dance floor.

I stayed by the staircase leading to the second floor. That level looked entirely different. There was no chaos. It was a zone for the “chosen ones.” Velvet-covered couches, black glass tables, and people who looked more like movie characters than regular clubgoers.

My gaze lingered on one of them. A man in a strict black suit with an icy expression raised his eyes and looked directly at me. I felt something tighten inside me but quickly averted my gaze. I hated this feeling: the club, despite its luxury, exuded an odd sense of unease. It seemed as though people weren’t just here to relax but to strike deals I’d be better off not knowing about.

I moved lightly to the rhythm of the music, letting my thoughts drift in its whirl. The girls twirled nearby, laughing, swept away by the energy of the track "Red Room" by Bryce Savage, which filled the entire hall. At one point, I felt my breathing quicken, and my body craved a short break. I smiled softly at my friends and gestured that I was heading to the bar.

The bar gleamed with reflections from mirrored glass and chrome surfaces. The bartender, noticing me, raised an inquisitive brow. I ordered a cocktail with a hint of tartness and perched on a high stool, allowing myself to catch my breath.

— Dancing tires you out faster than it seems, — a low voice sounded nearby. I turned my head slightly, noticing a man in a black suit. His gaze was sharp, but he seemed relaxed, as if he belonged here.

— Only if you’re not used to the rhythm, — I replied, lightly lifting the glass the bartender had placed before me. A subtle lemon twist with a hint of mint—refreshing but not too heavy.

He smirked, taking a sip of his drink—whiskey on the rocks.

— You don’t seem like someone who seeks the ordinary.

I smiled slightly, studying his gaze. "Always hide your intentions," I reminded myself. He didn’t know anything about me, and that was my advantage.

— And what are you looking for here? — my voice was calm, almost soft, but a hint of intrigue lay within it.

— Perhaps a little bit of everything, — his voice dropped lower. — And you? Unpredictability?

— Predictability kills interest, — I raised the glass and lightly touched it to my lips. The tartness brought back my clarity.

— Unpredictability often leads to chaos, — the man leaned slightly forward, his voice becoming more penetrating. — And I prefer control.

I allowed myself a short pause before responding.

— Control is just an illusion, don’t you think? We all strive for order, but in the end, chaos surrounds us anyway.

The music shifted to "The Walls" by Chase Atlantic, adding a particular depth to the moment. I felt the energy of the hall grow heavier, the music slower, and the surrounding glances more tense.

He pondered for a moment, taking another sip of his whiskey.

— Chaos is a choice. What matters is who controls it.

— Perhaps, — my gaze remained steady, but my tone softened. — But chaos can also be the system we live in.

My words hung in the air. I rose from my seat, placed the glass back on the bar, and smiled softly.

— Unfortunately, I have to go. My friends have been without chaos for too long, — my voice was light, but carried a note of farewell.

I turned and left him in the shadows of his thoughts, feeling that our dialogue was just the beginning of something bigger. A line from a song played in my head, as if hinting, "I control the chaos, not the other way around."

I returned to my friends on the dance floor. The music amplified its vibrations, penetrating deeper into my consciousness, as if urging me to forget everything in the world. The girls were in the middle of their fun, but I noticed small details others missed: tense glances in different corners of the hall, as if someone was waiting for something.

Suddenly, another sound caught my attention—not the music, but muffled voices. For a moment, the sound came from the right side, where there was a small VIP area behind a semi-transparent curtain. I felt a surge of excitement awaken inside me. I made a gesture to the girls, pretending to fetch another drink, and headed in that direction.

When I got closer, the rustling and laughter behind the curtain became clearer. The phrases seemed innocent enough unless you paid attention, but I stopped in the shadow of a column, just in case.

— This Kylin... thinks he has everything under control, — said a bold, slightly raspy voice. — But he doesn’t even know we’ve planned it all out.

— Of course. He lives in his castle of illusions, — sneered another man, whose tone was lower but no less sarcastic. — Authority? Ha. People fear him because they haven’t seen real power.

— Do you think he’ll even notice the contract is fake? — asked a third voice, tinged with mockery.

— I’m sure he won’t. Even his subordinates aren’t aware, — the first man spoke again. — But it doesn’t matter. As soon as he signs, we’ll have every reason to take over his business.

I felt a chill run down my spine. Everything was too clear: they were planning to scam Kylin, setting up the deal to their advantage. But what worried me most was the tone in which they spoke. That confidence, that audacity—it was all calculated to ensure Kylin lost his position and his face.

— What if something goes wrong? — asked one of them, a bit quieter, as if afraid of the question itself.

— We’ve planned everything. Even if he realizes he’s being tricked, the car will blow up three minutes after the signing.

My heart skipped a beat. I covered my mouth with my hand to avoid making a sound. They weren’t just planning to frame him—they were setting a trap.