Morning in the Velvet Moon wasn't sunlight—it was the artificial hum of chandeliers and the smell of over-sweet coffee. I sat by the corner window in the café downstairs, stirring a cup I hadn't touched. Conversations rose and fell in a disconnected murmur, but something felt… off.
The crowd had thinned.
Not in the normal "people went to bed" kind of way. It was as if the energy had shifted, like the room was missing some of its sound, and I couldn't place why.
I spotted one of the guests from last night—a lanky man with dark-rimmed eyes and too much cologne. Civilian, I thought. Not because I knew, but because he had the same wary, restless look that mirrored my own.
I caught up to him near the hallway vending machine.
"Hey," I started, trying to keep my voice casual. "Feels quieter than usual today. Did a bunch of people leave?"
He scratched his head, pressing random buttons on the machine like he didn't really want anything. "Oh, yeah… I think so. Some folks said they had work. Early morning calls. Big projects. That sort of thing." A shrug. "A lot dipped out before the sunrise."
"Strange," I muttered.
A girl sitting by the edge of the fireplace looked up at me. I'd seen her before. She had a white card just a regular civilian like me. I approached casually.
"Morning," I said. "The place feels emptier today, doesn't it?"
She gave a slight nod. "Yeah… about half of them left early this morning. Said they were too busy to stay for the rest of the event."
"Half?" I repeated, keeping my tone light. "That's a lot."
She shrugged. "I guess not everyone came here to stay."
Something about the number didn't sit right with me. I scanned the lounge again. Only about two dozen people now. Twenty-five, maybe. And most were new faces.
Weird didn't begin to describe it.
Last night's scream still echoed in the back of my skull. And now a quiet exodus? It didn't feel like coincidence. But I kept those thoughts to myself.
I spent the rest of the morning drifting, watching people instead of talking. Observing who lingered too long in doorways, who spoke in hushed tones, who laughed too freely.
I turned.
She stood near the bar, poised like someone carved from the night itself. Sleek dark dress, the same quiet confidence, but with an intensity that hadn't been there before. The Hostess.
She smiled as she approached, graceful and sure. "We didn't get to speak properly last night," she said. "I'm Selene, the Hostess here at the Velvet Moon."
Her presence pulled attention. But her words were gentle, thoughtful. Like she knew more than she said.
"Nice to meet you," I said. "Sorry I didn't catch your name before."
"That's alright," she replied, tilting her head. "Some names are better remembered with time."
Weirdly cryptic. But I wasn't about to press for more.
She gestured lightly to the lounge. "The crowd has thinned. Unfortunate, but inevitable. Some people simply don't have the time for... long games or should I say play."
I raised an eyebrow. "Games?? Play? What do you mean?"
She smiled faintly. "Isn't life a game or an orchestra of movements, in the end? Choices, masks, and... Consequences actions." Her eyes lingered on mine just a little too long.
There was something unsettling in her tone. Or maybe it was just the way her gaze lingered a heartbeat too long, like she knew the game already started and I was only now stepping onto the board.
I wanted to ask her more—but she turned away with a slight bow. "Enjoy the calm while it lasts. Nights are never quite the same after the third," she added over her shoulder.
Before I could respond, she disappeared into the corridor, her heels echoing faintly on the floor like a fading warning.
I stood there, staring at the space she'd left behind. Something about her words gnawed at the back of my mind like I know yet I don't know.
"Nights are never the same…" I said it without a thought.
At the far end of the lounge, a couple sat together, isolated from the others—not in a dramatic way, but in a soft, unspoken bond. They barely spoke aloud, but their silence was… synchronized. Like every breath, every glance, every moment had already been shared between them.
I couldn't help watching them. There was something unnatural about the way they acted—not suspicious, exactly. Just too in sync. Two of them, always close—one man, one woman—barely left each other's side. I couldn't say why, but their closeness wasn't only romantic. It felt like they were bound together by something invisible. Almost as if they were—
No. I didn't finish that thought.
I let it sit in the back of my mind, where it could grow roots or rot before I let out a misconception.
In the afternoon, someone new stood near the reception a woman dressed in crimson with an easy smile and piercing eyes. She introduced herself simply as "Mina," the new hostess. I'd never seen her before, but she spoke like she knew us all already. Smooth voice, words like silk wrapping secrets.
She seemed to dance between guests, always listening more than she spoke, her gaze sharp beneath the smile. When she locked eyes with me for a moment too long, I nodded politely and left.
Hostess? When did the Velvet Moon even get a new one?
I murmured to myself "wait isn't there already a hostess, or maybe this is just one of the staff of this building." Something inside me stirred uneasily
Later that day, I passed by a man near the stairs—a tall figure in a sharp coat, stiff posture, alert eyes. He didn't engage in conversation, didn't linger. Just watched. Always standing close to the center of the building, never far from the main exits.
I didn't know his name. But if someone had asked me who would be the last one standing in a gunfight, I'd point at him. Something about his presence has the aura of protection—or maybe Justice, just barely restrained.
After a couple of hours almost the nightfall 4:50pm.
I sat alone by the balcony window of my room, notebook open but barely written in. My pen hovered above the page as thoughts piled up without answers.
Too many gone. Too much unsaid. Too much silence behind every smile, and actions.
And then I remembered what Selene had said.
"Nights are never quite the same after the third…"
I closed my notebook. The sun was setting again.
And something about tonight felt final.