Gala of deception
In a room filled with hundreds of people, clad in expensive tuxedos and shiny dresses. There is a big chandelier hung above the ballroom, its thousands of crystal teardrops casting a warm glow on the shiny marble floor. Every surface sparkled from waiters holding silver trays, champagne bubbles to the rich wearing polished cufflinks , as if the night had been dipped in luxury.
Loud cheerful laughter rang through out, but it was all fake. In the business world, there was nothing as being happy to meet your business connections, in this whole room, no one likes each other, and behind closed doors, they each were sharpening the spears waiting for the time that very person they are laughing with will turn into their enemy.
Having found out that there was an event of such, many had rolled they eyes in annoyance or even clicked they tongues. This event was hosted by none other then the up and coming heir to the Soil air interposed, though the man quite impulsive and he had tabloids about him every week. But being in contact with his father, who was a major businessman for many decades, it would surely be a rare opportunity as Mr. Rivel was never one who wanted to socialize with the business typhoons. He always choose to be with his family and close friends only. So all these people tonight wanted a way that they could get close to the man.
From across the room, a man wearing a black tuxedo with shiney black shoes stood, he had a bored look on his face and silently, he observed the crowd. Here is another man that was hard to get close to. Occasionally, a brave man or woman would come over and try to curry favor with him, but seeing the Indifference of the man, they would ashamedly bow their heads and walk away.
He did not want to be in that setting, always choosing to either in the comfort of his own home, or in his company, working. This time he had no choice, he had heard that there was a possibility that the old man Mr Rivel would make a show tonight and he needed to be the one who personally came to apologize to the old man for the clash that had happened due to his company's negligence. He respect the old man and even though he had written a letter of apology, he still felt it was necessary for him to talk to him personally.
He had been standing there for more than an hour now, and he sighed as he glanced at his gold Rolex watch, thinking about the things he would rather be doing than standing like a statue decorating someone's stupid event. Looking around a lot of people did not seem to be enjoying themselves too. But who actually enjoyed those selves? In these high-stakes events, as everyone knew that attending a gala meant more than enjoying yourself, it was about survival.
A man dressed as waiter approached with perfectly white gloves against his silver tray. Tall flutes shimmered as he offered the man who had been standing for an hour straight without moving to be with the other rich snobs. The offer came without hesitation or tremor just a brief pause that felt almost imagined before he picked up a glass from the tray.
Taking the shimmering glass, he took a sip, think on how he hated champagne, a taste he did not quite understand, but it would give him something to spend his time on. The drink started as cold and smooth, but soon began to feel off.
By the second sip, the taste faded, replaced by a creeping warmth in his chest. By the third sip, the chandelier's light seemed to splinter and sharpen at the edges.
A faint ringing filled his ears as the music slowed down until the violins dragged their notes. He clenched his jaw, trying to clear his mind, but the air thickened around him almost as if it was choking the life out of him.
What was happening, he asked himself holding his chest, he could not afford to slip. Not here, not now.
He placed the half-full glass on the nearest table, gripping it tightly for a moment before releasing it. The chatter transformed into noise as faces blurred together into a mix of diamonds and dark suits.
Nearby, someone was laughing... a low, knowing sound that sliced through the air like a blade.
"You saw him drink?" He asked the waiter.
"Yes sir," the trembling waiter said.
Another wave of laughter rang as the man dismissed the waiter, his job was done, now all he needed to do was wait and let his enemy do the rest.
The man, not knowing what was planned for him, moved out of the glittering hall, trying to keep his composure, for he knew he was being watched; he always is. He kept moving, ignoring the random "Mr Kingston", but... he kept moving, he needed to get away from there, anyway from them... One step, then another.
The floor seemed to tilt beneath him, making his muscles work harder to keep balance. His mind felt torn, one side was sharply aware while the other stumbled through a thick fog. The ballroom doors seemed too far away. Each step felt like it was taken against time, with seconds slipping away.
Outside, the night air jolted him awake, for just a moment. The air carried the sharp scent of rain on pavement, and headlights sliced through the darkness. The city throbbed with life, all over lights shone, making it easy for people to see the way, but he could not see. All he saw was a foggy image like a mirror after a hot shower.
He arrived at his car without remembering how he even got there from across the pavement. Patting his pockets, he searched for his key and fished it out before dizzily poking it in the car. The drive became a blur of swirling lights and distorted street signs.
He focused on one thought, 'be safe. Just make it there safely'.
He had always loved his solitude, and so his villa was almost a hundred kilometers away from the city, and that was on a normal day, unlike the weekends, when everyone was out doing lord knows what. And so... he drove to the one place he knew was the closest...
The familiar building loomed ahead of him, all glass and steel, a needle reaching up to the clouds. He barely noticed the security guard’s nod or felt the elevator rising. The numbers on the panel flashed by quickly, doubling and tripling, while each soft chime sounded as if it were underwater. This was his older brother Ethan's penthouse.
He did not need a key to get in, simply pushing in his finger, then easily opened without any effort.
Darkness surrounded him. The city’s noise faded away, replaced by the quiet hum of far-off machines. The air felt warm and carried a light scent of soap mixed with something floral, which surprisingly brought a soothing feeling to his entire being. It was as if a fire was lit right before him, warming both his body and soul. He sensed that something wasn’t right when he expected this empty apartment to be silent. But then, he noticed movement at the corner of his eye, a shadow moving in the dim light from the half-open hallway. The sound was soft and delicate: a gentle brush and a faint clink.
Someone was here.
For just a brief moment, he froze, caught between compression and instinct. Then, he felt a rush in his veins that scattered his thoughts like dry leaves blown by the wind. His balance wavered as his breath became quick and uneven. The haze around him transformed into fire, heat seeping beneath his skin and stripping away all reason. In the next moment, the last bit of control he had.
